“Well, anything but go to another disastrous holiday weekend with my father.”
“If you don’t go,” she teased, “who will apologize for your father’s fuck-ups? You can’t expect me to do it.”
“Second option, Adelle?” Ric pushed.
“You attend the children’s hospital charity ball after the Fourth as the Van Holtz representative. I think Van donated something like forty thousand this year.”
Ric hated charity events, but he realized he could invite Dee as his date—then he just as quickly realized she’d turn him down. But still, anything was better than ruining his holiday weekend by spending it with his father. He’d rather sit home alone, watching the fireworks on TV.
“Charity ball.”
Adelle nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll let Van know.”
Ric watched her bite into her cinnamon bun and admitted, “Mom came to me the other day . . . asking for money for Dad.”
“You better have said no.”
“I did,” he confessed. “I did . . . but maybe I should have—”
“No, Ric.”
“But—”
“No.”
“But maybe if I invest in this ridiculous restaurant idea he has, I can . . .”
“What? Undo your father’s decision to steal from his own Pack? Do you really think that by giving that man money, you’ll be changing anything?”
Ric shrugged, because he really didn’t know the answer to that question. Or did he?
“It won’t,” Adelle told him flatly. “And you know that, Ric. Without me telling you.”
“Yes,” he forced himself to admit. “I know. But I’ll go over the books one more time before I say anything to Uncle Van. Make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“You didn’t.”
“I want to make sure.”
“Fine. But it won’t change anything, Ric. You simply can’t rescue everybody.” She eyed him. “And that includes idiot young pups who thought they’d be high rollers in Vegas.”
“Atlantic City,” he corrected her, knowing she was complaining about seeing Stein washing dishes at the restaurant.
“Whatever. I can’t believe you gave that brat a job.”
“You didn’t see what the bears did to him.”
“I don’t care what the bears did to him.”
“Adelle.”
“He probably deserved it.”
“Adelle.”
“He gave me the finger when he left. I should have taken that finger and shoved it up his—”
“Adelle!”
“What do you mean no?”
Halfway through her lunch burger, Dee looked up from her plate and across the diner booth to her cousin Sissy Mae and Sissy Mae’s second in command, Ronnie Lee. While Sissy stared at her, Dee continued to chew her food and stare back.
“Well?” Sissy pushed.
Dee swallowed her food, wiped her mouth, and replied, “What do I mean no about what?”
“About July Fourth weekend.”
“What about it?”
“We’re all going to Bren’s house in Macon River Falls.”
“Yeah?”
“And I invited you to come.”
“Yeah?”
“And you said no.”
“Well, Sissy Mae, that’s the beauty of the invite—you can turn it down.”
Her cousin’s eyes narrowed and Dee could already see this was not going to be an easy conversation, which she found mighty irritating since she’d gotten off early. With Desiree, Malone, and Dee using their contacts to track down a hybrid fight, there was nothing to do but wait. Desiree had headed home to her son, Malone back to the KZS office that was in some secret location no one was supposed to know about—they were in Queens and had been for the last forty years—and Dee had wanted a nice, quiet lunch at her favorite diner with nothing but a burger, extra crispy fries, and one of her favorite Agatha Christie books. She liked ol’ Aggie. True, the mysteries and the scandalous activities of some of the characters may seem tame by today’s standards, but Dee enjoyed the simplicity and straight-forwardness of the stories. She got enough bloodbaths from her daily work, she didn’t need it in her leisure reading.
“That’s true,” her cousin said, “you can turn down my generous offer—”
“How is it your generous offer when it’s Brendon’s house?”
“—but you shouldn’t turn it down.”
“Why?”
Sissy sighed, long and loud. Like the weight of the world rested on those big She-wolf shoulders. “Dee-Ann, darlin’, I am trying to make you more part of the Pack.”
“I am part of the Pack.”
“True, but you don’t act like you’re part of the Pack.”
“I’m there when you need me. What more do you want?” Dee caught the wrist of the She-wolf reaching from behind her to grab a fry off her plate. “Do you wanna keep this hand, Dolly Mae?”
Her young cousin, a new recruit to the New York Pack, said, “I just wanted a fry, Dee-Ann.”
“I just wanted to eat in peace. Don’t look like that’s gonna happen either.”
“Can’t you share?” Sissy asked her.
“No.” She released her cousin’s wrist, ignoring her when she began to rub it. These weak sub-adults. Grow a spine already. “Look, when I became part of this Pack, Bobby Ray promised me that I wouldn’t be hemmed in.” She glanced around at the group of She-wolves now surrounding her. Some in the booth behind Sissy and Ronnie, some standing next to the table, and some in the booth behind her. Like Dolly Mae . . . who was still trying to get her fries. “I’m feelin’ hemmed.”
“No one’s trying to hem you in,” Sissy argued. “God forbid anyone try and hem in Dee-Ann Smith. But you can’t bond with your Pack if you’re not part of it.”
“I’m part of it. You need me, I’m there. Otherwise, don’t bother me.”
“Dee-Ann . . .” Sissy began. But, sick of Dolly Mae and her sneaky fingers, Dee caught hold of her hand and gripped it until she heard bones crack . . . and break. The She-wolf whimpered, sounding all sorts of pitiful until Dee flung her hand away.
Slowly, she looked back at her cousin. “You were sayin’, Sissy Mae?”
Another dramatic sigh, accompanied with a sad head shake. “See?” she asked. “You need my help more than you ever realize.”
Dee picked up her book. “Actually, what I need is for you to fuck—”
“Lunch!” Ronnie Lee cut in. “We haven’t had lunch yet.” She motioned to the waitress. “Let’s get lunch since we’re already here. You don’t mind if we join you, do you, Dee-Ann?”
“Well—”
“Good!”
One of Ronnie Lee’s cousins snatched Dee’s book from her hand. “Watcha readin’?”
“Reading’s boring,” another cousin complained. “Why read it when you can just watch it on TV?”
Dee crossed her eyes and resigned herself to “Pack time” as her momma always liked to call it. Of course, when she would say “Pack time,” Dee’s daddy would follow that up with a walk to his favorite shotgun followed by his favorite saying, “Guess it’s time to start the killin’.”
If only . . .
Ric walked into his kitchen an hour after lunch service had ended. Adelle was finishing out her shift and laughing at something Stein said while the kid pulled a couple of sizzling steaks from the grill. Standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, Ric waited until the kid turned around—and fell back against the ovens.
“Uh . . . Ric. Hi. Uh . . . I was just . . . uh . . . making something to eat for Adelle.” Ric stared at Stein, but didn’t say anything. It was a trick he learned from Dee-Ann and he’d found it was quite effective. Kind of like now.
“She said it was okay . . . and I thought she needed something to eat after all that time working.... It was so busy in here . . . and everyone did a great job . . . and . . . and . . .” Stein winced. “My head’s hot.”