Maneuver_Men of Inked_Southside Read online

She takes her eyes off me for a moment to dial each number, but in between each swish, she glances back at me. We stay like this—her holding the baby, waiting for me to pounce, and me barely breathing—as she cradles the receiver on her shoulder. “Hello,” she says to whoever is on the other end. “This is Delilah Miles, Roger Miles’s daughter. I need a car as soon as possible.”

  I tip my head to the side, looking at her in a totally different light. She is a rich girl and definitely not from this part of town. I wonder why she is slumming it so late with her kid in tow. Her clothes are fancier than most of the customers in the bar. She looks like one of the wealthy, hipster kids who come down to Hook & Hustle for a dose of culture and reality every once in a while.

  Her eyebrows draw together, and for the first time, she turns her back to me, hiding her face. “Excuse me?” she whispers, dropping her voice so I can barely hear her. “I have an account. I don’t understand.” She tips her face upward and grunts.

  My mother walks out from her bedroom, wearing the most hideous pink robe and bunny slippers with her bright red hair in curlers because she has some weird aversion to curling irons. My mom looks at Delilah and then to me, raising an eyebrow. I shake my head and wave my mom off, because I’m not about to explain the little bit I know while Delilah is talking on the phone.

  “Please,” Delilah begs quietly. “I can pay for your car service myself. You should have my credit card on file.” Delilah pauses and glances over her shoulder at me for a second, not seeing my mother standing nearby. “Fine, but I’ll have your ass along with your job for refusing service to me.” Delilah slams the receiver down and lets out a little grunt as her shoulders hunch forward.

  My mother clears her throat and marches into the kitchen, bunny slippers and all. “Would anyone like anything to drink? I’m parched,” Ma says, trying to be cordial even though it is after midnight and way past her bedtime.

  Delilah nearly jumps a foot off the floor and spins around, clutching the baby for dear life. As soon as she sees my ma, her entire demeanor changes. My mom looks like someone straight out of a comic strip, not a murderer ready to do harm to a fly, let alone a person like Delilah.

  “Since we’re having a party, I have tea or whiskey. Pick your poison.” Ma smiles, standing near the sink with the streetlight cascading through the window, giving her an angelic glow.

  “Nothing. Thank you,” Delilah replies as her eyes rake across my mother’s outfit, and the corner of her mouth twitches. “I’m Delilah.”

  “I heard,” my mother says sarcastically, letting a little of her devilish side show. “I’m Betty—” Ma motions toward me “—this big lug’s mother.”

  Delilah’s gaze moves to me, and there is almost a smile on her face. “It’s nice to meet you, Betty. Thanks for letting me use your phone.”

  “Tea or whiskey?” Mom asks again like it isn’t well past her bedtime. She seems oblivious to the fact that Delilah isn’t sticking around.

  “I can’t stay. I have to get Lulu to bed.” Delilah turns toward me and peers down at the floor. “Do you think you could give me a ride?”

  I scrub a hand down my face. “I only have a bike, and my mom doesn’t drive.” Times like this, I regret not having a car of my own.

  “Those things are deathtraps,” Ma says quickly, adding to her crazy factor and reminding me again how much she hates my motorcycle.

  “It’s fine.” Delilah waves her hands in the air. “I’ll just catch a taxi.”

  Ma fills the kettle before placing it on the stove, still ignoring the fact that neither of us is staying. “Why don’t you sit down for some tea, and Lucio can go downstairs to find someone’s car to borrow?”

  I nod, liking that idea because there is something about Delilah that fascinates me. She’s like a tragic story. Rich girl, stuck in the hood with no way out. Maybe I can swoop in and be the hero of the story. Who am I kidding? I could at least have a night with the hot chick before she rides off into the sunset with some other guy.

  “I’m sorry to be so much trouble. I lost my purse and phone, or else I wouldn’t be such a bother.”

  “Oh dear,” my mother gasps, covering her mouth with her hand and being overly dramatic like only Betty Gallo can.

