Sweet Dreams by Kristen Ashley
Blake, Neeta’s man, sat opposite the aisle with what looked like his parents beside him and Neeta’s posse led by Carmen plopping down in seats by the parents. I glanced in his direction but Tate didn’t, nor did any of Neeta’s family, nor Jonas, and Blake didn’t look our way. But I could see, even from his profile, he was lost and suffering. It might have gone bad along the way but once it had been good and that was what Blake Daniels was remembering while he stared at the closed casket.
“This is bullshit.” I heard Shania mutter, taking my mind off Blake and then I felt Tate’s angry, dark energy flash.
He turned to her and whispered, “One more word, I swear to God…”
He let that hang and I felt Jonas get stiff. I slid my arm around his shoulders and he didn’t hesitate before he fell sideways into me. I felt Tate’s arm go around my shoulders and I pulled Jonas with me as I fell sideways into Tate. Then I felt Tate’s lips come to my ear.
“I know why you did it, Ace,” Tate said quietly in my ear and I knew he was still angry when he finished. “But don’t you fuckin’ leave us again.”
I didn’t look at him when I nodded. His arm squeezed my shoulders. I squeezed Jonas’s then I leaned down to whisper into the top of his head, “Relax, baby, this’ll be over soon.”
“Okay, Laurie,” Jonas whispered back.
I held him tighter. Tate held me tighter.
Then Guns ‘n’ Roses “Sweet Child o’ Mine” started playing and out of the corner of my eye I saw Wood move. I looked at him to see he’d turned his head toward Tate.
The lone guitar strains tore through the quiet space, they were joined by more guitar, then drums. The beat throbbed loud and pounded into our chests, the tempo increasing and finally Axl Rose’s voice rocked out words so sweet they tore at your soul.
Wood grinned at Tate.
I twisted my neck and looked up to see that Tate grinned back.
* * * * *
Later, at graveside, opposite where Jonas and Tate were sitting by the casket, me behind them, I saw Bubba walk up to the mourners moments before the minister started speaking.
The minute the service was done, Tate got up, pulled his chair out of the row, grabbed my hand and tugged me through. With one hand in mine, the other hand on Jonas’s shoulder, he led us straight to Bubba.
Bubba watched as we walked up to him, his eyes locked on Tate.
Tate stopped in front of Bubba and I held my breath.
“Tate –” Bubba started then Tate moved, letting my hand go, one of his arms wrapped around Bubba and I watched Bubba’s eyes close as one of his arms wrapped around Tate.
They stood that way for long moments before Tate pounded Bubba’s back and stepped away.
Bubba looked down at Jonas. “Hey little man,” he whispered and Jonas moved forward and hugged Bubba’s waist.
When he moved back, I moved in, fitting myself to his front and giving him a squeeze.
“Hey gorgeous.” He was still whispering and doing it into the top of my hair.
“Hey,” I whispered back.
When I stepped away, Tate claimed me with an arm around my shoulders but his eyes were on Bubba.
“You comin’ to Pop’s?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Bubba answered. “You want me at Pop’s?”
Tate didn’t respond, just gave Bubba a look.
Bubba dropped his head and said to the grass, “I’m comin’ to Pop’s.”
Tate nodded, lifted a hand and clapped Bubba on the shoulder then he moved Jonas and me toward the Explorer.
Then we went to Pop’s.
* * * * *
It took approximately twenty minutes for the pall to lift and the backyard at Pop’s became less a post-funeral gathering and more a party. This had a lot to do with the keg that was out there sitting by a cooler that was full of bottles of beer as well as the fact that a lot of people brought their own bottles of hard liquor from which they imbibed liberally, some of them not even using glasses to do it.
I stuck close to Jonas and Tate and my family stuck close to me, thus us. It wasn’t until half an hour later that beer and partaking of the food covering the table in Pop’s dining room and the counters of his kitchen that we loosened up.
