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“Yeah, and we’re not talking ones and fives either. He’s doling out twenties like raindrops and Arlene ain’t happy about it. When I left the floor to come get you, poor Gentry was trying to get her to stop screaming like a banshee.”
“Goddammit.” I stomp out of the office with Lynette on my heels.
When we hit the club, Little Big Town’s haunting tune and lyrics of “Girl Crush” strums through the room. Men whoop and holler around the stage where Trixie seductively dances, and from the bar, Roxy glares at me.
She’s cleaning up a spill from the looks of things, and Arlene, hanging off one of the stools, looks to be the cause of the mess. I throw an apologetic grimace her way and make a beeline for my mother.
Eyes glassy, Arlene’s fixed on the main attraction, expression hard and dark, and as I near, I hear her mutter, “Jackass.”
Then with her drink in hand, she lunges to her feet and staggers around the tables and chairs toward the stage. Following her line of sight, I spy Otis to one side of the stage. Just like Lynette said, he proudly tucks several bills under the band of Trixie’s hot-pink thong.
“Shit, Lacy, you better stop her. She’ll belt him. She’s already done it once before.” Roxy swings her gaze from Arlene’s blazing warpath to scan the club. “Where the hell is Gentry?”
“I got her.” I hustle after the drunk woman, but the club’s busy with the after work crowd and I’m slow to catch her, weaving around the loud and sociable men.
When I finally grasp Arlene’s arm, I’m too late. She’s next to her husband, but he’s too busy to notice or care. Arlene smacks the back of his head.
Otis bellows, “Motherfucker,” and swings his fist in the direction of the hit.
My mother may be sloshed, but she isn’t so far gone to not anticipate his retaliation. She ducks like a boxing pro, and my father’s fist connects with my shoulder. The strike knocks me onto my ass. I let out a shocked cry as I hit the floor.
Arlene twirls around, surprised to see me there. Frozen, Otis drops his hand and curses, and at the same time, Lynette, Roxy, and Gentry rush to my side.
“Jesus Christ, Otis.” Lynette gets down on her knees beside me. “Lacy, are you okay?” Her gaze drops to my stomach, an unspoken question.
Roxy and Gentry spin on Otis, both grabbing for an arm to hold him still. Although he isn’t coming for me--I’m long forgotten—he’s still pissed at being restrained.
“I didn’t see her, for fuck’s sake. Let go of me.” He thrashes to get free, and eventually satisfied that he isn’t throwing any more punches, Gentry releases him, then Roxy does the same.
Arlene tugs on Lynette’s arm, trying to get her to move away from me. “She’s all right. Aren’t you, honey?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I take Lynette’s hand and let her haul me to my feet.
Suddenly, Roxy’s at my side with a glass of water, looking sheepish. “You should probably sit down.” She too dips her eyes to my middle.
“I’m fine.” I brush at my backside, not wanting to give thought to the filthy floor and what might now be on my jeans.
Taking the glass from Roxy, I splash the water onto my hands and rub them together before drying them on my jeans.
“I’m okay. Can y’all give us a minute?” I glance from Lynette to Roxy and then Gentry.
Reluctantly, they nod and leave me with Arlene and Otis, though we’re far from alone. I motion for the two lowlifes that I can’t seem to shake to follow me to the office. Otis grumbles profanities and about how he’s missing the show, but Arlene drags him along.
I close the door behind us and through clenched teeth and with barely any patience, I ask. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to see our baby girl.” Arlene pats at my forehead and I slap her hand away.
“Don’t.” My fingers tighten on the doorknob. “What the hell are you doing here and throwing around cash? Did you rob a bank or jump someone?”
Every muscle in my body tenses, on edge as I wait for their response. My question isn’t a joke even if I wish it were.
Otis guffaws. “Nah. We’ve come into luck. Got our own fairy godmother.” He glances at his wife conspiratorially. “Or I suppose I should say fairy godfather.”
She chortles and nods before looking at me, overjoyed. A shiver runs through me and I white-knuckle the knob. The Kincaides.
Otis and Arlene must’ve finally figured out Ridge is the father. Are they blackmailing his family? Or him?
No, if they confronted him, Ridge would have come to me first. Wouldn’t he?
