Chapter 25: Smart Girls Can't Keep Their Hands To Themselves

Sorry, I can't think of a song for this chapter!

Marley

"God...Bodie...just...no means no, okay!?!?!"

"I don't take no for an answer on a good day, much less a day I'm feeling edgy as fuck!" he spits at me, close on my heels as I maneuver through the kitchen of his new house.

Bodie follows me into the garage. I stab the garage door button to open the door. He presses it to reclose and stands in front of the button.

I stomp my foot. "Goddammit Bodie! You are acting like I child. I need to go. I have to do this..."

"Yes, but you aren't doin' it alone!" he snaps. "Look, there's no fuckin' way I'm letting you go over there and gang up on you two to one."

Actually, it's likely to be four to one, with Darius weighing in, but I don't say that. Instead I give Bodie a bright fake smile. "Three to one. Daemon's coming, too."

"Why the fuck is he comin'!?!?" Bodie's newly washed dreads swing as he makes an emphatic shake of frustration.

"Because he's Darius' father, remember?" I spit back. I meant to sound firm, but instead, I sound slightly hysterical.

Bodie's angry posture relaxes. He flows down the garage steps and takes me by the shoulders. Both our heads are bent, both our souls bent in sorrow, at the pretense I'm insisting we keep up.

"I remember, Marley. I'm not going to bust out with the truth in the middle of dinner. How would that be good for Darius? Look, I just want to be there to have your back. Jesus, don't you trust me at all?"

I search his beautiful eyes that look like burnished copper when he's upset. I can't bring myself to say the truth.

No, I don't trust him. He's not stable right now. He's four days into methadone treatment. He's barely on top of the physical transition. He's struggling to eat. He's fatigued. He's easily irritated.

But he's Darius' father. He knows it, and I know it, even if the Turner's don't know it. Leaving him out of this seems would be setting a precedent.

A precedent I'm not willing to set.

"Look, if you come, you have to promise me you will keep your cool. You have to promise me you won't say or do anything that goes anywhere close to questioning who Darius' father is..."

"I'll be cool as ice. Silent as the grave. I swear," he says, his hands coming automatically to cup my head as he gives me a light kiss on the forehead.

I sigh in exasperation. The feel of his lips brushing my skin is way too nice.

And completely out of bounds.

Of course, we haven't really had the professional boundaries discussion. Not really. Bodie's not dumb—he knows what me being employed at Emsworth Agency means without me having to spell it out.

Or so I thought.

I step back. "Bodie—"

He holds his hands up in surrender. "I know. Sorry."

I nod briefly, and step to move around. I hear him mumble beneath his breath. "Not sorry."

"Bodie!"

My hand goes to whack his peck but with those lightening fast drummer hands he traps my fingers beneath his. "Don't touch me if you don't want to be touched, Dr. Watkins," he says mildly, keeping hold of my hand.

I avoid his eyes, staring at the connection of our hands.

I can feel his heart thundering.

My irritation melts.

"Your heart is racing," I murmur, sweeping his expression, checking for signs of more distress than I realized. "Bodie, this is a lot. Seeing Darius right now, I mean...if you're feeling anxious..."

He shrugs. "I'm okay." He drops my hand. "You're forgetting your salad..."

"Shit." When I return the garage with my leafy green offering, Bodie is behind the wheel of my car.

"You heard the guidelines the doctor gave you as well I did. He explained that methadone is a controlled substance and that the law here doesn't differentiate between a prescribed narcotic and an illegal narcotic. You could get a DUI."

His response is to crank the engine.

"Riley said not to let you—"

"I don't give a good goddamn what Riley said. You really don't trust me to drive?"

"That's not the point!" I jerk open the door.

He leaps to his feet. "What is your damn point, Marley? Because you are making me feel like a child, here!"