  My blood pressure skyrockets as I imagine someone stealing Delilah’s shit and almost hurting the tiny, beautiful creature in front of me or her baby. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “No, no. It’s a long story, but we’re fine,” Delilah says as my mother points toward the couch for her to sit.

  “Will you be okay up here?” I ask as Delilah sits down, resting the baby on her knees as the plastic underneath her crinkles. “I won’t be gone long.” I give my mother the same look she gives us as a warning. While I love my mother, she can be a tad bit overbearing.

  “Just go. We’re fine,” Ma tells me, answering instead of Delilah.

  “I wasn’t asking about you, Ma.”

  Delilah laughs softly and relaxes on the couch, pulling the baby into her lap. “We’re safe and warm. We’ll be just fine.”

  I glance over my shoulder before closing the door, and I catch sight of Ma grabbing two teacups from the cupboard. I know they’re going to be more than a few minutes because once you get Ma talking, there is no stopping her until she is out of things to say. I hope Delilah is in the mood to listen to the sage wisdom of Betty Gallo because, like it or not, she is about to get some.

  “Where’s the chick?” Daphne asks as soon as she sees me.

  I point toward Ma’s apartment and shake my head at the strange turn this night has taken. “Having tea with Ma.”

  Daphne’s eyes widen in horror, being just as dramatic as my mother. “You woke her up?”

  “We were quiet, but she heard us anyway.” I rub the back of my neck, hating the idea of asking Daphne for a favor. My darling sister will want to be paid back, and her favors are always enormous and costly. “You think I can borrow your car?”

  “Dude.” Daphne quirks an eyebrow as she folds her arms in front of herself. I can tell by the way she tilts her head that she is about to read me the riot act about her precious baby.

  “Please. You know I’d never ask to borrow it, but this is important.”

  “This about her?” She juts her chin toward the stairwell to our mother’s apartment.

  “Yeah. She needs a ride. I can’t take a baby on my bike.”

  “Bet you never thought you’d say those words.” She points at me with her skinny index finger, totally mocking me for buying a motorcycle. She’s always hated the damn thing. She told me I wasn’t being practical and that someday I’d need to grow up, but the girl drives a vintage Jeep, so she has no room to talk.

  “Just get the damn keys,” I tell her and hold out my hand, wiggling my fingers.

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Watch the front of the house. I’ll grab them for you, Big Daddy.” She giggles as she hands me the damp towel she’s been using to wipe down the bar half the night.

  “The girl gone?” Johnny, a regular and one of my father’s oldest friends, asks as I take away his empty beer glass to give him a refill.

  “She’s upstairs with Ma.”

  Johnny jerks his head backward like I am insane for leaving them alone. “Alone?”

  “Uh, yeah, man. She’s fine.”

  “You don’t know that girl. She could be a murderer. Think about your mother.”

  “I don’t know too many killers who bring their children with them when they want to off someone.” I lean forward and stare him straight in the eyes, sliding his fresh beer across the bar. “Did you ever bring yours?”

  His eyes narrow into tiny slits as he grumbles under his breath and grabs the beer, busying himself and not bothering to answer my question.

  Johnny isn’t only my dad’s dearest friend, but he is a longtime business associate of my father’s. I’ve always stayed out of their business dealings, but I’m not a complete fool. I know Johnny is, or maybe was, my father�
��s number two, and he did some pretty shady shit in his time. I don’t doubt for a minute that he’s murdered a person or two over the years.

  Daphne places the keys next to me but keeps her hand on top of them. “Let me go over a few things with you first.”

  “It’s a Jeep, Daph. I think I can figure it out.” I cross my arms and lean against the bar because I have a feeling this isn’t going to be a quick conversation.

  “No, she’s special,” she tells me, putting me in my place and reminding me she’s just as crazy as our mother.

  I roll my eyes, but she is dead serious.

  “You want it or not?”

  “Fine. Go ahead,” I tell her and throw my hands into the air, giving in to her insanity.

  “Sometimes the brake pedal sticks. You have to be very careful how hard you handle her. Ease off the brake slowly, but don’t take too long, or she’ll stall.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” She nods at me like I am a complete moron. “She’s temperamental.”

