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“I want charges pressed against that?—”
Before I have a chance to tell him what a complete and total piece of garbage I think he is, Marks forces a laugh. “Are you that clueless about reality, Seward? There was an off-duty police officer sitting on the porch when you and your boy pulled up and threw glass bottles at Pope’s place. A police officer who watched you get out of your car and swing on Pope dozens of times, and he never once hit you.”
“He shattered the rear window of a car that is worth more than his shack. He was begging for a fight. I was simply trying to find out who had vandalized my property.”
Voice shaking, I sneer, “You should leave.”
He doesn’t even look at me. He looks at Popa B. “As a man of God, would you remind Whitley what her role as a wife is?”
“She’s not your wife,” Popa B states.
“We’re getting married in six months—you know this.”
Not gonna happen, I think.
“I know what I’ve been told, but I don’t recall ever being asked for her hand.”
“Excuse me?” Kal laughs maliciously.
“Popa B”—I grab his hand “it’s all going to be okay, I promise.”
“I know it will be, sweetheart.” He points up. “Just have to have faith.”
“Kal, the EMT will check you over now,” York states, clearly annoyed she must provide him with any type of service.
As Kal walks away, Popa B closes his umbrella, as the rain has stopped. “I’ll see you at home.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I stand here, looking around, wondering how bad went to worse, like, truly, this can’t be real.
York walks over, leaving her partner with Kal and the EMTs. “This asshole made me call out our volunteers to try to find a scratch when all Pope did was make him eat mud.”
“He made him what?” I ask, trying not to laugh or maybe yell—heck, I don’t know what to feel.
“Marks said Pope dodged all Kal’s attempts to hit him after the first. Batted his fist out of the way when he came close, and then when the rain started to fall, it turned into a wrestling match, where John Paul restrained him, face down in the mud, until I got here.”
I glance over and see Pope standing at the back of the cop car, arms crossed, looking murderously at Kal, who is sitting between the open doors at the back of Walton’s volunteer ambulance’s.
That’s it, I think as I storm over toward him. “What the hell is wrong with you? You had volunteers called away from their families because you have the delusional idea you’re going to get John Paul in some sort of trouble for something you started? Something you did? You, Kal, not him!”
“I picked a side. That was your side. You’d do well to remember whose side you’re on.”
I throw my hands in the air. “There isn’t a mark on you! Leave him the heck alone, or you’ll have charges of your own.”
Eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, he sneers at me, “My friends were right; you lay with filth, and you’ll start smelling like it.”
I can’t help but bark out an angry laugh. “I volunteer at a women’s shelter that your family donates to. How well do you think the crap you pulled tonight—showing up at my work, demanding my phone, then smashing it, and—” I hold up my fingers so he can see they’re swollen and red, but then the ring catches my eye. Pulling it off as if it were poison, I want to throw it at him. York must see that because she takes it from me and shoves it in his hand. “You can go to hell.”
“What did he do to you, Whit?” Pope asks, grabbing me and turning me to face him. “You tell me right now. Did he hurt you?”
“Get them out of here,” York says.
Suddenly, Danny and Marks are pulling Pope back as he lunges at Kal.
“Knock it off!” I yell at Pope. “Don’t you let him win.”
“Jesus, Whit,” Danny grumbles leaving Marks with Pope and, hoists me up.
