Montana groaned. “He was five. Thought it was a game. The whole ordeal—taking me to the ER because of a slice in the chest—sobered Momma up real quick. She left him. Dude came and went. Last thing I knew, he got locked up out in Victorville—armed robbery. Did a dime.”
“Ahh. That’s why he didn’t appear when we won the first World Series?” Another nodded and said, “Had just got out in time for this one.”
“Yep,” Montana’s reply was short.
“Have any of you ever seen the effects of spousal abuse on the nuclear family unit?” My voice shifted, clinical. “Every day …”before I quit,“ahem, I’ve seen it in the ER. Bruises inconsistent with stories. Kids carrying trauma in their bones. Women who haven’t wised up after the honeymoon stage in the abuse cycle.”
My eyes locked onto the trio for a beat. “Ezekiel showed up after years of silence. Wanting money—”Maybe, money?I glanced at Montana.Nod, or something.He had me freestyle testifying in front of billionaires. “Montana had every right to shove him. Truth is, he showed restraint. Any other man might’ve decked their father. My man gavehimthe smallest fraction of the pain he’d seen as a boy. Pain he also felt when his brother …”
I winced.Sorry, Washington. For all those times you came and ensured we were safe … but I’ve gotta pitch you beneath a fast-moving bus. “… stabbed him.”
“Wash didn’t stab me. It was a cut.” Montana’s lips hardly moved.
Sorry. “Like we said, Washington was too young to understand his actions, but developmentally … on track. A baby genius. He exhibited appropriate behavior while imitating the example set at home.”
I looked at Montana likeSee? Very helpful. Very Shonda Rhimes—Grey’s Anatomy.
Arctic daggers burned straight through me and my attempt at redemption. But Soapbox Zuri was driving the bus now.
Without a brake pedal.
And she’d tossed Montana underneath with his brother.
“Abuse cycles are real.” I gestured with my hands. Ready to slay this TED Talk. “As I said, in medicine, we see it daily. One parent lays hands. A child absorbs. The cycle repeats. Generational trauma doing the Cupid shuffle”—mentally this was a palm to forehead moment—“straight down the family tree.”
An exec coughed.Mm-hmm. This diagnosis was personal.
M’kay. I’d made an impact on him. I could do this all day.
“So, yes, Montana shoved him. From a psychological perspective?That was therapy. I am not a therapist, but doctors can prescribe medication. Montana Babineaux doesn’t need probation. This dedicated athleteneedshis spring season.” Since I’d already said this before in so many other words, my mind finally brain farted.
Heavy silence ensued. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Now, I needed an eloquent speech to get Montana to forgive me—while fully clothed. Because if feelings were a fish fry, I’d be the catfish nobody had scaled, half-coated, and getting all burned up in the oil by the way he glared.
Montana’s jaw flexed.Crap. I should’ve known when he didn’t play up the “Saved Woman from Tiny Terrorizers” that this situation had deeply affected him. Right then, I realized, this wasn’tShe embarrassed me, and we can laugh at it one day. It wasForget one more night of trying to get into her panties. I’m taking her ass home today!
Lord, let there not be turbulence.
montana
. . .
As we stepped out of Guggenheim Management, Zuri’s heels clapped the asphalt, quick and nervous. Smog curled around buildings while we stopped at the valet.
“They promised to take it into consideration,” she whispered.
Was that supposed to comfort me?
“Some owners already left for lunch, Montana. That’s why the rest couldn’t make an executive decision,” she added as a BMW coupe aimed for the curb. The driver handed LaShawn her keys.
My agent fisted them in her hand. Not one big on emotional displays either, she did something out of character. She agreed. “True.”
Zuri stared at her like they’d commence a girl talk, and I was supposed to listen in. Catch comfort from their speculation.
Nah.
LaShawn was all out of woman-to-woman juice. She grumbled, “Will keep you posted,” then got into her car as my Maserati approached.
As the valet exited the driver’s side, I opened the passenger door for Zuri. Had to remain respectful, even if she dragged my business into the streets. Where I was from, family washes the dirtylaundry. But there she goes … throwing out Momma’s pain, Wash’s mistake. All me and my brother’s scars. My damn father’s shadow. Stacked on a scoreboard.
