Page 46 of Pen Me

I blinked, stunned by his explosiveness. The shock only lasted a minute, then my temper set off like a roman candle.

“Your fuckin’ road captain? You fuckin’ put him out bad, remember?” I shouted, trailing after him. “What the hell are you talking about, who is coming here next? Are you high? Are you on drugs right now? Lennox is in jail, dad. What the hell...?”

I had heard crack head antics could be the worst, that cocaine did things to the temper and brain. It made sense, if Sauce was caught up in coke trouble, then my father probably was, too.

I rushed back to the kitchen and snagged my cellphone from my purse.

Come get your dad, before I fuck him up.

I shot the message to Sauce, even if he hadn’t responded to any of my messages since he’d gotten out. A door loudly bounced off a wall somewhere in the house and I rushed toward the source. He was in the hall just outside of my bedroom, trying to flip a light on in the closet.

It was a fucking three by three closet. There was nothing but big plastic containers, my winter coat, and a vacuum in there. Still, the lack of boundaries enraged me.

I raced down the hall, meeting him just as he managed to get the string to finally cooperate and clicked the ceiling light on overhead. I planted myself in front of him and shoved him back. He wasn’t expecting it and stumbled a few feet. Bewilderment registered in his eyes, but he instinctively stepped back into my space. His thumb hitched in a silent order that he verbalized when I didn’t anticipate or comply with his wishes fast enough.

“Out of my way!”

He snapped his fingers, hitched his thumb again, and stepped into me. God help me, I’d had enough. His invasion of my personal space and physical aggression wasn’t something I was willing to tolerate on top of everything else. I swung, landing avicious lead hook that left him stumbling back again. His knees went weak a few times, as he staggered clinging to his senses and trying to balance his weight. My hook shots weren’t so easily walked off, as he soon realized, when he was eventually left on one knee with the wall supporting him.

I could tell by the look on his face that his whole understanding of the world had just been rocked. It was like Menace said, my father wasn’t no punk… but he’d never been hit like that by a woman, it was registered on his face and plain for the world to see for a solid ten seconds before he snapped out of it.

“Goddamn it, I said that’s enough!” I cried.

His breath was ragged, and he stared up at me for a while, even after he swallowed and took control of his expression again. A little part of me felt disappointed that he’d backed down. It wasn’t that I wanted to get violent with him, I guess I just had a lot in me that I didn’t realize I was carrying around.

“Jesus. Who gave you that patch, anyway? Get the fuck up, soldier. Smacking you is about as satisfying as dragging someone’s grandmother into the ring. I imagine she’d stare at me the same way your dumbass just did after one hit, too.”

“You’re my daughter.” He huffed, his voice all raspy and scandalized. “And a woman. I’m not going to fight you! Who the fuck taught you to hit like that anyhow?”

He reached up and worked his jaw, still not taking his eyes off me.

“The United States military, same people that taught you to wipe your own ass and brush your teeth every fuckin’ day. I wasn’t a degenerate when I enlisted, remember?”

He laughed, a genuine sound, and there was a hint of a proud smile teasing at his lips when he shot back, “Almost forgot, you waited ‘til you came home to choose that path.”

“Hands up!” someone shouted from the front of the house.

That shit might have rattled civilians. I had a marine drill instructor. I’d sounded off until I had no voice more times than I could count. I didn’t hesitate to cut off the fired questions when I got tired of all the raised voices ringing out through my home.

“Everybody on the ground, now!”

“Fugitive Task Force.” Another voice boomed.

“U.S. Marshalls.” A third added.

“Is there anyone else–?” I stared at the numerous officials entering the front door in formation.

“No,” I sounded off just as loud, causing the man in the front to flinch and point his weapon at me.

“Lower your goddamn weapon,” I demanded, irritation flooding through me.

“Lennox Zade, come out with your hands up.”

“He’s not here!” I yelled back. “You can clearly see there are two of us standing here. This is not a large home. It is not but one floor. We can all hear each other just fine. I promise you, my voice will carry further and longer than all of you combined, so if you don’t mind… Can we lower our fucking tones to a civilized speaking level?”

Six male faces I’d never seen before, paused their search of my kitchen and home to stare at me like I’d gone mad.

“Forgive their manners,” a woman offered, with a laugh. “I’m Agent Vane, with the FBI.”

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