Sweet Dreams
Page 155

He let that hang and I felt Jonas get stiff. I slid my arm around his shoulders and he didn’t hesitate before he fell sideways into me. I felt Tate’s arm go around my shoulders and I pulled Jonas with me as I fell sideways into Tate. Then I felt Tate’s lips come to my ear.
“I know why you did it, Ace,” Tate said quietly in my ear and I knew he was still angry when he finished. “But don’t you f**kin’ leave us again.”
I didn’t look at him when I nodded. His arm squeezed my shoulders. I squeezed Jonas’s then I leaned down to whisper into the top of his head, “Relax, baby, this’ll be over soon.”
“Okay, Laurie,” Jonas whispered back.
I held him tighter. Tate held me tighter.
Then Guns ‘n’ Roses “Sweet Child o’ Mine” started playing and out of the corner of my eye I saw Wood move. I looked at him to see he’d turned his head toward Tate.
The lone guitar strains tore through the quiet space, they were joined by more guitar, then drums. The beat throbbed loud and pounded into our chests, the tempo increasing and finally Axl Rose’s voice rocked out words so sweet they tore at your soul.
Wood grinned at Tate.
I twisted my neck and looked up to see that Tate grinned back.
* * * * *
Later, at graveside, opposite where Jonas and Tate were sitting by the casket, me behind them, I saw Bubba walk up to the mourners moments before the minister started speaking.
The minute the service was done, Tate got up, pulled his chair out of the row, grabbed my hand and tugged me through. With one hand in mine, the other hand on Jonas’s shoulder, he led us straight to Bubba.
Bubba watched as we walked up to him, his eyes locked on Tate.
Tate stopped in front of Bubba and I held my breath.
“Tate –” Bubba started then Tate moved, letting my hand go, one of his arms wrapped around Bubba and I watched Bubba’s eyes close as one of his arms wrapped around Tate.
They stood that way for long moments before Tate pounded Bubba’s back and stepped away.
Bubba looked down at Jonas. “Hey little man,” he whispered and Jonas moved forward and hugged Bubba’s waist.
When he moved back, I moved in, fitting myself to his front and giving him a squeeze.
“Hey gorgeous.” He was still whispering and doing it into the top of my hair.
“Hey,” I whispered back.
When I stepped away, Tate claimed me with an arm around my shoulders but his eyes were on Bubba.
“You comin’ to Pop’s?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bubba answered. “You want me at Pop’s?”
Tate didn’t respond, just gave Bubba a look.
Bubba dropped his head and said to the grass, “I’m comin’ to Pop’s.”
Tate nodded, lifted a hand and clapped Bubba on the shoulder then he moved Jonas and me toward the Explorer.
Then we went to Pop’s.
* * * * *
It took approximately twenty minutes for the pall to lift and the backyard at Pop’s became less a post-funeral gathering and more a party. This had a lot to do with the keg that was out there sitting by a cooler that was full of bottles of beer as well as the fact that a lot of people brought their own bottles of hard liquor from which they imbibed liberally, some of them not even using glasses to do it.
I stuck close to Jonas and Tate and my family stuck close to me, thus us. It wasn’t until half an hour later that beer and partaking of the food covering the table in Pop’s dining room and the counters of his kitchen that we loosened up.
I noticed that Dad and Mack had Jonas and they were standing talking with Stella and Wood and Wood’s two kids. Wood’s ex-wife, Maggie, a pretty, petite, curvy brunette was there (Tate pointed her out to me with a jerk of his head and a mumbled, “Wood’s old lady, Maggie”) but she was giving them a wide berth.
It was after I spent some time studying Maggie, thinking she was very pretty and also that she looked somewhat sad and adrift when I realized I’d lost sight of Tate so I quit studying Maggie and went to find him. Not finding him in the house, I went to the backyard and didn’t see him there either. I rounded the house and stopped when I saw him, his back to me, the bright colors of a gypsy skirt all I could see of his mother standing in front of him.
“… since he was five years old. That sure as f**k doesn’t give you the right to act like that.” I heard him say and I knew, just by his voice, he was seriously angry.
“Tatum –” she started.
“He doesn’t even f**kin’ know you, this shit’s hard on him and you come in and…” He hesitated. “Fuck, I don’t even know what that shit was about.”
“I’m his grandmother,” she snapped.
“He met his Gramma today, Lauren’s Mom, and she’s the only one he’s ever gonna have if you don’t f**kin’ cool it.”
“Lauren’s Mom?” she hissed and I stared, the words I was going to say to intervene lodging in my throat when I watched Tate’s body get tight from head to foot and he leaned forward threateningly.
“Yeah, Lauren’s Mom,” Tate shot back and continued angrily. “You know, I always thought it was okay, you bein’ you ‘cause it was the only thing I knew. And because of that, I thought it was okay for Jonas, Neet bein’ Neet. Better he have somethin’ than nothin’ ‘cause what I knew was, nothin’ made you like Neet and somethin’ was a f**kuva better than that. Now I know that shit’s not right, your shit’s not right.”
“Did Lauren teach you that?” Shania snapped her question.
“This isn’t about Lauren,” Tate returned.
“Seems to me it is. Seems to me someone got himself a little swanky somethin’ somethin’ and now he thinks his shit don’t stink like he thought when he was Mr. Hotshot Football Player.”
I gasped and Shania leaned to the side, saw me and her eyes narrowed but Tate stayed on point.
“You been gone for five years, Jonas doesn’t even remember you, and you think you can roll into town and make this day, the second shittiest day in his life after the day he found out his Mom’s dead, all about you. Woman, that shit’s whacked.”
“You wanna join our conversation?” Shania asked, ignoring Tate, her eyes on me. “Seein’ as you seem so interested in it.”
Tate turned to the side and his eyes came to me but I kept my eyes to Shania when I replied, “No, I’m good with just listening.”