Page 51 of Bulletproof Baby

She begins setting down tray after tray of food and I can't imagine how many people she thought she was feeding. However, I notice something's going on between the three of them.

Cecilia, her mother, and my father are all communicating with their eyes, with Cecilia stealing a glance at me every so often.

"What is it?" I ask them.

"Nothing, sweetie," Shayla replies too quickly.

"Y'all are conspiring about something. Spit it out." My words are laced with warning because I will leave if they spring an unwanted surprise on me.

"We have someone coming over," Shayla blurts out.

"Oh for the love of Christ. Shay, I told you to stop babying him. Hera's coming. There. It's out in the open. I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier, but she's coming," Pop spits out with exasperation.

I can feel a twitch under my eye that makes me want to hit something. "Why?"

It's the only word I can think of.

"She's in a bind and needs some help." Shayla's voice leaves so much context out.

Cecilia rolls her eyes and she's clearly not on board, but she didn't warn me either.

"So help her and leave me out of it," I tell them. "If you want to let that vampire vulture sink her teeth into your sanity, that's on you. Leave me out of it."

"Valentino." The strictness in Shayla's voice is one I haven’t heard since my teenage years. She's the mother I want, the only one I've ever needed, and letting that biological sack of shit into this place of tranquility irritates me. However, I won't disrespect Shayla.

"Yes, Ma."

"She's a broken woman who's made some bad choices in her life. Please, just hear her out. Okay?" Shayla's request draws a simple nod from me, and I sit there quietly, waiting for the typhoon of a disaster that birthed me.

It doesn't take long and I see why they gave me the heads up. It's not even ten minutes before a woman comes prancing around the large house toward us. She's in skintight pants, an obnoxiously loud print designer blouse, smoking a cigarette from one of those long cigarette holders.

Cecilia's had enough. "Oh for crying out fuckin’ loud. I'm not sitting through this shit."

She storms off and I should follow her, but Hera will follow the both of us like a black cloud if I'm the one she's here to see.

She's not just in a bind. If I'm here, she wants money.

"Oh my goodness, would you look at my sonny boy all grown up and so handsome," Hera squeals as she sashays her way over to the table.

Pop growls and sips his beer, turning his back to the Hera.

"Come on, Valentino, come give your mother a hug or something." Hera opens her arms wide and I push myself up from the table. I deliberately walk over to Shayla and wrap my arms around her, kissing her on the side of the temple.

"What the fuck do you want?" I snarl at the woman. I told Lia the short version, but the long one starts when the woman who brought me into this world walked out on me. She abandoned her son, her husband, left us and there was no pain painful enough to erase what she's done to me.

I despise her and love Shayla even more because she truly believes Hera can be a decent person. I know better.

"Is that how you talk to your mother?" Hera asks.

"No, it's not, but it's how I talk to you. You've manipulated your way onto this property to get a meeting with me. Next time, make an appointment at the office." I tell her, walking over to the cooler. This time I grab a beer and gulp it down.

"I tried, but every time I called and gave my name, they said you didn't have anything available," Hera says.

I grin at my security measures in place. Protecting my peace and sanity.

"Then," Hera continues, "I even tried giving a fake name, but when I showed up for the appointment, security practically tackled me and escorted me out of the building. So as you can see, I had to seek alternative methods."

"No, that means give up. That means I don't want to see you. You know what that sounds like. That sounds like exactly what you said to your ten-year-old son who caught three Greyhound buses to find you in Chicago, living with another family that you've had the entire time. That sounds like the doorman of that Chicago high-rise escorting me out of the building and then threatening to break my kneecaps if I ever bothered Mrs. Catania ever again."