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“That’s not a nice word,” Gabe says speaking for the first time to the boys.
The young boys laugh again. I have to shut my eyes again and breathe. Mother is pressing hard to come out and teach the boys a lesson.
“He’s a retard,” the nephew sings.
“Leave me alone,” my son pleads breaking the small restraint I had against my mother.
“You know what to do, Boy,” Mother grits out.
I open my eyes, my hands at my side in tight fists. I stand to my feet towering over all the kids.
“Get the fuck away from this table before I forget that you’re only children.”
Despite mother telling me to crack their heads together like eggs, I refrain. The little boys’ eyes widen before all three of them scurry away to the men on the other side of the yard.
I squat back down to my son. “Look at me kid.” He turns and gives me his eyes.
The sadness in them has my mother roaring back up in my head. The same way I would leave a trail of bodies for Summer, I would do for Gabe.
“Are you having fun at this party?”
Gabe shakes his head no.
“Good,” I say glancing up at the men that are heading our way. “Because we’re about to get kicked out.”
Gabe’s smile lifts his cheeks. “Hulk Smash?”
“Yeah kid. Hulk’s about to fucking smash. Stay back, okay?” he nods, taking my hand.
I stand just as the five men approach me.
“Aye, muthafucker, did you curse my son out?” one of MJ’s father’s friends asks.
“Yes, I did.”
The men look to each other confused.
“And why the fuck did you think it would be okay to curse out little kids?” MJ’s father asks. I think Summer said his name was Mitch. The three little boys were all standing behind the men with smirks on their faces.
“Why don’t you ask your son.”
“I’m asking you?” Mitch snarls.
The way the other men are surrounding Mitch and allowing him to do all the talking leads me to believe he’s the ringleader. Which means, he will throw the first punch just to maintain his dominant role amongst his friends. The one to his right wearing the red shirt will be the next to jump in. He was also the first one to say something to me.
Striped shirt to Mitch’s left probably thinks he’s the biggest threat. He’s not as tall as me, but he’s muscular. He believes he’s my match. It’s why he’s trying to come off calm and relaxed with his hands across his chest.
The guy in the back with the shades seems to be the smartest. He’s keeping his distance. He doesn’t know for sure what I’m capable of, but he’s smart enough to know something isn’t right in this situation. The guy standing directly behind Mitch in the white tank is on the fence. He will probably jump in if they are winning but if not, he will run.
“Your kid called my son an ugly name.”
“All I said was that he’s a retard.”
The men laugh as if the kid told a joke.
Mitch grins at me. “You can’t blame the kid for telling the truth. I mean, what did you expect having a baby by a crackhead.” Once again, the men’s laughter ring out in the back yard.
“Actually,” I say. “I don’t fault your kid at all. He did exactly what I wanted him to do.”
