She grabbed the cup with a straw in it and held it to his lips.
After she set the cup down, she pursed her lips. “You see what they did to your son? Do you want that to happen to me?”
He shook his head weakly, wincing at the movement. “Things got out of control. I owe Shane Blackwood three grand.”
“All this for three grand?” I asked myself more than him. “Surely, his rich daddy has money.”
“Does his father have anything to do with this?” she leaned toward him as though she wanted to strangle him.
“No.” He took a shaky breath. “Mr. Blackwood pretty much cut Shane off.”
I had my answer. “Continue.”
“Shane and I were cellmates in prison,” he said. “While inside, I borrowed money from him for the commissary. A couple of hundred here and there when my account was empty.” He licked his lips. “By the time we got out, I owed him three grand. But I’d only made that much in prison wages, and I needed that money to get back on my feet.”
“So you started gambling,” my mom interjected.
“I was hoping to make enough to pay him and still have money left over. I couldn’t ask you for it.”
I shoved a hand roughly through my hair. “Doesn’t your parole have rules about you not being allowed near a casino?”
“It doesn’t.” He squinted at me. “Embezzling money from my former employer has nothing to do with a casino. But I’m not supposed to leave the state. Do you want to hear the rest or not?” Anger mixed with the hoarseness in his voice.
I’d figured he’d violated his parole by crossing the state line. Still, the fact that he admitted his error might be a step in the right direction for him.
My gaze was drilling a hole through his head. “So you owe him three grand?”
“I thought I did until Shane said debts come with interest, so he upped it to four grand,” Kurtis said. “I gave him a thousand and asked for a little more time. After he and his men beat me up, he gave me a week. I guess he went after you so I would know he meant business.”
The heart monitor beeped loudly.
A nurse came running in. “It’s time for you folks to leave.” She adjusted his pillow. “Are you feeling any pain, Mr. Allen?”
“I’m his wife,” Mom said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
My phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans, the sound alerting me to a text. “I’ll be right back.” We were far from finished with our discussion.
I stepped out into the hall while the nurse did whatever she had to do. I grinned at Mazzie’s name on screen.
Mazzie
How’s your dad?
Awake and in pain, but good.
Mazzie
Do you have time to talk later this afternoon?
Me: Where and when?
Mazzie
Can you meet me at my mom’s house at four? I’ll be boxing up all our stuff.
How are you feeling?
Mazzie
