“I hate when that happens,” I mutter. “Did you guys talk about anything?”
“He helped me with my English homework. Did you know he speaks like a ton of different languages? He’s really important with his job. Sometimes they can’t even work if he’s not there to help.”
I can see the excitement swimming in his eyes as he relays the information. He’s no longer the angry boy that hates both of us for my lies, and it makes me understand that Ignacio should’ve been around the entire time. I wonder how he’d feel if he found out his dad wants to take him from me?
“He has a bird. Well, he doesn’t have a bird but his friend at work, Wren, does, and I love it. His name is Puff Daddy.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“You probably wouldn’t like the bird because he cusses a lot, but he can also sing. Not very well, but enough you can understand the beat and the words. And he dances.” He picks up his arms waving them wildly to impersonate this bird he’s talking about. “Like this, and he pounces all around, and I can’t wait to meet him in person.”
“Did he say when that was going to happen?”
Ignacio swore to me today that he didn’t have this conversation with him yet, but I may have forced his hand after yelling at him earlier. No matter the choice I make, it always backfires in my damn face.
“Meeting Puff Daddy?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why? Do you want to meet him, too?”
He’s so animated it reminds me that he’s supposed to be like this at his age. He isn’t supposed to walk around sad with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’ve put too much on him, expecting him to handle things like an adult when in fact, he’s still a child.
“I don’t know how I feel about talking birds,” I say, trying not to let on that I’m beginning to feel like I’ve already lost him. I walk past him into the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”
I bend down to look in the fridge and find it scarily empty. The pantry isn’t much better.
It’s just one more thing Ignacio can point out in court. I’m so absentminded that I haven’t gone grocery shopping. We’ve been surviving on the deliveries that Ignacio had arranged for the house, but I stupidly told the kid last week not to come back. In the middle of everything else, I didn’t realize we’d gotten so low.
“Maybe we can order out.”
“My treat,” Alex says, pulling money from his pocket.
“Where the hell did you get that?” I snap, knowing full well what kids around here can do to get money. Things haven’t changed much since I was a teen.
“Calm down, Mom. Dad gave it to me.”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and for a split second I’m sad that he got money from his father rather than dealing drugs or stealing. How fucked up is that? I just know it would be easier to solve the criminal problem than it will be to deal with Ignacio and the way he’s buying his son.
“That’s nice of him.”
“So, pizza or burgers?” His grin is wide as he continues to wave the money.
We decide on burgers, but I pay. I’m to the point of my stubborn standoff that I won’t even take his money indirectly.
I poke and prod, talking with Alex all through our meal and while watching repeats on television all evening, but nothing comes out of his mouth that tells me directly that his father has asked him to move to St. Louis or is trying to encourage him to talk to me about it.
What I do know from firsthand experience is that Ignacio Torres is an expert at manipulation. It didn’t take much for him to convince me he cared for me. It didn’t take much to make me believe his world started and ended with me and only me.
It would be so easy for that man to convince Alex to want all the things he has to offer without even opening his mouth to say the words directly.
Alex may think he’s street smart, but his daddy practically created the game, a con artist to the extreme because most people like that are after money. Ignacio deals in hearts.
I know it’s just a matter of time before he breaks our son the same way he broke me.
Chapter 29
Ignacio
“Looking good, kid!” I yell, my hands cupped around my mouth as Alex practices hitting before the game.
More people fill the stands. Many are here to support our local team, but there’s also an abundance of out-of-town people. With this week’s tournament, there’s nowhere else to sit other than the one set of bleachers the school has. Disgust for being in this part of town is clear on many faces, and it gets my hackles up.
Our school’s fans have kept to one end, but when I notice Tinley climbing the stairs, she takes one look at me and sits right in the middle of the group wearing purple and silver rather than mingling with our team’s blue and gold.
Clearly, she’s still pissed, and I don’t know if it’s because of what she found in the envelope or if she’s just destined to always despise me.
I made her an offer, telling her that I want her and Alex with me in St. Louis and also gave her the envelope as a different choice. It’s clear from her keeping her distance and not calling me since the last time I was inside her house that she’s made her decision.
It hits so hard in the gut that I’m delayed in standing up and crossing my hand over my heart for the national anthem.
“You look a little zoned out, man,” a guy beside me says, nudging my shoulder to get me to stand.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I stand, all the people around me now preventing me
