“You lay one finger on my daughter, Zay, and I swear to God, I'll—”
“Look, before you finish that sentence,” I start as I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees. “You'd best consider that I left my house, my life, my job, and dragged my and my hairless cat's butts all the way up here for you. I'm not gonna spank the kid myself, but I sure as hell am giving her time-outs.”
“Time-outs don't work with Kinzie,” Rob states firmly. I can imagine his red beard wagging, bushy brows drawing together as he slams his fist into the palm of his hand for emphasis. “We've tried that, Zayden. Don't you think we know our own daughter?”
I don't answer that question. First off, because I'm pretty sure it's rhetorical and second, because I think the answer is no. Sometimes people get too close to a situation to see what's really going on. I figure that must be the case with Kinzie because that kid is insane.
“You do know you named your sons after a really gross box of candy, right?”
“Huh? Zay, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“Ah, and now I know why the curse jar was already half filled when I got here. Nice one, bro.”
“Listen, Zayden. You need to tell that girl you don't know shit about children and get the hell out of there. Using somebody's kids, their desperation, to get laid is despicable. I thought even you were above a stunt like that.”
I feel my jaw clench tight. Rob doesn't get it, not at all. Never has.
“I'm not doing this to get laid—” although it makes for a nice aside to the whole situation “—so clearly you're missing the point. Did you hear me? This girl doesn't have anybody else.”
“This isn't your problem, Zayden. Take the kids home. We'll be back in a week and a half, and then you can go home to Las Vegas and wait another three years to visit with your family.”
“You know what? Fuck you, Rob. How's that sound?”
I hang up the phone before he can answer, rising to my feet and running my fingers through the hair on the left side of my head. My brother is a serious goddamn asshole. Wow. And he wonders why I never visit. Ain't a mystery to anyone but him.
My new favorite person in the world is this baby. She smiles at me and laughs, but she doesn't complain unless she's hungry or has a dirty diaper. Seriously huge improvement over everyone else in my life. That chick Kitty got pissed at me for skipping out on our last session and sent me a text of her flipping me off. Oh well. There's always another pretty little tattooed chick walking into the shop, leaning over the glass counter and flashing me her tits.
I pick Sadie up out of her crib with a yawn—on my part—and sit us both down on the couch, a stack of books at my side. If I'm going to be here, I might as well hang out with the kid, right? Maybe one day she'll actually like me—unlike her older sister. Wouldn't hurt to have some family that cared whether I lived or died.
The first book I grab is splashed with color and bits of fuzzy fabric that Sadie latches onto with fervor, eating the corners of the book as much as she looks at it. Good for her. At least one of us is having a good time right now.
Somewhere deep down, I know that I'm waiting for Brooke to show back up, sweep in here in that non-style style of hers, look at me like I'm both the biggest mistake of her life—and the most intriguing. It's an interesting dichotomy, that's for sure.
“What do you think of Uncle Zay's new lady friend?” I ask Sadie as she slaps her hands on the book and laughs. I lean back and nod. “Yep. That's how I feel, too. Now all I gotta do is convince her that I'm not the enemy, you know? I think a week spent in each other's arms would do us both a lot of good, don't you?”
Sadie babbles something back at me as the sound of a rattling car engine pulls into the driveway.
Yes, ma'am. Here we go.
I lean back casually and wait for Brooke to unlock the door.
“Hey, how was class?” I ask as I glance over my shoulder and watch her step inside … with a guy on her heels. Huh. Who the hell is this dude?