Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

173. Tonk Jr.

ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-THREE

Tonk Jr.

T his is one of those moments when even in New York, you wish you had a car.

Stacy and I move at a rapid clip to my apartment. I reach for Celia, voice low as it shakes. “May I see her? We need to walk faster and she’ll get heavy.”

“She’s hungry.” Stacy’s breath skips. “I need formula. She’s going to draw too much attention to us. She won’t stop crying.” Stunned arms hand little Celia to me.

“It’s going to be okay, little princess. I’ve got you.” Locking eyes with Stacy I say, “Let’s just make it clear as we move that we need formula and that’s all we need.”

“Okay.”

I’m hugging Celia close so she feels secure as we walk and talk about it in normal volume so people know we’re finding a solution to this baby’s problem. Many smile with understanding and make room for us.

One older woman says, “I know that feeling! I had three!”

We laugh and keep walking.

A block away from our destination, our sanctuary, I whisper, “Almost there, you’re safe,” and flick a glance to include her mother in this promise. She holds my look.

As we near the stoop she asks, “Where can we get formula?”

“There’s a bodega just around the corner, one street west. They’ll have some. Do you have a particular brand or…?”

“Right now that doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

“But thank you.”

As we pass my building, she and I cut glances to the quiet of it. How we want to be inside there right now. Her boyfriend could appear at any minute. He has no idea where I lay my head at night but this child is a siren heard for blocks if you were searching. We’re vulnerable.

“What am I doing?” I groan, flipping around.

With questioning eyes, Stacy remains with me, hurrying back toward my place. I usher her into my building, muffle Celia’s cries by closing the door with a rough tug to ensure the lock engaged.

“Tonk—”

“—I’ll go to the store alone as soon as you two are safely inside.”

We run up the stairs, our footsteps echoing along with Celia’s wails. The sobs are halting. She’s running out of steam, or she’s distracted from the bouncing. I don’t know much about children this young but I can’t wait to learn. Another level of human nature for me to investigate and help. Sounds right up my alley.

As the key lets us in, Stacy is stroking her baby’s head. “Soon, honey, soon.” Her arm falls as we enter the occupied space that for once isn’t congested with pot smoke.

Daniel appears in his bedroom’s doorframe, eyes pretty much sober, voice urgent as I lock the deadbolt. “You got them? Stupid question. What do you need from me? How can I help? I aired out the place like you asked.”

“Dan, I shot him in the leg, and broke his nose.”

“Whoa!”

“He might be looking for us right now.” Handing Celia over to Stacy I lock eyes with her and run my hand down the side of her worried head. “I’ll be careful. You stay with Daniel. He’s a good guy. He knows what’s going on. I had to tell him because he’s my roommate. But I’ve lived with him for more than a year and his character is sound.” Glancing over I add, “If not a little lazy.”

The corners of Daniel’s lips twitch. “Guilty on all counts.”

“Let’s not use court language right now.”

Us joking like this wins a small smile from Stacy. I give her a kiss, our first, and hold here for just a second as comfort travels between us.

“Hurry, Tonk. Be careful.”

“I’m going to grab whatever they have and get the hell out of there.”

“Wait,” Daniel says, stepping forward. “Where are you going?”

“Celia needs formula.”

The levity vanishes from his face as his eyes dart around. He’s even less of a fighter than I am. At least I had training, no matter how much I loathed it and bowed out early.

I rip my jacket off the chair and snatch one of Daniel’s Mets hats from a hook. Slapping it into place I tell him, “Lock the door behind me!” and run down the stairs.

At the bottom I pause before walking outside and back into visibility. There is a small window in this old wood door. Through it I scan both directions for feet underneath a bush or anything that might tip me off that he is out there biding his time.

Taking a deep breath, I merge with foot traffic, face casual, footsteps falling with a naturally fast New York City pace.

Speed walking is fine.

If I run, I’m obvious.

Blend in.

That’s the key.

My heart is hammering as I covertly survey my surroundings, mind on high alert, face passive. The red hand is lit when I get to the intersection, but nobody cares. Few residents obey these lights anyway.

