Death Blow Page 7

  “You must be Lila!” She broke out of Jackson’s grip and rushed over to Lila, hugging her tight before Lila could even jump down off the stool.

  “Babe, come on,” Jackson teased. “You didn’t even let her stand up to hug you back.” He grinned at Lila, her head resting on Tiffany’s shoulder, and rolled his eyes a little bit.

  “I’m just too excited!” Tiffany squealed again. She finally pulled back and let Lila go. “I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s only been a couple hours!” She excitedly pushed her hair behind her ears—it seemed like she wanted to be able to see as much of Lila as possible. Her eyes scanned Lila’s face in friendly, if intense, scrutiny, and she seemed perched on a ledge awaiting Lila’s first words.

  “Well,” Lila finally said, “I hope it’s all good stuff?”

  Tiffany guffawed, a surprisingly unladylike laugh for such a petite thing. She clapped her hands and turned back to Jackson. “And she’s funny, too!”

  “Wait until you hear how funny,” Cassandra added from over by the cabinets. “Jackson, you’ll love this—she smacked the Devil out of Barrett Warde last night.”

  “What?” Jackson looked impressed beyond words.

  Tiffany’s hands flew up to her mouth. “You didn’t,” she whispered through her fingers.

  They both stared at Lila for a response as Cassandra poured them wine. Lila took a big swig and finished her glass.

  “He’s kind of an asshole,” she grinned.

  Jackson and Tiffany laughed, Tiffany clapping her hands loudly.

  “That, he definitely is,” Jackson said, picking up the wine glass Cassandra passed him. “Let’s go sit in the living room to discuss how much of an asshole he is.”

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Tiffany said in awe as she picked hers up with one hand and grabbed Jackson’s hand with her other. “I mean, I’ve always thought someone should give it to Barrett, but I’m, like, so proud that it’s you! And that you did it right off the bat!”

  Lila laughed as she slipped off the stool and followed Jackson and Tiffany into another room. Cassandra clicked in behind them, carrying the bottle with her as well.

  The living room was as impressive as the kitchen—big, bright windows looking out onto an exquisitely designed back patio, huge leather sofas softer than anything Lila’d ever felt in her life, glass coffee and side tables so fine Lila could hardly tell they were there.

  “I haven’t said it yet, I can’t believe it—“ Lila turned to Cassandra, “but this house is amazing.”

  “Oh, p’shaw,” Cassandra waved a hand at her, taking a seat on one of the couches.

  “Seriously. It’s the most amazing house I’ve ever seen in my life.” Lila took a seat on the bigger couch, next to Jackson and Tiffany.

  “Yeah, not too shabby,” Jackson said, watching Lila. “But enough about that. More about you smacking Barrett.”

  Lila shrugged. “Wasn’t much to it. He’s kind of an asshole, so I smacked him. I didn’t really mean to.”

  Jackson laughed, sliding an arm around Tiffany’s shoulder. “Don’t say it that way. Say that you totally meant to and he’s lucky you only smacked him, because if you could’ve done what you really wanted to, he’d be dead.”

  Lila thought about the things she really wanted to do to Barrett.

  “I’ve always said he needs a woman to slap him around a bit,” Cassandra giggled from her couch. “Too damn cocky, needs to be brought down a notch or eight.” Everyone laughed. “One of these days, he’s gonna be up against my Jackson, and then we’ll see who’s the tough guy.”

  Jackson noticeably darkened, his brow furrowing, and he pulled Tiffany tighter to him. “Come on, Mom, let’s not talk about it right now.” Tiffany, too, looked like a rain cloud had drifted in front of her sunny face.

  “What?” Cassandra said, somewhat pointedly. “It’s what you do for a living, son.”

  “Yeah, but you know that Tiffany doesn’t like talking about it.”

  Tiffany looked at Lila confidentially. “It makes me so sad and worried to think about Jackson fighting,” she admitted, pouting a bit.

  “Oh, so that’s why you weren’t at the fight the other night?” Lila remembered.

  “Yep. Can’t stand it.” Tiffany shuddered and took a sip of her wine.

