Instead, I walked to him and wrapped my arms loosely around his waist, saying softly, “I’m sorry, Sam.”
His arms returned the favor and he replied, “I’m not.”
My head cocked to the side. “You’re not?”
“Kia, honey, she was the mastermind.”
I blinked.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“What you said, what Oswald said when he briefed me; your dead piece of shit husband was not the sharpest tack in the box. So this leads me to believe all this was her gig from start to what she still hopes will be the finish. It was her idea.”
Holy cow!
“She told you that?”
“Fuck no but I read it all over her. Her clothes, the way she wears her hair, her house, she wants more, always has, always will. She’s livin’ a dream she concocted in high school, married to the star quarterback, livin’ large, lordin’ her shit not stinkin’ all over town. She thinks you took that away from her by marrying that fuckin’ guy and she wanted it back, with your ex and the money from your life insurance policy.”
“So, you figured her out too,” I deduced.
“She’s so consumed by it, baby, she’s not even close to hiding it. And that ten minutes I had alone with her, she reeked of it so much took everything I had not to gag.”
At his words, I thought about Vanessa. I thought about the fact that Vanessa, who had mouse brown hair, bleached it blonde about a week after I started seeing Cooter. I remembered that, more than once, she’d come to school wearing the same outfit I’d worn a few days before. I thought about the fact that Milo played high school ball and looked a lot like Cooter except he stayed fit and attractive mainly because he ran every morning and only drank beer while watching sports rather than downing a six pack every night. I thought about this fact and it hit me that she didn’t even see Cooter the way he was before he got half his head blown off. She only saw what she wanted to see. And it also hit me for the first time with any clarity that the stupid idiot wanted to be me.
Then I thought that this all creeped me way the heck out.
“Okay, I was creeped out before, what with her wanting me dead, but now I’m creeped way the heck out,” I told Sam.
“That’s because this shit is creepy,” Sam told me.
“Why is Ozzie taking her in?” I asked.
“‘Cause she’s got more and he wants to give it a go getting it from her. He won’t succeed. She’ll keep her mouth shut and if she doesn’t, her attorney will do it for her.”
“What does this mean?”
“It means I’m out and Lee and Tanner are up. She’s not gonna give me shit. They’re gonna have to find ways to make her talk or dig up her dirt.”
“Right,” I whispered just as there came a knock at the door, it was loud, it was hard and Sam’s body went the latter then twisted quickly when the door flew open.
“What the fuck?” Sam growled and I peeked around him, my mouth dropping open when I watched another man in my life stalk into my living room, face like thunder.
“Jesus, fuck, Jesus!” my brother Kyle shouted, his eyes on me, his girlfriend Gitte hurrying behind him and I was having trouble deciding between shouting with glee that he was there and fleeing because he looked extremely pissed. My brother was a good guy, funny and loving but he was also tall and strong, he took care of himself and he had a temper. Therefore, with the size of his frame and volatility, when he got pissed, watch out.
He stopped in the doorway and his eyes flicked to Sam whereupon he mumbled, “Dude, cool to meet you, big fan,” then he looked back at me and exploded, “Seriously, Kiakee, what… the… fuck?”
Well, there was one good thing about being under threat of death; it took precedence over Sam’s fame.
“Uh… Kyle, Sam, Sam, Kyle, Gitte, Sam, Sam, Gitte, Kyle’s girlfriend,” I quickly introduced and, as I did, I felt the tension leave Sam’s body.
“Time for that shit is later,” Kyle announced. “Now, what the fuck?”
“Uh… I take it Dad called you,” I guessed.
“Uh…” Kyle leaned in then boomed, “Yeah! And I’m here ‘cause if I go see Ozzie I’ll wring his fuckin’ neck. What the fuck?”
I moved to stand beside Sam and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work in Tennessee?”
“Yeah, but, see, they were pretty cool with me takin’ off to drive home seein’ as my goddamned sister has a hit put out on her!” Kyle answered.
