How had he managed to make something I felt so happy about seem so wrong? There was nothing shameful about what I was doing, but now I would have to talk about mydamn sex lifein front of my college-age son.
Abraham’s busy hands froze, and in the dead silence I heard him set the engine down on the concrete.
“She’s our club gardener,” he said in a low, harsh voice. “The rest of it is none of your damn business.”
“And who are you to talk to me like that?” Perry blathered on at Abraham, jabbing his finger in the air. “Polly ismyex-wife, so I think I have a little say in how she spends her time and what sort of immorality she brings around our son.”
“Her son is grown,” Abraham said coldly. “And you are making a damn fool of yourself.”
“Dad, come on,” Laurie started anxiously. “Stop, let’s just go.”
But Perry was still determined to humiliate me, and he walked officiously over, Bridget trailing along behind with that little smirk on her face.
“Polly, you need to come with me. Stay at your aunt’s house or something until we can decide what to do with you that doesn’t shame the whole family. You’re too old to be acting like aslut.”
I could feel my cheeks turning red at his shameful judgment. How could I ever explain to someone like Perry that for the first time in a long while I feltwantedandneededhere? For something other than just being a mother? That I was happy?
He would only outargue me like he always did, filibuster all the reasons a 42-year-old woman should not have anything to do with a rough, dirty motorcycle club.
But before I could get a word in edgewise, Abraham stood and unfurled his big body up to his full height, Perry’s eyes widening at every single inch until his tongue was lolling out like a dog’s.
“Because your son is here, I’m going to give you one chance to apologize to Polly.”
I felt chills run up and down my arms, goosebumps prickling my skin.
There was something about the tone in Abraham’s voice . . . I think it was then that I realized how dangerous he truly was, how I hadn’t even seen a fraction of his power.
My heart was in my throat, corn silk all over the front of my jeans.
Two split seconds of silence passed as Perry sputtered with rage.
“I’m just telling it like it is!”
Abraham blew one last ring of smoke right in Perry’s face, then put out his cigarette squarely in the middle of my ex’s forehead.
Perry squawked in pain and stumbled backwards.
“What the fuck, dude?”
Perry attempted to put his fists up like a boxer, but Abraham brushed past his wobbly tiny biceps, and the Prez’ blow landed squarely on my ex’s nose with a crack.
Holy shit. I was already on my feet, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but Abraham had one hand around Perry’s throat and was dragging him across the gravel drive and hoisting him up in the air.
Bridget shrieked as Perry’s feet dangled ridiculously, his loafers bicycling in panic.
He looked like a child, or like a tiny mouse that a mountain lion had decided to play with.
“You come on this property, you will respect my old lady. I take it as you begging to get the shit beaten out of you if you insult her. Got that?”
When Perry didn’t answer right away, Abraham shook him sharply.
“Now where’s her goddamn apology?”
“All right, all right, sorry, Polly, sorry.”
Perry’s glasses were cracked, ash dribbling down the wreckage of his broken nose.
Abraham dropped him on the ground.