  “Gonna have to get over that eventually, Tiff, since that’s a big part of Jackson’s life.” Lila sensed a bit of annoyance in Cassandra’s voice when she said this, like it was a conversation these three had had over and over again.

  “Leave her alone, Mom,” Jackson cut in, interrupting Lila’s thoughts and confirming them simultaneously. “It’s not going to be what I do for the rest of my life, okay?” He threw back his wine a bit recklessly and set the empty glass down on the coffee table with a definitive thunk.

  “Let’s not have this conversation now, all right, kids?” Cassandra said, half gently and half condescendingly. “Our guest here don’t want to listen to us bicker. Ain’t that right, Lila?”

  Lila smiled lightly and shrugged. “Been a long time since I heard a family bicker, actually.” She felt warm and airy from the wine, and realized she was saying things she maybe shouldn’t say to more or less strangers. Jackson’s gaze found its way back to her, and he looked at her intently.

  “What happened to your family?” he asked.

  “Oh, jeez,” Lila tried to lighten the mood. “My mom died when I was little and my dad’s had a bit of a drinking problem since then, that’s all. Nothing too serious.”

  “Hey, hey,” Tiffany cooed from the other side of Jackson. “Everyone’s problems are their own, don’t minimize yours.” Jackson patted her leg.

  “Babe, don’t go analyzing Lila, you only just met her, okay?” He turned to Tiffany, smiling, and kissed her.

  “I’m not minimizing them, just been living with them for a long time. They don’t seem so serious anymore.” Lila said it more into her wine glass than to them. She didn’t want to just dump all her shit on these people she’d only met yesterday. And besides, she had been living with them for a long time. Most days, they didn’t seem like serious problems anymore, more just the way things were.

  “God, kids these days. When I was your age, we just wanted to have a good time!” Cassandra broke in, lightening the mood. “Nowadays y’all are all so dark and broody and—“ she made a sad face and bobbed her head from side to side. “Take it easy! Be grateful for the things you have! Drink your damn wine and let loose a little!” She laughed and got up, pouring them all more wine and finishing off the bottle. “Also, great choice, Lila, this was a real good Cab Sauv.”

  “Oh! You picked this?” Tiffany exclaimed. “I figured this was one of the Morans’ choice stock!” She picked her glass up and clinked it to Lila’s, over Jackson. Lila giggled.

  “Thank god. I was so worried I’d bring the wrong wine and y’all’d never speak to me again!” They all laughed.

  “A toast,” Cassandra raised her glass. “To Lila, the bright and shiny new member of our little gang.”

  “To Lila,” Jackson and Tiffany echoed, looking at her.

  Lila raised her glass and toasted them, grinning at each and every one, and she took a sip when the rest of them did—but something, a tiny little thing deep down inside her, didn’t feel quite right. Some small kernel seemed…off.

  At that moment, Lyle made his entrance. He rubbed his hands together as he noticed the empty wine glasses. “Whoops,” he grinned sheepishly, “did I miss all the wine?”

  Cassandra jumped up and rushed over to him, slinging her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “Yep, baby, you missed the great bottle that Lila brought over for us. But, take it from me,” she fake hiccupped, “it was real good.” She and Lyle laughed.

  “Guess that means we need another one, right?” Lyle looked around and everyone nodded. “And my apologies, Lila, for missin’ out.”

  Lila grinned. “It’s us who should be apologizing, Lyle—we all got to have some.


  Jackson laughed. “Yeah, we’re sorry we couldn’t save you a glass, Dad, but it was too damn good. And also, we started on some heavy shit and the wine was the closest thing that could distract us.”

  Lyle groaned and sighed, walking back into the kitchen and over to a temperature-controlled wine rack. “Leave it to y’all to bring a guest over and shoot for her deepest, darkest secrets right off the bat. My apologies again, Lila,” he called from the kitchen, “my family don’t seem to want to play things lightly no matter how much alcohol you give ‘em!”

  Lila finished off her second glass of wine. “Not a problem,” she called back. She felt strangely formal with Lyle, no matter how friendly he acted towards her. “Cassandra tried her best to keep things light, but you raised a broody little boy here in Jackson.”

  Jackson smirked at her and wacked her once in the thigh.

