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Daddy didn’t acknowledge me as he chuckled, saying to Mr. Morgan, “Clint, have you ever heard of anything like this? Breaking bread with the enemy?”
Mr. Morgan took a sip of his water, replying, “Well, no but from what my daughter has told me, this is a different type of situation.”
“And it is,” Sydney cuts in on Reiner’s defense. “Reiner is not responsible for his DNA, but he is responsible for how he wishes to go forth in life. He has been given a second chance and if no one else wants to give him support, then I’m willing to do it. Reiner is at a young impressionable age and if he goes back to his uncle, then there’s no telling what will happen to him. Give the boy a chance, damn.” She quickly turned to her father, saying, “No Disrespect, but you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Mr. Morgan returned.
Daddy swiveled in his seat to face me. “And what are your feelings about this?”
Under normal circumstances, my reply could have set Reiner to an earlier grave, but Sydney’s words had affected me. Reiner is young and deserved a chance at life. Who was I to take that away from him?
With the utmost respect for my daddy, I replied, “Reiner will continue to stay with me under my tutelage.” I left it at that because I had nothing else to say about the situation.
Daddy seeing that was all I was willing to speak on the matter, smiled at Reiner, saying, “I hope you live up to the courtesy my son and future daughter in law have bestowed upon you, otherwise your life will end up in my hands.”
With that everything returned to normal as we ordered our food. Since then, Reiner has been sticking to me like a tick on a hog’s ass. At first it annoyed me, but after seeing how he was soaking in everything I was teaching him. Even Batista took a liking to the youngster. They had gotten to the point where Batista was taking him to hang out with Booker.
I finally let my guard down and removed my men from watching over the guest house. Really it was a test to see if Reiner would prove me wrong and try to run, but he’s still here.
“Sir,” Jefferson says, pulling me back to the now. “Ms. Sydney is on the house phone for you.”
I frown. It’s Sunday and we agreed to go separately to Ruby’s since she went with her mother and her friends to the casino last night. Why is she calling me on the house phone? Normally, she would call my cell phone. Looking at the table, I notice it’s not there. Shit, I must’ve left it in my bedroom.
“Thank you, Jefferson,” I state, taking the cordless phone from him. “Sweetheart, how are you?” I greeted.
“I’m fine, but I need you to meet me at my parents’ house. I don’t know what’s going on, but daddy just called and told me and Booker to get there right away. He sounded distraught and if those fucking Cajuns have showed up to mess with my momma and daddy. Domencio I’m telling you right now, I’m going to jail.”
Jumping from my seat, I tell her, “Don’t do anything rash, Sydney wait until we’re all there. Promise me that.” I hear rustling in the background, but she doesn’t respond. “Sydney,” I say in a commanding voice.
“Yeah, I hear you, but you better make it there by the time I do,” she hisses before the line goes dead. I tried calling her back, but it went straight to voicemail.Fuck.
Hitting the speed dial to the guest house, I rush into the house, waiting for Reiner to answer.
“Yes, Mr. DeLuca.”
“Meet me at the front of the house right fucking now,” I demand.
“On my way, sir,” he says.
I don’t even waste time pressing the end button for our call as I round the corner in the hallway and run into my daddy. Yes, he’s still here.
“Son, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, but Sydney just called me and said something was going down at her parents’ house. I need to get there in case there’s trouble,” I inform.
“I’m going with you,” daddy says, following me to the front door.
When we step outside, Reiner is there. He’s already pulled my SUV in the driveway. Rushing to the driver’s side, I tell Reiner, “Call Batista and tell him to meet us at the Morgan’s.”
“Yes, sir,” he returns as he opens the back passenger door for daddy, then gets in the front. As my tires ate up my driveway when I pulled off, I prayed that no one thought they had the balls to fuck with my family.
Less than thirty minutes later, I brought the vehicle to a screeching stop in front of the Morgan’s. Batista and Booker are standing outside talking.
“What the fuck is going on?” I question as soon as I jump out.
“We just got here and haven’t been inside yet,” Booker answers. “Normally, Uncle Clint or Aunt Rachel would open the door to meet me when I pull up, but neither one of them did,” he chokes up. “I don’t want to think the worst.”
As I placed my hand on his shoulder to console him the front door opened, and Sydney stepped out.
