Chapter 14
SCOTT: RISKY BUSINESS
The morning air felt colder than it should have, as I stood there alone on the sidewalk watching her drive away.
I couldn’t shake the image of Michelle’s face behind the glass.
She looked so small and boxed in. And I had no doubt that’s exactly where her father intended to keep her.
My instinct had been to chase the car down, bang on the hood, pull my girl out.
But then what? I’d only be delaying the inevitable.
The showdown with her father was coming no matter what.
I just wish he hadn’t caught me half-naked and fully screwed.
With my truck still parked at the bar, it made more sense to head home and have one of my buddies drive me back to the Strip later to get it.
I stuck my thumb out and started walking.
A dozen cars blew past before an old blue sedan finally slowed.
The driver leaned across the front seat, grinning through nicotine-stained teeth. “Need a lift?”
He looked harmless enough—mid-forties, baseball cap, gas-station coffee in the cup holder.
“I’m headed to Venice Beach,” I said.
“Then you’re in luck. Hop in.”
“Appreciate it,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. The heater was on, blasting stale air that smelled like cigarettes and artificial vanilla, a losing battle of scents. The guy merged into the morning traffic, which was still light due to the early hour.
He shot me a glance. “Rough night?”
I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but I didn’t want to be rude either. “You could say that.”
He nodded, drumming his fingers on the wheel to a beat only he could hear.
But the small talk was… off. The questions were coming in too sharp, and the laughs a second too slow.
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. I answered like I didn’t notice, even as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
A few miles in, his questions turned personal.
Where I lived. What I did. If I had family nearby.
Something inside me went still. I didn’t panic.
Just watched the road. Watched and waited.
When the car slowed at a red light, I smiled back, casual as ever. “This is close enough,” I said, reaching for the handle.
Before he could respond, I was out the door and moving fast. He called something after me, but I didn’t look back.
I told myself he was just weird, that it was probably nothing, but I picked up the pace anyway.
We’d all heard the stories of hitchhikers going missing, their bodies turning up on the side of freeways.
Instead of hitching another ride, I walked the six-plus miles home, cutting through side streets and neighborhoods just in case. I knew he wasn’t following me. I checked a dozen times. Still, I couldn’t shake the uneasiness in my gut.
I’d just rounded the corner and was halfway down my street nearly two hours later when their voices reached me. April and Ron were in a full-blown fight, and I knew my shitty morning was about to get shittier.
“Don’t tell me I imagined it, Ron. She can’t stand me. Every time I open my mouth, she makes a snide comment or corrects me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” he sighed, sounding wrung out. “She’s cautious. She wants what’s best for me, that’s all.”
“And I’m not what’s best for you? Is that what she thinks? Is that what you think?”
“No. Of course not. I love you, April. I asked you to marry me.”
“But it’s what your mother thinks.”
“Don’t use that tone when you talk about her.”
I winced. Ron was taking his life in his hands with that one.
“Me? Did you even hear what she said about me last night? That I couldn’t wear white to the wedding?”
“I mean… it makes sense. Obviously, you’re not a virgin.”
Oh, my god. The dude was digging his own grave with a backhoe. April let out a strangled squeak that sounded like a dog toy losing air.
“Is that how it’ll be when we’re married? You’re going to take her side?”
“Did I say that?”
I tried to slip past unnoticed but got sidetracked by MGM, who, left to his own devices, was stuffing his mouth with gravel. I swooped in, turning him face-down, pried his mouth open, and shook him until pebbles rained out like a busted piggy bank.
My maneuver immediately cut through April’s rage. She rushed over.
“What happened? Is he choking?”
“Nah, from what I can tell, they were sliding right down.”
She opened his mouth wider and fished out random stragglers.
“And you’re trashing my mother?” Ron yelled. “Maybe try being a better one to your kid.”
“Hey!” I barked. “Not cool, man.”
Ron’s jaw clenched. “I’m outta here.”
“Good!” April screamed. “And don’t come back!”
He stomped off, only to whirl around, hand out. “Give me the ring back, then.”
“You want the ring back? Fine!” She jimmied it off her finger and chucked it. “Go fetch, you fucking Mommy’s boy!”
The ring caught air, arching high before clattering onto the sidewalk. Ron snatched it up, cursing like the sailor he’d soon be. “My mom was right. You’re trash.”
April gasped. I passed MGM off to her without breaking stride and took off after Ron. He spotted me coming and bolted for his car.
Behind us, April screamed. “Tell Sharon if she’d kept her own legs closed, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!”
Ron didn’t answer—mostly because he was running for his life. He dove into his car just as I reached him, which gave me time to get one clean kick into his passenger door, leaving an impressive dent he’d never buff out.
“You two deserve each other! Psychos!” he yelled as he peeled away.