"You're acting like a child! That's my point! You're willfully ignoring every guideline anyone has given you! If you want me to trust you, then start taking accountability for your situation. You put a damn needle in your arm, and developed a heroin dependency! Not me! I'm trying to help you—stop fighting me!"

Bodie glares at me. Then opens his mouth.

Nothing comes out. Deliberately, he closes it.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "It's not the time. Can we pick this up during my session?"

I raise my eyebrows. Four days ago, when I suggested to Bodie that our arrangement could include formal counseling, or even just set times where he could talk about his physical response to methadone therapy, he laughed at me. So to say that I'm surprised at the reversal is an understatement.

"Okay. You want to do that tomorrow morning?"

"Or tonight," he says, grabbing the salad bowl and strutting around the car. He slams the passenger door unnecessarily hard.

"Garage door!" he yells as I put the car in reverse. I stomp on the brakes, just before making contact with the closed door.

"Sorry! Sorry!" I yell. I've never lived in a house with a garage, so I'm unaccustomed to the habit of opening the door. Plus, Bodie has me flustered.

He shrugs. "Your car. Your house. If you want to destroy them—"

"Oh my god, Bodie it's not my house!" I yell.

He throws his head back on the seat as he presses the garage door button. "Will you stop yelling at me? I have a headache."

I sigh. He grins and slides his sunglasses on.

He keeps his eyes closed until I slam on brakes again, a few houses down from the Turners.

"I can't believe it!" I hiss, staring at Darius playing basketball in a neighbor's driveway.

Bodie lifts his head and grunts. "Me neither. He damn sure didn't get that jump shot from me."

I slap his pec again. "He is supposed to be grounded! What—his restriction lasted all of a week? What is Pat thinking?"

He snorts. "She's thinking...she wished he finished me off."

"Be serious."

He takes his sunglasses off. "Okay, here's me being serious. You grounded him for shooting me? Come on, Marley. If never a punishment fit the crime..."

I cross my arms and glare at him. "Okay, what would you have done?"

Bodie watches Darius aggressively guarding one of his friends. "I would get real with him. Make him confront what almost happened."

"And how would you do that?"

Bodie turns to me. "Let me serve him up a little hard truth."

"You mean, like some kind of scared straight jail tour or something?"

"Yeah, something like that. It might take a minute to arrange, though. Plus, I should maybe be feeling a bit better before I get into something that serious with him. Maybe in a week or so?"

"You mean it?" I say hesitantly. "You want one of your first interactions with him to be...discipline?"

He shakes his head. "No, of course not. I want to be his best fucking friend. But that's not the gig, is it?"

I'm surprised at Bodie's realistic approach to fatherhood. Even TJ is reluctant to discipline Darius, now that he's older. TJ usually just talks tough with him, but then doesn't follow through, now that the discipline is more complicated than time-outs and taking away toys. But of course, TJ is not Darius' father. TJ has his plate full with his businesses and his own family now.

"Okay, I suppose that's a good idea. After all, he did shoot at you. Who better to confront him on it and make him understand how serious it was?"

Bodie takes his sunglasses off and gives me a long look. "Yeah. When I get it set up, you come too, okay?"

I nod, then give a head jerk to indicate Darius has spotted my car. He comes sidling up. His eyes widen to see Bodie in the passenger seat.

Bodie rolls down the window and Darius blurts, "What are you doing here?"

Bodie grimaces. "I think your mom is wondering the same thing about you."

Darius looks across the car at me. "Well, Pat realized that me getting out of the house to play basketball with my friends was an emotionally healthier scenario than being grounded, and sitting up in my room playing shooter games and snapping with my friends."

He's just trying to get a rise out of me, I realize. Bodie doesn't react to his words at all. He just puts his sunglasses back on and pretends to look bored, letting me handle the backtalk.

"Okay, Darius. I'm not going to argue with you about how Pat handles discipline in her house. Get in the car please, it's time for dinner."

Darius jumps in the back with a big grin. He's probably thinking I'm just playing extra cool in front of the rock star.