  “Shocking,” I mutter because the car sounds a lot like my sister. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

  “If the baby pukes on the seats, you’re cleaning it up.” She points at me again, twisting her lips. “Got it?”

  “Yeah, sis. I got it.” I reach for the keys, but she moves them out of the way before I can grab them. “Fill her up too before you bring her back, but none of that low-grade crap either. She needs premium gasoline.”

  “Anything else?”

  She finally moves her hands, leaving the giant keys along with a freakishly large fuzzy heart on the keychain. “Nope.”

  I’m going to look like an idiot carrying around her set of keys, but at least it’s dark, and I don’t have to worry about running into any of my friends. I try to jam them into my pocket, but the heart’s too big to fit, and the damn thing dangles near my hip for the world to see.

  My mother’s waiting at the top of the stairs, standing outside the door. “What’s wrong?” I ask as soon as I see her.

  “She’s asleep.”

  “The baby?”

  She shakes her head. “The girl.”

  Well, fuck. “How? It’s only been a few minutes.”

  She shrugs. “Babies are exhausting, and she’s going through something. One minute she was talking, and the next…”

  “I’ll wake her up.”

  My mother puts her hands up in front of herself, stopping me from moving past her. “No. Let her sleep. You can take her home in the morning.”

  “The baby, Ma.”

  “We’ll set up a little sleeping area for her too. I need you to carry Delilah to the bedroom for me.”

  Somehow, I’m the only one who sees a problem with this. I want to argue, but this is my mother, and I know there’s no way I’ll win. This girl who we don’t know is going to wake up in the morning and totally lose her shit. I know I would if I were in her shoes, but my mother doesn’t feel the same.

  “I’ll stay too, then. I’ll move the girl and then be back after I help Daphne close up for the night.”

  “Before you get busy working, go down to the corner store and grab formula and a bottle.”

  “Is there a certain type?” I ask, knowing nothing about what babies eat. I’ve never had to buy a baby bottle, and I didn’t think I’d ever have to either.

  “Just get one with a decent nipple.”

  I stop myself from making a joke because I don’t feel like getting smacked upside the head as my mother follows behind me and has the perfect opportunity and angle. Ma gently lifts the baby out of Delilah’s arms. I hold my breath, waiting for her to wake up and start swinging, but Delilah just mumbles under her breath for a moment before going still again.

  “We can just leave her here, no?”

  Ma rocks the baby, sniffing her hair like she often did when my niece and nephew were little. “I miss that smell,” she says with a look of sorrow and happiness all at once. “No, I want her to be comfortable. The poor thing couldn’t keep her eyes open. She deserves a good night’s sleep. Being a mother isn’t easy, Luc.”

  “I know, Ma. You keep reminding me.”

  Thankfully, Ma has her hands full, or I’d get a smack upside the head for my smartass reply.

  I watched my three-year-old niece and one-year-old nephew for a week after my sister-in-law died after a short battle with cancer. I have never been so exhausted in my entire life. I could barely find time to shower with the two of them around, but it was something I did for my brother and the rest of the family so they could grieve.

  Delilah’s lighter than I imagine as I lift her into my arms. Her head rests on my chest and tips back, giving me the perfect view of her delicate, soft features. She has a set of freckles on her left cheek, and they almost form a tiny heart. Her skin is flawless and without makeup. She’s nothing short of a natural beauty. I’m so used to the girls at Hook & Hustle with their layers of makeup. Sometimes when I wake up the next day, they don’t even look anything like the girl I banged the night before.

  I walk carefully, taking small, steady steps toward the bedroom so I don’t startle her awake and earn myself a black eye.

  There are so many ways this could go bad, but I do it anyway. Delilah can lay into me tomorrow. Scream. Yell. Whatever. I can take the anger from a stranger and move on, but there is no way I’m going to go against my mother on this one.

  I place her on Daphne’s old bed just below her poster of Mandy Moore that’s started to curl at the corners. I grab an afghan from the dresser and cover her under my mother’s watchful eye.

