“I’m gonna assume you haven’t talked to dear ol’ sister for a while.”
I hadn’t. I couldn’t even remember the last time we had actually talked on the phone. Most of the time, it was a quick text asking how she was doing and not much else. “Things have been crazy here. I haven’t had the time to talk to her.”
Somewhat a lie. Things had been crazy, but not crazy enough where I couldn’t take five minutes to call Royal. I just never seemed to think to call her when the time was right.
Grit tsked. “Not a good friend at all.”
I wanted to punch him right in the fucking nuts. Repeatedly. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”
This back and forth bullshit between the two of us was not amusing to me.
Grit pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stuck one in the corner of his mouth. “I’m not even sure where I should start. So much has happened in a short amount of time. And for once, it’s Royal who fell into the shit, and now, I’m right there with her trying to get her out.”
Yeah, he was going to get a punch in the nuts.
He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled deeply. “She has a boyfriend.”
I tipped my head to the side. That was news. Royal had always been so anti-boyfriend. “No, shit.”
We hadn’t talked on the phone, but I figured that was something worthy enough for her to include in her texts to me.
He nodded and exhaled a cloud of smoke right in my face. “Yeah. Except they broke up.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re still a horrible fucking storyteller.”
He shrugged. “It’s important to know.”
“Then get to the point.”
“She had a boyfriend. They broke up. They then got back together. Then they really broke up. For real.”
I closed my eyes and tried not to jab him right in the dick. “Okay.”
“And now she is for real pregnant.”
Talk about dropping a bombshell.
I couldn’t seem to get my jaw up off the ground. “Say what?”
Royal and I had both sworn up and down that we were not the type to have kids. A dog or a cat was about the level of dependency I could handle. At least with a dog, you could put it in a kennel when it was naughty. Kids, not so much.
He nodded. “That ain’t even the shit of it,” Grit laughed. “Got fucking knocked up by Rider Meeks.”
“No,” I gasped. “You can’t be talking about the Meeks I think you are.” Jesus Christ. God, please no.
“Biff Meeks’ son.”
Dread washed over at the name. Biff Meeks owned four car dealerships in the Destin area and was rumored to be heavily involved in the pipeline of trafficked kids and women from Florida to New York. It was a straight shot right up and down 95. There’s a trail of kids being ripped from their families to be sold for a few thousand dollars. As far as I knew, nothing was ever proven against Biff, but the rumors never went away as long as I lived there.
“Are you kidding me, Grit? What the hell was Royal thinking getting hooked up with anyone with the last name Meeks?”
Grit shook his head. “I asked her the same damn thing when she hooked up with him, but she swore up and down that he wasn’t anything like his dear ol’ dad.”
“Fucking Royal. I bet she thought she could change him or some bullshit.” Between Royal and me, she was the one who thought the best of everyone and didn’t judge a book by its cover. I, on the other hand, figured everyone was bad until they proved to me otherwise. Most never proved me wrong. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “So, what is going on now?”
“She told me she was going to tell Rider about the kid.”
“What did he say?” I asked.