Sway (Landry Family #1) (34 page)

“No, you aren’t. Let them handle it.”

He groans through the line, but that’s the only sound for a long while. We both seem to be mulling over the situation—him trying to fix it, me trying to absorb it.

“I’ll make sure we make an example of him,” he breathes, anger laced with every word. “I’ll have his name and face ran through the mud every which way. Trust me.”

The tears flow again, the fear resurging. I let out a little whimper, and I can hear him on the other end responding.

“Don’t cry. I’m coming over there.”

The one thing I want more than anything is to be wrapped in his arms. But I need time to think about this, and if he comes over here, he’ll just convince me it’s all going to be fine . . . and I need to know, by my own standards, that it will.

“I’m sure you have a million things to do,” I say instead.

“None of them are as important as this.”

My lip quivers. “I appreciate that. But I don’t want to make any bigger deal out of this than it already is,” I say truthfully. “And if you come over here like some kind of defender, ready to slay the dragon . . .”

“Oh, I’ll slay the son of a bitch. That I promise you.”

“See?” I laugh. “That’s what I mean. Plus, I’m supposed to go to work at Luxor tonight. Don’t you have some event or something?”

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“See? Just take care of you, and I’ll take care of us.”

The pause makes me regret my choice of words.

“Barrett?”

He sighs into the line. “I hate that I’m not a part of ‘us,’ you know?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, it is. You look at me like I’m separate from you and your son, and that . . . it pisses me off, Alison.”

“That’s not how I look at it,” I retort. “But that is reality, Barrett. You have your thing you’re working on, and I have school and a job and a side job and a son. Yes, you are . . . my boyfriend, for a lack of a more suitable word, but that doesn’t mean . . .”

“What? That you don’t want me around?”

My shoulders slump as I fall onto the sofa, my head going into my hand. “I do want you around. But . . . I just need to process this. My son’s photo was taken by some asshole a little bit ago. I need to make sure Huxley is okay. I need to figure out what’s going to happen.” I take a deep breath.

“I’ll send Troy over. He can be your—”

“I don’t want Troy here. I can take care of this.”

“Damn it, Alison. Let me help you!”

“You do help me. Look at you, ready to jump in and save the day. I love that about you, Barrett. But . . .”

I try to push back the thoughts rippling through my mind. Taking a deep breath, I know I’m going to have to confront the reality that’s just smacked me in the face. Glancing at my watch, I realize I don’t have a lot of time before I have to either go to Luxor or call off, and I need to talk to Huxley.

“Barrett? I really need to go. I need to talk to Huxley, call the police station, and then decide if I’m going to work tonight or not.”

“Why do our lives feel so separate?” His voice is so lonely that it makes my heart hurt. “I want to take you with me tonight. I want to be able to see Huxley and make sure he’s okay too.”

“He will be. I’ll make sure of it,” I whisper. “I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“I’ll call you later?”

The way he asks it instead of states it hurts.

“Yes. Please call me later.”

“Okay. Talk to you soon, baby.”

“Bye, Barrett.”

Alison

“YOU’RE SURE YOU’RE OKAY? ARE
you worried or scared or—”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Hux replies, rolling his eyes awhile later. “I’m not a baby. And the guy just took my picture. You’re kind of making a big deal out of this.”

I mess with his hair as he ducks away, his nose buried in the book he’s reading. “They arrested the guy. He’s in a lot of trouble.”

He doesn’t act like he even cares.

“If you want me to stay home tonight, I will.”

He peers at me over his book with a smile on his lips. “Will you please go so I can read in peace?”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I laugh, lifting up from his bed. “Grandma will take you to her house in a little bit, okay?”

He nods but doesn’t look up. Laughing and saying a prayer of thanks that he doesn’t seem to mind the drama of the day, I head into the kitchen. My mom looks at me from the kitchen table.

“You okay?” she asks.

I shrug. “I think so. Hux seems okay about it. I just . . . this is what I was afraid of, you know?”

“I do. That’s because you’re a good mom and you want to protect your boy. But you can’t protect him from everything, Alison.”

“I know that,” I scoff. “But am I asking for trouble? Am I putting him in a position I’ll regret?”

She crosses her arms over her pale green sweater and tilts her head. “Do you feel like you regret this?”

I start to tell her I don’t know, that I haven’t had time to think it through, that my head is still spinning like a top and I don’t know what in the world is going on, but my phone rings.

It’s Barrett.

“Hey,” I say, holding it to my ear.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I say, shooting my mom a look and leaving the room. “What’s up?”

“First, how’s Huxley?”

I smile. “He’s fine. Acts like a little champion.”

“Good,” he says, blowing out a breath. “I have this fucking Gala tonight and I have a million things to do before then. But there’s a story that will probably be breaking sometime tonight or tomorrow, and I wanted you to hear it from me.”

I force a swallow past the lump the size of an avocado in my throat.

This day just gets better
.

My hand grasps the back of a chair and I brace myself. “What kind of story?”

Something bangs in the background, possibly a glass on a table. My brain focuses on it instead of his words because it’s easier to digest. “There’s
another
girl saying she’s pregnant by me.”

“What?” I yelp, my chest caving in, the room spinning.

“It’s not mine, Alison.”