He sits forward, leaning between us.

"So really, why are you still here?" he asks Bodie. "In Marley's car?" He looks between us. "Was TJ right? Is there something going on between you guys?"

"Darius! That's...inappropriate, okay? You don't just ask a stranger about their personal life—"

"I'm not asking a stranger," Darius scoffs. "I'm asking you. You are my mother, aren't you?"

I give him a quick glance. "I am...but don't play me, Darius. You can't only claim me when you want the dirt on the rock star in my car, you know..."

He rolls his eyes at me, and looks expectantly at Bodie. "Dude, what are your intentions regarding my mother?"

I cut a glance over at Bodie, and I see his mouth twitch in an almost smile, but other than that his rock star face is firmly in place.

"That's real stand-up of you, man. Lookin' out for you mom like that."

"Yeah, well she's been known to have pretty sketch taste in boyfriends."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Which was one worse? Elliot or Marc?"

"Marc, no question. Elliot liked rollercoasters, and three of us would go to Six Flags and Carowinds, you know? Marc was a total hipster whose real passions were craft beer and food truck tacos. The bathroom at their place was filled with beardcare products..."

Bodie snickers. "Let me guess. Wore sweater vests over flannel?"

"Yep."

"And he actually has a secret playlist filled with Mumford and Sons and the Lumineers, but when his friends come around he only listens to shit no one has ever heard of so he looks like the new music dude?"

"Oh my god. It's like you knew him."

"Dude, I've been interviewed by him nonstop for the last four years. The only thing worse than a hipster dating your mom is a hipster with a microphone offering your hungover ass a Half Soy Cold Brew with a Nitro Shot and a touch of Agave Syrup while harboring an obvious dislike for your music. 'Cause he likes no one's music. Except ironically, of course."

Darius cackles and I almost laugh at that, too, but something in the way Bodie and Darius are high-fiving each other and looking at me like I am the ultimate Hipster Dating Sellout makes me irritated.I'm finally beginning to see where my son gets his attitude and smart mouth.

"Hey!" I say, smacking Bodie on the arm again and pointing a finger at Darius. "This is not happening. This is not the "The Mock Marley's Taste In Men Segment on the Bodie and Darius show."

"Sorry," Darius says automatically.

Not sorry, Bodie mouths at me.

Darius grins. "Dude. I saw that. So..." he looks between us expectantly.

"No, Darius—there is nothing going on between me and Bodie."

I watch his face in the rear-view mirrow. He doesn't look disappointed, but he maybe looks a little skeptical.

"Yeah, I'm only here because of you," Bodie says to him nonchalantly and Darius' expression changes to shock.

I stiffen and give Bodie a sharp look, but he's already continuing. "That bright idea you had of your mom being my addiction counselor? Well, my manager heard that and took a shine to it. He convinced my record label I need a full-time vice cop. She quit her other job to baby-sit me. Of course, I imagine the pay in this gig is better. Not to mention other perks she hasn't discovered yet," Bodie gives me a devilish grin behind his glasses.

Darius doesn't really pick up on Bodie's flirtation. He's still absorbing the concept of my new employment.

"So...you work for him now?" He jerks a thumb at his father. I mean, at Bodie. Gosh, I need to be careful with the way I think, because thoughts become words, sometimes.

"No, I work for the Emsworth Agency. For his management company."

"Are you moving to LA?" Darius's voice show no tension. He actually sounds a little hopeful.

"No," Bodie says quickly. "LA is not a good scene for me right now. I've got a long way to go before I feel solid in a party town like that. I'm gonna stick close to home. My own mom still lives in Atlanta. Which is why...my manager thought your mom made sense as my sobriety companion. She lives here, she already has a working relationship with Soundcrush—she's helped some of my brothers out with stuff from time to time, so I know she's a good fit to hang with my band. Well, now that she and Mac have worked out their differences. They had a little...dust-up... when your mom came up to see us play for Labor Day, but it's all good now."

