Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (32 page)

“There's nothing to talk about,” Tate said. Then he kicked at a snowy stone and felt better when he sent it flying across the yard. “I'm getting tired of this fucking New York weather. Maybe I'll move to California. Go fuck around on a beach and get a tan.”

“You couldn't get a tan if your life depended on it,” Aaron said. Tate shrugged, knowing it was true. His skin had always been paler than pale. No amount of sun would ever get him to Aaron or even Yasmine's complexion. It was hard being the whitest person in the family, even if he wasn't really all that white. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the brown and black faces. “Hector says you've been hanging around some chick at the gym,” Aaron said slyly, taking another hit.

“Oh yeah?” Tate said, cocking his head. “What else does Hector say?”

“Hector says a lot of shit,” Aaron said mysteriously. “But I don't know if I believe that a chick is giving you the time of day. Especially not the kind of chick Hector described.”

“How did he describe her?” Tate said, well aware that he was falling into the trap his brother was setting up for him, but wanting to know anyway.

“Dark-skinned. Long hair.
Buenisima
...” Aaron trailed off, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“I don't know who he's talking about,” Tate said.

“I bet you don't,” Aaron said, not believing him for a second. “She's in Gennifer's class.”

“Who's in my class?” a female voice rang out. Tate groaned inwardly as Gennifer stepped out into the night, a beer in her hand.

“This chick Hector says Tate wants to hook up with,” Aaron said, stubbing out his joint on the rubber tire of his chair.

“Oh,” Gennifer said. It was dark, and Tate couldn't completely see her expression, but he was pretty sure she knew exactly who Aaron was talking about. “Damn, it's cold,” she said, stamping her feet on the stone patio. “Why are you two hiding out here?”

“Not hiding,” Aaron said. “Just needed some air.”

“You're not fooling anybody,” Gennifer replied.

“It's medicinal,” Aaron said with a lazy laugh. “Don't change the subject.”

“What exactly was the subject?” Gennifer asked lightly.

“Tate's lack of game,” Aaron replied matter-of-factly. “I want to know who this girl is.”

“Sounds like Hector already told you everything,” Gennifer said.

“All he said was that Tate was hanging out with a girl in your class. A hot girl.
Buenisima
was his exact word,” Aaron said.

“There's a lot of hot women in my class,” Gennifer said and Tate ducked his head to hide his smile. Gennifer could always be counted on to be difficult. “Erica's younger sister is in my class. She goes to NYU, just like you. She's pretty hot.”

“Yeah but she's white and Tate's girl isn't, so that rules her out,” Aaron said, but his voice was harder, more clipped.

“But you think she's hot?” Gennifer asked.

“No,” Aaron said, not giving an inch. Gennifer tsked at him and then turned back to Tate.

“I thought you were dating someone Austin set you up with?” Gennifer said, taking a sip of her beer.

“Who?” Aaron asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Two dates,” Tate replied. “That was all.”

“Then who was Hector talking about?” Aaron said with a laugh. “Because you got less game than I do and I can't imagine a woman like that giving you the time of day.”

“It's not all about game,” Gennifer piped up. “Sometimes it's just a look. Or a feeling.” She tapped her nails on the glass of the beer bottle. “Look at Hector. He can get anything he wants with a smile, but Erica's still not giving him the time of day.”

“He fucked that up,” Aaron said, rolling forward and backwards in his chair like he was antsy. Inside the house, Tate could hear the clinking and clanging of dishes and pots and pans and loud annoyed voices. Yasmine and Brandon were on kitchen duty, and the two argued like cats and dogs generally. The holidays were no exception.

“You two think women are so difficult,” Gennifer said. “You're the ones who are difficult.”

“Do I hear the pot calling the kettle black?” Aaron asked, laughing raspily. “Maybe we should get Mikhail out here and ask him how difficult you are.”

“Well maybe I learned how to be less difficult,” she replied, smacking Aaron's shoulder. “You should try it,
pobrecito
.”

“Nah,” Aaron said, shaking his head stubbornly. “Being an asshole works for me.”

“What about you, Tate? Is it working for you?” Gennifer asked, turning her sharp eyes on him. He immediately wondered if she knew. If Hector knew, Gennifer probably knew. He wondered how obvious it was that he was shook up over Shay. He also wondered how, if his feelings were so obvious, everyone could see it except for  the one person who really mattered. He clenched his hands, thinking about the last time he'd talked to her. She'd made it clear that she didn't give a shit about him or what he had to say.

“It's cold,” he said, not bothering to answer Gennifer's question.

“I'm done,” Aaron said, stubbing out the butt of his joint on his right wheel. “Let's go inside.” Tate nodded and Aaron released his brake. He rolled himself toward the door and Tate hauled the chair up over the step without a word. Aaron pushed his way back into the kitchen and Tate took a step back to let Gennifer go inside first. As she passed him, she nudged her shoulder against his chest before stopping in the doorway.

“She looks at you too, you know,” she said knowingly.

“Who?” he said, even though he knew exactly who she was talking about.

“You know who,” she said. “She doesn't come around often, but I see it. Whenever your back is turned, her eyes are on you. And I see how you act around her. You're not fooling anybody.” Tate didn't answer, just let his sister's words sink in. Before, he would've thought that Shay was just fucking with him, but now he wanted to know. He wanted to know if Shay still wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wasn't acting like it, but like Gennifer said, maybe it was more about looks and feelings as opposed to words. “You should ask her out. I bet she would say yes,” Gennifer continued. Then she turned and went in the house. Tate stayed behind for a minute, a thought occurring to him as he stood out in the softly falling snow.

When it came to women, he was fucking hopeless.