When I got back, April was crying, clutching MGM and kissing his head. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay? Mommy should’ve been watching you better.”
And even though she wasn’t wrong, I took pity on her. The only thing worse than my morning was hers. Sure, I’d pissed off a hotel tycoon and almost got murdered hitchhiking, but at least my fiancé hadn’t chosen his mother over me.
“Hey, don’t worry,” I said. “MGM’s fine. He’ll pass ’em in the morning.”
“I’m a terrible mother,” April sobbed.
“No, you’re not,” I began, but she bolted inside before I could say more. I followed, watching her sink cross-legged onto the couch with the baby. He lasted about three seconds before wriggling free. With MGM, there was a time and place for cuddling, and it sure as hell wasn’t after a gravel lunch.
I scooped him up, flew him through the air, and landed him in his playpen like a pro wrestler doing a soft finish. Once he was set with his toys, I eased onto the couch beside April.
“You’re a good dad,” she whispered.
“And you’re a good mom.”
“No,” she exhaled, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I haven’t been. Not lately. And you know it.”
I did, but I wasn’t about to agree with her. I didn’t believe in kicking people when they were down. And even though our relationship had been rocky from the start, she was the mother of my child. It hurt to see her hurt. I opened my arms. April leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder.
“I think it’s over with Ron,” she softly cried.
Oh, it was over. Very over. When a man calls his fiancée trash and she responds by implying his mother is a whore, that’s not a fight. That’s a relationship funeral. But again, the less said in this situation, the better.
“I think mine might be over too,” I admitted.
She pulled back, eyes widening. “Michelle? Why?”
I told her what had happened with her father showing up, catching us, and my fear that I might never see Michelle again.
“Wow, she’s like rich rich,” April said. “I thought I heard a slight twang of yacht in her voice.”
I nodded. “It’s part of her charm.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is. But if you marry her and get rich, you have to start paying me more child support.”
“Really? I bare my soul and that’s your concern?”
We both smiled, a rare moment of levity in what had been a very bumpy couple of years.
“I’m sorry about Ron,” I whispered. And I meant it. My spirit was a little shaken today too.
“I’m sorry about Michelle.”
“Well… It’s not for sure yet.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “Her father found you both naked under the covers. It’s for sure.”
“I wasn’t asking for a verdict,” I mumbled.
She stared past me, already somewhere else. “I just wanted someone to love me.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “A lot of people love you. Your mom. MGM. Your friends.”
“His name is Mitchell, after my grandfather,” she corrected. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“He’s my son too. I can call him Turd Bucket if I want to.”
“Mitchell is a strong, distinguished name.”
“Yeah, he’ll be distinguished all right—right after his daily wedgie.”
“Oh, and naming him after a movie studio is going to keep him from getting shoved into a locker?”
“That’s right. Mine sounds powerful. Like he’s got lawyers.”
“There’s no arguing with you.” April threw up her hands. “You have a comeback for everything. Even I want to take your side.”
I sighed theatrically. “The curse of being funny.”
She studied me for a long moment. “God, I hope you pass your sense of humor on to Mitchell.”
“MGM,” I corrected.
She laughed, her first real one since getting un-engaged in front of the entire neighborhood.
“Fine, call him what you want. Just give him a personality, so he doesn’t end up like me.”
“Right, because it’s such a burden to be beautiful, smart, and wicked cool all at once.”
Her expression softened, her voice small. “If I’m all those things… then why don’t you love me?”
“April…”
“It’s fine. I get it now,” she said, her voice wobbling.
“I tried. Like, really tried. But you can’t force love.
My first day of freshman year, I saw you walk into the cafeteria, and I swear I couldn’t breathe.
I told myself—one day he’s going to notice me, I imagined it a million times.
” Her eyes dropped. “But you never did. Not really. Not until that night. And you were drunk. The next morning, you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. ”
“I’m sorry. That was crappy,” I admitted. “In my defense, I wasn’t exactly a one-woman man back then.”
Her brows lifted. “And you are now?”
“I could be.”
“With Michelle?”
I nodded.
“What does she have that I don’t? Money? Sophistication?”
Her eyes searched mine for an answer that made sense on paper. But there wasn’t one. Not when it came to Michelle. I couldn’t explain why I liked her. I just did.
I let out a slow breath and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said. “But something about her feels like… the starting line. Like everything before her was just me killing time.”
April sat with that for a moment before nodding, as if finally reaching her own conclusion.
“Then fight for her.”
“How?”
“Show her she can’t live without you.”
“Except you forget one thing. Michelle can live without me… and a lot better at that.”
“Who says?”
“Common sense.”
“And when,” she said, “has love ever been rational?”
April’s words hung there, cutting through the noise in my head. I’d spent weeks convincing myself Michelle wanted a bigger life than anything a guy like me could give her. I had never let myself consider she might not want that life without me in it.