Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (31 page)

“Can't a man come and see his family?” he asked, holding his arms out. “Am I going to get a hug or what?”

“I don't know yet,” Gina said.

“You both just as bad as each other,” he said, dropping his arms and looking between Shay and Gina. “Looking at me like I'm a stranger.”

“You may as well be,” Gina replied, finally pushing herself to standing. “I don't know why you're here and I'm not sure I want to know.”

“I'm here because my two favorite people are here,” he said, as charming as ever. But Shay knew the truth. He was there because he wanted something. He wasn't fooling Gina either. There was only so many times the fox could sneak into the henhouse before a smart person put up a fence. Shay wanted to trust her father, she wanted to believe that he had changed. But she wasn't stupid.

“I want him to come to Christmas,” Shay announced. “If he can stick around until then maybe we can all figure it out.”

“Christmas?” Gina asked warily.

“He can't just pop in and out for a day or two here and there and think we're going to drop everything for him,” Shay continued, then looked at her father even though it was difficult. “So are you going to stick around or not?”

“For you, Sugar, I'd do anything,” he said. “You know that.”

“Where were you then?” Gina asked, her voice rising. “When Sugar was locked up because of your sorry ass? Where were you then?”

“Now you know it wasn't safe for me in the city then,” he said smoothly. “I had to get out until it quieted down.”

“And to hell with all of us, huh? As long as your precious ass was safe, you didn't give a shit!” Gina jabbed her finger at him, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Now sister, I know you've had a time of it. Believe me, I feel terrible about what was going on. These fucking cops in this city had it out for me. They got to me the only way they could. And I tried to make it up to you, baby, didn't I?” he said, turning back to Shay. “I'm here now trying to fix it.”

“I don't know what you're trying to do,” Shay said with a shrug, but his words still lingered in her mind. He was saying everything right but she wasn't going to let it be that easy for him. If he wanted something from her, he was going to have to earn it. “But if you want to be family, you have to do family things.”

“I can do that,” he said, bobbing his head eagerly in agreement.

“Maybe I can't,” Gina said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe I don't want you in my house.”

“Then me and Sugar can go do our own thing. We can go find a little restaurant somewhere and have our own Christmas together,” he said. “Fathers and daughters should be together on the holidays. That's the way it's meant to be.”

“Don't try to pull that shit,” Gina said. “She's practically my daughter, too, at this point. I'm having her with me for Christmas after all the years I spent without her, while she was in that hellhole.”

“We're going to have Christmas together,” Shay stated, shutting them both up. “Or else I'm not going to have Christmas with either of you.” She hadn't really thought about it much, but when she said it, it felt right. She didn't have any real plan, but being with Tate's big-ass, loving family on Christmas was suddenly sounding like a dream come true.

“That's real dirty of you, Sugar,” Gina said, glaring at her niece. But Shay didn't back down. Despite the fact that she was still angry at Sam, he was her father. She couldn't let him wander back into her life and not give him at least a fighting chance. She had to see if he'd changed. She had to see if there was any hope. And maybe, if there was, she would give him the dirty money that he'd come after. If he needed it that badly, she would give it to him. But he had to prove it first. She wasn't going to do anything for him until she had a reason to. That was the only thing keeping her sanity in check.

Another knock on the door startled all of them.

“Jesus, are we having a party tonight?” Gina asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. “We're closed!” Gina yelled, slumping back in the stylist's chair. “I can't take any more surprises,” she said as Shay went to the door. The glass was opaque and foggy and she couldn't see who was standing on the other end. Distracted, she opened it a crack and didn't bother looking at who it was.

“Come back tomorrow and-” she started then stopped as her breath caught in her throat. Tate was staring down at her, his black hood over his head. She took a step back involuntarily and he pressed his big shoulder against the glass of the door, propping it open.

“You going to let me in?” he said, dragging his gaze from her lips to her eyes and back again.

“Now is... now is not a good time,” she managed to get out as a million thoughts rushed through her head at once. She wondered if he could or would arrest her father on sight. Did he have a standing warrant with the city? Had the statute of limitations run out? She had no idea.

“What's the matter, baby?” Tate said, his face changing at her tone. He was on alert and she knew there was nothing she could say that would stop what was about to happen. But she still tried.

“I'll be out in a minute and maybe I'll let you drive me home,” she said, trying to make the words light and flirty, but they came out flat and monotone.

“Is there somebody in there with you?” he asked,his mouth flattening into a straight line.

