Thin Love (67 page)

“Okay. So?”

“He said they were inappropriate.”

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t
say
anything.” A tug on his hair and Ransom shifts again in his seat. “It’s what they showed that had him pissed off.”

Kona’s friends sent him stupid texts all the time. Jackasses pranking each other, shit getting blown up, half naked girls dancing, those he didn’t mind so much, but he has no idea what two kids could text each other that would make the girl’s father angry. He’s sure his expression is stupid, nose wrinkled up, pinching as he wonders what Ransom’s hiding, but then his boy tilts his head, rolling his eyes once more before he glances right at his crotch and then back again to catch Kona’s eyes.

Oh my God,
he thinks, eyes widening at his son. “What did you do?”

“She sent me one first.”

Kona’s face is next to Ransom’s, his voice low, fierce. “You do not send dick pictures to girls, Ransom. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What? She wanted to…”

“Hey,” he says, tapping the dumbass in the back of the head. “You don’t do that shit. You think you’re Brett Favre or something?”

“No, man, that dude doesn’t have anything on me.”

His frustration is instant and Kona doesn’t pull that emotion off his face. This boy has no clue, no idea what kind of offense something like this can muster. He knows Keira has taught him better, has made sure he respects women. He knows that Ransom wasn’t thinking, didn’t realize how immature, how inappropriate those texts were and the idea of his son doing something like this, boils that frustration until he is angry.

For the first time since he’s known his son, Kona gets pissed at him. “I don’t care what this girl says she wants, you don’t send anyone pictures of your sixteen-year-old dick. That’s not cool, brah.” He hates the look Ransom gives him. He hates more that the boy doesn’t seem to understand where Kona’s anger comes from. Closing his eyes, Kona scratches his chin, says a small prayer, asks for calm.

“Shit,” he says, glancing at his son. “If Keira knew. Wait.” The shit storm would be epic and then, suddenly, Kona’s eyes round, his stomach drops when he thinks of other things these two kids could have gotten up to. His voice is low as he leans next to his son, but he doesn’t pull back his frustration or his anger. “Did you… you and this girl… you…
you know’d
her?” His shoulders fall, back against the seat when Kona spots that bright blush again. He was just getting past the things he’d missed in Ransom’s life. He told himself that missing potty training and first steps was no big deal; he’d be there for the really important things, but this? This was huge. This was more than Kona was prepared for. “What the hell? Keira will kick your ass.”

“You’re gonna tell her?” The boy’s blush is gone, replaced by the paling of his dark skin and the sheer horror that drops his mouth open. Kona suddenly realizes that Ransom’s breaths have slowed as he waits for Kona to answer. He is the boy’s father, true enough, but this is something he doesn’t think he is ready to get in the middle of. Still, Keira has dealt with enough shit. She doesn’t need more.

“No. That’s on you. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t wanna know that shit.” His son moves his mouth closed and Kona catches the withheld breath he releases, relaxing. Eyes shifting around the car, Kona shoots for subtly, tries to not let on that his worry is cresting and his heart is pounding in his chest. Elbow on the armrest, he looks down at his boy. “Were you safe?”

“Of course I was. I’m not trying to be anyone’s daddy.”

“Neither was I.” The smile Kona gives Ransom lets the boy know his father is messing with him. “I was much older than you are now and brah, I’m just wrapping my brain around the fact that I’m a father. I so can’t handle being a grandfather.” Ransom nods, releases a laugh that doesn’t help to calm Kona’s thundering heartbeat. “This parenthood thing is stressful as hell.”

Already it has been overwhelming; more shit than Kona thought he could take in one day. He leans back against the headrest, still shaking his head, shocked, still annoyed that his son had been so careless.

“Hey.” Kona slips his gaze to his son, to the smile that has returned, moving his chin to acknowledge him. “You just earned it
.
”

Kona offers his son a smile and his attention returns to that house and the full blooms of flowers lining the walkway. Exhaling, he turns off the engine. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

He doesn’t knock or ring the bell when he reaches the door and he’s unsurprised that his mother is sitting in her recliner, a crossword in her hand. Ransom is in the foyer, hanging out of sight when Kona waves him back.

Staring at his mother, Kona feels very little. Anger would be easy, and if he was the same person he was sixteen years ago, that anger would be fueling him now as he watches the older woman’s eyes look up. But he doesn’t feel anger, not anymore. The fury he felt this morning when he left his lawyer’s office and caught the headshakes around him in reception, when he watched that grainy video of Ransom, left him the moment he saw Ransom and Keira that morning in front of playing the piano, voices sliding together perfectly. Anger was useless when his son was hurting. He’d known his mother had played another card, she always would and Kona decided to stop this. Now. For them. His family; the only family he wanted.

Now, he felt nothing for his mother. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to hate her and part of him knows that he’d been indifferent toward her for years, when every bit of sage wisdom she’d given him always seemed to benefit her as well. She’d encouraged him toward endorsements. She’d insisted that he hold out for more money in his contract negotiations, even though Kona didn’t really care about the money.

His mother’s eyes stare heavy at him over the rim of her glasses and she exhales, a bored, slow sound that annoys Kona.

There are deep wrinkles around her eyes, across her forehead and Kona realizes that she looks even older somehow, as though she’d aged in the few weeks since he’d last seen her.

Her gaze is calculating, slow as Kona stands in front of her. “You have anything to say because really, Mom, this is a level of shitty that is low even for you.”

Pursed lips and a sag against her chair makes her look defeated, worn, but his mother still lifts her chin, still seems determined not to cower. “You forced my hand, Keiki kane.”