***

Shay tried to focus on the hand of cards she'd been dealt, but it was difficult. She'd had too much wine. She was getting lightheaded. And her hands were itching to grab her phone and text an angry long opus to Tate about why he hadn't bothered to call for Christmas. She had known all along that whatever was between them wasn't going to work and now, he was just proving her right. Was he that angry at her that he couldn't bother to speak to her? Did he hate her father that much? Or maybe he just didn't give a shit about her at all?

Apparently, the answer to all of those questions was yes.

“You alright, brother?” Gina asked as Sam stood for the third time during their hour-long game of spades.

“Just heading to the bathroom,” he said, smiling brightly as he turned the corner into the hallway and went out of sight.

“What is that man drinking?” Thalia asked, her eye brows raising practically to her hairline.

“Nothing from what I've seen,” Gina said, leaning back on the couch and dropping her head to Thalia's shoulder.

“What's he doing in the bathroom is the better question,” Shay said, under her breath. “I'm tired of playing.”

“I've been tired of playing for the last hour,” Gina said.

“I was having fun,” Thalia offered. Shay snorted out a laugh at Thalia because at least she was still trying. The holiday had been... interesting to say the least, but it was after midnight. Christmas was officially over. Shay wanted to go back into her room and shut the door and press her face into her pillow and scream her head off. Then she would probably stay up all night staring at the phone and debating whether or not to text Tate. In between bouts of indecision, she would then try to figure out what to do about her father.

She had no idea what Sam's plans were. He'd stuck around because she asked him to, but Shay honestly had no idea if that was a good thing or not. She wasn't sure if he was going to stay in New York. She didn't even know where he'd been living for the past six years or if he had a new wife or girlfriend or friends or anything. She knew nothing about his life. For a man who talked a lot, he'd barely said anything of any substance the whole day.

“So?” she asked, looking at her aunt.

“So what?” Gina responded, looking tired.

“Are you going to ask him to stay the night?”

“Well first he has to get out of the damn bathroom,” Gina said, rubbing her hand across her eyes. Shay pushed herself up off the floor, cringing as her muscles protested the quick movement.

“I'll make sure he didn't fall in,” she said, tossing her cards on the coffee table. She rolled her shoulders, feeling loose but tense at the same time. She'd had a lot of wine, but she still couldn't shake the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. It was making her twitchy. She turned the corner into the hallway and walked down toward the bathroom at the end. The door was closed, so she leaned in, getting her ear close. The door was old and thick wood and she didn't know exactly what she was listening for, but she strained to hear anyway. After a moment of quiet, she raised her hand ready to knock.

Then she heard a noise in her bedroom, a creaking like the wood floor was shifting, and then a rustling. The door was open a crack and her bedroom light was on, even though she was pretty sure it'd been off the last time she'd checked. Biting hard on the insides of her cheeks, she pushed the door open, swinging it wide.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, her mouth moving before her brain could catch up to what she was seeing. Her father was on all fours beside her bed, lifting up the mattress and inspecting the space between the mattress and the box spring. The bedside table drawer was open and her pillows were thrown about. It looked like he'd been busy. He froze, then dropped the mattress back down. “Find what you're looking for?” she said, her face going numb like she'd just been slapped in the face. She didn't know why she was surprised, she really didn't. She didn't know why she thought for once things were actually going to be different. A rush of emotion hit her and she honestly had no idea how she felt, finding him on the floor looking so pathetic.

“Oh Sugar,” he said lightly, shaking his head as he pushed himself slowly to standing. Seeing him struggle to get up reminded her just how hold he'd gotten. He looked so much smaller than she remembered.  “I just dropped my cigarette under the bed. I was trying to get to it,” he bullshitted.

“You're lying,” she said. “You're so full of shit.”

“Watch your language,” he said, lowering his voice.

“No! I fucking won't!” She stepped further into the room and glanced around. The drawers on her dresser looked like they hadn't been touched, but she knew he wouldn't leave a mess behind him. He would clean it up and make it look exactly like he'd never been there. Her closet door was open too. But he still hadn't found the money. “I can't believe you.”

“Where is it?” he asked, finally dropping all pretense.

“I can't believe that this whole time, this whole holiday, you've been thinking about that money,” she said, her voice shaking even though she tried to keep it steady. “I haven't seen you in years! And this is all you care about!” she screamed, not able to keep control of her emotion anymore. All the hurt and anger was suddenly bursting out of her.

“I told you I needed it. Now, I gave your auntie that money for you to hold, but it's still mine. I earned that money,” he said, so calm it was maddening. He was doing the same shit he used to do with her mother, pretending that he was the only sane one in the room. Acting like his shitty intentions made perfect sense and that anyone who didn't see that was the one with the problem. “I earned that money and it's mine,” he repeated.

“It's my money. You gave it to me,” Shay said.

“You're going to let this money come between you and your father?” he said. “I came back here because I thought we could be a family again.”

“No, you came back here because you wanted something from me,” she said. “Me giving up six years of my life wasn't enough.”

“That was your choice, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head sorrowfully. “I hated seeing that happen. You know how much that hurt me?”

“How much it hurt
you
?!” Shay could feel her eyes going so wide that they were practically bulging out of her head. She threw up her hands and turned and left the room. The bedroom was small to begin with but with her father in there, it felt like the walls were closing in on her.  Her brain felt like it was about to explode. She pressed her hand to her head as she hurried back to the living room. She could hear him behind her, following her.

“What's going on?” Gina asked as soon as she was within eyesight. “What did he do?”

“I don't even know,” Shay said, her eyes scanning the room for her phone. She didn't even know why she wanted it, but she did it. “I can't fucking deal with him.”