“Where are you, you little bastard?” she screamed.
Jack stared at his niece in disbelief. Her clothing was awry, her hair a mess, and the expression on her face was pure rage.
At that point Blake had heard the shouting and appeared at the head of the stairs. His saw his son’s bloody face and his sister’s manic demeanor, and came down on the run. “Did she do that to your face?” he demanded.
“Yes,” Charles said.
“Oh, hell, no,” Blake muttered, and grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her so hard they heard her neck pop.
At that point Charles panicked, afraid his father would break Aunt Nita’s neck, and began trying to get between them to break it up, but he couldn’t budge either one of them. His dad was furious, and Nita was now trying to claw her brother’s face the way she’d clawed his.
When Fiona raced out of her room and stopped at the top of the stairs, she gasped and then screamed, “Uncle Jack! Make them stop!”
Charles yanked a bouquet of flowers from a nearby vase, threw it aside and then flung the water on both of them.
Blake turned Nita loose to wipe his eyes, and Nita slipped on the water and fell backward, whacking her head. She was moaning and Blake was cursing, when Charles silenced them all.
“Everyone! Shut the hell up!” he shouted. “All that’s wrong with Aunt Nita is that she’s pissed because she caught me and Andrew screwing.”
Blake’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t think what to say.
Fiona started laughing and sat down on the top step to watch the drama unfold. “Oh my Lord! That’s rich! What a hoot! Does he run a discount with two or more from the same family?”
Nita tried to get up and slipped again.
“Somebody help me up,” she moaned.
Jack thrust out his hand, and when she grabbed hold, he pulled her to her feet.
“Nita, for God’s sake, stop carrying on,” he said. “Despite the unsavory aspects of this situation, the man was nothing but a high-dollar prostitute like all the men you drag home. At least this one didn’t steal the family silver. He didn’t owe you any allegiance and Charles was nothing more than another paying customer, although I will say, young man, you could have made a more thoughtful choice.”
Charles wilted under his uncle’s judgmental gaze.
Then Jack pointed at Nita.
“As for you, attacking your own kin like some wild animal? That should be beneath you. Until they heal, those scratches on your nephew’s face will be a visual reminder of the poor decisions you’ve made in life.”
Nita glared at Charles, who was glaring back. Commenting on the fact that he’d hit her, too, seemed pointless, since the truth was that she’d struck the first blow.
“Fine. I’m going to bed now,” she said, and stumbled up the stairs, sidestepping her sister at the top.
Blake was a little taken aback by the sordid aspect of the situation his son found himself in; although, to be honest, he’d never thought one way or the other about what Charles did in his spare time.
“If you’ll come upstairs with me, I’ll put something on those scratches for you,” Blake said.
“If I’m old enough to play with the big boys, then I’m old enough to doctor myself,” Charles muttered, and went upstairs to his room.
“Is it over?” Fiona asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Jack muttered, and went back into the office.
“Whatever,” Fiona said, and left, as well.
A few moments later Frances appeared with a mop and a bucket to clean up the water, then left as quietly as she’d come.
*
Talia smiled as the wind coming in the open window of Bowie’s car played havoc with her freshly washed hair. Finally being able to wash the blood out of it had been an emotional boost, and after three days in the hospital, it was heaven to be going home with the man she loved when they’d come so close to losing their second chance.
Bowie had the windows down and his sunglasses on against the summer sun’s hot glare, and she thought that he was beautiful. Earlier, while they were waiting for her release papers, she’d asked if she could braid his hair like she used to do when they were young.
“Only if you sit down first,” he had said, and helped her out of the wheelchair and back up on the bed before sitting down beside her.
He’d leaned back on his elbows, giving her access to the full length of his hair, which accounted for the thick black plait hanging over his shoulder now. The white T-shirt against his tanned skin made his shoulders look wider and his belly flatter. Talia loved how he wore his clothes, but she was more partial to when he wore nothing at all.
As if sensing he was under observation, Bowie gave her a quick glance.
“Are you feeling okay? Road’s not too rough? Those bandages on your ribs aren’t too tight?”
Talia was watching the way his lips moved as he spoke and remembering how they felt moving on her skin, but when she saw that he’d stopped talking, she realized she was supposed to respond.