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Drew takes a step back, straightening his shirt before crossin’ his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry you feel that I’d cause ill will towards your dad. He’s my business partner and I was merely checking on his health.”
“He ain’t sellin’ Dalton Truckin’ to you. Get that damn idea outta ya frickin’ head now, because it ain’t happenin’.” I seethe. “It’s a damn insult that you’d offer him so little for his partnership. This is your final warnin’ to stay the hell away from my family, every last one of ‘em.” I yell pokin’ my finger into his chest. I step around him to walk away because if I don’t get out of arm’s reach of him now, I may just rip his damn head off. But that’s when he digs the shovel in deeper.
“How’s that adorable little girl; what’s her name, Heidi Jo? Bill talks about her all the time. She sounds like a little firecracker.” He steps closer to me, tauntin’ me further. “She don’t look much like her momma though. Must have a strong dominant gene in ya, little buddy. Just better hope Carly’s little brat takes after the Weston side and not those crooked ass Simons.”
Rage.
The rage that slowly crawled through my chest earlier now rushes through my veins and I see black. Before I can think my fist crashes against the side of his face. Fury fills my veins and the hauntin’ feelin’ of death that I could feel followin’ me ‘round the halls of the hospital is now perched upon my shoulder urgin’ me to deliver its next victim. I deliver blow after blow to his face, chest and stomach as the rage continues and I don’t know if I can stop. Pummelin’ his body to a bloody pulp feels liberatin’ and goose bumps blanket my flesh knowin’ this man’s next breath hangs on the edge of my fists.
Somethin’ clicks in that moment. At first I don’t recognize it, but when his fearful eyes lock onto mine, my arms fall weightless. His chest heaves raggedly as he rolls to the side, spewin’ vomit against the cool concrete. I could end him right now, but if I do, I’m no better than him. Squattin’ down in front of him I spit through clenched teeth the last warnin’ I’ll give this sick bastard. “Last chance. Leave my family the hell alone. Next time, I’ll not stop.”
Chapter 27
“Oh my Heavens, son, what happened to you?” Momma squalls when I walk into Pops hospital room. I stomp into the bathroom to rinse the bastard’s blood from my knuckles. Tiny scrapes and cuts mark the tops of my fists with mixed blood spattered up my wrists and arms. I look up and have a what the hell moment when I realize my cheek is cut and swellin’ up. I scan back through my memory and don’t recall bein’ hit, but my face tells a different story. No wonder momma’s mouth dropped when she saw sight of me.
Well shit.
I know Momma and Pops both are gonna have a shit ton of questions, but considerin’ Pops’ ill health at the moment I have to tread lightly. I know my old man. He ain’t told Momma that Drew is tryin’ to force him out of Dalton Truckin’. Hell, all I know is that Drew offered Pops’ one hundred thousand dollars for the truckin’ company. Told him to walk away and never look back. Shit ain’t gonna be happenin’ though. The trucks alone are worth over four hundred thousand dollars, not includin’ the garage, mechanic trucks, equipment and the contracts that Dalton Truckin’ holds with different mines.
When Pops came to Simon Energy last week and told me that Drew was tryin’ to buy him out, red flags waved immediately. Naturally, I let anger get the best of me and I failed to ask him what the hell he was thinkin’. He obviously ain’t thinkin’ straight to even consider something so frickin’ stupid.
I’m suspicious about why Dad would even consider sellin’ Dalton Truckin’, let alone for a small percentage of what his company’s worth. Twenty plus years my old man has poured into his truckin’ company. The blood, sweat and tears pale in comparison to the time and money spent to lift his company up off the ground, moldin’ it to what it is today. Ain’t no damn way I’m gonna stand back and watch him give it away to some greedy ass prick like Drew Varney.
I step out of the bathroom and walk around the bed to window and remain silent until the nurse finishes checkin’ Pops’ vitals. Momma asks her a few questions about the stress test and ECG procedures that his doctor has scheduled for him for tomorrow mornin’. His blood pressure and heart rate appear to be steady, or so she says. Once the nurse leaves the room, Momma’s tender face turns cold as she pierces me with a deadpan glare.