Darius looks between us. "I almost forgot about that. She hardly said anything about it when she got back. How was it?"

"Unfortunately, it was not all that I was hoping for," Bodie tells him, giving me another one of his devilish grins.

"Well, it was your show, Bodie," I retort, " If you didn't bring the rhythm to get...your audience...in the mood..."

Bodie slowly lowers his glasses at me and gives me a glare. "It was a weird night..." he glares.

"Wait..." Darius is frowning still absorbing all the information. "Sobriety companion? What does that mean?"

"It means...your mom is going to live with me, at my new place." Bodie gives me the barest wink and I know he's silently exchanging pronouns—your for my.

"Live with you," Darius parrots, unenthusiastically.

"That's what a sobriety companion does, Darius," I explain. "They keep their patient company, and keep them accountable, so they don't lapse back into bad habits."

Darius is still frowning. "So, where are you going to be living now? Somewhere up in North Atlanta, like all the baseball players? Or in a highrise in midtown, like the rap guys?"

"Nah, it's closer to home." Bodie jerks a thumb behind us. "Over in Old Fourth Ward."

"Old Fourth Ward," Darius repeats flatly. "That's where my school is."

"Yeah, I know. Part of the deal that your mom worked with Riley allows for you to be there, too. Have your own room, whatever. The place is pretty big, I don't mind," Bodie says. "I'm gonna set up a studio in the basement. Small, but pro-style. You can come check it out if you want."

Darius gives Bodie a very fleeting smile, but then he's frowning at me again. "I don't know if that is such a good idea. You living with him?"

"Why not?" I say lightly. "It's strictly professional. It's closer to your school, and I'll pretty much be there all the time."

"Just..." Darius looks out the window as we arrive at the Turner's. "I mean...Marley...you know that my dad is not gonna like that. Do you really want to stir up trouble? Things are going good, between the three of us."

Things are not going "good" between the three of us. Things have the appearance of going well. To Darius, Daemon is easy-going but sincere about growing their relationship. Darius is a little stand-offish, but overall he does make an effort to respond to Daemon, I think mostly out of respect for Pat.

When he first got of jail, Daemon was extremely polite to me. He tried to be very charming. He asked me repeatedly within the first few months to go out for coffee, for dinner talk about Darius and our "family." After about three months of me turning him down every single time, he started to realize I really mean it, when I said there was no hope of us being a family. Since about Christmas, he's been distinctly cooler.

Now, since the incident with Darius involving the gun, we've been outright hostile. He got very angry when I confronted him and asked him if he gave Darius the gun. He denied it, and then later TJ confirmed that, but I'm still not sure that he didn't give Darius the idea of defending himself with TJ's gun.

Darius denies that, but I think he might be motivated to lie, if he thought it would keep the peace between Daemon and I. Again, out of respect for Pat.

"Darius, Daemon doesn't get a say in my work situation. It's a much better paying job than I had before, and it's a different kind of work experience that builds my skill set, and it also allows me to live closer to you for the next year, which I think is important right now..."

Darius makes a frustrated groan. "This is about the gun thing? You're moving close by because you think I'm messing up? So you think you are going to be Bodie's babysitter and mine?"

"She's not your babysitter. She's your mother. Ain't nobody in this world that's gonna love you more. A father, a grandmother, an uncle...they love you, sure...but a mother's love is different. A mother gives you life, chooses you, and in this world we live in...she doesn't have to do that, you understand what I'm saying?"

He takes off his glasses and looks calmly at Darius, who is shocked by Bodie's change in demeanor from jovial to solemn. "Well?"

"Yeah, I...I know you're sayin'," he looks from Bodie to me and back again.

