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“Call a security system company. At least get an alarm, baby.”
“I’ll think about it. But remember I know how to protect myself. I live smart and I listen to my intuition. I have a plan for dealing with whatever Robbie throws my way.”
“Which is?”
“Ignore him but remain vigilant. Any attention I give him is fuel for the fire.” Addy had spent years in therapy studying people like Robbie. She understood him better, and that gave her added protection. Understanding threat is half the battle.
She could get lucky and not have to deal with him at all. Maybe freedom and no response to his threats over the years had worked and Robbie would leave her alone.
Probably not.
But she could hope.
“If he gives you any trouble, I’ll finish what I started with that baseball bat.” Her father wasn’t a big man. He just thought like one. “I’ll be at the parole hearing on Monday. Let’s see if my statement can sway the board.”
“Glad you got my back, Dad. We’ll hope Robbie doesn’t get his freedom. That will solve everything.”
“Hope for the best, plan for the worst.”
Addy allowed a smile to curve her lips. “That’s always been our family motto.”
“Yep. I’ll call you after the hearing. Be safe, my darling. And keep the dang phone close.”
“I will, Dad.”
Addy hung up and sighed. The last parole hearing had been a year ago, and Robbie had been declined for early release, but some jittery feeling in her belly told her this time would be different… or maybe she was hungry.
“Want some Pirogue’s today, Shelia?” Addy asked unlocking the cabinet and withdrawing her purse. She slid the cell phone into her smock pocket and grabbed her wallet. “My treat if you’ll walk over.”
“Like I’m turning down red beans and rice?”
“Only good thing about Monday.” Addy smiled thinking about the steaming mound of red beans and Andouille sausage. In New Orleans, red beans and rice was a traditional dish served on wash day which was Monday. “I’ll call ahead.”
Shelia grabbed the twenty-dollar bill and gave her a quick hug. “I overheard your conversation with your dad.”
Addy hugged her friend back. “I’m not scared.”
“Of course you’re not,” Shelia said, chucking Addy playfully on the chin.
But they both knew a lie sat between them.
“You gotta sign this permission form, Uncle Lucas, and I need ten dollars for concessions,” Chris said, wagging a crumpled piece of paper above Lucas’s head as he tried to figure out the complicated system sitting atop the satellite television box. Charlotte sat on the couch crying because something had happened to the TV in the middle “Ms. Calico and Cream Pie,” whatever that was.
“Okay, get it out of my face.” Lucas pushed Chris’ hand downward and glared at the stupid black box. “Wait, ten dollars for concession?”
“I eat a lot.”
Chris didn’t move the paper. Lucas jerked it out of his hand. “I’ll give you five dollars.”
“Awww,” Chris whined.
“But if you go get Michael, I’ll make it ten.”
“Woot!” Chris fist-pumped and galloped up the stairs shouting “Michael!” at the top of his lungs.
“Dear God. I need whiskey and a pair of noise cancelling headphones. That’s my fee for this gig. Booze and silence,” Lucas muttered to himself as he punched the input button. He glanced back at the television but found the same blue screen.
Mother Fricker.
