Page 63 of Kings Don't Break

Mace catches me with a hand to my chest, holding me back before I can make it any closer to the dipshits. He holds me back from ever doing what I was about to do. Others like Ozzie and Bush interject themselves too—they break apart from the rest of the bar and put themselves between me and the two officers.

Neither Stricklin nor his pot-bellied partner have budged an inch. They remain where they are, as mocking as ever. They wait ’til the commotion’s died down to remind us yet again what pieces of shit they are.

“Be careful, boys,” says Stricklin. He stares at me and me only. “You just might be asking for trouble. C’mon, Symonds.”

We stand in furious silence watching them go.

* * *

“You… you really think you can just… delete us out of your life?” slurs Bill on the voice recording he left. His pitch grows higher the more pissed he becomes. “You’ve always been a… a disappointment. Your mother should’ve… swall… swallowed your ass.”

I shake my head, cutting the message short and pressing delete. His number had shown up as unknown on my caller ID. I’d listened to the voicemail in case it was from someone important. Korine calling from another phone about a run-in with Stricklin or Sunny in need of help. Even somebody from the club.

All guesses that were wrong—it was nobody but my drunk of a father calling to drag me through the mud, like always. Should I expect different after twenty-eight years of living and breathing his shit?

And Mom has the guts to scold me for refusing to turn up at family dinner.

I ride my FXDB Street Bob straight home from the club. Korine’s got no clue about the police stopping by the club because she was off today. It’s just more evidence her dirtbag ex refuses to back off.

She can’t know about what he pulled today. It’ll only upset her more. Something she doesn’t need right now.

Pulling up outside the trailer, I take a moment to collect myself. My shoulders sag and I close my eyes, shutting out the loud static in my head.

Stress about what’s been going on. Frustration over the theatrics that my parents bring into my life.

I’ve got to be there for Korine and Sunny.

Which means I can’t relapse into bad habits. Things I used to do in the past that would take the edge off.

Korine doesn’t need that Cash coming back.

It’s a lot of pressure. More pressure than I’ve ever felt before. I can’t fuck this up like I always fuck things up.

I enter through the front door to the sight of her folded up on the floor, a circle of photographs and yearbooks surrounding her. Her eyes light up at the sight of me.

“Blake, you’re home. Perfect timing! Guess what I’m looking at?”

“Those aren’t old photos of us, are they?”

Her eyes gleam even brighter, looking like chocolate diamonds caught in the light. “Yes! I hadn’t realized I’d grabbed my old yearbooks and a box of photos when we picked up my things.”

“Let me see.” I head over to where she’s sitting on the floor and then plop down onto the edge of my couch. She hands over a stack of photos. Nostalgia hits at once. I crack a smile. “Damn, I forgot Mace went through that goatee phase.”

A laugh bubbles out of her. “He swore it made him look like a man.”

“Look at this—Miss Korine McKibbens at her track meet, holding up the gold medal she won.” I show her the photo from the stack and watch the shocked horror that pushes her brows together.

She plucks the photo out of my hand. “Oh god, why the hell did I smile so wide with those damn braces? I look like a dork.”

“Cutest dork in school with those braces. You were proud. You placed first in the whole county.”

“Thanks for the reminder. You look in the yearbook yet? It’s bookmarked.”

By the taunting lilt of her voice, I know I’m in for a doozie. I crack open the yearbook and then roar with laughter at what she’s circled with a pen.

“Most likely to be the next American Gigolo, Blake Cash,” I say, my laughs deep and raspy. “I forgot about this. Everybody voted me as a prank.”

“And because you were always flirting with every damn woman within a ten mile radius.”