I noticed that Dad and Mack had Jonas and they were standing talking with Stella and Wood and Wood’s two kids. Wood’s ex-wife, Maggie, a pretty, petite, curvy brunette was there (Tate pointed her out to me with a jerk of his head and a mumbled, “Wood’s old lady, Maggie”) but she was giving them a wide berth.
It was after I spent some time studying Maggie, thinking she was very pretty and also that she looked somewhat sad and adrift when I realized I’d lost sight of Tate so I quit studying Maggie and went to find him. Not finding him in the house, I went to the backyard and didn’t see him there either. I rounded the house and stopped when I saw him, his back to me, the bright colors of a gypsy skirt all I could see of his mother standing in front of him.
“… since he was five years old. That sure as fuck doesn’t give you the right to act like that.” I heard him say and I knew, just by his voice, he was seriously angry.
“Tatum –” she started.
“He doesn’t even fuckin’ know you, this shit’s hard on him and you come in and…” He hesitated. “Fuck, I don’t even know what that shit was about.”
“I’m his grandmother,” she snapped.
“He met his Gramma today, Lauren’s Mom, and she’s the only one he’s ever gonna have if you don’t fuckin’ cool it.”
“Lauren’s Mom?” she hissed and I stared, the words I was going to say to intervene lodging in my throat when I watched Tate’s body get tight from head to foot and he leaned forward threateningly.
“Yeah, Lauren’s Mom,” Tate shot back and continued angrily. “You know, I always thought it was okay, you bein’ you ‘cause it was the only thing I knew. And because of that, I thought it was okay for Jonas, Neet bein’ Neet. Better he have somethin’ than nothin’ ‘cause what I knew was, nothin’ made you like Neet and somethin’ was a fuckuva better than that. Now I know that shit’s not right, your shit’s not right.”
“Did Lauren teach you that?” Shania snapped her question.
“This isn’t about Lauren,” Tate returned.
“Seems to me it is. Seems to me someone got himself a little swanky somethin’ somethin’ and now he thinks his shit don’t stink like he thought when he was Mr. Hotshot Football Player.”
I gasped and Shania leaned to the side, saw me and her eyes narrowed but Tate stayed on point.
“You been gone for five years, Jonas doesn’t even remember you, and you think you can roll into town and make this day, the second shittiest day in his life after the day he found out his Mom’s dead, all about you. Woman, that shit’s whacked.”
“You wanna join our conversation?” Shania asked, ignoring Tate, her eyes on me. “Seein’ as you seem so interested in it.”
Tate turned to the side and his eyes came to me but I kept my eyes to Shania when I replied, “No, I’m good with just listening.”
“Well, maybe you’ll do me a favor, darlin’, and give me a second alone with my boy,” she demanded through suggestion.
“And maybe I won’t,” I replied and Shania looked at Tate.
“Neeta’s fresh in her grave and she’s already rollin’ in it, knowin’ this one’s here, wearin’ her fancy-ass outfit and her fancy-ass shoes, lookin’ down her nose at the rest of us,” she remarked.
Tate stared at his mother for long moments then looked to the heavens and sighed.
Then he righted his head but shook it and muttered, “We’re done.”
“We aren’t,” Shania stated and Tate leveled his gaze at her.
“We are and I mean that in every way it can be meant, you get me?”
She looked like he’d slapped her before she began, “I –”
Tate cut her off. “Jonas has had enough of your brand of dysfunctional bullshit in his life and I didn’
“I can’t believe you,” she hissed. “Sayin’ this to me, today. Neeta was my girl and we just laid her in the ground.”
“We didn’t do shit.” Tate leaned toward her to say. “You paraded in, as usual, makin’ a big scene and makin’ it all about you. Pop, Stell, Wood and Jonas laid her to rest today. You just showed up and turned it all to shit.” He leaned back and drawled sarcastically, “Congratulations Mom, I would figure that was an impossibility, makin’ shit even shittier, but you managed it.”
“I loved her!” she snapped, her voice rising.
“If you did, then why’d you let her down when she lost her Mom and needed another one? I was young but I remember Neet turnin’ to you and you doin’ what you do best, turnin’ away.” Shania’s face paled but Tate kept at her. “For that matter, why’d you let me down seein’ as you made it so I never had a mother at all?”
Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, “You know me, Tate, you know I gotta be free.”
“Yeah, so the good news is, you can be as free as you want. Rest easy, Mom, we got it covered,” Tate retorted.
Shania’s eyes slid to me and she accused, “This is about her.”
“Damn straight,” Tate shot back and semi-repeated, “damn fuckin’ straight.”
Then he turned away from her and came right at me. He hooked an arm around my neck, turned me and propelled me forward as he prowled to the backyard, through it and to the backdoor.
Once we were inside, I whispered, “You okay?”
“Fuck no,” he replied, not whispering at all.
“Is there something I can do?” I asked and he stopped us in Pop’s living room, turned into me and looked down at me.
“You’re doin’ it,” he stated.
“I am?” I asked.
He looked over my head as he shook his then he looked back down at me.
“You love me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered instantly.
“That’s it, you’re doin’ it,” he finished.
His arm staying around my neck, he guided us to Jonas.
* * * * *
It was getting late.
I was sitting on Pop’s couch, sipping at a bottle of beer, leaning a bit into my Dad at my side while my fingers slid through Jonas’s hair, his head on my thigh, his body curled into the couch beside me, he was asleep.
“Like your boy,” Dad muttered and I looked at him.
“Which one?” I asked and Dad smiled at me.
“Both of ‘em,” he answered and I smiled back.
I looked across the room to see people pecking at the remainder of the food on the table, Tate and Stella standing amongst them, slightly removed. Tate had his arm around Stella’s shoulders, she was leaning her head on his and what appeared to be the rest of her weight into his side with her arms loose around his waist. Carrie and Mack were standing with them. From my vantage point I could see Mom in the kitchen with Pop. He had his hips to the counter, arm lifted, pulling at a bottle of beer at his lips. Mom was chattering at him while bustling around, moving leftover food from one plate to another, condensing at the same time she tidied. There was music coming from outside and the party was getting rowdy if the noise from the people out there was anything to go by.
“You feeling okay?” I asked Dad, not looking at him.
“Better,” he answered. “Got a new diet and exercises I do every day. Food stinks, I’d kill for some fried mushrooms but if I even looked at ‘em your mother’d have a conniption. She doesn’t even keep shortening in the house, she steams everything. Vegetables, fish, swear the woman would steam steak if she could do it,” Dad replied.
“You have to stay fit, get your cholesterol level down,” I told him.
“Your Mom keeps at it, my body’ll forget what cholesterol is,” Dad muttered, I grinned and looked down at Jonas’s head on my thigh as my fingers slid through his hair.
“Your Mom told me about him,” Dad said softly, “Tate.”
“Yes?” I asked softly back, my fingers moving again through Jonas’s hair.
“Said he took care of you when you found out about me bein’ sick. Brought you all the way to Indiana, laid it out for that idiot ex of yours,” Dad went on.
“Yeah,” I was still speaking softly.
“Gotta say, hon, years I been worried. Years, you with that man. Never trusted him to take care of my girl. Never. Never thought he’d look after you, keep you safe. And, in the end, I was right.”
I turned and looked at my father.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Can’t tell you, Lauren.” His voice got lower and thicker, his eyes slid toward Tate before coming back to me, “Can’t say… beside myself knowin’ I can quit worryin’ about my girl.”
“Daddy,” I whispered again but said no more because Jonas’s body moved, like a flinch, and I knew he wasn’t asleep.
Before I could say anything to Jonas, Dad, who obviously hadn’t felt Jonas move, kept talking. “He’s a good man, I can tell, it’s stamped all over him but the best part is the way he looks at you and his boy.”
Jonas’s body got tighter.
“Dad –” I started.
“He’d die before he let anything hurt you,” Dad continued.
“Dad,” I said urgently as I felt Jonas’s body get even tighter.
Dad talked over me. “You or his boy, he’d lay his life down, wouldn’t blink, wouldn’t think.”
“Dad, Jonas is –” I started, Jonas rolled to his back and Dad’s eyes went to Tate.