“Everything's going to be fine, sister,” Sam said, loud enough for both of them to hear. Shay raised her eyes to meet Tate's, feeling completely helpless as all of her lies blew up right in front of her face. “You don't got to be so suspicious.”

“I'll be whatever I damn well please,” Gina snapped back. “You can't come back here after all this time and expect nothing but a smile. It's not going to happen.”

“I'll be out in a minute,” Shay repeated to Tate, like a robot.

“Shay why are you standing there with the door open? I'm not paying to heat the outside,” Gina called out.

“Baby girl, you come back here and talk some sense into this aunt of yours,” Sam said and Tate clicked his tongue, the pieces falling into place.

“Let me in,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Just stay out of it, Tate,” she warned.

“No fucking way,” he said, pushing his shoulder into the door and opening it wider. He took a step inside and Shay had no choice but to let him. The room seemed to go completely silent as Tate's presence sapped up all the air. Gina shot a look at Shay as the two men surveyed each other. Both tall, both big in their own ways, but both completely different in almost every way that mattered. Tate's face didn't change, but his whole body went tense. Her father stiffened up as well, straightening his back and taking a step back.

He could smell a cop from a mile away.

“Gina, you remember my friend Tate,” Shay said, even though Tate hadn't taken his eyes off the giant elephant in the room. The elephant who was currently staring at her in shock and confusion and barely contained anger. “Tate, this is my father. Sam Spears.”

***

Suddenly it was all so clear. The reason why she'd been acting so strange and so distant. The reason why she kept lying to him. It was another man after all, but not in the way he'd been thinking. Tate studied the man in front of him, taking in his dark clothes and long coat. The clothes were designer and had once been nice, but now they were dated, wrinkled, and worn at the seams. His face was craggy, with deep lines beside his mouth and puffy circles under his cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he hadn't had sleep.

All in all, Sam Spears looked like he'd fallen hard from his perch as one of the most-wanted criminals in the city.

Briefly, Tate wondered if Sam was back to his old ways but he quickly shoved the thought aside, because it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was getting Shay away from the bastard. Sam Spears only meant trouble, especially to his daughter. Sam shifted, keeping his hands loose at his sides. He relaxed his body posture and a carefully carefree smile stretched over his face. Tate knew that he'd been made as a cop. His kind could tell Tate's kind from a mile away.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Sam lied easily. If Tate hadn't just seen the murder behind his eyes a split-second before, he might have actually believed Sam was sincere. “Any friend of my daughter's is a friend of mine.”

“Is that so?” Tate responded.

“We were just closing up, Tate,” Gina piped up from a salon chair in the center of the room. Tate didn't look at the petite woman when she spoke, though. He kept his eyes squarely on Sam. “If you don't mind.”

“He stopped by to see if I needed a ride home,” Shay explained in an oddly flat voice.

“She doesn't need a ride,” Sam said, his voice friendly, but his eyes anything but as he stared daggers at Tate. Breaking the eye contact, Tate turned to Shay. She wouldn't look at him at first, but then her eyes flicked up to meet his. She looked like a tiger caught in a trap, like she could snap at any moment. As he stared at her, he realized that he was angry at her. Sam was a piece of shit, but the worst part about it was that Shay was actually entertaining him. She was listening to whatever bullshit he was spewing and letting him back into her life.

She'd lied to him and kept him at arm's length because she was afraid of offending her father. She cared more about scaring her father off than being honest to the man who truly knew her the best. Tate couldn't help but feel betrayed. Even though she hadn't cheated in a sexual sense, she'd still betrayed him. She'd kept a major part of her life hidden, ran around behind his back, and put her father first.

Family was family. No one knew that better than him. But family wasn't always about genetics. Family was also about the ones who had your back and the ones who you could count on. He could be that for her. Shit, he wanted to be that for her. But she wouldn't let him. She hadn't even given him a chance.

That was fucked up.

She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip,  like she was trying to figure out what to say to him. Like she was trying to figure out how to get rid of him. He didn't know what was worse – the betrayal or the fact that he was standing in the same room with Sam Spears and not arresting him.

“Tate,” she said, finally looking him in the eye. He stared her down, not giving an inch. He wasn't going to make it easy for her to fuck him over. He wasn't going to pretend not to be angry and he for damn sure wasn't going to pretend that her father was anything but a fucking leech. “I'll call you later.” To her credit, she didn't look away. She kept his gaze even as she stabbed him in the chest with her nonchalant words. “Please,” she added, her voice barely a whisper. The word was like another swift wound to the chest. She was cutting him down in bits and pieces, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He scoffed and turned back to her aunt and her father.

