“You’re having a baby with her, Jett. You told me things were over. This isn’t over.”
“It is, baby. I swear. It’s been over for three months.” Jett steps around Hetch and takes his wife's hand, pleading with her.
“I want you to go.” Payton holds her ground. Jett looks between Hetch, Payton, and me before finally conceding defeat.
“I’ll go, but we aren’t done, Pay. No way is this over.” He picks up his jacket from the arm of the sofa, walks back over and wraps his arms around her. Payton fights him off, and before Jett can step back, Hetch has him by the scruff of the shirt, pulling him back down the hall toward the front door.
“You and I are gonna have to have a word about putting your hands on women.” I hear him say before turning the corner and pushing him out toward the front door.
I don’t have a second to think if I should go out and check on him before Payton is back to sobbing again.
“What am I gonna do, Liberty?” Her eyes are puffy, her nose red and runny, and I know just by looking at her, it’s going to be a long freaking night.
Seventeen
Hetch
“Who are you?” a little voice asks, waking me from my sleep.
“What?” I sit up rather fast, only to find Liberty’s niece standing over me, a confused look on her face.
“Umm.” I clear my throat. “I’m Hetch, Auntie Liberty’s friend.” I look around, gathering my wits. Last night after I escorted Jett out, I came back to find a sobbing Payton and a concerned Liberty. I knew we were in for a long night when Liberty couldn’t seem to keep Payton calm.
I wasn’t expecting to crash on the sofa, but when the night turned into the early morning, and I found the two women crashed out in Payton’s bed, I didn’t want to wake her, nor did I want to leave Liberty alone. Instead, I got comfy on the sofa and gave into sleep within minutes.
“Where’s my daddy?” Her little hands find her hips as she takes in my presence in her living room and the absence of her father.
“Ahhh….” I falter, unsure how to answer her question. The sun has barely risen, and the house is as quiet as when I crashed around two this morning.
“Wanna watch some cartoons?” I ask, instead of giving her an answer. I’ll leave that conversation up to her mother.
“I don’t watch cartoons,” she smarts. Her little attitude reminds me of her auntie’s, and I find myself cracking a smile at the sound of it.
“Well, what do you watch then?” I reach for the remote a little perplexed. What type of kid doesn’t watch cartoons?
“Movies.” She walks over to the cabinet under the TV and opens the doors, revealing a whole collection of Disney DVDs.
“They’re cartoons,” I tell her, watching her pick out some princess crap. It's not at all how I pictured spending my Saturday morning.
“No, they are movies,” she argues right back, just like her auntie would.
Jesus, you can tell they're related.
“Right, if you say so, kid.” I watch as she expertly moves through the steps of setting herself up to watch the DVD.
Once she has sorted herself out, she grabs a small teddy and climbs up next to me.
“Ahh, maybe I should go wake your mom.” I stand, before she gets too comfortable. The kid is pretty chill considering a strange man is in her house.
“No, don’t wake mommy yet. She’s sleeping with Auntie Bertie. If she wakes up, she’ll be sad again.” She pats the sofa next to her, giving me her big doe eyes. The small hint of sadness is almost overwhelming and like a pansy fucker not wanting to upset her at all, I sit back down.
Auntie Bertie? I snicker at hearing the cute nickname. That’s new. I’ll have to remember to ask Liberty about it when she wakes up.
“So what’s this about?” I ask as the opening scene starts rolling, some freaky-looking witch filling the screen with her ugliness.
“It’s about Rapunzel.” Her eyes don’t leave the screen, completely missing my look of confusion.
Rapunzel? Which one is that again?
The bitch who left her shoe or the one who lives with midgets?
Fuck me, there’s singing!
It’s way too fucking early for this shit.
“So let me get this right. He’s a bad guy, but deep down he’s good. And the horse is good, but for some reason, he’s being bad?” I ask Arabella thirty minutes later, trying to keep up.
“Hetch, did you listen to anyfing I told you?” she answers, growing frustrated with me.
“I’m trying to, kid. But dang, I’m confused.” I’m not ashamed to admit it. Hell, any grown man who’s never seen this movie would be as lost as I am.
“Ahh, am I interrupting?” Liberty’s amused voice pulls me from the movie, letting me know she heard my questions.
“Shhh, Aunt Bertie.” Arabella’s eyes don’t leave the TV, but her finger moves in dramatic fashion toward her lips.
“Yeah, Auntie Bertie.” I look up, grinning wider when I notice her messed hair and crinkled face.
Fuck, she’s cute.