  “Formula and a bottle. Don’t forget, babies like big nipples.”

  “We all do,” I mumble as I walk out the door, typing out a message to cancel my date for later.

  3

  Delilah

  For a brief second, I don’t have a care in the world. The room is dark, warm, and it’s nice to be wrapped in such soft blankets. I blink a few times, stretching my muscles, but then it hits me.

  Bar. Strange guy. Woman in bunny slippers. Lulu.

  I leap out of bed like a superhero, and all tiredness and comfort leave me in an instant. I race out of the bedroom, peering in every room as I run down the hallway and grip my chest, trying like hell not to lose my mind.

  Don’t overreact. I inhale slowly, telling myself she’s perfectly fine.

  If Lulu’s gone, I will tear apart the entire city and bring the wrath of God down on these people. I’m flooded with guilt at the fact that I fell asleep, leaving my baby vulnerable and without my protection in the presence of complete strangers.

  How could I have been so irresponsible and stupid?

  Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I see the guy from last night, holding Lulu and whispering in her ear. I stop dead, watching the two of them from the hallway.

  Seeing Lulu being held in a man’s arms does something to me I hadn’t expected. When her father skipped out, leaving me high and dry six months into my pregnancy, I told myself good riddance. Who needed him anyway? We sure didn’t. But somewhere deep in my heart, I knew Lulu would be missing out on something special. Not that Dwight Jones, the spineless, tiny-dicked man who’d knocked me up, was a prize, but still—she needed a male figure in her life.

  My father was worthless. No. He was less than that, and I turned out okay, after all. But there have been so many times in my life when I wished I had a real dad…someone who would treat me like a little princess and make me feel like his number one.

  Instead, I had a drunken asshole who left me on the side of the road with his granddaughter and not a penny to my name.

  My eyes fill with tears as I watch Lucio and Lulu together. He’s so sweet and tender with her, and it’s probably the first time I’ve seen a man be that way with Lulu in her short little life. I slap my hand over my mouth when I feel the sob crawling up the back of my throat.

  Lulu’s staring up at him, sucking on her bottle and completely captivated by the man. I don’t
blame her either. He’s dreamy in a blue-collar beefcake kind of way.

  Last night, he was wearing a tight-fitting long-sleeved white dress shirt, but I barely noticed much about him besides his size. But in the light, with Lulu in his arms, I can see his entire upper body clear as freaking day.

  Damn.

  His torso and arms are covered with ink. The pictures on his skin almost dance with each movement of the muscles underneath. I’ve never really been into guys with tattoos, but on him, they are absolutely perfect. I grip the wall, trying to keep myself vertical as my knees start to go weak.

  Get yourself together, woman. It’s just a guy holding your kid.

  “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he says, bouncing her up and down in one arm as he sets the bottle on the table.

  I take a step back, still holding the wall, and I’m careful not to make a sound. I can’t stop the stupid smile on my face from spreading as I wipe away my tears.

  He places his ankle on top of the opposite leg, creating a little pocket before placing Lulu in between his huge thigh muscles. “So beautiful like your mommy.”

  Heat creeps up my chest, and I fumble with the collar on my T-shirt. It’s been ages since anyone has called me beautiful and even longer since I’d felt that way. I’m too busy in mom-mode with a messy bun, no makeup, and smelling like rotten formula to think I’m even remotely pretty.

  I never thought being a mother would be easy, but I didn’t think it would be this hard either. There’s nothing in the world which could’ve prepared me for the lack of sleep. And don’t even get me started on the stretch marks lining my body like a topographic map. I don’t have time to worry about the way my body has gone to shit and how my tits are unrecognizable after Lulu fed off them for the first three months of her life.

  Lucio takes a sip of his coffee, still carefully bouncing her, but keeping a close eye on her. I want to rush in and tell him to burp her, but he seems to have things under control. I don’t know why I don’t step forward and snatch my kid away from his muscular legs which are probably harder than the wood beneath my feet, but I don’t.