The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,132

say,” Fonda admitted. “I don’t want to offend you girls in any way. It would be bad if I said something stupid and unintentionally . . .” She trailed off then instantly started back in, “But, well, Harley . . . he’s been lost. Since I met him, just lost. Lost without you. Lost without your mom. Even with me, he . . . I’m not sure, well, God, this is so hard.”

“Just speak your words, Fonda,” Izzy urged gently.

“Okay,” Fonda replied hesitantly. “I’m just not sure since it’s been so long that he could get used to being found.” Her voice dropped. “He has your picture. A picture of you girls with your mom. He carries it in his wallet. He carries it everywhere. As long as I’ve known him, he’s had that picture. And I’ve known him twenty years.”

“Motherfucker,” Johnny said under his breath.

Fortunately, he did it low enough none of the women looked to him.

That was none but Margot, who lifted her squinty eyes to Johnny in a clear communication of shut the fuck up.

Without the F-word, obviously, but with the emphasis it provided.

“He loved her,” Fonda shared quietly. “He loved her very, very much.”

Motherfucker.

“That couldn’t have been easy on you,” Addie noted.

“I didn’t mind, she was beautiful. You were beautiful. You are beautiful,” Fonda said. Then again quiet, “It’s not bad to have a man who can love like that.”

Fantastic.

The woman sounded sincere.

“It was issues with his dad,” she told the sisters. “I know that doesn’t excuse it. I’d never try to excuse it. Harley either. He definitely wouldn’t. But it was issues with his dad. His father wanted him to take over the hardware stores. Only child, a son, he was far from happy Harley wanted to be a musician. Thought he was a momma’s boy and shared he thought that, well, really frequently. He felt pressure to make something of himself. Pressure to prove his dad wrong. And he was . . . he was young and feeling things he couldn’t . . . God, it sounds like I’m making excuses when I’m not. I’m really not. I just . . . he might not tell you this because he won’t want you to think . . . I just thought you might . . . you should know.”

Margot sat back.

There it was.

And it began.

Shit.

“We’re glad you told us,” Addie said to the phone.

“When your mom left, took you girls, he got into booze and drugs. It was after going to AA when he learned he needed anger management too. Though I think he already kinda knew that because he never . . . not with me . . .” Fonda didn’t finish that. She shared, “And he did that. Anger management. Now he’s been clean for ten years and he . . . well, he owns a club. Here in Memphis. He plays with his boys Friday nights but mostly he finds acts he thinks have talent and gives them a shot. He’s, well . . . his place is well-known. Justice Lonesome has played his club. And the Blue Moon Gypsies shot a video there.”

And fantastic a-fuckin’-gain.

The dad sounded like he genuinely had his shit together.

Deanna sat back and ran her hand over her pregnant belly.

And there it was again.

“Ah, hell,” Charlie muttered.

“Can we . . . can we, do you think we could speak to him?” Izzy asked.

“Yes. Yesyesyes,” Fonda said hurriedly. “Let me . . . I’ll take you with me to find him.”

Iz looked to Addie.

Addie looked to Izzy.

“Just a second,” Fonda could be heard from the phone.

Then nothing except the sisters shifting to sit closer together on the couch.

“Okay, girls, he’s here. Here he is. Right here,” Fonda blathered then could be heard saying, “Take it, Harley.”

A throat clearing and then a melodious, deep, “Girls?”

Izzy and Addie’s heads listed until they were resting against each other.

“Dad?” Addie called.

“Is that . . . ?”

“Addie.”

“I’m here too,” Izzy said.

“Izzy,” he whispered. “Um . . .” another clearing of the throat, “how’re you two girls doin’?”

“We’re fine, Dad,” Addie told him.

“David?” Margot called softly. “I need a martini, my love.”

“On it,” David said and took off.

“Charlie?” Deanna called, also softly. “I need a martini, my love.”

“How about a chilled Perrier?” Charlie asked.

Deanna rolled her eyes.

Charlie took off.

“Are you girls . . . not alone?” Harley Aubrey’s voice came from the phone.

“No, we’re with family,” Izzy told him.

“Understandable,” he said. “And good. Good. That’s good. Uh . . . is, um .