“Kyle, honey, calm down,” I whispered.
“That doesn’t happen a lot.” He didn’t calm down, instead he kept on target.
“Kyle, sweetheart –” Gitte started, unwisely (I thought) getting close to his side.
Kyle ignored her. “And they had no problem believin’ that shit seein’ as my sister is currently flavor of the month on all the gossip sites.” He crossed his arms on his chest and added wryly, “So by the way, congratulations, Kiakee, for makin’ last week’s top ten best dressed on youwearitwell.com.”
I blinked.
Then I asked, “What?”
“Casual section,” Gitte put in with a huge grin. “You were number seven with your cute tank, metallic belt and short-shorts.”
Ohmigod!
“Seriously?” I asked Gitte.
“Yeah,” she answered. “And I think you’re number seven because you’re a newbie. When you’re more famous, you’ll totally move up the ranking. That outfit was hot.”
More famous?
Oh God. I didn’t know what to do with this.
“Uh… hel-the fuck-lo!” Kyle clipped loudly, throwing out his arms. “Can we focus?”
I focused then I moved toward him saying, “Kyle, it’s cool. I know it’s a shock but Sam has it under control.”
I stopped a foot away from him but he didn’t look at me, his eyes were on Sam.
“Yeah, Dad said. My sister lands a famous dude, lucky she lands one who’s trained in a variety of ways to kick ass. That said, I’m thinkin’ I need to be more intimately acquainted with Sam’s plans and Sam’s intentions toward my sister so I can feel all this Sam Love everyone’s suddenly got and know my baby sister is in good hands.”
“She is,” Sam’s deep voice replied at the same time I said, “I am.”
“Yeah?” Kyle asked, “How ‘bout Gitte and Kia go do some woman shit and you convince me of that?”
“Kyle,” I whispered and his eyes sliced to me and when they did the fear I saw stark in them, an emotion I’d never seen my brother experience, nearly brought me to my knees so I repeated on a whisper, “Kyle.”
“It’s good that motherfucker is dead,” he whispered back.
I moved to him and put my arms around him, whispering again, “Kyle.”
“Do my time to kill him, he wasn’t,” Kyle went on.
“Honey,” I said softly.
“It wasn’t sick as shit, I’d dig his punk ass carcass up and burn the motherfucker,” he told me, his eyes roamed my face then his arms closed around me.
I did a face plant in his chest.
His arms got tighter. So did mine.
“Can I ask, at this juncture, what ‘woman shit’ entails?” Gitte asked, I unplanted my face out of my brother’s chest, turned my head and looked at his girlfriend.
Kyle and Gitte had been together for four years. They were a matching set. He was blond, handsome, tall and built. She was blonde, gorgeous, tall and built. They were both sweet and loving but they were also both chock-full of attitude. The only difference was, Kyle was American and male and Gitte was Danish and female.
Her name meant “strength” and her personality underlined it.
As evidenced by the annoyed look on her face at being relegated to “woman shit”. They said men married their mothers and women married their fathers. This was not true with me but it was definitely true with Kyle and Gitte. Dad had taught Kyle to be a man’s man and my brother might work a desk job but he kicked ass doing it, he pulled down a huge salary and
, often, he thought what he said went.
And also often, Gitte staunchly disagreed.
“Gitte –” Kyle started.
“Do I not get to understand the Sam Love?” she asked, her delicate, arched eyebrows arching further which, knowing Gitte for four years, boded bad things. “Or, perhaps, Kia and I should retire to her bedroom and give each other facials?”
Uh-oh.
I pulled out of my brother’s arms in order to steer clear. I got two steps back when Sam, clearly using his training and reading the room, tagged the back of my tank and pulled me two steps further and into his body.
“Darlin’, I think you get me,” Kyle stated though he was wrong, Gitte did not.
“I called off work too and not to drive all the way up here to give Kia a facial,” she retorted then looked to me and said, “Though, your skin is lovely, always. You don’t need one.”
