Page 93 of Misrule
Mortician released a harsh breath. “You Bailey momma,mymomma-in-law. You so important to us, man. Just…justpleasekeep shit the way it is now.”
“Baby, I appreciate you and admire the man you are. You’re a good son-in-law, a wonderful husband and a loving father. I’m so glad Bailey found you. You take care of her and your children, and that’s all I can ask. Given that, I am going to leave shit just as it is. Suppose I decided not to, then what? We’d be at a stalemate.”
“No. Then I kill the motherfucker.”
“How the fuck you say you want to protect me, then in the next breath say you’ll kill the motherfucker I love? And for what? Bullshit!”
“It’s not bullshit.I’mthe head of the family, so it’s my job to protect you. If a motherfucker disobey, he can’t live. Every motherfucker around’ll think I’m a fucking bitch.”
“As a bitch, I take offense to the insinuation that I can’t take care of my goddamn self because I got a pussy. Being older than you, shouldn’t my ass be the head? The matriarch?”
“We forward thinking, Roxanne. We don’t have a choice ‘cause of Meggie girl. But even Prez draw a fucking line and takeover when he want to.”
“He always give Meggie a reason. You haven’t told me one thing that makes me think I can’t handle shit on my own. Other than this is important to you.”
He lifted a brow. “That’s not enough for you?”
“Fuck you, motherfucker,” she yelled, at wit’s end. “I’m agreeing to this bullshit because it’s important to you. No other reason, since you like a son to me.” The fact that he’d kill Knox might have something to do with it, too. “I believe you’re under the misguided assumption that you’re protecting me because you think he’s some kind of mama’s boy that will listen to Joan.”
“He’s also uppity and think he’s better than us.”
“He’s a work-in-progress,” she countered.
“He’s a pain-in-the-ass.”
“Whatever, boy.” She should tell him she’d rendezvoused with Knox this morning, but then the motherfucker would figure out she’d caught on to the guards’ schedules. Setting her phone on the butcher block table, she turned toward the huge refrigerator. “Either help me start breakfast or get the fuck out of my face.”
“Yeah, fine, Roxanne. Later.”
Cursing under her breath, Roxanne yanked open the stainless-steel refrigerator door and grabbed the unopened bacon, two packages of sausage, and two cartons of eggs. As she sat the food down, her phone started ringing. Picking it up, she saw that it was the same unknown number that had already called her twice.
Concern raced through her. What had happened? Was it her momma or one of her daughters? Or, maybe, something was wrong with Duke. That made more sense with the unrecognizable number.
Sighing, she heaved in a deep breath and answered. “Hello?”
“Roxy?” a man responded. The owner of the voice floated of the fringes of her memory.
“Who is this?” she demanded, because try as she might to identify the caller, he remained unknown. His chipper tone alerted her that everything was fine.
“Joyner,” he answered. “Amfinger. Joyner Amfinger.”
Creighton’s motherfucker of a friend. “What do you want, asshole?” she hissed.
“Tsk, tsk. I could be calling you about Duke. I am his godfather.”
“You’re not. You wouldn’t fucking bother to pick up the goddamn phone to tell me anything about my son.”
“Still the same classy woman Creighton married. I can’t see why my friend ever thought he could turn trash into a trophy.”
“I’m not listening to your bullshit,” she snapped, hating how Joyner’s words arrowed straight through her. Her baby boy, her Duke, felt the same way. “Fuck off, motherfucker.”
“Don’t hang up,” Joyner commanded. “We wouldn’t want that man you’re about to marry to accidentally get a phone call.”
“I don’t have anything to hide. Call Knox all the fuck you want to.”
He chuckled. “I might do that. I had an offer for you, but you’re being difficult.”
“Bye, Joyner.”
