“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t know why you gotta rub it in my face, that’s all I’m saying,” Buddy Lee had yelled into the phone. He hadn’t meant to yell but he couldn’t help himself. There was an ugly part of him that pulsed and festered whenever Derek brought up his sexuality. It made him say things he couldn’t take back in ways that couldn’t be forgotten.
“Isiah asked me to invite you, but you know what? Forget it. It’s going to be the happiest day of my life, but I wouldn’t want to rub it in your face,” Derek said.
“Hey, hey now—” But Derek had cut him off like a meat cleaver.
“I’d expect this from Mom and Gerald, but for some reason I thought you might be different. I thought you might at least pretend to be happy for me. Stupid, right?” Derek had said. His voice didn’t crack, but Buddy Lee knew by the way his cadence had taken on a stilted tone he was crying.
“Just so you know, you’re missing out. Arianna is going to be a beautiful flower girl,” Derek had said. Then the line had gone dead. A few months later, after walking down the aisle with his husband, so was Derek.
“Oh, fuck me,” Buddy Lee said. His eyes began to sting.
The familiar sound of a key being inserted into a lock broke him out of his reverie. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was trying to decide if he should sit down or keep standing when a slim Black woman with a crown of brown braids stepped through the doorway.
“Hello,” she said. She had a fast-food bag tucked under her right arm. Her left arm was trailing behind her. A little girl with skin the color of honey was holding on to the woman’s left hand.
“Uh, hey. I’m Buddy Lee. Derek’s daddy.”
“Yeah, I remember you from the…”
“When we all was down there when they, uh…”
“Yeah. Well, I’m Mya. And this little ball of trouble here is Arianna. I don’t mean this in a rude way, but why are you in my house, Buddy Lee?” the woman asked.
“Oh, I’m … I was, uh … I was here to see Ike but he went upstairs.” The little girl peeped at Buddy Lee from behind Mya’s leg. Buddy Lee gave her a two-finger salute. He felt the blood rush to his face.
“How you doing, Miss Little Bit?” Buddy Lee asked.
“Arianna, can you say hi? This your granddaddy, too,” Mya said. Buddy Lee heard the hollow cheeriness in her voice. Arianna hid her face in Mya’s thigh.
“I met you a long time ago. Derek … your daddy, brought you to see me, but you probably don’t remember,” Buddy Lee said. Arianna hummed into Mya’s leg.
“She bashful sometimes,” Mya said.
“It’s alright. I wouldn’t want to talk to me, either,” Buddy Lee said with a crooked smile.
“I’d offer you something to eat but it looks like you already made yourself at home,” Mya said. Buddy Lee was suddenly aware of the sandwich in his hand.
“Oh shit. I mean shoot. Ike said it was okay,” Buddy Lee said. Arianna peeped around Mya’s leg at him. He winked at her and she giggled.
“It is okay. He’s a guest, right?” Ike said. He was standing behind Mya. Buddy Lee hadn’t noticed him come back down the stairs. He was wearing a black T-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of Timberland boots.
“Goddamn, you quiet as a ghost,” Buddy Lee said.
“Yeah, he’s a guest,” Mya said. Buddy Lee shifted from one foot to the other. He waited for Ike or his wife to say something else, but it seemed like their vocabularies had both run dry. Buddy Lee took a bite out of his sandwich. This kind of awkwardness made him restless.
“Me and Buddy Lee going out. I’ll be back later,” Ike said finally. Ike motioned toward the door with his head. Buddy Lee slipped past Mya.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. He stepped through the doorway. Ike turned to follow him when Mya reached out and touched his arm.
“Be careful. Don’t do nothing you can’t walk away from,” Mya said. Ike saw the blood-soaked tamper in his hands with bits of skull and brains sticking to the square metal plate at the end of the handle.
“I won’t,” he lied.
TWENTY-THREE
Grayson fingered the bandage against his neck while he spoke into his cell phone.
“Nah, we gonna fuck this dude up righteously. I’m talking scorched fucking earth. This boy ain’t gonna know what the hell hit him. You think you and Choppa and your crew can come down, too? We need to put the Breed beatdown on this fucker,” Grayson said. A series of high-toned beeps rang in his ear as Tank, the president of the Hurricane, West Virginia, chapter of the Rare Breed, yammered on about retribution, taking care of business, and Rare Breed forever, forever Rare Breed.