Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Stella

Practice is brutal, but Coach seems to have forgiven me for my trespasses. Maybe it’s because she’s heard the rumors, or maybe it’s because deep down she’s a softie.

Lexie corners me before I get to the locker room. “You have some explaining to do, girlfriend. Coffee or milkshake. Those are your only options.”

I blow out a breath as I gaze at her. Lexie is a lifer. One of the rare friendships that will never fail or falter. “Yeah, I have time to talk. Gotta shower and make a call. I’ll meet you in the carpark.”

“You better show up,” she says. “Or I’ll force you to eat oysters until you vomit.”

I laugh. I hate oysters.

I say hi to Selma, who “hi’s,” back. “I’m coming with you and Lexie, so don’t take off on me.”

“Okay,” I tell her. After I shower and change into street wear, I wrap my wrist with a tensor bandage. It’s a little tender from practice. Then I call Lachlan.

“Hi Stella,” he says. The defeat in his voice brings tears to my eyes.

“How are you?” Feeble yes, but what else can I say?

There’s a pause. “Better than yesterday, I guess. Cops showed up early to talk to me. Didn’t drag me down to the station. They took my statement at home. They asked if mom had enemies and wanted to know where I was when the shooting happened. No hassling at all.”

“Well, they can hardly blame you when you were in a meeting with your lawyer and family services.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He takes a deep breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just finished practice then heading out for food.” I don’t tell him about the intense conversation I had with dad last night. Or dad’s determination to throw Sorcha to the curb this morning. Lachlan doesn’t need that added to his already heavy burden.

“And Sorcha?”

“Sorcha’s fine. I talked to her this morning before I left for practice. She got scared so I put her to bed with my mom.”

Lachlan snorts a laugh. “How’d that go down?”

“I think Sorcha’s stolen mom’s heart.”

“She’s a charmer.”

“She’s amazing.” My heart wrenches at the idea that she could end up in care and I realize that the sorrow isn’t just for Lachlan, but me as well.

A long silence stretches between us, then he says, “I gotta head out, but call me if you need me. Maybe I can sneak over and see Sorcha tonight.”

If she’s still there, I think but don’t say. “She’d like that. So would I.”

Lexie and Selma are waiting in the parking lot talking animatedly, but stop the minute they see me.

I shiver. “I’m cold.”

Selma tilts her head. “Have you ever thought about wearing pants and a warmer jacket. You dress like it’s the middle of summer.”

I look down at myself. She’s right. The usual baggy shorts, oversized jersey, hoodie. Running shoes. It’s my thing, but maybe it’s time to glam it up a bit. For Lachlan. “I’ll change when I get home.”

We go to Fancy’s, an old-fashioned diner. There’s a lot of throw-back shops and restaurants around here because the younger set go to Vegas and the more conservative people like Reno. Fancy’s is always busy, but we manage to find an open booth.

We order enough food to feed a pack of hungry hyenas, then act like one as we plunge into the bacon, eggs, waffles, toast and fruit.

I hear mom lecturing in my ear. Stella, what are you doing eating all that garbage food?

As you know, mother, I burn thousands of calories a day. I get hungry. Sometimes protein shakes and egg white scrambles just don’t cut it.

Mom gasps.

I move on.

Selma is a nibbler and I don’t really get nibblers, but she’s my sister so I put up with it. Lexie, though, she’s like me. Worse actually, because she doesn’t just get hungry, she gets hangry.

We’re half-way through our feast when Selma puts her fork down. “Let’s hear it, Stella. All the details.”

I put my fork down too, take a swallow of coffee to wash down the mouthful, then start confessing like I’m being tortured.

When I tell them about the door-switching, crossing the road incident, Lexie bursts out laughing while Selma’s jaw drops. “The whole neighborhood is going to think you’re nuts!”

As I continue, Lexie nods occasionally but Selma keeps interrupting with questions and exclamations. When I get to the part about dad kicking Sorcha out, she glares. “No way!”

“Way. Dad speaks, we bow down to him.” It’s nice being with Selma and Lexie, eating, talking, feeling supported and Selma gets it, because she knows dad as well as I do.

She shakes her head a few times. “That’s bullshit.”

I nod. “I’m not sure what to do next.” I tick off options on my fingers. “I could take her to Lachlan’s clubhouse, but neither she nor I really like that idea. I could take her to Lexie’s and my place, but we can’t look after her and go to basketball and classes.” I shrug. “I could try to convince mom to go on the run with Sorcha, but I sense that would be a dead-end.”

Lexie puts her fork down, belches quietly. “Maybe we can get Graham to keep her for a couple of days.”

It’s genius. No one would think of looking for Sorcha at Selma’s boyfriend’s apartment, but Selma throws Lexie a withering glance. “He can’t keep a cactus alive, let alone look after a little girl and he has classes too. Besides, can you imagine mom’s reaction when she finds out I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“Who you just happen to be sleeping with,” Lexie adds with a smirk.

“Mom won’t find out,” I say to Selma.

Selma tilts her head at me. “You’re in denial. Mom finds out practically everything and so far I’ve been able to keep Graham and me under wraps, but if he harbors Sorcha, mom will sniff her out.”

“Good grief! First, we don’t have to have Graham look after her all the time. We can get someone to tag team with him.”

“Like who?”

“Uhmm,” I say, trying to think quickly though it’s not really my thing. “Why not Becca. She’s always hanging around.” Becca’s Graham’s ex.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Selma says. “She wants Graham back and this would be just the opening she needs.”

