“No,” Ashleigh says quickly. “He’s so upset, I can’t see him right now. God, it’s bad enough he had to put up with me and my sadness for the past two months, but this? It’s like a slap in the face. He’s been taking care of Kate like she’s his own child since she was four months old and we finally get home to file the papers, and this happens. I swear to God, if I find out this is Tony’s parents doing this to try to get a hold of Kate, I will lose my shit.”
“Well,” I say more to myself than anything, “if I were you, I’d call their asses up and ask them what the f**k? Ya know? Put them on the spot. Make them come clean and say what they want. Maybe they just want to make sure they get visitation or something? And then you guys can sort it out in like ten minutes and put it behind you.” Both Rook and Ash are staring at me. “What? That’s what rational people do. People like Ronin, Spencer, and Ford do the complicated shit. Who needs complicated when you have easy. I mean—”
“No,” Ash says. “You’re totally right, Veronica. That’s brilliant.” She perks up at my idea, but Rook is frowning.
“What?” I ask her.
“Ash, if Ford says he’ll handle it, then you should just let him handle it.”
“Why?” I blurt. “Are you so brainwashed by Ronin that you can’t imagine picking up a phone and asking a simple question? I mean, come on, Rook. Not everything is a conspiracy.”
Ashleigh is looking at me as these words come out, but she glances quickly over to Rook and her whole attitude changes. “Yeah, you’re right. Ford can deal with it, I guess. Let him call them up and ask what the f**k.”
My mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me? Ashleigh, seriously. It’s a phone call. Rook, stop messing with her.”
“Ronnie, there’s things going on that you don’t know about, OK? It’s better to hand this off to Ford and the guys and let them figure it out. I’m sure Ford is hacking into some secret database getting information as we speak.”
“So you’re saying you two are part of the Team, but me, I’m not. So I can’t possibly understand how complicated it could be to just call up people she already knows and ask them what the f**k they want with her kid? Is that about right?”
“What if it’s not them, Veronica? What if it’s some sort of trap?”
“What f**king trap? Why would anyone be using this stupid adoption to trap Ashleigh?”
Rook sighs, but she stays silent.
Ashleigh won’t meet my gaze.
“Oh, yeah, OK. Once again, you two are in on the secrets but I’m not. You two are with the guys, and I’m not.”
“That’s not—”Rook is interrupted by Ford and Ronin as they enter the cinema and walk over to us. “Come on, ladies,” Ford says. “We’re taking you home.”
“Rook,” Ronin adds, “you’re staying with Ashleigh today until we take care of some business.”
Ford gathers up Kate and calls the dogs to heel, while Ash frantically stuffs her things into the stroller. A few seconds later they walk out to the waiting Shrike truck out front. I look through the window and see Spencer at the wheel, but he’s got his shades on, so I can’t tell if he’s watching me or not.
“Later, Ronnie,” Rook calls out as Ronin urges her to hurry. “I’ll see you later.”
And then I watch them all pile into the truck and take off.
I look around after they’re gone and everyone is staring at me. “What the f**k are you all looking at?” I slap a tip down on the table, grab my backpack, and walk out the door. The Shrike truck is stopped at the light at the corner and I can see them all talking inside the cab.
Then the light turns green and they turn and disappear.
Well, that’s f**king awesome. I swing my leg over my bike and start her up. Fuck them. Just f**k them. I back out and head the other direction on College. A few seconds later I pull into a spot in front of Sick Boyz and turn off the engine.
I sit here for a few seconds thinking about how shitty I feel. They seriously just left me sitting there like some worthless garbage.
And that’s two times in two days that I feel like worthless garbage.
And then I see him.
Bobby Mansi. He’s coming out of the hardware store a few doors down, tossing his keys a little, like he hasn’t got a care in the world. I bet he doesn’t, rich bastard.
He turns his head and I look away real fast, pretending to mess with my bike before slipping my helmet off. When I look up again, he’s standing right next to me.
“Miss Vaughn. I didn’t see you this morning. How did you sleep?”
“Great actually. The couch was very nice.” I wince internally at that stupid remark.
“The couch, huh? Well, I’m glad to hear it.” He points up to the shop sign. “Is this where you draw lines on skin? Sick Boyz, Inc.?”
I look up at the old sign. It’s been there since the sixties. We’ve had it repainted many times, but it’s looking a bit weathered right now. And maybe for the first time ever, I feel ashamed that I work here. It’s true I’ve never enjoyed it. Much, anyway. The blood, it really bothers me. But I’ve always been proud of what I do. I’m talented. I have clients come from all over the country to see me. Maybe we don’t have our own TV show, but we’re a good shop. I’ve always been proud of my family’s strange talent.