Chapter Twenty
Roy looked to Les, leaving him to answer. “Does it matter?”
“Christ! Of course it matters.”
“Well, it never did to us. Wai made up her mind she wanted Tommy to be your father, and so Roy and me decided we’d honor her decision. Far as we’re concerned, you’re Sloan Booker, Tommy Booker’s son.”
Sloan looked from one to the other and saw Roy nodding in full agreement. He couldn’t help himself. “I’m taller than the old man – more like your height and build, Les. And, I have a lot of your mannerisms, Roy. Only thing I thought I had from Tommy was his drawing talents, and I could have gotten those from Wai.”
Roy looked pleased, almost superior, as he raised his eyebrow toward Les, who glared and then said, “You’re the spitting image of your mom and her side of the family. You have her island eyes; your brows are full and slanted like hers were. You have her bloody personality too. Dedicated and fixated, you don’t give up, and she was like that, knew what she wanted and went after it… no matter what.”
“You’re talking about her as if she’s dead.”
Roy piped in. “When she left, we knew she’d never come back. She had a dream to follow, made a name for herself. About ten years ago, we found out she was killed in a car accident. We never did see her again.”
Though Sloan had just discovered facts about a mother he never knew, the news of her death made his heart lurched crazily. He gripped his hands together, his shoulders slouched. “How did you find out?”
Les shrugged. “You can find out anything you want to on the fucking Internet nowadays. She kept a low profile, but her designs eventually became very popular. You wanna know more, look her up. She used the name Wai Sloan.”
“She chose my name.”
“Yes. Said it stood for ‘warrior’.”
“Did she eventually have another family?”
“Not that we know of. But more than likely, she did. Your mother was a loving woman. I can’t see how she’d have remained single. Did you want us to look it up for you?”
“No. What I want to do is talk to my uncle Tadeo and find out what the hell happened on the day Tommy got killed.”
“Oh, for crissakes! You mean on the day yourdadgot killed.” Les made a point, one he meant for Sloan to accept.
“Whatever.” Sloan narrowed his eyes and waited for the explosion. He didn’t have to wait long.
Both Roy and Les stood, both glared just like they had on the day the cops had picked Sloan up for smoking pot when he was thirteen. That day, all three of his dads had surrounded him, hands on hips, and stared him down. He’d never smoked the shit again.
Roy tried placating, calming the tension. “Sloan, we agreed. And you got no say. Tommy Booker loved you and dedicated his whole life to raising you right. He was your father.”
Sloan stood and faced them. “Looks to me likeall threeof you dedicated your lives to raising me and I’m grateful. Don’t ever think I’m not. But this time you’re not gonna stop me. First, I’m gonna find out if Tommy was killed, and if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’m gonna catch the bastard who murdered him.” He stomped away and faintly heard Roy’s groan.
“Why’d he have to say it like that?”