“You have a nice place here, Gina,” he said.

“I know,” Gina said, her eyes as hard as Sam's. Apparently, hatred of cops ran in the family. He couldn't blame them, he supposed, but then again, it wasn't his fault that Sam had chosen a life of crime and pulled them all in as well.

“You should take out the trash, though. It smells,” he said, as politely as he could muster before heading for the door. He would be well-behaved, for now. He wouldn't punch Sam Spears in the jaw, for now. Shay had made her choice and it wasn't Tate. He was going to take it as dignified as he possibly could. But he was pissed. He was beyond pissed. He was livid.

Shay followed him to the door and as he stepped out into the cold night, he felt a tug at the back of his leather jacket. He moved away from her touch, too afraid of saying something he was going to regret. So he stayed silent as she hung in the doorway, breathing heavy and gnawing at the inside of her cheek. Her breath hung in the air like a mist.

“I'll call you,” she repeated. Then she closed the door and locked it behind her.

Chapter Eighteen

I
t was Christmas day but Tate wasn't in the mood for any kind of holiday cheer.

As Marvin Gaye crooned about purple snowflakes on the radio, Tate stood against the wall in the crowded living room at his parents' house. The huge tree that Big Jim always insisted on took up one huge corner of the room. Yasmine and Tiny squeezed together on the big puffy chair next to him on one side, and Aaron was in his wheelchair on the other side. Hector, Brandon, and Maria took up all the space on the couch, with Gennifer perching on the arm next to her mother. Mikhail stood next to Gennifer, his arms crossed over his chest like he owned the place.

The house was too small for all of them at one time, but that had never stopped them before. He could remember how crowded it had used to be when Hector, he, and Gennifer had all been at home. And there were other foster kids along the way, now all scattered to the wind, but it had always been crowded and noisy. There had rarely been time to think back in those days, let alone get lonely.

Big Jim had on the raggedy Santa hat that he'd had for years, sitting next to the tree in his faux-leather recliner like the king of his domain. The smell of Maria's Christmas turkey, still roasting in the oven, permeated the room and should have made the mood perfect. Unfortunately for Tate, Christmas wasn't at all perfect that year. He couldn't help being distracted from his family, despite wishing not to be. They were loud as always, all talking at once and laughing over each other, but he felt removed from it all. He couldn't sit back and enjoy it. He couldn't ignore the way that Mikhail and Gennifer kept sneaking love touches when they thought no one was looking. Seeing them made him think of the one person he didn't want to think about. And he wasn't blind to the fact that Hector kept checking his phone either, like he was hoping someone was going to text.

At least he wasn't the only one alone on Christmas.

It annoyed him that even when he was with his family, at a time when he should feel most at ease, that he couldn't truly enjoy it. He couldn't enjoy it because she hadn't texted or called, and he hadn't texted her either, but he still was angry as hell. She was the one that owed him some sort of apology. She was the one who had betrayed him. She was the one who was sneaking around like a criminal.

“Who's ready for presents?” Big Jim boomed out, snapping Tate's attention back to the here and now.

“Me!” Yasmine yelled out, holding up her hand. Tiny mimicked her silently, holding up her hand and wagging her fingers, like they were in a school classroom. Tate glanced down at his younger sisters, their excitement overshadowing his own grumpiness for a moment. That was, until he thought about how much they reminded him of Shay, which was so fucking wrong, but true. Tiny was only two years younger than her, after all, although there was something about Shay that seemed much older, somehow. She could be so serious and grave when she got it in her mind to be. He liked when she would surprise him and lighten up and revert back to the way she should have been all along. Tiny looked up at him, raising her eyebrows as she caught him staring. He gave her a small smile and she made a quick sign that was one of the only ones everybody in the family knew by heart.

“Love you,” she said, mouthing the words as she signed. He nodded and she winked at him, before turning and catching the present that Big Jim tossed at her. His smile faded as the girls ripped into their presents. Big Jim tossed another to Brandon, who was doing his best to look like he didn't give a shit. Tate stared at his little foster brother until the kid looked up at caught his gaze. Brandon shrugged and Tate narrowed his eyes at him until the kid rolled his eyes and smiled. Tate wanted to let him know that it was okay to enjoy the moment. Just because he was with his new family didn't mean he'd forgotten the old one. He didn't have to be tough all the time. But that was hard to put in words, especially across a crowded room. So he just gave him a look but Brandon got it, just the same.

