CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
RICH
Kenny pullshis front door open and eyes my soaking wet body from top to bottom. Then he leans over, staring at my truck parked in front of their mailbox.
“Can I help you?” he asks, stepping out onto the porch in his steel-toe boots and denim overalls.
I open my mouth but nothing comes out because I’m running on whiskey, gin and the belief that my love is enough to give Lovie the life she deserves.
“It’s a lil’ late for you to be knocking on our door, don’t you think? I was just about to head to work.”
“Ken, who is that?” Faye walks up behind him, pulling her robe taut.
Her eyes get big when she sees me. “Rich, is everything okay? Your dad okay?”
I swipe my wet cheek against my shoulder. All the shit I planned to say on the way here gets lodged in the back of my throat because I don’t know how to do this.
“He good, Faye. Senior’s good.”
We stare at each other with the remnants of me and Slim’s dramatic Sunday fight in our eyes until Kenny clears his throat.
She straightens her back. “Why don’t you come in? You’re soaking wet. Let me get you a towel.”
“Faye, it’s almost ten o’clock,” Kenny grunts.
She cuts her eyes at him like she did the first time she dragged me into their house. “Yeah, but he needs to get out this rain.”
“I don’t need to come in,” I reply. “I’m good out here.”
“See.” Kenny huffs. “He says he’s good out there.”
They frown at each other, and Faye grabs her forehead. “Junior, what’s wrong?”
“I came to get Lovie.”
“What you mean you ‘came to get Lovie?’” Kenny asks.
I look at Faye and point behind her into their dark house. “Can you go tell Lovie I’m here to get her?”
Kenny throws his hands up. “This is exactly what I was talking about on Sunday.”
“Ken—”
“He’s on my porch at ten o’clock at night making demands, Faye.”
Me and her stare at each other again. Dark circles hug the bottom of her red eyes, and her shoulders droop. This endless dance she’s been doing between Kenny and Senior is written all over her face.
“Junior…why don’t you come back at a decent time tomorrow so we can talk?”
“Faye, I…” My voice cracks. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I just want Lovie. This don’t have nothing to do with you and Kenny. She been saying she wants to come home since Sunday, so I came to get her.”
“Home?” Kenny scoffs. “And with all due respect, this is my house, so I’m involved in this whether you like it or not. Younot gon’ waltz up here and make demands like you pay the mortgage, son.”
“With all due respect, I told you I wasn’t your son.”
His nostrils flare. “Faye.”