You have an in, you take it.

And I’m taking mine.

I edge away from the sidewalk, the bodega in my sights. Glancing over my shoulder I don’t see that bloody-nosed monster heading in this direction. He’d stick out. I’m in the clear. For now.

A yellow taxi zips by, and I cross so quickly I touch its back bumper with my leg.

Rows of colorful blooms line the store’s exterior. I snatch tulips from a bucket as my feet don’t miss a beat. These gold petals look pretty good to me.

Of the jaded owner behind the counter I quickly ask, “Baby formula?” She waves like she’s trying to swat me out of her line of vision, directing me to the farthest aisle.

I pass rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with everything you could possibly need at a last-minute notice. Confused, I find she directed me to the refrigeration aisle, but no baby products are anywhere to be found.

I race to the end, past yogurt, cheese, cold cuts, and turn right.

Thank God.

Snatching a bag of diapers with the right age range on them, and the priciest formula in three seconds flat, I head up to pay.

Adrenaline is a magical drug.

This feeling fuels my family back home, but it just isn’t how I want to live. Life should be easy going, filled with joy, love, and earned memories you’ll never want to forget. That’s what I’m looking for and I see it shining back from Stacy’s eyes whenever I look into them and whenever I dream about them when she’s gone.

I followed her home even though she had begged me not to. After she went in, I watched him return. As soon as he disappeared inside I called Daniel, told him my plan even as it was seething to fruition in my protective mind.

I give him credit for being on board without hesitation. I lucked out when I got him as a roommate. He said, “We’ve got room!” and aired out the apartment out of respect to the beautifully innocent little lungs that were about to join us full-time. And he did a pretty damn good job with no notice.

Slow fingers scan my items into an old cash register that should have been thrown out twenty years ago. One of the ways these people get to be rich is that they’re so cheap. But who wants to live like that? If you’re going to sit behind that thing and look at it every single day for hours, maybe invest in something from this era, and clean it? Why the brown gunk crusted under taped messages telling us which credit cards won’t be accepted?

Disdainful eyelashes flick to my face as she informs me the amount due. My credit card gets me out of here before she can even finish, “Have a good?—”

“You too.”

Strangers of all nationalities come at me from both directions, all with expressionless faces. Because of my mental state, there’s something eerie about them. Every set of eyes I glance to won’t look back at me. A crowd of hypnotized people.

I’m searching for him before I burst into my apartment building and sprint up the stairs. Sliding my key in the lock it hits me: from here on out behind this door will be me, my girl, and her child.

And Daniel.

“Tonk, you’re back!” he says as they both rush over to me while I lock us in.

Stacy stares at the golden tulips I offer and her eyes liquify as she hugs her daughter close.

I inform them, “Now that we’re all inside we have to call the police.”

Daniel pulls out his phone while I take Celia from her mother’s arms so that Stacy can prepare the formula.

It all moves so fast.

Blocking his number, Dan gives them Stacy’s address and says that he suspects a woman and her baby are in danger. He heard screaming, things broken behind locked doors. They need to hurry. He thinks he heard the woman scream just now.

Stacy’s breaths are short as she works fast while I hold Celia. I guide them to the most comfortable armchair we own which sits facing the dark screen with gunshots normally exploding from the speakers. Daniel had better find a new video game to play.

“You okay?” I ask her as I kneel down beside them. Celia’s tired lips latch onto the bottle. “I got the one that came with this in the package. Is it the right brand? Is there enough nutrition? I can go back.”

Her beautiful walnut-brown eyes settle on me. “Tonk, please stay. Please stay for a long time.”

I rise up a little in order to kiss her properly. Not with tongue or anything. Just with the desperation of needing her to know how much I want for our future.

“Stacy, I will fight for you. In court or with my fists. I will protect you and Celia. When I look into your eyes I know I want them staring back at me forever. Why second guess something that feels this good?”

A knock at the door swings all three of our heads toward it while Celia’s lashes close from sheer exhaustion. Her mouth is determined to eat while she sleeps.

“That was quick,” I frown as Daniel goes to let in the police.

