Page 63 of Down and Dirty

“They were jerks,” Sammy choked out.

“Yeah, they were. You want me to go beat the crap out of them, the kid and the father?”

Sammy raised his head and grinned at his father. “Would you?”

“If you really want me to.”

After a moment, Sammy shook his head and allowed his father to kiss him on the cheek. But then the boyling followed up with, “I still hate you.”

“I know,” Zachary said. “Wanna go over to the arcade? Betcha I can win you a few prizes. You, too, Muhammad Ali,” he said to Britta. “I’m pretty deadly with the rifle game.”

So, still carrying his son, Zachary extended a hand to her. Danny looped an arm over her shoulder from the other side. As they walked away, they could have been mistaken for a family.

And something deep in Britta’s soul stretched and sighed.

Chapter 12

Like sand through an hourglass, or some such crap…

It was only a matter of time.

Samir knew he would be leaving this country and his father shortly. If he hadn’t been certain before, he was now, after seeing Hakim and Daoud, his grandfather’s men, hovering behind the merry-go-round, watching for an opportunity to grab him.

That was why he started fighting with that boy. Not that the jerk didn’t deserve a beating, but Samir sensed that the two Afghan men were about to pounce. This way Samir drew a crowd, preventing them from taking him without notice.

But Samir was no dummy. The time would come soon.

And his grandfather was going to be so maaaaad. He would blame him for leaving the country. He would say that he could have fought his father and escaped. He would say he was a stupid American. He would say his father was a killer and his mother a whore. What would his punishment be this time? No food for days, probably. Much shouting and insulting, for sure. But the whip? Would the whip be used?

He shivered.

“Hey, kid!” his father said, still holding him. “You’re shaking. It’s over now.”

For a brief moment, Samir allowed himself to be held, nestled against his father’s broad chest, his face buried against his neck, which smelled of shaving cream and soap. Then he pulled away and said, “I’m hungry.”

His uncle Danny groaned behind them, then tousled his hair. “Kid, you must have a tapeworm.”

“I am hungry, too,” Britta said.

Sammy smiled at the lady who was big as a tree but told good stories.

“So, what’ll it be this time?” his father asked, setting him back on the ground.

He pulled at his shorts and wiggled his butt. Those stupid underpants were up his crack again.

“Cotton candy,” he and Britta said at the same time.

If you think that’s crazy…

Britta and Sammy had eaten so much cotton candy, they were probably going to piss pink.

But it had been a good day, Zach decided as they left the Disneyland park. Even if he hadn’t gotten to screw Britta’s brains out, as had been his original plan.

There was hardly room for anyone to sit with all the stuffed animals and other crap he and Danny had won. He’d earned some Dad points with Sammy when he showed him how to hold a rifle at the pigeon-shooting game. That was, until the owner kicked them out for winning too many times.

He’d lost a few points with Britta when he rocked their seat at the top of the Ferris wheel, asking, “Do I rock your world, baby?” She didn’t punch him that time, though. And he did please her when he won her a gold heart on a chain; it was junk, but she kept looking at it as if it were some precious jewelry. Note to self: Buy Britta something nice.

It was barely five o’clock as he drove back toward San Diego, but Britta, Danny, and Sammy were dozing. A long day in the sun. And a lot of walking. He wouldn’t offer to stop for dinner. Hell, in addition to a ton of cotton candy, they’d had hot dogs, cheeseburgers, French fries, waffle cakes, pizza, popcorn, fudge, and ice cream in the course of their day. He wasn’t a gung ho health nut, but he hadn’t eaten so much junk food since he was a kid.