“The hell do you want?”
My sister’s voice always managed to make me cringe inwardly.
“An explanation for starters,” I snapped. “Where are you?”
“Where are you?” she mimicked me in a high-pitched Muppet voice that I’d always hated.
I heard a prolonged exhale.
“Are you smoking in my car?”
“Looks like it’s my car now.”
“You know what? Forget the car. We have bigger things to discuss. You have a daughter! A daughter you abandoned in a motel room.”
“Got shit to do. Can’t have a
kid holding me back for the next while. Got something big in the works. Why ya think I named her Waylay? Figured she could hang out with her Aunt Goody Two-Shoes till I get back.”
I was so mad I could only sputter.
Knox snatched the phone from my ear. “You listen and you listen good, Tina. You’ve got exactly thirty minutes to get back here, or I’m callin’ the damn cops.”
I watched as his face got harder, his jaw tighter, showing off little hollows under his cheekbones. His eyes went so cold I shivered.
“As always, you’re a real fuckin’ idiot,” he said. “Just remember, next time you get picked up by the cops, you’ll have warrants. That means your stupid ass will be sittin’ behind bars, and I don’t see anyone rushin’ to bail you out.”
He paused for a moment and then said, “Yeah. Fuck you too.”
He swore again and lowered his phone.
“How exactly do you and my sister know each other?” I wondered out loud.
“Tina’s been a pain in everyone’s ass since she blew into town a year ago. Always lookin’ for an easy buck. Tried a couple of slip and fall schemes on some of the local businesses, including your pal Justice. Every time she gets a little money in her pocket, she’s rip-roarin’ drunk and wreaking havoc all over town. Petty shit. Vandalism.”
Yeah, that sounded like my sister.
“What did she say?” I asked, not really wanting the answer.
“Said she doesn’t give a shit if we call the cops. She’s not comin’ back.”
“Did she say that?” I’d always wanted kids. But not like this. Not jumping in one step shy of puberty when the formative years were already gone.
“Said she’d be back when she felt like it,” he said, thumbing through his phone.
Some things never changed. My sister had always made her own rules. As an infant, she’d slept all day and stayed up all night. As a toddler, she was kicked out of three daycares for biting. And once we hit school age, well, it was a whole new ballgame of rebellion.
“What are you doing?” I asked Knox as he brought the phone back up to his ear.
“Last thing I want to,” he drawled.
“Buying tickets to the ballet?” I hypothesized.
He didn’t answer, just strode into the parking lot with rigid shoulders. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but there were a lot of fuck yous and kiss my asses.
I added “phone etiquette” to the growing list of things Knox Morgan was bad at.
He returned looking even angrier. Ignoring me, he produced a wallet and fished out a few bills, then fed them into the soda machine.