“Yeah, well, fuck you. Bitch,” he added again, as an afterthought.
Deanna clutched at her chest. Omigod, omigod, omigod. How did I let this happen?
“Same to you,” Martha snarled back at him, and for added emphasis, she shot him the finger.
Buck’s lips pressed together. “Don’t you point that finger at me, woman.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” The finger remained.
“I told you not to do that!” He jumped out of his seat, reached across the table, and swung at her. He might have been aiming at her hand, but the blow passed barely an inch from her face.
Deanna had seen enough. Too much, actually. She bolted into the house and ran into the kitchen. “What the hell is going on in here?”
Both Martha and Buck jumped out of their seats. “Mom! How long have you been here?”
“Long enough. Buck, I want you out of my house.”
“Mo-om!”
“Now!” She pointed toward the door. “Out!”
Buck settled into the kitchen chair. “Like, isn’t it Martha’s house, too? Doesn’t she have any say in this?”
“No.” Deanna marched forward till she was standing right over him. “Get out! Or I’ll throw you out!”
A small smile crossed Buck’s lips. He looked Deanna up and down, as if conducting a smug appraisal. “You’re going to throw me out?”
“Damn straight.” She picked up the kitchen phone and punched 911.
“Mo-om! Stop this! Buck is my guest.”
“You’re not allowed to have guests anymore.” Deanna spoke into the phone receiver. “Yes, I’m calling about a trespasser. Housebreaker. Whatever. An unwanted person who won’t leave. Can you send out a patrol car? We may be in danger.”
“Christ, all right already.” Buck stood up and pressed the interrupt button. “I’m going, I’m going.”
“Good.” She pushed him toward the door. “And don’t come back!”
“Look, woman, Martha and I are going steady.”
“Not anymore. Your relationship is over.” She pressed a finger against his chest. “And don’t you ever—ever—call me woman!”
He ambled toward the door, smirking. “Martha, your old lady is crackers.” He winked. “I’ll call you.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Deanna shouted.
Buck sauntered out the door. A few moments later, she heard his motorcycle rev up and saw him zoom down the street.
Martha ran into the living room and flung herself onto the sofa. “I am never speaking to you ever again. Never! Never!”
“Honey, it was for your own—”
“I have never been so humiliated in my whole life! My life is ruined!” Deanna saw tears trickling in the corners of Martha’s eyes. “I can’t believe you made him leave.”
Deanna flopped down at the foot of the sofa. “Honey … he’s a jerk.”
“I happen to love him, Mother, for your information.”
“Oh, you do not. You just think you do.”
“Who are you to tell me whether I love someone?” She pounded her fist into a sofa pillow. “What’s so bad about Buck, anyway?”
Deanna stared at her, flabbergasted. “Are you kidding? I saw the way he talked to you, the way he treated you.”
“He didn’t mean it.”
“He called you—the b-word. I won’t stand for that.”
“He can’t help it. He grew up around his dad, a dumb metalworker who can barely read. It’s what he learned. You always said we shouldn’t treat underprivileged people like they were worse than us. Right?”
“Honey … he tried to hit you.”
“He did not.”
“I saw it.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have given him the finger.”
“True, but that’s no excuse for him trying to hit you.”
“Where do you get off telling me what I can and can’t do, anyway?” Martha leaped to her feet. “It’s not like you’ve made your life such a giant success.”
Deanna mentally counted to ten. “Martha, I’m only doing this because I love you.”
“Bull. I think you do it because you’re jealous. Jealous!”
“Sweetheart, please calm down.”
“That’s why you were spying on us through that window. Is that how you get your cheap thrills? Are you that hard up?”
“Honey, I looked through the window because I heard Buck, who as you know perfectly well is not supposed to be over here when I’m not around.”
“You said he could come over after dinner.”
“Right. And we haven’t had dinner.”
“Wrong. I have. You haven’t, because you’re late.”
“I had to work late.”
“You always have to work late. You care about your job more than you care about me. You don’t even like me. You only got custody to spite Daddy.”
“Martha!”
“I hate you!” she shrieked. “I hate you!” Martha ran across the living room toward her bedroom. “And I’m never speaking to you again!” She disappeared inside the interior hallway.
Well, Deanna told herself, you certainly handled that well. God, why didn’t anyone ever tell me parenting would be so hard? And thankless. And why can’t I ever, just for once, handle something right?
Best to let Martha cool off, she decided, before she tried to talk to her again. She’d listen to reason later. Perhaps Deanna was overreacting, but she didn’t think so. That kid was a potential abuser. Potential—hell, he was there already. She’d seen the look in his eye when he talked to her. Contemptuous, superior. Violent. It was a look Deanna had seen before.
She would not let Martha have her life ruined by some abusive son of a bitch.
One time in this family was enough. Two was too damn many. This was a vicious cycle she was not going to allow to repeat.
She walked outside to recover the groceries. She thought she was handling this right, she really did. She had to be tough. Still, something about Martha, something about the look in het eye when she tan out of the room, chilled her to the bone. What if she did something stupid?
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Please, God. Please, no. Take care of my little girl. Because I’m not sure I can do it alone.
And if she spends any more time with that bastard Buck—anything could happen.
Chapter 11
BEN WAS LATE GETTING to his office the next morning, not that that was unusual. What was unusual was that his entire office staff—Christina, Jones, and Loving—were standing shoulder to shoulder just inside the front door waiting for him.
“Let me guess,” Ben said. “You’re on strike. Look, I don’t blame you, but until some of our clients pay their bills—”
He stopped. The huge ear-to-ear grins on their faces told him that wasn’t it. “Okay, what, then? Is today my birthday or something?”
“Where have you been?” Christina said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and pulling him into the office.
“At Forestview. I had to take Joey to school, and then there was this big sign-up for the spring bake sale—”
“Never mind that.” Christina pushed him into a chair while the other two huddled around. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning.”
“Why?”
Jones leaned forward. “I got a call the minute I came into the office, Boss.”
“And?”
“The mayor wants you!”
Ben fell deep into thought. Was this about that incident with his daughter at Forestview last Friday? It was just a little bump. And she ran into him …
“Can you believe it, Skipper?” Loving grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “The mayor wants you!”
“That’s nice … I guess.”
Christina cut in. “Ben, do you even know what we’re talking about?”