Seriously, I loved Gitte and not just because she thought I had good skin. Unlike Luci, my brother didn’t make me wait to find a good one who I could love like a sister and get drunk with.
“Thanks, honey,” I whispered. “You don’t either.”
She nodded and smiled.
Sam, surprisingly silent, decided not to be silent any longer.
“Right, I’m hungry. Kia’s gotta be hungry. There are no groceries in the house and even if there were, Kia’s boxed up all her kitchen shit so we can’t fix anything. We need food. You can come with us, eat if you’re hungry, don’t if you’re not but either way, while I eat, I’ll fill you in. Both of you. ”
There you go. Sam was being decisive.
“Is Kia gonna get a hole blown in her while we visit the Pancake House?” Kyle asked Sam and instantly I decided on pecan pancakes from the Pancake House for lunch.
“No,” Sam answered Kyle but didn’t elaborate.
Kyle held Sam’s eyes.
I waited.
Gitte waited.
Sam stayed silent.
Memphis yapped.
My stomach growled audibly.
That was when Kyle said, “Let’s get pancakes,” then added, “Or do commandos eat pancakes?”
Gitte grinned.
I bit my lip through my own grin.
Memphis yapped.
Sam muttered, “Serious as Christ, I spend another day in this ‘burg, I need to find a gym.”
That was when I knew I was going to get my pecan pancakes.
And that was also when I laughed.
Chapter Sixteen
Promise
Sam was on his phone in the kitchen talking to the unknown (to me) Tanner Layne.
I was on my couch with Memphis.
We’d had pancakes. Sam had shared his keep Kia breathing plans and both Kyle and Gitte had calmed down. We left the Pancake House and went directly where no one went after the Pancake House, the gym. Sam suffered without showing he was suffering through the guy at reception practically drooling at the thought of Sam working out there. Then he kindly declined free passes and paid for a week’s worth. After that was achieved, we went to the grocery store where most of our cart was filled with fruit, veggies and lean proteins, courtesy of Sam.
Their presence became a boon because we all went back to my house and they helped me work toward getting ready for my everything must go yard sale.
When Mom and Dad were off work, we all headed over there and had a family meal that consisted of breaded and fried pork cutlets, fried potatoes and corn fried in butter, all of these prepared in Mom’s three ever-present cast iron skillets. This was served with enormous poppy seed roles and followed by strawberry pie.
When Sam’s plate was put in front of him, he looked at it a nanosecond then his eyes instantly cut to me.
I tried to stop my laughter therefore I snorted.
“What?” Mom asked upon hearing the snort.
“Nothing,” I answered.
Mom glanced between the two of us then unusually let it go.
Sam tucked in but I imagined he did it while mentally adding about a hundred more pushups to his workout the next day.
Dinner was good. Dinner was fun. Dinner was like dinner always was when we all got together – a happy occasion that we cherished because we all weren’t together very often.
Dinner was also more insight for Sam into me, my family, how we interacted, the deep love we felt for each other. My family talked, shared stories, laughed over history and, without anyone mentioning it but with everyone feeling it, we enjoyed a time when we could all be us without Cooter sitting at the table like a big, pink elephant in the room.
Sam was involved though quietly. He chuckled, he laughed out loud, he gave me warm looks and my family warm smiles.
But although Gitte was Gitte, involved, sharing her own tales not only of her times with us but of her life with Kyle in Tennessee and her own family and friends, Sam did not.
At all.
He wasn’t removed. He just wasn’t sharing. I didn’t understand how he pulled it off but he definitely did.
I didn’t think anyone noticed but I did and it was beginning to nag at me.
We left Gitte and Kyle with Mom and Dad since they had a nice guest room and I did not and Sam and I went home. Sam told me he needed to check in with his crew of badasses and he went to the kitchen. I camped out on the couch with my photo albums. My goal, sorting the pictures I wanted to keep and dumping the pictures of Cooter.