“Colton Jacob Weston, you left this hospital just over an hour ago, so unless your face was so smeared with mud that I couldn’t see the swellin’ and bruisin’ that’s so ever present now, you’ve been in a brawl. Now, you’re a twenty six year old grown man; that I understand. But do you care to explain why your face is tattered?” Momm
a winces as thunder rolls heavily across the night sky.
Momma’s face is twisted into a scowl and she taps her foot against the floor impatiently waitin’ for an explanation. I look to Pops’ who gives me a one armed shrug while shakin’ his head. Without explainin’ myself, Pops’ knows what the frig happened, he’s just waitin’ to see if I’m gonna hang him along with myself. Considerin’ his ill health at the moment, I resort to the devices of my twelve year old mind-the one that lied to Momma about a pack of Marlboro Reds she found in the bathroom drawer. But instead of tellin’ Momma a bold face lie I simply stretch the truth, only tellin’ her what she truly needs to know in this moment.
“Saw somebody who pisses me off. We had words and I busted the prick up.” I shrug and Pops’ shoulders bounce quietly with the laughter that’s fillin’ his chest. Momma’s mouth drops and she grimaces at my use of language in her presence.
Momma has a Godly heart and raised me to be a strong Christian man, always puttin’ God first in my life. Believe it or not, I went to church every Sunday mornin’ up until my teen years. Somewhere along the way, I found myself stuck between raisin’ hell and amazin’ grace. I blame Pops’ for it all. Man ain’t never stepped foot in a church house and regardless of how hard Momma tried to influence me, my old man’s wicked ways found me. Now I ain’t sinister, or truly wicked, but I’ve raised enough hell in my short twenty six years to drive any Momma crazy. But my momma is truly genuine and strong enough to put up with a good ol’ country boy like me. Hell, she married Bill Weston. Woman shoulda known then her life would be filled with heartache and insanity.
“Son, I’m tellin’ you right this instance if you use language when speakin’ to me again, a bruised cheek will be the least of your concerns. Grow up. You’re a daddy to a very impressionable little girl, with another along the way.” She scolds me and I drop my chin to my chest feelin’ just a little bit of shame. Not for lettin’ my temper get the best of me and thrashin’ Drew’s face against the pavement. Hell no! I find no shame in that shit at all. But I find shame for withholdin’ the truth from Momma, even if it is to protect her.
“Yes ma’am,” I nod. “It’s late. I’m gonna get home. I’ll bring Heidi Jo by tomorrow mornin’ once you’re done with your testin’, Pops.” I kiss Momma on the forehead and shake Pops hand before leavin’ the room.
When I get home, the house is black as night. I fumble with my keys tryin’ to unlock the front door. What the hell! We gotta porch light for a reason, woman.
I open the front door and flick the light switch up then down before realizin’ the power’s out. House is hot as hell and I know there ain’t no rest in sight. I flip on the flashlight on my cell phone, tryin’ to illuminate a path so I don’t trip over one of Heidi Jo’s damn toys. The light shines across the couch and my heart stands still at the sight of my sweet baby girl with her arms curled tight around Carly Jo’s large belly. I pick her up in my arms and carry her down the hall to her bed. Openin’ the window, I press a kiss to her forehead and her eyes flicker open for just a second. “Night, Daddy. Tell Momma I love her.” She whispers in a dreamy voice.
“Night, baby girl.” She smiles sweetly as she drifts off to sleep.
I walk into the livin’ room and before I can scoop her into my arms, Carly Jo stirs in her sleep.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey, darlin’. Let’s get you to bed.” I lace my hand in hers and lead her into the bedroom. She undresses quickly, climbin’ under the covers and stretchin’ her arms into the air just as she does every night. When I lay down, she rolls over pressin’ her face against my chest and tanglin’ her feet in mine.
“How’s your dad?” She asks.
“He’s alright. Gotta have some tests in the mornin’, but he’s a tough son of a bitch. He’ll survive.”
“Yeah,” she mutters quietly, and I can’t help the forebodin’ feelin’ that there’s somethin’ more to her reply. “Colton? Things seem really strained between you and Bill lately. Are you sure you don’t need to talk about anything?”
Yep…there it is. Carly Jo knows me. I don’t talk about feelins’. I ain’t got a damn vagina. I let that shit stew, then it stews some more until I can’t contain it any longer. “I’m fine, darlin’. Heidi Jo give ya any trouble this evenin’?”
