“You really haven’t been paying attention to the news, have you? Where the hell have you been anyway? I’ve left you at least a thousand texts… It doesn’t matter. There was an explosion over in Cherry Lane. No one’s dead. They think it was a gas leak or something, but it’s hell with all the traffic redirections—”
“Cherry Lane?” Daze says thickly. “Ain’t that where that new-age church is? Salvage or whatever—”
Salvation.The main headquarters is located there, and panic erases everything else like hate and rage. Is Father okay? Was he there during whatever happened?
I look for my cell phone as Daze’s voice seeps through the door.
“You said no one was hurt, though? That’s good.” His voice is a fraction deeper. Louder. Like he knows I’m listening, and that reassurance is directed toward me alone. I’m grateful, if uncomforted in the slightest. “Do they know what caused it?” he adds.
“I don’t know,” Lyra says. “But since Sam doesn’t have school, I can’t watch him unless I take off work. Then I remembered that he has a perfectly good father who can do the honors. Let him stay the night. Take him to school in the morning. Beherewith him. He needs you, Daze.”
“I don’t need a fucking parenting lesson, Lyra. Least of all from you. How’s Jamie, huh? Still a goddamn dropout?”
“Nice one, Day,” Lyra says softly. “Shitty mother or not, at least Sammy has someone to tuck him in at night while his dad’s out being a goddamn criminal. I mean it, Daze. You blow this visit, and I’ll have what little rights you have left terminated. Then I’ll take Sammy for good, and he’ll grow up knowing you only as the delinquent neighbor who sometimes shows up unannounced to family reunions. Do you understand me?”
“Like crystal,” Daze snarls. “But tell me one thing? Why tonight, huh? Don’t pretend like you don’t fucking know what Silas is up to. You doing his dirty work for him now, Lyra?”
“What...what do you mean?” Lyra’s voice cracks, betraying unease. “Isn’t any night good enough to be with your son?”
“Yeah,” Daze admits. “Except the other night you told me to stay the fuck away from youandMutt, and then you pulled that ‘permanent custody’ bullshit card. So why the change of heart all of a sudden?”
“Don’t forget that you begged me to take custody, Day. But… Fine.” Her voice lowers, and I have to strain my ears just to follow the rest of the conversation. “You’ll find out anyway, but you have to promise me.Promiseme...that you won’t go looking for any trouble.”
“That depends,” Daze says carefully. “What has that motherfucker done now?”
“Daze...”
“Just say it!”
“Fine! You didn’t hear this from me, but...there’s a rumor that there will be another fight soon. He’s resurrecting the ring, but I don’t know where—”
“Looks like your favorite fucker is meddling in gambling again. Remember how you used to ride my dick about ‘arms sales’? Now look at what’s replaced me.”
“It isn’t like that,” Lyra says quickly. “Besides,youstepped down, remember? But I know that you can’t seem to resist starting trouble wherever he goes—”
“You’re not stupid,” Daze says coldly. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what a ‘fight’ means when it comes to Silas. They won’t be placing bets on the winner, that’s for fucking sure. He’s toying with themob, Lyra. With cartels—not the fucking boy scouts! You going to stand aside and watch him start a war, just so long as he lines your pockets? Do you miss the life that fucking much?”
“It’s just afight, Day,” Lyra insists, but her voice breaks a second time, betraying another lie. “And you don’t talk to me about missing the life. You going to get those tattoos removed finally, or what? Besides, Silas promised that nothing would come of it. He has it under control.”
“Bullshit! He lied to you. Though what else is new? So much for that fucking uncle of the year award,” Daze hisses. “Son of a bitch! I told you to keep him the fuck away, Lyra! You watch out and thatuncle, whose money you love so much? He’s going to get Sammy,andyou killed—”
“I’m not involved,” Lyra admits. “Just stay out of it, Daze. Promise me—”
“Get the fuck out.”
“Not until you promise that you won’t go after him. Think of Sam—he’s already lost his mom. You want him to lose his dad too?”
“You want me to watch him? Well, I’m watching him. Now get the fuck out.”
“Fine, Day.” I hear Lyra move to the door, only to hesitate near what I assume is the threshold. “His bedtime is at eight. He needs to be at preschool by nine-thirty tomorrow, and don’t forget he’s allergic to tomatoes. And feed him some real food this time, huh? No fast food shit.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Try not to screw up too badly, and I’ll let you have him for the weekend, huh? That’s what you’ve been asking for. Just stay in tonight. Please.”
The door slams, cutting her off. In the resulting silence, I finally notice faint, persistent scratching noises coming from behind me. I whirl around to find Sammy sitting cross-legged beside an overflowing laundry basket. A red backpack lies beside him, and he has a coloring book on his lap.
“Daddy says I’m not allowed to sit on the bed until he puts on the blue sheets,” he explains before I even think to ask.