***

Shay let her mind wander as she scrubbed the dishes in her aunt's tiny sink. She could hear Gina and Thalia giggling in the living room like two teenagers, as Celine Dion's Christmas album played in the background. It had been a good Christmas. Almost like old times, actually. She almost couldn't believe she was actually back in her aunt's apartment opening presents on Christmas morning and baking cookies and eating glazed ham and macaroni and cheese like nothing had ever changed. She could almost pretend she was a kid again, with no worries or stress. As she dipped the plate in her hand under the soapy water, there was only one teeny, tiny thought that kept the happiness from being complete.

As always, it was a certain someone that was never far from her thoughts. A certain someone who hadn't called or texted all day, even though it was Christmas.  He'd been angry at her, true, and she didn't entirely blame him. In fact, as the days passed with no word from him, it almost was a comfort. She was getting less and less worried about a horde of cops coming and banging down Gina's door and shaking the place down. Not that she thought Tate would really do that to her, but she'd be a liar if she said she didn't have visions of it.

And she did miss him, after all.

She was used to missing people. Shit, loneliness had been a good friend of hers for six years, but for some reason, being away from him for three days felt like she was missing a limb or something. She didn't like sleeping alone. And she definitely didn't like being celibate after all the good sex she'd been having lately. If she closed her eyes, she could practically feel his mouth on her. Just the thought of him licking and sucking on her was enough to get her all hot and bothered. She was in the middle of Christmas with her family, but he still had that hold on her. Even when she was eating and laughing and opening presents and pretending to be the happiest girl in the world, she was thinking about Tate. That was the sad reality.

“A penny for your thoughts,” a deep voice said behind her and she felt herself tense. She still wasn't used to him being there.

“I'm not thinking anything,” she murmured. “Just trying to get these dishes clean.”

“I don't believe you, Sugar,” Sam said, chewing on a toothpick. He leaned against the counter and the strong smell of his cologne brought on a new flux of old memories. It was almost like she was fourteen years old again, in the kitchen of their old place, making him a hot dinner in her mother's place. It was weird how easily it was to be transported back to the past by something as simple as the smell of someone's cologne. “You didn't used to be so quiet,” he continued and she could feel his eyes on her. She turned around to look at him and smiled.

“I'm not like how I used to be,” she said.

“Yeah. You all grown up now,” Sam said. “I miss my loud, rude little Sugar.”

“You miss that, huh?” Shay said with a light laugh. She tossed the sponge on the side of the sink and plopped her hands on her hips. “We used to argue all the time.”

“Now, it wasn't always like that,” he said, shaking his head. “We had it out, but in the end, we was always there for each other. We was a family.” Shay felt her smile fade a bit at his words. She wanted so badly to just be happy that her father was there, and she was free and everything was so wonderful on the surface. But just below the happy facade, there was still so much ugliness that they hadn't dealt with or even begun to talk about. He wanted to be a family again, because it suited him. But Shay had gone so long without him that she was beginning to wonder if she even needed him at all. That, and she was still wondering what his true intentions for reappearing were.

“What are you two doing in here?” Gina said from the doorway, an empty wine glass in her hand. “You get enough to eat?” Gina asked, eyeing Sam. Shay could see the wariness in her aunt's face. They'd been pretending all day that nothing was wrong and the cracks were beginning to show. “You look too skinny,” Gina said, holding her hand out. Shay handed her the half-empty wine bottle without thinking, knowing that wine was probably the only thing keeping her aunt's nerves in check. Well, wine and Thalia.

“If I eat any more, I'm gonna bust at the seams,” Sam said. “My daughter sure knows how to cook. She must've got that from her mama.”

“And Bedford,” Shay couldn't stop herself from chiming in. “At the prison, I worked in the kitchen.” For a second, the only sound was Gina's wine sloshing in the glass as she poured herself a healthy refill. Sam stared at Shay, blinking his eyes rapidly like he couldn't figure out anything to say. “Five and half years, washing dishes and cooking boring-ass meals. It's like second nature now.”

“Well... I'm sure the ladies up at Bedford were real lucky you got to cook for them,” Sam finally said. “They don't know how lucky they were.”

“Cheers to that,” Gina said, holding up her glass and then taking a big swallow.

