For a minute he stared at me, then he stalked toward his parked car. I stood, staring after him. Fucking males with their fucking issues. Fuck them all. I tried to slow my breathing, to calm my shit.
It didn’t really work.
Down the street, he unlocked his car and climbed in, slamming the door shut. Give me strength. The thought of getting into a small enclosed space with him did not appeal. One of us might wind up dead. Maybe I should just walk home. Not home. It would never be home. It was a nice quiet night now that Mr Shoutypants had shut his trap. Of course, I hadn’t exactly been a decorous young lady myself.
Gah. Whatever. Stars were shining. The moon was glowing. All that beautiful shit.
Vaughan revved the engine, headlights cutting through the night. Then he just sat there, waiting for me, I guess. My feet stayed put. This was a change. I’d always been so keen to get close to him.
But now, well … what to do?
That’s when the chair came crashing through the tattoo parlor’s front window out onto the sidewalk. Glass shattered, flying everywhere. I fell sideways onto my hip, landing hard on the cement, arms covering my head. The sudden barrage of noise was stunning. The chair skidded past me, metal legs striking sparks against the concrete. It came to a stop against the pole for a street sign, declaring the speed limit.
Then, nothing. Absolute silence.
Cautiously, I raised my head. Two people stood staring at me in shock from inside Inkaho. Fair enough, really. The scene was surreal. Light glinted off the myriad of broken glass. It looked like diamonds or stars or something. Something pretty but bloodletting. No way could I put my hands down, push myself up onto my feet. Guess I might stay put for a moment. Consider the situation.
“Lydia! Shit,” Nell yelled from inside the tattoo shop, then ran toward the door, rattling the lock. “Pat, open it.”
Instead, the man climbed directly out over the ruined remains of the shop window. Crunch, crunch, crunch, came from beneath his boots.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“I, ah…” I looked around, waiting for my brain to catch up.
“Is she okay?” yelled Nell, watching out the broken shop window.
“Not sure,” said Pat.
Footsteps came running toward me. That was Vaughan. His Converse didn’t make as much noise as Pat’s boots. Why this mattered, I have no idea. I might have been ever so slightly in shock. Despite all the glass, Vaughan didn’t hesitate to kneel at my side.
“Babe?” He lifted my face to the light, inspecting me for damage. “Let me see. You all right?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You sure?”
“I’m really not sure of anything anymore.”
A grunt. The man got to his feet, then eased his hands into my armpits and stood me up too. No trace of anger remained. His concerned gaze continued sweeping over me, looking for any hint of maiming. “Does anything hurt?”
“What a weird fucking night,” I whispered.
“Hey, tune me in.” He gently cupped my face, mouth set in a straight serious line. “Are you sure you’re okay? Does anything hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head slowly, feeling out my body from the inside. I wiggled my fingers and toes, moved my head this way and that. All major limbs were still attached. No pool of blood surrounded me. Okay, good. “Just a little where I landed on my hip.”
Next came Boyd, Rosie, and Masa, running out of the Dive Bar.
“What happened?” asked Rosie, voice all high and excited.
“Pat got some bad news,” said Nell, voice wobbling slightly.
It didn’t take a degree in rocket surgery to figure out what the news had been. Nell had told Pat about the baby. Pat had lost it and thrown the chair. Despite their separation. Despite their divorce. Shoulders bowed, Pat seemed lost, wounded. Nell looked about the same. It still didn’t give him license to start throwing furniture through shop windows, however.
The amount of yelling, drama, and violence in the last seven days had been insane. In total contrast to my family’s own studied indifference. As if caring too much was an error, an embarrassment. Fact is, by the time things disintegrated to this degree, my parents would have long since moved on. I’d been given the same option and yet here I stood.
Staying was the right decision. It was.
Meanwhile, Masa swore while Boyd stood back, scowling.
“Christ, Lydia,” said Pat, eyes anguished. He rubbed at his face with both hands. “If I’d hurt you … shit.”
A police siren wailed in the distance.
“It’s okay,” I announced to one and all. Despite all evidence to the contrary. “Everything’s fine.”
“What a mess,” said Nell, a tear trailing down her cheek.
I could only agree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Baths were a girl’s best friend. Screw jewelry, chocolate, and those other things. A big old tub full of warm water had them all beat. Advil wasn’t bad either. Despite the monumental bruise covering my side, my hip hardly hurt.