“Huh?” the boys chorus.
“I took the same self-defense class in high school,” Rory says as she holds the door open. “I would not be able to pull that roundhouse kick off.”
“I’m a little athletic.” I slap the two boys on the back. “Go get back into bed so your sister can get some shut-eye, too.”
The two immediately run down the hall for the bedroom. Rory sighs. “Why can’t they listen to me like they listen to you?”
“Because I’m the fun visitor and you’re their parent.”
“I’m their sister.”
“That too.” I pull out my cellphone and dial the dispatcher. “You go eat while I take care of the mess outside.”
She crinkles her nose at me because she doesn’t like being ordered around but her stomach growls, and she slips away.
“What’re you doing up so late, Mr. Carter?” the third shift dispatcher, Bette, chirps in my ear.
“There’s a mess on the sidewalk over on Kellogg and 14th Street. Thought someone might want to come out and clean it up.”
A long silence floats down the line. “Kellogg?” Bette’s voice is full of disapproval. “There are two rules of Edison. One is nothing good happens after dark, and the other is nothing good happens on Kellogg. What are you doing there, son?”
“Visiting friends.”
“Are you doing drugs, Tyson Carter? Because if you are, your momma’s heart is going to crack in two, and your daddy is going to have a heart attack.”
“Nothing like that is happening, and my parents know where I am. I brought some leftovers to a friend, and when I was leaving, some drunk came at me. I had to defend myself. He just needs to sleep off whatever it is that got him so riled up, but he should probably do it behind bars because you don’t know what kind of mood he’s going to be in when he wakes. Now are you going to send someone out, or do you want me to drive him into the station?”
“I’ll send someone out,” Bette replies, but she’s not happy about it.
“Is someone coming?” asks Rory.
I tuck my phone away and push her gently back into the kitchen. “Yeah, a deputy will be here soon. Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“I’m guessing it’s one of Mom’s hookups.”
“He said something about stealing.” I want to know what I’m dealing with so that I can keep Rory safe.
Rory flushes and stares at her plate in gloomy silence.
“Rory?”
“I don’t know,” she says finally. “Sometimes my mom gets into stuff over her head.” She pushes away from the table and takes her half-eaten plate to the trash.
“I just want to keep you and the boys safe.”
“It’s not your job.” She dumps the food and then rinses the plate off.
“I want it to be my job.”
“Well it’s not.” Her words are punctuated by the sound of the garbage disposal and then the clanging of dishes into the dishwasher.
I’ve managed to piss her off—a skill I’ve perfected in the last four years. To hell with it, I decide. If she’s going to be mad at me, let it be about something good.
I grab the dish towel out of her hands and press her up against the sink. “It’s gonna be my job, so you might as well get used to it.”
I slam my mouth against hers. She makes a muffled sound of surprise, and I make the most of the opportunity and slip my tongue inside. Her hands come up to my shoulders, and I tense, thinking she’s going to push me away, but instead her fingers curl around, and her nails dig into my skin.
The world tips upside down as she kisses me back. Right. She’s never getting rid of me now.