He shrugs, “That’s New York for you.”

“Make sure you ask who it is.”

He doesn’t hear me and opens the door out of relief to get this behind us. The monster explodes through it, sweaty, with his pants blood-stained, dark red crusted on his face.

He punches Daniel so hard he falls back and hits his head against the wall, collapsing onto the floor.

Stacy gasps, “Victor!” jumping in her chair as she clutches Celia close.

I lunge for Victor with my thumbs leading the way. I grab onto his leg and dig them both into the wound. His pain and fury bellows through the apartment, making Celia wail, and Stacy cry.

He grabs my head and pounds me to the ground, chambering his leg to kick me in the gut, and he hits his mark.

I grunt and fight for air.

Reaching around his knees I struggle to buckle them so he falls. He’s punching my head. I feel dizzy, vision blurring. I can hear Stacy calling my name, and I rasp hers.

Suddenly he’s off of me, and my head rolls on the ground. I’m panting, blinking in confusion as I watch my father throwing Victor against a wall.

My sister rushes to me, crouching as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Feeling drugged, blood running into my right eye, I nod. We look over at dad who is kicking the living shit out of a man who deserves it. “You think you can hurt my son? You think you can beat up on a woman? What kind of piece of shit are you? I’ll tell you what kind! The kind who’s going to prison. The kind who will never try this again because I am going to make you remember me! How about these fingers? I think you lost your right to a fist.” Dad slams his motorcycle boot on Victor’s right hand so hard we all hear the bones break. “Shut the fuck up,” Dad says at the cries of agony before silencing them with a knockout punch.

Dusting off his hands, Dad sighs and looks over at me. “You okay, Junior?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Dad. Thanks, but I could’ve handled him.”

Blue eyes blink at me before his grin breaks free. “Hey, I was just helping out. I knew you had it covered.” He points to the gunshot wound. “That your handiwork?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice work!”

I didn’t inherit those smiling baby blues, nor did I inherit Dad’s lust for fighting. Ever since I exchanged my first boxing gloves for my first book, I’ve disappointed him. Children are trained as soon as they can understand the difference between a good fist and a bad one. That’s how I knew to go for the wound. That’s how I took this as far as I did today, because I do have some abilities even though they were never enough for him.

As I blink at him through the blood I know that all I’ve ever wanted was for my father to be proud of me, even though I couldn’t compromise who I was in order to get that pride and respect.

My sister has been the only one to glean the admiration of this man. She’s a sweetheart and a badass and I’ve always looked up to her. But her baby brother never had it in him to follow in their footsteps.

That pride shining from his eyes…I needed that today.

I feel a soft touch on my back from where I’m lying on the ground, and glance over to see Stacy squatting by the top of my head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers stroking my back.

“Who cares what it took, because right now you’re looking at me like that. Let’s do it all over again.”

She shakes her head, “No.”

“He’s not going to bother you again.”

Through tears she smiles with hope in her eyes, and that’s the first time I’ve seen it.

I had something to do with that.

Daniel groans, “What the fuck happened?” rubbing the back of his head as he surveys the scene. “Who’re you?”

My father bucks his chin in greeting. “I’m that guy’s dad. Tonk Senior. You Dan? Nice to meet you.”

My black jeans, black tank-top wearin’, leather booted sis opens her mouth to introduce herself, but I beat her to it. “And that’s my sister Celia holding Celia.”

Her eyes go wide before they drop down to look at her little namesake.

Well not really, but I like to think this coincidence happened for a reason. Especially after how my sister came into the world.

If I get my way I’m going to raise that little baby as my own, just as my dad raised Celia despite the fact that she wasn't his, either. That story got me to New York, and I’ll have to tell Stacy it someday.

“Dad,” Ceels says with warning in her tone.

He nods, “Have to call the cops, yeah. Tonk Jr.? You know what to do?”

Sitting up I wince. “You were never here.”

He walks over, legs bowed, stride confident. He offers me his hand and helps me up. “You did good, son.”

My chest tighten with emotion. “Thanks, Dad.”