Page 31 of Sweet Tooth
As I walked in, the Tiffany’s door man gave me a quick once-over. I outpaced the eagerly-smiling woman in her crocodile glasses to walk over to the ring.
“You’ve spotted our crown jewel, I see,” she said a few seconds later, catching up. “Want me to take it down so you can look at it more closely?”
As soon as she brought it down, I knew. A silver ring, surrounded by emeralds that would perfectly match her eyes.
“When do you plan on asking the lucky lady?” the woman asked kindly.
I gaped at her.
Jess had barely let me back into her life and here I was, buying a ring. Was I crazy?
“I’ll take it,” I said.
I’d put off buying Jess a promise ring last time and lived to regret. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time.
Walking out of the store, I had a sudden inspiration of what to buy Parker. And to think how obvious it had been this whole time!
—
The rest of the day, I consulted about some last-minute tweaks, then went home. Although I’d been living in it for the past few months, the house seemed unusually empty. I wandered about, doing some pushups in my bedroom, making some noodles in the kitchen.
Then I got out the ring. Looking at it, I groaned. I could almost hear Chaz’s voice in my head: Dude.
And my response: I know.
Dude.
I said I know!
But I couldn’t help it. When I’d seen it, the little silver, green-studded band had been perfect. I couldn’t risk not getting it and then it being sold out. Anyway, even if it was early for that – way, way, way early — Jess and I had been moving fast lately. We had a lot of lost time to make up for.
Taking the ring out, I slipped it on my pinky with a smile. Yep, it would fit Jess like a dream.
We’d discovered – when bored out of our skulls one day at the mall and trying on mood rings – that her ring finger had a similar width to my pinky.
Jess, my small-fingered darling.
I put the ring away and slunk back to bed. Really, I was shit all out of things to do, other than call Jess. But I didn’t want to disturb her when she was at Tamara’s. Normally I was busy-busy go-go-go, but right now, it seemed pointless.
So, I stepped out of my clothes and got into bed, grateful for how quickly sleep welcomed me.
My shrilling phone woke me up sometime later.
“Jess, ” I murmured. “What’s wrong, it’s like 3 am.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s Paul. He’s here now – at the door. I locked him out but he’s banging on the door and yelling like crazy. He says if I won’t give him money, then he’ll take Parker and teach me a lesson.”
In the next second, I had my pants on and was at my front door.
“Don’t let him in,” I said. “I’ll be there in ten. If you haven’t already, call the cops too.”
19
Jessica
“I mean it, Jess!” Bam. Bam. Bam. “You’re gonna regret this, you bitch!”
I clutched Parker’s baseball bat tightly in my hands. Thank God I’d enrolled him last summer.
Even though he’d been horrible, maybe now this bat would finally come in handy.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
The knob twisted as the door shuddered on its hinges, the sound of Paul throwing his whole body weight at it.
I looked at my phone. I’d called 911 right after I’d called Zane, but it had only been a few minutes.
If they didn’t arrive soon, I wasn’t sure if we’d be safe.
Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.
“Mommy?”
Barefoot and PJ-clad, Parker wandered down the hallway, rubbing his eyes. “What’s all the noise?”
No. Fuck no. Whatever happened, Parker was not getting pulled into this.
“Nothing to worry about baby.” I took his hand. “Go back to bed.”
As I tucked him in, my phone buzzed. “Stay in bed and don’t come out ok?”
I raced out just as Paul was yelling through the door. “I swear to God, Jessica, I’m going to come in there and – ugh!”
The door shuddered again, like something had hit it.
“What the hell?” I heard him say.
“Get the fuck out of here asshole. I won’t let you terrorize Jess and her son,” I heard Zane say.
“He’s my son too, dipshit.”
“You forfeited all your rights when you never bothered to see him in the last three-and-a-half years!” I yelled.
I looked through the peephole and saw Zane, a wild look of rage on his face, squaring up with Paul on my front porch. Paul, as usual, was high, and too stupid to see that the size difference between them would not go in his favor.
“I mean it, Paul. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
“Or what?” The sound of a fist, and I couldn’t take it anymore – I opened the door.
The door swung open just in time for me to see Zane’s fist connecting with Paul’s face. A loud crunching sort of noise sounded out and Paul toppled to the ground, unconscious.