  “Ouch!” Lila faked. “And violent towards women as well.” Her and Jackson laughed. “Tiffany, this is a safe space—if Jackson’s hurting you, you tell me, and I’ll—“

  Jackson cut Lila off. “You’ll what? Give me a good smack in the face?”

  She laughed and punched him in the arm. “I’ll do worse than that, Jackson. Barrett Warde will think I took it easy on him compared to you.”

  “Barrett Warde?” Lyle asked, coming back in with another bottle of red. “What about Barrett Warde?”

  Tiffany giggled and sat forward. “You didn’t hear?” she asked. “Lila gave Barrett a palm to the cheek last night.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Lyle gasped, corking the bottle. “If you’re ever lookin’ to get in the ring, Lila, bet we could make some money off ya.” He winked at her. Tiffany groaned again, sitting back into the couch.

  “Come on, Dad, let’s not talk about the ring while Tiffany’s here, okay?” Jackson wasn’t asking so much asking as telling, and Lyle didn’t seem too happy about that.

  “Sure, son,” he said through a forced smile. “We ain’t got to talk about that while Tiffany’s here.” The way he said her name assured Lila that neither Cassandra nor Lyle particularly liked Tiffany’s influence on Jackson. Lila’d have to look further into that. Now was not the time though. Lyle filled everyone’s glass again, and they moved the conversation onto lighter topics.

  The dinner was great—Shelley made a mean jambalaya—and the company was even better. Lila found it strange that the five of them talked as if they were a family. There were few awkward silences, and thankfully none of that often painful catch-up exposition chat that so often happens between new acquaintances. They spoke to each other as if they’d been living in the same house all their lives.

  After dinner, they’d all sat around and had a few more glasses, before Cassandra and Lyle turned in for the night.

  “You kids hang out down here as long as you’d like,” Lyle said, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his dress shirt and heading to the stairs. Cassandra kissed the top of Jackson’s head, which he grudgingly allowed, and moved to give Lila a hug.

  “Absolutely,” she echoed. “And Lila, if you want to stay here tonight, we got a guest bedroom with your name on it.” She wrapped her arms around Lila’s small body and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Towels are there and everything.”

  Lila smiled into Cassandra’s hug. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t drive home if it ain’t safe,” Lyle said from the stairs. With that, they disappeared up the stairs, and Lila, Jackson, and Tiffany remained on the couch.

  Tiffany gave a huge sigh and stretched out, putting her head in Jackson’s lap. Jackson ran his fingers through her blonde hair and motioned for Lila to grab the bottle and pour him some more. She did.

  “Pretty good wine,” she said stupidly into the silence as she poured.

  “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of wine,” Jackson said, even as he took a sip. “But Mom and Dad always entertain with it, so whatever.” Tiffany was half-asleep on his lap, but murmured a hmm of affirmation anyway.

  “I’ll drink it, for sure,” Lila said, filling her own glass and sitting back down. “But give me a good strong something else any day.” Jackson laughed and held his glass out to hers, and they cheersed with a soft clink. “What time is it, anyway?” Lila groped around the sofa for her cell phone. 12:37AM. Not too late.

  “Hey, Tiff,” Jackson said quietly, smirking at Lila.

  “Mmm?” she breathed from his lap.

  “You asleep?” Still grinning.

  “No.” She said it so quietly Lila could barely hear it. Lila smiled back at Jackson now.

  “Sure?” he asked.

  “Mmhm,” she responded.

  “Then you won’t mind if Lila and I just throw down a round or two right here, right now, right?” Jackson was talking in such a low, quiet tone, so calm, so soothing, Lila was starting to feel a little sleepy too.

  “Nope, nope,” Tiffany muttered, smacking her lips a couple times as she rolled over onto her side.

  “Out like a light,” Jackson winked. Lila sipped her wine and sat back. She and Jackson sat in silence for a minute or two, Jackson still stroking Tiffany’s hair as she fell fast asleep. Lila was a bit surprised at how tender Jackson was with Tiffany. She hadn’t expected him to have that side. And Tiffany didn’t really strike Lila as the type of girl Jackson went for.

  “How long have y’all been together?” she asked.

  “You’re wondering why we’re together, right?” he retorted.

