Page 79 of Violent Little Thing

That was why he laughed so freely, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my head before saying, “Gotta get another drink.”

I was too busy looking at the two people who looked wholly out of place in Hopps Bar and Grill.

I got up. “I’ll get it.”

And send these two packing again.

I grabbed his glass and he continued to talk to the club, none of them aware that Court’s parents were here yet.

There were no more waitresses and no bartender to greet them, so I was hoping they’d take that as the sign it was and leave.

No such luck.

When I got there, I said, “We’re closed.”

Court’s father’s eyes settled on me as he pointed to the OPEN sign in the window that was still glowing bright red. “It says it’s open until nine.”

I walked to it and turned it off.

“That’s a suggested closing time. There’s no one else here but the Dixie Wardens, and there will be no alcohol or food served.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What, you work here, too?”

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But I can tell you how it works.”

Silence.

“We’re not bad people,” Court’s mother said.

“Could’ve fooled me.” I shrugged. “And honestly, I don’t really care what kind of people you are. You could feed the homeless and clothe babies in Africa, and I’d still think you were the lowest of lows.”

Court’s mother’s shoulders stiffened. “We did nothing wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong?” My voice rose. “Are you joking?”

Her chin lifted. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You left your son to rot in a jail cell for committing a crime,” I said. “He was charged for this crime, and he wasn’t drunk. At least not purposefully. He has a disease. One that metabolizes sugar into alcohol. How was he supposed to prepare for that? Oh, and let’s not forget your friend.” I hissed the word “friend.” “Had the car manufacturer call him and explain to him that the car Court was driving that night had major recalls. Ones that they failed to alert people on. Recalls that had literally killed other people.”

Silence.

“But you didn’t know any of that because you were so worried about what, your reputation? Enlighten me, what would make you leave your son at the worst moment of his life?” I leaned forward. “I can tell you that he needed you, and you weren’t there. He has a brother and sister. Where were they?”

When no comments were forthcoming, I said, “I don’t condone drunk driving. My best friend died from a drunk driver in high school. I was in that car with her. Trust me when I say, it’s my least favorite thing in the world. I feel very strongly about drunk driving. But I think I would’ve put forth just a small amount of effort and gotten to the bottom of it when my son told me he hadn’t drank a single drink that night. I would’ve asked why. But you did none of those things. And you’re standing here, acting like you were the ones wronged when in reality, you broke your son’s heart. He needed someone in his corner, and there wasn’t a single person there.”

Court’s mother looked away.

“I’d like to ask you to leave,” I said quietly. “Don’t come by. Don’t reach out. Don’t move here. Sell your house. Move back to where you came from. And keep everyone away that should’ve been in his corner. If he wants to talk to you, to bridge the gap that y’all created, then he’ll reach out. In the meantime, give him the space he needs to heal.”

Court’s dad bent down and whispered something in his wife’s ear and then the two of them left, not looking back.

I waited until I couldn’t see them any longer, then looked at Court.

He was looking at me, but he was still in his chair.

He hadn’t heard the encounter, but it was obvious what was said.

He held out his hand to me, and I smiled before grabbing his drink and heading back to the table.