Home At Last. Deborah Raney

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      “Yeah, and people in hell want ice water.”

      “Real original.” Link gripped the guy’s bicep. To a bystander, it could have looked like a friendly grasp, but Mohawk’s expression said otherwise.

      Link’s jaw tensed. He spoke through clenched teeth, and Shayla couldn’t hear what he said.

      But Mohawk’s eyes widened. He looked at the ground and muttered, “Yeah, whatever.”

      “What’s that?” Link said, tightening his grip.

      “Sorry.” The guy shrugged and jerked away from Link. “Now get your freakin’ hands off me.”

      “Happy to. Enjoy your movie.” Link gave guy’s bicep a pat and walked away.

      A minute later, he appeared at Shayla’s side looking pleased with himself. “Okay, let’s go watch a movie.”

      “What did you do?”

      “I just taught the guy a few manners is all.”

      She stopped and put a hand on her hip. “This isn’t funny, Link.”

      “I wasn’t laughing.”

      “You’re being smug.”

      “I kind of think I have a right to be smug.”

      “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

      “I just squeezed an apology out of him is all.”

      She scoffed. “Yeah, well, you have that luxury. We don’t.”

      He stopped, cocking his head. “What do you mean? We? Who’s we?”

      She gave him a look meant to say, “Seriously?” She didn’t think Link was that naive, but maybe he was. Sometimes the nicest people were the most clueless. “You know what?” she finally said. “Let’s just go watch a movie. Forget about it.”

      She felt a tug on her jacket and looked down to see Portia’s huge blue eyes looking up at her. “Why did that guy with the crazy hair say I was dirty?”

      Shayla felt sick knowing Portia had heard him. She shot Link a look, working to keep the anger from her voice. “He probably just meant because you got your hands dirty. From the popcorn.”

      “No, ’cause I didn’t have any popcorn yet.”

      Busted. “I know, but . . . Maybe he thought you did.”

      “That don’t make no sense.” She gave an exaggerated frown that made Shayla and Link both laugh.

      But you couldn’t pull anything over on this little girl. Shayla herded Portia closer to the fancy-wallpapered wall of the corridor and squatted down in front of her. She felt Link behind her. “Don’t you worry about anything that guy said, baby. He’s just a dumb teenager who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Come on. Let’s go see our movie!” She forced false cheer into her voice.

      The film—even though the theater was full of noisy kids—was an entertaining one, and Portia was glued to the screen, seeming to have forgotten all about the disgusting creature with the Mohawk. But Shayla felt Link’s eyes on her more than once during the movie.

      After the feel-good ending, Shayla could almost forget what had happened earlier. At least until Portia said she wanted to go to the bathroom.

      “Again?” she said. “The movie was only an hour and a half long.”

      “I don’t gotta pee. I wanna wash my hands.”

      “You can wash them when we get home.”

      “No, they’re dirty. I need to wash them now.”

      It struck Shayla then what was going on. She didn’t really want to press it in front of Link, but she didn’t want to let it go for Portia’s sake either. “Why do you need to wash your hands, sweetie?”

      Portia held her hands out and inspected them, turning them over to reveal her pale colored palms. “I just do. They’re dirty. ’Cause of the popcorn.”

      Shayla looked up at Link and motioned for him to give them a moment. He took a step back and watched people streaming in for the next showing. But she got the distinct impression that he was listening to her and Portia.

      She knelt in front of her niece. “We can go wash your hands if you want to, but they are perfectly fine. They aren’t dirty and they never were. Well, except maybe that time you played in the mud with Josie.”

      That earned her the giggle she’d been going for.

      “Maybe I can wait till we get home,” Portia said.

      “Good plan.” She rose and touched Link’s shoulder. “Okay. We’re ready.”

      Portia skipped ahead of them, singing a song from the movie.

      “Everything okay?” Link’s brow wrinkled with genuine concern. “What did I miss?”

      She gave him a short version of the exchange, not sure if he’d heard everything that had transpired before he picked a fight with the yellow-haired kid and his gang. “She wanted to go wash her hands.”

      “Oh, man. That loser,” Link said under his breath.

      “So what really happened? Earlier. What did you say to him?”

      “I just told him he needed to grow up. And to pick on somebody his own size . . . if he could find a Neanderthal anywhere in the county.”

      “You didn’t?” She held her breath.

      “Well, I might not have said that last part loud enough for him to hear. But he got the picture.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I really wish you would have just let things be. We don’t need any trouble.”

      He straightened and lifted his chin, and she could almost see his defenses rise. He opened his mouth but just as quickly closed it as if deciding better of what he’d been going to say. “You hungry?” he said instead.

      “Sure.”

      Portia was waiting for them by the door. Two clean-cut black teens slammed through the doors nearly knocking her over.

      One of them stuck out a hand to keep her from falling, but looking embarrassed, he yelled at Portia. “Hey, move it, kid! Not a good place to stand.”

      Shayla hurried to her, looking daggers at the kid.

      He ducked his head and rushed away.

      But Portia just shook her head matter-of-factly. “It’s okay. He’s just a dumb teenager who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

      Shayla looked at Link and they both lost it. They laughed all the way to Link’s СКАЧАТЬ