“Talking about what?” I stressed the words, eager to get comfortable in my bed and put all this weirdness behind me.
What a damn day!
“Talking about how his brother is plotting to marry that little bitch in Springfield. The stripper is our problem. If we don’t take her out tonight, he’s gonna marry her tomorrow. Easy said his brother went home to Daisy’s to get a good night’s rest for his big day tomorrow.”
The more he talked, the tighter my face scrunched with disbelief.
Didn’t a marriage license take time to process these days? Surely, there was at least a twenty-four hour wait…
Then his meaning hit me.
He wasn’t talking about getting her fired.
He meant to kill that pretty little blonde.
“I’ll handle it tomorrow.”
“Tom–”
“You heard me. Tomorrow. I need a clear head and so do you. Goodnight.” I hung up on him and stared at the ceiling.
There was no way I could kill Crystal Nance just for catching the attention of one of our guys.
What in the actual fuck?
I had to get to Anthony first thing in the morning and reason with him. If he truly cared about her, he’d let her get some distance from this. At least long enough for Mark to cool off.
I tossed and turned, but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut.
This shit was gonna go south.
I didn’t know how, but I knew it was gonna happen.
I threw the blankets off and cussed the whole time I was getting dressed. I’d borrow my mother’s car and sit outside the Pink Cabaret. That was my only hope of running intervention and making sure Mark didn’t get to her first.
I could hear the outlaw country music blasting from the end of the block, when I turned onto the street my mother and C.C. Henshaw lived on. I let off the throttle and coasted, a hint of a smile resting on my lips as I watched his half-sauced ass twirl her around the front patio like she was some Spring chicken.
It was good to see her happy.
Her boisterous laughter accompanied a lighthearted swat to C.C.’s arm when he tried to dip her backwards. My momma wasa sturdy girl, C.C. might not have been a twig, but his back wasn’t any match for that. Not that it stopped him from treating her like his queen and giving it his best.
I appreciated him helping her find her spirit and sense of joy after Dad’s passing. We all did.
“Well, look at you,” she called, shoving a handful of her long, dark hair out of her face. “It’s awful late for the likes of you to be trotting around and making house calls, isn’t it, mister?”
“Definitely past my bedtime,” I agreed, while raising my chin in a silent greeting to her husband.
“Your brother is out at Eric’s cabin,” Mama offered.
“Wasn’t really him I was after, it was you. I wanted to borrow your car. I’d have it back by noon.”
“Only if you leave the bike.”
I puzzled my face at her, only for her hand to find a hip, as she furthered, “And the key.”
“Hell, no.” I sang, rejecting the matter without a second thought.
She swatted my arm and drew me into a side hug, “Of course, you can. Just have it back by noon, like you said, I’ve got to pick up your cousin from the airport over in St. Louis at two.”