I did not want to do this but everything in my house had to be sifted through. I’d already given away all of Cooter’s clothes. I’d also already boxed up his belongings and Dad took them to his parents’ house so they could have whatever they wanted.
But now it was onto the hard stuff and I decided to get through the worst of it first then move onto what wouldn’t suck as much.
The tension I felt in my shoulders just looking at Cooter in pictures grew tighter when I sensed Sam walking in. On the floor beside the couch was a pile of Cooter memories as well as my entire wedding album. I didn’t want Sam to see any of them. I also didn’t want to hide.
He’d mentioned more than once that he liked that I was “transparent” so, as difficult as it was, I kept flipping through the album in my lap.
Sam crouched beside the pile on the floor, picked up a photo and studied it.
I pretended to ignore him, pulled another photo out of the album and tossed it to the floor.
Sam dropped the photo he was studying without a word then twisted my wedding album towards him.
I deep breathed.
He flipped it open. I flipped a page.
“Baby, fuck,” he whispered and my eyes slid to him to see his head bent to look at the album. “Beautiful,” he finished then his gaze came to mine.
I looked down to see a full page photo of myself standing alone in my awesome wedding dress carrying my huge-ass bouquet and then my eyes went back to him.
I liked what he said just as much as I hated him knowing I was stupid enough to give it to Cooter which was to say a lot.
“Thanks,” I whispered back.
He looked down at the album and flipped a page. I looked down at mine and did the same.
“What are you doin’ with this stuff?” he asked.
“Giving it to Cooter’s parents,” I answered.
“Come again?”
I knew those words weren’t directed at the floor and I found I was right when my head turned to him again and I saw his eyes on me.
“I’m giving all of it to Cooter’s parents.”
“Why?”
Uh… why?
“Why not?”
He stared at me. Then he shifted so his ass was on the couch at my bent legs.
“You tight with them?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“It’s a nice thing to do, you givin’ them memories of that piece of shit, but you don’t have to do it,” Sam told me.
“I know,” I told him.
“So, you’re not tight with them, why you doin’ i
t?”
I looked at him. Then I looked at the floor. Then I looked back at Sam.
Then I said, “I don’t know.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Sam returned immediately and I blinked.
“What?”
“They know what kind of man they raised?”
“I don’t know,” I repeated but that was a semi-lie. Cooter’s Mom was beaten down and broken, just like me. Cooter’s Dad was a dick, just like him. They knew or at least his Mom did.
After Cooter died, Cooter’s Dad was beside himself with grief in the way a man like him could be beside himself with grief. He blustered and boiled over and got drunk and told anyone who would listen that if Milo Cloverfield got anywhere near him, he’d pull Milo’s intestines out with his bare hands. Cooter’s Mom retreated, got even more quiet than normal and anytime I saw her, which luckily was only briefly the day after Cooter died and then again at the funeral, she looked at me in a way that made my heart clench and my flesh crawl. Pain and grief mixed with jealousy.
And Sam, being Sam, knew this and I knew he knew it when he stated, “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“You did,” I reminded him and suddenly he stood. Using his toe to flip closed my wedding album, he walked from the room and into the kitchen.
Stunned by his actions, I stared after him and kept doing it so I saw him come back with a big, black garbage bag.
Then he crouched by the photos and shoved them and the album in the bag while I kept watching. He left it at my side when he was done, straightened and looked down at me.
“The rest go in that bag. You get done with that shit, I burn it or I take it somewhere and dump it. You need help goin’ through the rest?” he asked then tipped his head to the three albums I hadn’t yet done stacked up on the floor.
“I’m not fired up for you to see my life with Cooter in pictures,” I answered.
“And I’m not fired up to do it but that wasn’t what I asked. I asked if you need help goin’ through the rest.”
Okay now, wait. Weird.
He sounded testy.
I tipped my head to the side and asked quietly, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, and it’ll be great when you answer my question.”
Oh man.