“Why? Who is he?” Buster says, his tone sounding dangerous.
Henry strides toward the poker tables, smirking at me every few steps. It’s hard to fully describe the raw fury I feel toward him. He acted like he was something he wasn’t. He played with my emotions. He tempted me, made me fail. He’s the real liar, the real cheater. Nothin’ more than a despicable excuse for a husband and future father. How is it that men like him exist, when my daddy—a kind, decent, loving, faithful Henry—no longer does?
I take a slow, controlled breath. Henry may have lured me, but never again will I let a boy bend my will. “He’s nothin’.”
Mary examines me. “If you’re going to implode, please don’t do it here.”
“What’s going on?” Buster says, louder.
“Honestly, Buster. Let it go.”
He shakes his head. “If that’s the fella Roy was telling me—”
“Buster,” I say firmly, more firmly than I intended, ashamed my brother knows I cheated on Roy. “He’s just some jerk who ain’t worth either of our time.”
My brother sips from his drink, and I notice the deliberation behind his eyes. “Fine,” he says eventually. “Unless that creep comes any closer.”
“Thank you,” I say.
But I don’t follow my own advice. I search the crowd again, looking beyond the chaotic dancing, needing to know where Henry is.
The first face I see is Raymond’s. It’s hard to miss him, when he’s the only one unmoving, the only one staring at me, hoping to catch my attention. He nods toward Henry at the next table.
“I know,” I lip.
Raymond opens his mouth, but my eyes jump to a new movement: Henry’s.
Midlaugh, he turns his head toward me. The anger from the other night is gone from his expression. His residual cockiness is back, but there’s something more in his pinning gaze and smirk. Defiance. It’s as if he thinks he’s untouchable.
He’s not.
The tempo of the music increases, fueling something inside of me. I lock my eyes with Henry’s, fighting the urge to shrink away. My next gesture ain’t for Henry. It’s for Raymond. But I want Henry to realize that this is my doing. I nod confidently toward the exit, silently demanding, Raymond, get this sorry excuse for a man out of here.
Two hands land on Henry’s shoulders. Raymond yanks him out of his chair. Henry shouts, but the noise of Doc’s swallows his protests. He tries to shake Raymond off, so desperate and childlike. I watch Henry, wholeheartedly enjoying the power I’ve wielded, as Raymond escorts him away.
The door opens as they approach it. Blanche enters, Buck coming in next. Blanche’s features instantly morph from hesitance to anger, her lips pursing. Her hand winds back, flies forward, smacking Henry ’cross his face. Raymond’s shoulders bounce in amusement. Blanche steps aside, and Buck slams his shoulder into Henry’s as Raymond gives him the bum’s rush. Blanche kicks the door closed.
She takes a moment before she turns, Buck’s hand on her lower back to guide her. Blanche instantly searches behind the bar, for me.
A slow smile appears on her face.
I realize that a smile is already on mine. I straighten my lips and ask Buster if he wants another drink.
“I’d rather you tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“Later,” I lie, and I get to fixin’ him another Gin Rickey. “I’ve got to deal with her first.”
Buck pulls Blanche ’cross the room, toward the bar. I’m ready for her, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
“Y’all need to talk,” Buck says to me, his arm stretching fully behind him, with Blanche hanging on as if he’s a lifeline. He yanks her and she stumbles forward. “Now.”
I push the drink toward Buster, then fold my arms over my chest.
No one says a word, my brother looking back and forth between Blanche and me with scrunched brows.
Buck shakes his head. He grabs my hand, pulling Blanche and me toward the back room. The voices and music ring in my head when the door closes behind us.
“Blanche will go first,” he says.
She glares at him, and he smiles sweetly before leaving the two of us alone.
“Fine,” she mutters. “I’m an ass. I should never have written that note.”
Her sort-of apology catches me off guard. I’d been mentally preparing myself to go toe to toe with her. “Do you understand why?” I ask condescendingly.
“It was selfish. I did it more for me than for you. But part of it really was for you. I swear to that God of yours.” When I don’t answer right away, she continues, “Bonn, I really am sorry. You know Blanche never apologizes.”
“You really messed up, Blanche.”
“I know. I won’t do anything like that ever again. Please forgive me? I slapped that jerk good and hard for you.”
I sigh, the fight in me diminishing, ’specially since I know I messed up, too. “Okay, but—”
“No buts. I’m already a big enough ass.”
I scrunch my brows.
“I know that didn’t make sense,” she says, “but at least you don’t look like you’re going to slaughter me anymore.” I roll my eyes, and Blanche bites her lip. “How ’bout this … That Halloween bonfire thing is in a few weeks. I’m sure Roy will be there. Everyone will be having fun, be more relaxed. We can woo him.”
“Weeks?” I ask, and rub my forehead.
“Time heals all wounds, Bonn.”
“I don’t know. I think I messed up too badly.”
Buck pops his head into the room, bringing a wave of noise with him. His shoulders relax.
“We’ve all been there,” Blanche says with a half-smile.
“Maybe. But I let that two-faced jerk affect me too much.” I motion with my hand, slowly, steadily to the right. “It’s like my life was moving on this good path with Roy. Then Henry smiled at me and wham”—I stop, start moving my hand sharply to the left—“that path started going the wrong way.”
Blanche grabs my hand. “I can fix this, and your, um, path. Let me try. How did you leave things with Roy? Did he say it was over?”
“I don’t know. He told me how he wasn’t sure if he could get past me kissing Henry. He just walked away. Then today”—I let out a slow breath—“I gave him a doodle.”
“You gave him a doodle?”
“Yeah, like one of those drawings—”
“Oh, I know what ya mean. I reckon you could’ve thought a bit bigger, though, Bonn.” She claps her hands once. “But I can work with this; it’s all promising. There’s still a chance.”
Considering Roy couldn’t so much as look at me at church, I ain’t so sure I agree, and now I’m doubting my apology even more. Bigger? I should’ve gone bigger. But how?
Buck steps forward. “Please let her try to help.”
I smirk at his desperate tone. I can only imagine the earful Blanche has given him since our fight.
But I think ’bout being at that bonfire. I ain’t convinced it’s a good idea. Though I’m not convinced it’s a bad one either.
Blanche stomps her foot, like an honest-to-goodness two-year-old, and brings her hands together as if she’s praying. But she wouldn’t actually ever do that.
My chest rises. “Fine.” I exhale. “I’ll go.”
Blanche squeals.
18
I moan.