“Pass the potatoes, Michael,” his father said politely.

“Pop, sooner or later, she’s gonna know. You’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show. Taters, you call ‘em taters,” Michael said as he handed his father the potatoes.

“The food’s wonderful, Mrs. Ripton,” I said over my left shoulder.

“Jesus. Stop it, Vee. You sound like Shane,” Michael said as he winked at Shane.

“Thank you, Vivian. Michael, no nick-names at the table,” his mother said.

“I’ll call ‘em whatever I want to call ‘em, god damn it,” his father said.

“That’s better. Cuss a little, Pop,” Michael said, “sorry mom. I’ll call her Vivian. I got it.”

Michael was right. Family dinner at his house was nothing short of a circus. Everyone sat around a big table eating, laughing and joking. I missed having a family. Eating with my mother and father was enjoyable, but playing a part of the dinner with Michael made me miss it. I looked around the table grateful for Michael, the food and the family he’d introduced me to. As I looked across the table at Kace, she smiled and proceeded to take a bite of her corn on the cob.

“We’re gonna go to this rally, Pop. I’ll get you pictures of all the bikes,” Michael said to his father.

“I wish I was going,” Michael’s sister Manda said.

“You ain’t driving my car out there with all those heathens are ya?” his father growled.

“It’s a fuckin’ bike rally, Pop. I ain’t takin’ the Chevelle. And it ain’t your car no more, old man,” he laughed.

“It’ll always be my car,” his father said as he dropped his corn cob onto the plate.

“Are you going, Vivian?” Manda asked.

“Yes, I am,” I smiled.

“Sittin’ on the back of that piece of shit he rides will break your back,” his father said.

“I got a new seat, Pop. It’s soft as a baby’s ass,” Michael responded.

“Probably cost your ass out at the Harley shop,” his father laughed.

“Nope. I couldn’t give that much for a seat. I ordered it from Tucker Rockies,” he responded.

“What did it cost?” his father asked.

“Two-forty,” he responded.

I looked across the table at Michael’s sisters. One, the younger of the two, was visibly crying. As she attempted to wipe the tears from her face without anyone noticing, she began to blubber and stood from the table. As soon as she stood, she ran out of the dining room.

“Well, what the hell happened to Bug?” his father asked as he started to stand.

“I’ll see, Pop. She lost her job, and she’s upset. Let me find out what’s wrong,” Michael said as he pushed his chair from the table.

“Excuse me,” Michael said as he turned and patted me on the shoulder.

I nodded and smiled as he walked from the room.

“What the hell’s been wrong with Katie lately? Ever since she lost her job, she’s been an emotional wreck,” his father asked.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Manda responded.

“Sorry for the mess, Vivian. Be glad you got a good job, they’re gettin’ hard to come by,” he smiled.

“I am. And yes sir they are,” I responded as I picked my chicken breast from the plate.

“You like it on the back of the bike?” Manda asked.

“I like it a lot, yes,” I responded.

“She’s a natural, Shane says,” Kace smiled.

“Riding’s easy,” Manda said.

“You better not be on the back of a bike without a god damned helmet,” Michael’s father hollered.

“Dad…” she whined.

“I ain’t lyin’. Don’t let me find you on the back of a bike without a helmet,” he complained.

The garage door slammed and I heard the Chevelle start. A Horrendous roar followed by screeching tires, another roar and screeching tires that slowly faded into nothing. The entire process took thirty seconds.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Michael’s father screamed as he stood from the table.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Shane said as he stood up.

Slowly, Shane walked to the garage. After a few moments, he walked into the room and shrugged his shoulders toward Kace.

“He’s gone,” Shane said as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

I felt sick. I had no idea what was going on, but to think that Michael needed to leave in such a hurry and without so much as a goodbye to anyone had me extremely worried. I felt something had happened, something with his sister. I sat nervously, hoping and praying everything was okay.

“He’s not answering,” Shane said.

“Excuse me,” I said as I stood and went to my purse for my phone.

No calls or test messages.

Shit.

Fuck.

Michael’s father remained in the adjoining room with Katie for some time. Eventually, we all fumbled with our food and excused our nervous selves from the table. Repeated checks of my phone produced nothing. As we all sat in the living room and wondered, Michael’s father continued to comfort Katie Bug in the other room.

I jumped as my phone rang. A quick look at the screen confirmed it was Michael. I nodded my head and stood up as I answered it. My heart racing and my throat dry, I waited for him to speak.

“It’s over. I fucked this deal up babe,” his voice was soft and steady.

“What happened?” I asked.

“It’s over. It’s settled,” his voice was flat and emotionless.

“Michael?” I said softly.

I walked out of the room and paced the hallway as I waited for him to continue.

“He’s dead. I think I broke his neck, babe,” his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Michael. Oh my God. What’s going on? Who’s dead?” I whispered as my heart began to race.

“Tucker.” he responded.

“I fucked up, Vee.”

“Babe? Explain what’s going on,” I said into the phone softly.

“Katie’s boyfriend. My sister, we call her Bug. It was her boyfriend, Vee. Tucker, he raped her, Vee. Tucker fucking raped her. She was a virgin and he fucking raped her. He admitted it to me. Cock sucker smiled and pulled out a gun on me. He smiled, Vee. He pulled a gun and fucking smiled,” his voice was flat and had no emotion whatsoever.

As I struggled with how to respond, I continued to pace the floor and think.

The attorney in me began to speak.

“Was it his gun or yours, Michael,” I asked quietly.

“His,” he responded.

Thank God.

“I fucked up, Vee. He’s dead.”

“Michael, listen. You’re going to need to call the cops. Call 911, do not mention a gun. Not now. Tell them you think someone’s dead, and to send patrol and an ambulance. Don’t talk to anyone else. Exercise your right to silence. Tell them you won’t speak without your attorney present. Where are you?” I asked.

“His porch. Sittin’. I fucked up, Vee.”

“Michael, listen. You won’t spend a night in jail. When I hang up, I’ll call the senior judge and get an immediate cash bond set. The amount doesn’t matter, I’ll pay it. Worst they’ll charge you with in this state, at this point in time, is manslaughter. I’ll post a cash bond. Do you understand?” I asked, attempting to maintain my composure.

“Call 911. Tell them what I told you,” I begged.

“I fucked up, Vee.”

I can do this. We can make it through whatever this is. This is nothing, Vivian. This is what you do. Talk him through this. This is nothing more than a walk in the park.

I paced the hallway in tears. I needed to say something to get him to understand we could get through this. Defending cases like this was what I did, and I was god damned good at it.

“Michael, listen. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be. I’ll get you out of this, do you understand me? I’ll get you out of it, and you won’t so much as spend a night in jail. We’ll be at that ROT rally come hell or high fucking water. Do you understand me?” I said sternly.

“I fucked up, Vee. He’s dead.” He muttered.

He’s in shock.

“You think you can get me out of this babe? I ain’t lookin’ to go to prison,” he said flatly.

I thought of what to say to convince him and it came to me, “Michael, listen to me,” I demanded in a harsh tone.

“Yeah babe,” he said, his voice soft and shallow.

I took a short breath, swallowed and told him the only thing I felt he could understand at this point. The only thing he could hear and know everything would be alright.

He’ll know.

“Michael,” I paused and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I. Got. This.”