He leaned back, took my hand away from my temple and looked at my wound.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he said.
“Eddie, it’s nothing, I just need to clean it and…” His eyes cut to mine and I quit talking.
“We’re going to the f**king hospital,” he repeated in a voice you just did not argue with, even me, and I seemed to be able to argue with Eddie al the time.
“Okay,” I replied.
He moved away, his arm around me and everyone crowded in.
Tears started fal ing from Lottie’s eyes, Indy’s face went so pale, it shone in the dark and Tod cursed.
Daisy snapped, “That just cuts it. I’m done f**kin’ around with this business. Sugar, you had it your way now I’m cal in’
Marcus. This means war.”
Eddie didn’t break stride, even with the threat of Marcus entering the mix. He ignored her comment and kept on going, straight toward the truck. He bleeped the locks, opened my door and helped me in. Before he closed it, Lee was there.
Eddie looked at him.
“I’l wanna know how you let this get out of hand,” Eddie said to him and I could tel he was angry and placing blame square on Lee’s shoulders.
A muscle jumped in Lee’s cheek, he gave one nod, accepting blame.
“No,” I said. Eddie started to close the door but I put my foot out to stop it.
“No,” I said again.
“Move your leg, Chiquita.” There was no anger when he addressed me, he was back to using his soft voice.
“You aren’t blaming Lee and you aren’t blaming Mace, you aren’t blaming anyone. Mace told me shit would go down, I told everyone else and we decided to stay. It’s my shit that brought everyone out in the first place. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”
Eddie wasn’t listening to me. Eddie was focused.
“Move your leg,” he repeated.
Then I thought about what I said.
“Actual y, if there’s anyone to blame, it’s my Dad,” I amended.
Eddie’s eyes cut to me.
“Mi amor, I’m askin’ you, move your leg.” I scanned the crowd and saw Lottie was standing behind Lee, next to Indy.
“Our Dad is a f**king shithead,” I told her.
Seriously, if there was an f-word moment in my life, this was it.
“Jet, let Eddie take you to the hospital,” Lottie said.
It was al hitting me, delayed reaction.
“He thought he could gamble himself into the big time and we’d al ‘live large’. What kind of stupid, f**king moron is he?” I asked her.
“Jet, get to the hospital,” Lottie repeated.
“I’ve been working since I was fourteen f**king years old and he gambled away every f**king dol ar I ever gave him.