And I communicated this by locking eyes with Ty’s mother and throwing some serious fucking sass.
“Go home,” I ordered and went on without giving either of them an opening. “And don’t come back. I don’t know you but I do know you taught your son to make certain he took his dirty dishes to the sink by throwing a glass at him and giving him a scar. Ty’s lucky, he’s hot and that scar, admittedly, makes him hotter but he’s not lucky he’s got a mother who’d risk blinding her son in one eye because she’s a lunatic with a bad attitude who would throw a glass at a nine year old child and then, years later, after he endured a nightmare, not appear at his door with open arms and a welcome home bouquet but months later show up at his house for the sole purpose of behaving like a bitter shrew and expressing her whacked opinion that she thinks her son owes her shit. My husband does not owe you shit, he does not owe giving you what he’s worked hard to earn, he does not owe you his time, he does not owe you one fucking thing. Now go home and do not come back.”
She gaped at me but I turned and tipped my head back to Irv.
“You didn’t give him much more but I get a sense you get what Ty endured and why he endured it and that shook you. You want a relationship with your son, you build it without her,” I jerked my head at Reece, “in attendance. And you do not show uninvited and unexpected. You ask for his time and he gives it to you when and if he’s ready.”
Then before either of them could reply, not that I’d fucking listen to another word either had to say, I stomped around my new baby, jerked open the door, sat my ass in it, punched the button on the garage door opener and turned on the car. Then I drove in. Then I hit the opener again. Then I carted up the groceries, champagne, cake and my latte, putting the ice cream directly into the freezer, the champagne in the fridge and, after that, setting Shambles’s cake on a plate and putting it on the counter of the island by the tees so Ty would see it the minute he got home.
Then I called my husband, shared the trip through the light fantastic that was my first meeting with his parents, listened to his rumbling disbelief and inadvertently calmed his anger by ranting through angry sips of my fast-cooling latte, doing this for some time and with a fair amount of curse words which, for some bizarre reason, eventually led to him cutting me off by roaring with laughter. He then told me he had four college tuitions to earn which calmed my ass down. I let him go so he could get back to work providing for our future family, walked out to the back deck and looked down.
They were gone.
I went back into the house.
*
The chicken breasts were set to marinade, the salad was prepared, the homemade dressing was fermenting in the fridge and I was sitting out on a lounge chair with my Kindle, reading a romance novel and thinking sex with Ty was way better than what the chick in that novel was getting when something caught at the corner of my eye.
I looked up and across the deck to the side of the house and froze solid.
This was because a wiry black man about two inches taller than me with cornrows in his hair who I’d never seen before in my life was standing there looking jittery.
Shit! What now?
He took a step forward and I visibly braced so he stopped.
“I’m Dewey,” he announced and I relaxed, slightly.
I knew Dewey. Well, I didn’t know him, know him but Ty had told me about him. I didn’t think he was a threat but his being there probably didn’t herald good tidings.
I didn’t get to say hi. He took four steps toward me and started talking, he did it fast and what he said made me freeze solid again.
“Don’t got much time and can’t be seen here. But got word that Ty’s parole officer is doin’ a random inspection of his house. Today. And he’s got Fuller with him. They’re comin’, don’t know when they’ll get here, could be any minute. Can’t be seen goin’ to his place of work and someone might be listenin’ in on my phone so couldn’t call. So I’m here. I ‘spect you’ll tell him. I also ‘spect, he’s got somethin’ in there they can’t see, like, say, somethin’ that shoots bullets, you’ll deal.”
Then, right before my eyes, he disappeared.
Since Ty did, indeed, have something in the house that shot bullets, I didn’t delay in twisting in the lounge, dropping my Kindle to the table beside me and snatching up my phone.
Ty picked up on ring two, saying hilariously but I was in no mood to laugh, “Jesus, mama, the Pope there now?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “I just got a five second visit from your friend Dewey before he went up in a puff of smoke. He told me your parole officer is on the way, with Fuller, to do a random inspection of the house. ”
“Fuck!” Ty snarled.