“I’ll fucking kill you,” Chet seethed, his face smashed, spittle flying.
“How we doing out here?” I asked.
“Well, it was touch and go for a second,” Holden observed from the door, dabbing a handkerchief to his bleeding lip. “Chester, here, had Ronan pinned, which caused me to heroically jump into the fray and take an elbow to the mouth. My mistake. Ronan was going easy on him to prolong the
violence. You know our boy. He needs to get it out of his system every now and again.”
I shook my head at Ronan who shrugged one shoulder.
Mom emerged from the back bedroom with a duffel bag full of Chet’s stuff. I took it from her and joined Ronan in the center of our smashed living room.
“Let him up.”
Ronan released Chet, his eyes never leaving him, clearly ready—maybe hoping—for more of a fight. I shoved Chet’s bag into his arms.
“I’ll say it one more time. Get the fuck out of my house.”
He hesitated for a second, which was one second too long for Ronan. He grabbed Chet by the front of his shirt with both hands and drove him toward the door.
Holden opened it smoothly. “Thank you for choosing Ronan Air for all your travel needs. Please watch your step as you exit, as you could be in for a rough landing.”
Jesus, Ronan is going to kill him.
But instead of throwing Chet down the cement stairs as I feared, Ronan gripped him by the shirt collar and tipped him backwards over the balcony.
Chet’s arms pinwheeled. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“I live less than a block away from here,” Ronan said. “I’ll be watching you. If you step foot anywhere near this place again, I will end you. Do you hear me? I will fucking end you.”
Slowly, he released him, their eyes never breaking contact as the older man jerked his shirt back into place.
He shot me a pained look. “You needed a man in the house. I did my best. That’s all.”
“Your best was sorely lacking, Chester,” Holden observed.
Chet’s lip curled but he didn’t have any more fight in him. He took the stairs down, muttering and cursing impotently.
Ronan stepped back into the apartment. Holden shut the door. A short silence passed, the four of us absorbing what had just happened.
Then Holden clapped his hands together. “Who could go for some pancakes right about now?”
I shook my head, affection and gratitude for both my friends flooding me, calming the adrenaline rush.
“Can you guys give me a minute? Meet me at the Shack.”
Ronan nodded and looked to my mom. “Ma’am.”
Holden tipped an imaginary cap. “Good day, madam.”
When they were gone, I went with Mom to the couch, stepping over the ruined remains of our coffee table. She stared at the mess fearfully, not fully grasping yet that she was free.
“Mom,” I said. “Look at me. Gold Line Records gave me a contract. They want me. I don’t know how or why…” My throat was suddenly choked with emotion that was finally bubbling to the surface. Elation. Fear. All of it. I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes. “Things are going to be different now, okay?”
“Oh, baby,” she said, her brown eyes filling too. “I’m so proud of you. I know I haven’t been here for you the way I should—”
“It’s okay. I can take care of myself, and I’m going to take care of you. But you’re right, you haven’t been here. You haven’t been you. I need you to come back, okay? I need… I need you.”
I couldn’t stop it. I tried to hold my breath, but the sobs came bursting out of me. Mom put her arms around me and hugged me and held me like she used to when I was a kid. Before Dad left and her every waking hour had been about survival.