“Did I? Really?” A quick urge to slam his fist into the wall comes to him, but Kona controls it, grabs the back of the sofa between his fingers.

“You know that everything I have ever done was to protect you.” She pulls off her glasses and sets them on the table next to her recliner. “That girl is no good. You have had a great career because she wasn’t around to distract you. A family, Kona?” She waves her hand as though his son, Keira, is some sort of pathetic ideal of a real family and to her, Kona thinks, that’s what they were: pathetic, somehow not suitable, not real. “A life with her? No, son. It would have only set you off the course we have worked so hard for.”

“
We
haven’t worked hard for shit, Mom.” He breathes through his nose and his grip on the sofa tightens. “I have. It wasn’t you busting your ass in weight rooms or on the field. It wasn’t you sacking quarterbacks or trying not to get your ass handed to you by assholes who wanted to see if they could take down the giant. That was me. There was no we.”

His mother sits up straight, slaps her hand against the arm of her chair as though she’s insulted. “I pushed, Kona. I pushed you to succeed. Where would you be without me?”

“In Tennessee with Keira and my son. I might have been poorer but at least I would have been happy. I wouldn’t have been alone.”

“Kona, you’ve always had me.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t. I had Luka. I had tutu kane. I had Keira and then like that,” he snaps his fingers,” I didn’t have any of them. I was left with you, doing whatever I could to make you happy.”

She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and scoff, closing her eyes as though she needs to funnel in her patience, as though Kona is being simple, stupid. “This is pointless. It’s done. The boy will go back with that girl and you’ll go on to play again. It’s best that way.”

He notices a small movement on her top lip, as though she is repressing a scowl and Kona watches her, eyes narrowing. He makes her wait, considers those wrinkles, that hard set of her mouth as though she’s awaiting a counter argument. But Kona only has one. “Ransom?”

His son steps into the room, hands in his pocket and the moment his mother watches Ransom walk, sees his stature, his expression, she gasps.

“
Kanapapiki!
”

“No, Mom, I’m the son of a bitch.” His mother’s face is unguarded, naked and he knows she’s seeing what Kona had that day at the Market. She sees Kona at sixteen, maybe glimpses of Luka and the thought makes Kona smile. The shock is there, right on her face, in her open mouth, in the rounded way her eyes widen.

“I wanted you to see him, Mom.” Kona stands, comes to his boy’s side. Her shock is evident, and Kona thinks there may be some remorse, a little hint of guilt that he recognizes in her tightly held expression. But he doesn’t have any sympathy for her. She had taken things too far. She had kept too many things hidden from him.

There would come a day, he knew, when he’d forgive her. Maybe he has already, but he would not see her after he left with his son through that door behind them. He had given his mother his life; let her take and take and insist until he was numb that it was what he really wanted, until her need had nearly destroyed everything Kona truly wanted for himself.

“I wanted you to look at my son’s face. It will be the only time you’ll be able to.” She jerks her attention back to Kona. “This is the boy whose life you tried to ruin today. This is the face of your hatred.
My
boy.
My
blood.”

The envelope in his pocket feels like a weight and when Kona reaches for it, offers it to his mother, that weight lifts, his fingers lighten when she grabs it. His mother’s eyes are sharp, suspicious as she opens the envelope and immediately, her shock deepens, the disbelief covering her face.

“What is this supposed to be?”

“A payoff, Mom. My parting gift.”

She looks back down, eyes running over the check, to the large number, then down to the memo and he knows when she spots it; the final insult he’s giving her. Karma, payback, her own words twisted, right back at her.

“I am your mother, Kona.” Her stare is cold and she’s trying, one last time to assert some sort of dominance, a control over him. “You cannot just walk away from me. I can’t be bought. We’re family.”

“No. We’re not. Family doesn’t manipulate. Family doesn’t lie. This boy. This brilliant, beautiful boy is my family. So is Keira. She always has been no matter how hard you tried to destroy it.”

His mother throws the check to the floor, managing to stand with a speed that surprises him. “Kona, that
haole
will destroy your career.”

He steps forward, but stops from standing in front of her when Ransom tugs on his sleeve. His boy gives him the same calm Keira had always managed to do, and Kona smiles, comforted that he isn’t alone in this small battle. “My career is over. I’m retiring and you, Mom, all you’re going to have left is that money. I hope it keeps you company.”

He expects Ransom to follow him and he is nearly to the door before he realizes the boy hasn’t moved. A quick glance over his shoulder and Kona frowns, worried what Ransom would do, but he doesn’t stop him, figures there is something his boy needs to say.

“Mikee Sibley tried to rape one of my friends. She was only thirteen. I threw him through a window.” Ransom tilts his head and Kona is reminded of his brother again, his strong, stubborn brother and all the arguments he’d had with their mother. Ransom stands with that same relaxed stance, the same side quirk of his head that is meant as a taunt, an easy riling posture that is meant to annoy. “I do shit like that when I’m trying to protect the people I care about.”

The sneer on his mother’s face twists and she straightens her shoulders as though ready for an attack. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m not. You aren’t worth it.” Ransom steps away, walks toward Kona, but turns to face her one last time, still calm, still relaxed. “If you’re what a grandmother is, then I’m happy I never had one.”

They are out the door and on the sidewalk before Kona looks at Ransom and he returns the smile his son gives him. He won’t tell him, not yet, what the memo on the check said. It isn’t important but Kona knows the words struck deep; that his mother felt their sting. Keira had, so had Kona when he discovered that biting insult his mother had given to her all those years ago. Somehow, though, Kona bet these were worse.

To fix
Lalei’s lapse in judgment.