Page 72 of Fight Or Flight

“Sure, I’ll just go upstairs,” I say, quickly. I look from Eric to Riggs, but his eyes never leave his son’s face. If Eric is intimidated by his dad’s fury, he doesn’t show it. He winks at me and before I can make a dash for the stairs, he grabs my hand, holding me in place.

“I’ll come and get you when we’re done and we’ll be on our way,” he promises.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Riggs growls. “Living room. Now.”

Oh, boy.The Tiger means business.

Turning to his father, Eric releases my hand.

“What’s wrong?” he questions, but Riggs doesn’t respond. Instead, he cups the back of Eric’s neck and jerks him forward. I’m a little shocked by the action and take that as my cue to scram. I’m brave and all that, but I’m still a work in progress. I barely make it down the hallway before I hear Riggs hollering in the living room.

“Are you fucking crazy?” he barks.

I should go upstairs and mind my business, but instead, I lean against the wall and strain to listen to them to argue.

I know, I know, eavesdropping is a horrible thing.

But what if it’s about me? I never gave Eric a chance to tell me what happened the night my mom passed. What if this has something to do with that? Maybe he found out we never really had a flat after all.

“I mean, it’s debatable, but for me to answer that truthfully, I’m going to need a little more information,” Eric tells him.

“Cut the smart aleck shit, Eric,” Riggs warns.

They’re silent for a moment, and then I hear Lauren’s voice.

“A funny thing happened today when I went up to the school. I registered Brooklyn, and after a meeting with the guidance counselor, I met with the college advisor. We got Brooklyn all sorted out, and I figured while I was there, I should probably check on my son. Things have been crazy around here and I haven’t followed up on your college applications.”

Phew. It’s not about us. That’s a good thing, right? I can go upstairs and leave them to it.

Right.

So why am I still standing here?

“Shit,” Eric hisses.

“Yeah, shit,” Riggs says. “You didn’t apply to a single fucking college. I hate to burst your bubble, kid, but you can’t make a living off your good looks. Trust me, I’ve tried,” he says.

“You have?” Lauren questions, sniffling.

“Oh, don’t sound so shocked, Kitten, you dropped out of nursing school and were shaking your ass at a bar called the Pink Pussycat when I met you,” Riggs reminds her. “We tried, and we failed.”

Hmm…sounds like an interesting story.

“I think we’re veering off topic here,” Lauren says.

“Right, back to this dope,” Riggs sneers. “Explain yourself.”

“I’m not going to college,” Eric confesses.

I bring my hand to my mouth.

Oh, God, he’s going to tell them.

“The fuck you’re not,” Riggs roars. “Do you know how many times I had to drive that bus so you and your siblings could go to college.”

I lower my hand and narrow my eyes. Riggs drives a bus? How did I not know that?

“You don’t drive a bus.”

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