“That’s the kind of man who’s good enough for my girl,” Dad concluded but I looked down to see Jonas looking up at me.
“What man were you with, Laurie?” Jonas whispered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dad’s head jerk down to look at him but I kept my gaze on Jonas.
“You playing possum, Bub?” I asked on a grin, trying to change the subject.
“What man were you with?” Jonas repeated, not feeling like a subject change.
I slid my hand along his cheek and then rested it at the top of his chest. “I was married before I met your Dad,” I told him gently.
Jonas lifted up to sitting and twisted his torso toward me and Dad, his eyes on Dad.
“He wasn’t as good as Dad?” Jonas asked my father.
“Not by a long shot,” Dad answered firmly and Jonas looked at me.
Then he grinned which was when I relaxed.
“Dad’s a catch,” he remarked.
“Um… yeah,” I grinned back.
“Girls think he’s hot,” Jonas noted.
I looked at Tate then back at his son.
“Yeah.” I was still grinning.
Jonas’s grin turned mischievous. “Everyone says I look just like him.”
I heard Dad chuckle and I swallowed a giggle before nodding. “Yes, baby, you do.”
“Means I’m hot too,” Jonas stated.
“Well –” I began.
“Girls’re already all over me, want me to kiss ‘em at recess,” Jonas informed me audaciously.
“Do you kiss them?” Dad asked.
“Only the pretty ones,” Jonas answered.
Dad laughed right out but my eyes narrowed on Jonas.
“Jonas Jackson, are you telling me you kiss pretty girls at recess?”
“Well, yeah,” Jonas answered.
“Bub, you’re ten,” I reminded him.
“So?” he asked.
“You’re not supposed to be into girls for at least five more years,” I proclaimed.
Jonas’s head tilted to the side. “Is that a rule?”
“Yes, I just made it up. It’s Lauren’s rule for when Jonas can be into girls.”
“You can’t make up rules, Laurie,” Jonas told me.
“I just did,” I replied, Jonas looked at Dad and rolled his eyes but I looked at T
Tate’s eyes cut to me but Jonas threw himself at me and cupped his hand over my mouth.
“Laurie!” he yelled.
I struggled with his lean, too strong for a ten-year-old kid’s body, one arm wrapped around his waist, my other hand at his wrist, trying to pull his hand from my mouth.
I succeeded and yelled to Tate, “Jonas is ten and already breaking girls’ hearts!”
“Laurie!” Jonas repeated, sounding mortified and exasperated and I looked from Jonas’s father’s face, his mouth twitching, to Jonas.
“Well, you are,” I said.
“You don’t have to shout it across the room!” He was still yelling.
“Your father should know,” I informed him. “Seeing as your moving so fast, you’ll probably start going on dates next week and Tate’ll have to drive you and I’ll have to make more cupcakes, all your women showing up at the house to study with you.”
Jonas slouched back and crossed his arms on his chest, telling me, “I’m not goin’ on dates. I’m playin’ the field.”
Dad burst out laughing but I glared and snapped, “Jonas!”
Jonas looked at Dad. “I gotta keep my options open, make sure I get a good one.”
I looked at the ceiling. “Lord, deliver me,” I implored and looked back at Jonas when he poked me in the ribs.
“Laurie, I’m ten.” He used my words against me then grinned cheekily again. “Like I said, gotta keep my options open.”
“You’re grounded,” I announced.
“Why!” Jonas shouted.
I didn’t answer, instead I went on. “And you’re staying grounded until you’re sixteen.”
Jonas’s head whipped around and he yelled, “Dad! Laurie grounded me until I’m sixteen!”
I looked to Tate to see Mom and Pop had joined Tate, Stella, Mack and Carrie and they all had eyes to the couch.
“Sure I can talk her outta that, Bub,” Tate called back, Jonas looked at me and grinned smugly.
I glared at Jonas then rolled my eyes then muttered, “I need another beer.” Then I looked back at Jonas, lifted my brows and asked, “Since you’re growing up so fast, do you want a beer?”