  Lila shrugged. “I know that’s what you’re wondering,” he smiled a little now. “Tiffany’s not exactly my type, I know.” Lila kept silent. She’d never really been in a relationship, what did she know? Plus, she could tell Jackson wasn’t done talking, and she was happy to let him finish. “I’ve dated a lot of girls,” he said, again as if he could hear Lila’s thoughts, “and a lot of them have been exactly the type of girl you’d expect me to date. But not Tiffany.” He dug his fingers into her hair a little more. “She’s good for me. She’s bubbly and happy and normal, and she knows how to deal with my moody ass.” He chuckled a bit to himself.

  “She doesn’t seem to like the fighting much,” Lila said. She swirled the wine in her glass as she watched Jackson. His face darkened a little at this comment.

  “No, she doesn’t. And, to be honest, when we talk about it, I don’t much like the fighting anymore either.” Something clicked in Lila’s mind, and the slightly cool attitude that both Cassandra and Lyle took towards Tiffany suddenly made sense. They were worried about Tiffany’s influence on Jackson. “The ‘rents don’t much care for her talking that way, obviously,” Jackson’s brow furrowed. Seriously, he seemed to know exactly what was on her mind.

  “How long you been fighting?” Lila asked.

  “Let’s see,” Jackson sat back, his eyes cast upwards towards the ceiling. He took his hand out of Tiffany’s hair and ran it through his own. “I got started in that when I was, maybe, 17?” Lila exhaled. That was young. “Yeah, I know, but I’d been boxing since I was maybe 10 or 11. Dad got me started and I loved it, I was a natural.”

  “I bet you were,” Lila grinned. “Looked like a natural born killer to me last night.”

  “Hah, yeah,” Jackson forced a laugh. “But lately I’ve been wondering if being a natural at something means you should do it. You know?” Lila shook her head. She didn’t really know what being a natural felt like. As long as she could remember, she didn’t have skills or hobbies or talents—she wasn’t really allowed to, didn’t have time.

  “I’m not a natural at anything,” she responded honestly. “But I can see what you mean. Fighting’s not really a thing that you can do for the rest of your life, either.”

  “Exactly,” Jackson locked his eyes on hers. “I mean, it’ll make me—well, it’ll make my parents—enough money that I wouldn’t have to do anything else…” He trailed off as his eyes slid down to Tiffany, sleeping like an angel.

  “But it also might kill you.” Lila finished his sentence for him.
He looked up at her again.

  “Yeah. It might do that, too.” Jackson fell silent, swirled his wine around and then threw it back. “Eugh,” he grimaced a bit. “We’ve had a lot of this tonight. How much is left in that bottle?” he nodded in its direction. Lila hoisted herself up and checked.

  “Enough for a glass a piece,” she smiled, throwing hers back and refilling both their glasses. Jackson faked a shudder as she poured, and they laughed.

  “So what about you?” he asked, taking his turn to stare at her intently. Lila felt small under his gaze, she felt like the world’s most boring person, like she’d have nothing to talk about now that the focus was on her.

  “What about me what?” Lila deflected.

  “You know what, don’t give me that.” Jackson was smiling but his tone was firm. “So what’s the deal with your parents?” Jackson cut through the silence, somewhat harshly.

  “You don’t already know?” Lila asked.

  “I know a little bit, from my parents. But I want to hear it from you.”

  “Oh boy.” It was Lila’s turn to sink back into the couch. “Well, speaking of my parents, my dad’s probably passed out on our kitchen floor right about now.”

  “He do that a lot?”

  “Yep, although, tonight he might be waiting up for me. He was last night, very weird—but yeah, he messed his leg up on a construction site when I was about 6, I guess, and he’s never been able to do much since.” Jackson nodded at her from his side of the couch. “My mother dying certainly didn’t help,” she said softly, looking into her wine glass.

  “Yeah. I bet not.”

  “You might have—“ Lila stopped short.

  “Met her?” Jackson finally finished, not looking at Lila. “Yeah, I think I did. I kind of remember it—but not that well, I was young.”

  “Yeah? How old?”

  “About 7, I think,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “So we’re the same age.”

  “22?” he asked.

  Lila nodded. “She died in a car wreck,” she said quietly.