“Sister, you got anything stronger than that wine?” Sam said, his eyes darting around the kitchen. “We should do a Christmas toast.”

“Nope,” Gina said with a shrug. “You know I don't drink hard liquor.”

“You always used to keep a bottle around for when I came around,” Sam said with a laugh.

“Well you ain't been around in a long time,
Brother,
” Gina said pointedly. Shay felt her stomach dip, a bad feeling coming over her. She could feel the tension all around her and she knew something was about to happen. She wasn't sure what. She just knew that she wanted to know what her father was up to. She wanted to know when he was going to disappear again.

She also wanted to know why he'd disappeared in the first place.

Well, she already knew, but she just wanted to hear him say it.

“I'm gonna go use the bathroom,” Sam said after a minute. Gina narrowed her eyes, but stepped aside to let him escape from the small room. Shay crossed her arms over her chest and caught Gina's eyes over the rim of her wine glass.

“Isn't this nice?” Gina said when she swallowed another long sip of wine. “I love the holidays, don't you?”

“No,” Shay said. “I hate them.”

“Me, too,” Gina said with a laugh, then slipped her free hand around her niece's waist and pulled her close. “But this year, we're here and that's all that matters.” Shay snagged the wine bottle off the counter and clinked it against Gina's glass.

“Yes, ma'am,” she said then took a long drink straight from the bottle. Then she scrunched up her nose as the overly sweet wine hitting her tongue. “How can you drink this, auntie? It's like grape juice.”

“Don't hate on my Moscato,” Gina said, squeezing Shay tighter. “It may not be fancy, but it tastes good.”

“Whatever you say,” Shay muttered under her breath but she couldn't help but smile and take another cringe-worthy drink. “Are you going to ask him to stay?” she asked when after she swallowed. Gina shrugged and slipped away from Shay, on her way back to the living room.

“Let's just see how it goes,” she murmured, so low that Shay almost didn't hear what she said.

***

Snowflakes were lightly falling from the sky above and the cracks between the stones in the patio were already turning white. Tate wrapped his arms around himself, watching white flakes dot his black sweater. Aaron sat beside him, parked in his chair beside the house as he dug around and unearthed a joint from the bag on the back of his chair.  He lit a match, the flame from his turning the night orange for a moment.  Aaron took a long drag, settling back in his chair and staring up at the dark sky.

“I can't believe it's Christmas again,” he murmured, smoke rolling out from between his lips. “Another year gone, man.”

“It's not over yet,” Tate said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. He disliked his brother's propensity to smoke, but he knew Aaron was in daily pain. The kid tried to hide it, but everyone knew. Everyone generally gave Aaron a wide berth in general. Out of all the kids, he'd had one of the shittiest lots in life handed to him. One couldn't really blame him for how it had all turned out.

“What's your deal, man?” Aaron said after a moment, his voice strained like he was trying not to cough. “You're in a mood.” Tate shook his head, not feeling particularly chatty. “It's the most wonderful time of the year, ain't it?” Aaron said, then laughed. His snide laugh didn't sound very cheerful, though. Rather, it sounded just as bitter as Tate felt. Aaron was the sarcastic type, but he wasn't usually self-pitying. Although Tate was feeling like shit, he immediately honed in on his brother's vibe.

“Is it a girl?” Tate asked, before Aaron could ask him the same question. Aaron snorted out another laugh and then took another drag.

“A girl...” Aaron said, letting his voice trail off. “No. There's no girl.”

“A woman then? You always did like them older,” Tate said, trying a lame attempt at a joke.

“Nurses don't count,” Aaron said, smoke floating out of his mouth and obscuring his face.

“Don't they?” Tate asked. “I remember the one from the Bronx. What was her name?”

“They were all from the Bronx,” Aaron said, but this time, a smile was creeping over his lips.

“The one from Barbados,” Tate said. “With the eyes.”

“Uh... Charity,” Aaron said after a minute, staring upward at the sky again like he had to think hard to remember. “She liked Hector.” Aaron shook his head, remembering. “She was cool, though.” Tate nodded, staying silent in the hopes that Aaron would talk to fill up the quiet. It was a detective tactic, to get a suspect to talk, but he wasn't against using it on family. Aaron let out a heavy sigh like he had more to say, but then narrowed his eyes at Tate, catching on. “We were talking about you, though. Not me, man.” Tate bit down on his cheek to prevent a smile that would give him away. Aaron knew him too well to trick. The tactic usually worked on Hector, though, but Hector liked to talk about his problems.