“Girls,” Lexie intervenes. “I’ll admit that while my idea is sound, it won’t work here. The more people involved, the more likely someone is going to talk to the wrong person and the coppers will eventually track Sorcha down.”

I rub my face. “Yeah. I think I’m out of options.”

“I think the clubhouse is the best option.”

I shake my head stubbornly. “No.” I don’t want Sorcha there with all the old ladies and kids. I want her to myself. “I need to talk to mom and convince her to convince dad to let her stay for a couple of days. That gives us some time to sort out an alternative arrangement.”

“I can help,” Selma offers. “Maybe if the two of us pressured dad, he’d relent.”

“You do realize that you’re just like mom,” I reply. “You’d get cranky, then dad would get cranky. And it would go on and on and on.”

Selma glares at me. “I am not like mom.”

I’d be unhappy too if someone compared me to my mother. Maybe one day it’ll be a compliment, but probably when I’m near death.

Lexie helps me out. “You are like your mom, Selma. You pop off when things get tense.” Which means Selma pops off at the least provocation.

“I bloody well do not,” Selma says loud enough to get everyone’s attention in the restaurant.

Lexie grins. “No more questions, your honor. I rest my case.”

I take a couple of bites of my cold waffle, then put my fork down. “I’ll go home and give it another go. Talk to mom first then maybe go see dad.”

“Dad doesn’t like it when we disturb him at work,” Selma says.

“Geez, thanks for the news flash,” I say dryly. I signal the waiter for our check, pay and head outside.

“I’ll be at Graham’s if you need me,” Selma says.

“I’ve got a class,” Lexie says. “But same. Text me if you need some support. Or if we have to go on the run with Sorcha.”

“Thanks,” I say as I head to my car. And I truly am thankful. Selma and Lexie always have my back.

When I get to mom and dad’s, I look over at Lachlan’s house like a love-sick puppy. I’m worried that if we don’t end up together, he might need a restraining order against me.

He’s not home anyway, so I put my sociopathic tendencies to bed and head inside mom’s house.

It’s quiet and I almost call out, but I’m not all that familiar with a five-year-old’s routine, so I think maybe Sorcha’s having a morning nap.

I head towards the kitchen when I hear her sweet voice giggling from the living room. I step inside to see dad sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a small table facing Sorcha, who is on the other side. There’s a checkerboard on the table and dad’s got a huge smile on his face as he talks to Sorcha.

They don’t immediately see me. Dad shows Sorcha how to capture a checker and when Sorcha does, he makes an exaggerated groan. Sorcha breaks out into a fit of laughter, then spots me.

“Stella!” she squeals as she jumps up, almost knocking the board over. She flings herself into my arms, squeezes my cheeks in her hands and gives me a kiss on the lips. I almost start to cry at how sweet she is.

“What’re you doing?” I say to Sorcha as I make eye contact with dad.

“Playing checkers with the Grampa. He’s teaching me.”

She wriggles out of my arms and runs back to the table.

“And what are you doing?” I say to dad. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Oh dear, now I sound like mom.

He unfolds himself and stands. He’s tall, not like Lachlan but he’s where I get my height from and also my athleticism. He runs, lifts weights, competes in marathons for charity. Was a damn good basketball player. He always says, “I coulda been a contender, but I fell in love.”

Then he gives mom a squeeze and a peck.

He tries to sound nonchalant. “I’m working at home today. Your mom got called in for an emergency extraction. Root canal issue or something.”

“I see.”

Sorcha jumps up again and takes his hand. “The grampa is babysitting me.”

“Is he now?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes. He is.” She stares at the tensor bandage on my wrist. “Did you break your arm?”

I look at my wrist. “No honey. It’s just sore. I played a lot of basketball today.”

“I broke my arm once.”

Dad and I stare at the five-year old.

“How’d you break your arm?” dad asks.

Her face clouds. “I don’t remember.”

“Well the important thing is that you’re all healed up now,” I tell her.

Dad exhales as he watches the exchange between Sorcha and me. “You realize how much of a risk we’re all taking by keeping her here. I can’t deny a family court judge’s order.”

I feel a chill. “Has there been one?”

He turns to Sorcha, “Why don’t you run upstairs and get the new doll I got for you?”

“Okay,” she says as she races out of the room.

“There hasn’t yet,” he says quietly. “But I made some soft enquiries, and I expect that Lachlan will be made to go in front of a judge soon.”

Tears sting my eyes. “Why? It’s not fair.”

“Because of his record. Because of the fact that his mother was with a known gangster when she died. The news on the street is that they’re questioning her suitability as a parent because of her association with Luke Morgan.”

“Who’s Luke Morgan?”

“The president of Hell’s Jury.” He grimaces as Sorcha stampedes down the stairs. “Did Lachlan’s mother leave a will?”

I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Well, call him and find out. We need to make sure that she didn’t give custodial rights to someone other than Lachlan.”

“And in the meantime?” I ask as Sorcha slams into dad’s legs and wraps her arms around them.

He takes a deep breath as he steadies himself. “In the meantime, she can stay here, but only as long as Lachlan has custody of her. If he’s ordered to surrender her, then the deal’s off.”

“Grampa,” Sorcha says, her arms held out to him. “Pick me up!”

Dad swoops her into his arms.

“Thanks dad,” I say, then to Sorcha, “Are you okay to stay with grampa? I have to go out for a bit.”

She suddenly looks serious. “To find my mommy?”

Dad strokes her hair as I say, “No, honey. Mommy’s gone, remember? I’m gonna go find your brother.”

Her face reddens as she lays her head on dad’s shoulder and shoves her thumb in her mouth. “Okay,” she whispers.