“Are you sure? Who is she? I. . . .”

“Her name is Lacy McKay, a girl I used to see off and on. I haven’t been with her in months, so this baby isn’t mine.” His voice is so cool, so clinical, that I don’t know how to process it.

I fall onto the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, all I can do is laugh a sad, resigned chuckle.

“This is an easy fix,” he hisses. “I’ll take a paternity test when the kid gets here and prove it isn’t mine.”

“But until then? What if it is?”

“Alison—it’s not. She asked for a sizable check this afternoon. She just wants money.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not paying her for shit because it’s garbage. What can she do? Go to the tabloids? And then what? Find out the baby’s not mine when it’s born and she’ll look like the bitch she really is?”

I try to clear my head and keep my wits about me when I really want to run into my room and cry. My life a few hours ago was exactly where I wanted it to be. How quickly things can change.

He blows out a breath. “Look, she doesn’t think I’ll call her bluff. She thinks I’ll pay her off and she can ride into the sunset
or
I will profess my undying love to her. I don’t know. But neither option is happening.

“Oh, Barrett,” I say, feeling sick. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me fucking too.” He clears his throat, his voice softening but not losing the sharpness. “I have to go get ready for this thing. Can I call you tonight? It’ll be late. This thing goes on for fucking ever.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m working at Luxor ‘til nine or so, then I’ll be home.”

He doesn’t try to convince me not to go to work, he doesn’t tell me to be careful or to think of him like he usually does. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “I’ll call you later, babe.”

“Okay. Try to have a good night, Barrett.”

And the line goes dead.

Alison

The late afternoon sun has lost its warmth as I pull into the parking lot of the location of tonight’s catering job. Luxor’s vans are parked by the curb and I spot Lola’s car in the back of the lot by Isaac’s. I pull in beside her, get out, and walk briskly to the back door.

This afternoon has thrown me for a loop. I hate this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything is falling apart, that things aren’t capable of ending well. It just drums up so many bad feelings that I find myself wanting to vomit every few minutes.

“Mrs. Baker, did you see photos on Malarky’s website? Did you see your husband snorting cocaine off a prostitute’s tits?”

“Mommy, why did Daddy leave us? Doesn’t he love me anymore?”

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, Alison. You have nothing to offer a man like me.”

My stomach rolls right along with the memories.

I walk around the side of the van and stop dead in my tracks. A woman is standing on the curb, a Cheshire cat-like smile carved on her glossy lips. She’s beautiful—tanned skin and long, blonde hair. When she sees me, she turns to face me.

“You’re Alison, aren’t you?” she asks.

The disdain is undeniable in her tone, poison leaking off of each syllable. I throw my shoulders back and take a deep breath. “Yes, I am.”

Keeping my head up, I quicken my pace, but she steps in front of me.

“I’m Lacy McKay,” she voices, loud enough so that I can’t pretend I didn’t hear her. “I thought we should meet.”

The air around us changes, sweeps from a normal fall evening to one of a horror movie. She can tell I know who she is because she smirks. That one little movement in the right corner of her lips changes everything.

“I don’t see why.” I’m stopped, unable to go forward without physically running into her, and I’m not giving her that. I narrow my eyes right along with hers.

She laughs a high-pitched squeak that makes me cringe. “Oh, honey, don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” Her palm presses flat against her stomach, her eyes narrowing. “And that I’m having Barrett’s baby. You did know that, right?”

Even though I knew this was coming and I know it’s false, or that Barrett says it’s false, still, it knocks the wind out of me. The thought of the possibility of Barrett’s child in her stomach makes my entire body shiver, my entire self ready to come out of my skin.

I hate the smug look on her face. I loathe the entire concept behind this. I abhor being in this situation to begin with.

Still, I can’t let her win. “Oh,
honey
,” I say, giving her words back to her, “you can’t get pregnant from fucking him in your dreams.”

Her mouth drops open, and I soak up the small victory. She gets herself together much more quickly than I anticipate. “No, but you can get pregnant when he fucks you on his desk in the Mayor’s office, can’t you?” She takes another step closer, looking down at me from the good two inches she has on me. “It’s just as well that you know now and can leave him before all of this comes out. He’s never going to be with you anyway. I mean, shouldn’t that be obvious to you by now? You’re going into work,” she says, making a face, “
in there
. If he were serious about
you
—”

“If he were serious about you,” I bite out, “you wouldn’t be in my face tonight.”

She takes a step towards me, her breath hot on my face. “Guess where he is right now.”

“Working, just like I need to be,” I say, trying to take a step around her. “Now if you’ll take your pathetic ass out of my way . . .”

She blocks my path. “He’s with Daphne Monroe.”

The pleasure she gets in informing me of this isn’t lost on me. Her pupils shine with absolute delight.

I try to temper my reaction, not let my features show the surprise I feel, the blip of shock that’s sitting right in the center of my core. “If that were true—”

“Oh, it’s true,” she snickers. “Pull it up online. It’s her on his arm in front of the city tonight. Not. You.”

I make myself laugh, even though I don’t feel anything of the sort. But I want to make her feel stupid . . . and me feel stronger. “Well, it’s not you either. So that makes you, what? At least number three on his list and you’re supposedly
carrying his child
. What’s that say about you?”