One Hot Mess by Lois Greiman Read Free Book Online

her family life was not particularly stable. Her mother was a cocaine addict, isn't that correct?”
    He didn't respond.
    “And her brother—”
    “Gone. Just fuckin” gone. Shi's dead. Terrence's in thepen. In prison.” He said it almost wistfully. I pulled the conversation back, making a mental note to consider his tone later.
    “Her father abandoned her. She had no grandparents and—”
    “Yeah.” He turned on me with a snarl. “She had a shitty life. Did that give me the right to fuck her like she was some—”
    “Sit down,” I said.
    “Don't tell me—” he began, but if I had learned anything as a scantily clad cocktail waitress, it was when to ask and when to demand.
    “Sit your ass down!” I ordered.
    He did so.
    “You raped a girl,” I said, leaning in.
    He stared at me, face blank.
    “A thirteen-year-old child.”
    His cheek twitched, but nothing else showed in his expression.
    “It was a heinous crime. Cruel. Unspeakable. She trusted you and you hurt her.”
    He swallowed, but I didn't stop.
    “Who's to blame for that, Micky?”
    “God!” He squeezed his eyes closed, pressed his nails into his palms. “They should have fuckin” killed me.”
    “Who's to blame?” I repeated.
    He opened his eyes, pursed his lips. “I am.”
    “Yes.” I waited an instant. “Did you make her use drugs?”
    He didn't answer.
    “Did you?”
    “No.”
    “Did you make her live with an abusive man?”
    “I think the rape was enough.” He smiled a little, but the expression was gritty.
    “Did
you?” I demanded.
    “No.”
    “Then why do you want to accept blame for more?”
    He waited half a lifetime before he spoke. “Because she's got a kid.”
    I felt my stomach drop toward the floor, but I'd learned to play poker with three brothers who cheated like Irishmen. Nothing showed. “Is it yours?”
    He waited again, as did I.
    “I don't know,” he said finally.
    I exhaled carefully. “How old is the child?”
    He shrugged. The movement was stiff.
    “The boyfriend didn't know?”
    “Said the kid didn't live with them. Only saw him once or twice.”
    I nodded.
    “Once or twice,” he repeated. “In two years.”
    I kept my expression as impassive as his. “What are you going to do now?”
    He stared out the window. “Put a gun in my mouth?”
    I kept my hands relaxed in my lap. “That'll never work.”
    He glanced at me, brows dropping.
    “You're never going to suffer enough if you're dead.”
    He snorted and sat up straight. “You wasn't raised by your grandma, was you?”
    I stared.
    “Grams was a big believer in hell.”
    From what I had heard, his grandmother had also saved his life. “Are you going to hell, Micky?”
    “I think I might be there already.”
    “Then you might just as well continue to live.”
    He pushed himself backward in his chair and stared at me. The tiniest smile tickled his lips. “Jesus, woman, does the board of shrinks know you dish out this crap?”
    “You can always kill yourself, Micky,” I said. “You might as well wait.”
    “Not if I'm a chicken shit.”
    I shook my head. “You're not.”
    Our gazes clashed. “Why would I wait?”
    “That's what Esse would have wanted.”
    He stared at me. “She tied me to the radiator once. Did I tell you that?”
    I shook my head.
    “I says I was goin' out with my dogs. She says I wasn't. I says no one owned me and she could go …” He paused, almost smiled. “Next thing I know I was flat on my face with my hands cranked up behind my back and her sitting on top of me. All ninety-two pounds of her. Spent the night listening to her read Scripture. The whole fuckin' night.” I could hear him inhale, feel him think. “What if the kid's mine?”
    I had no idea, but I kind of loved Esse Goldenstone. “Then you'll have to make some decisions.”
    “Can I off myself then?” Maybe it was a serious question, but there was a light in his eye again.
    I tented my fingers and leaned back in my chair. “It'd look bad