"Good," Bodie continues. "My own mother was young when she had me, just like yours. And she's not a perfect mother and we didn't have a perfect life, but she could have chosen her own life over mine, and she didn't. Neither did your mother. Your mother chooses to work two jobs to send you to private school and buy you Iphones and AirPods AND she worries about you growing up with a decent heart and good head on your shoulders. I like you, kid, but one thing I don't like is a punk-ass know-it-all disrespecting his mother. So how about you adjust your tone a little going forward? Then you and me? We'll get along just fine." Bodie says mildly.

Darius and Bodie have a little stare down, but there's no contest. Darius looks out the window. "Marley, I know how hard you always work to make sure I have a good life. I don't mean to be ungrateful. It's just...weird...the way we live. And now with my dad out of jail...it's even weirder. I'm sorry I'm a punk sometimes...I just...I just wish sometimes..."

"I get it, Darius."

He wishes what every kid wishes.

For a mom and a dad and a happy home where they feel safe and not at all weird.

"I am sorry," he says. "I would like to see where you are living now. I mean, whenever it's convenient," he looks at Bodie.

"I already told you, kid. I'm a sucker for a single mom tryna do right by her kid. You act right, you have an open invitation at my place. I'll even get you a key made."

I was going to have to get a ride home from school tomorrow with a friend," he looks at me. "Mama Pat and TJ are both back at work tomorrow and Shay has to take the baby to the doctor..."

"I'll pick you up from school," I say immediately. "We are five minutes away."

"Okay."

Bodie hands him the salad bowl. "Here. Marley said you like this spinach-strawberry-walnut salad crap? She made it for you."

He grins. "It's better than broccoli salad, ain't it?"

"Touche," Bodie says.

As Darius slides to the door, I say, "Oh, one more thing, Darius. I'm not happy that you thwarted the discipline I asked your grandmother to help me enforce. Bring your Xbox down and put in the trunk before I leave, okay?"

"Are you kidding? What happened was a total accident, Marley! How many times do I have to say I'm sorry." He turns to Bodie. "I told you I'm so sorry about what happened!"

All Bodie says is, "I know."

"I know you're sorry, too, Darius But you also aren't being honest about how you knew about TJ's gun and the pin code for the gun safe. That's why I'm punishing you. Because you won't help me understand how the very big problem of you having access to a gun originated."

"God!" Darius yells. "Just...just let it go, Marley. I'm trying to get along with everybody and you are just trying to stir up trouble with TJ and my dad!"

He leaps out of the car and slams the door. Bodie's hand goes automatically to his head as he winces.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I can take you home, if you're head is hurting too bad for this."

I can see Daemon stroll out onto the porch to greet Darius. Darius is talking furiously and shooting resentful glances at me. Daemon smiles at Darius talking over him, and clapping him on the shoulder, like he's trying to calm Darius down. With a jerk of the head, he sends Darius in through the door.

Daemon's smiles fades to menace as he stares at me and Bodie together in the car.

Bodie looks at me. "You wanna play this the counselor way or the gangster way?"

I sigh. "Neither, really."

"Well there's always the rock star way."

"Remind me again what that was?"

"You, me, Darius, Switzerland..."

It's amazing what a few days rest and clean hair can do for an addict as blessed with good looks as Bodie. He's really handsome when he grins at me.

I shake loose the thought and unstrap by seat belt. "Let's just get this over with as painlessly as possible."

TJ has joined Daemon on the porch. I guess Daemon is relaying to TJ everything Darius just shared.

"Don't worry. I'll just follow your lead, Mama," Bodie says.

Except he doesn't. He leaps from the car while I'm still grabbing my purse, takes the porch steps two at a time, and throws his hands open wide in front of the Turner brothers with a grin much faker than the one he just gave me.

"'Sup, dawgs? Darius just fill you in on Marley's new job? Good. Yeah, I don't love it either, but it's pretty much be tied to her apron strings, or get fired from my band. So don't mind me. I'll just fold into the family." Bodie's last sentence is somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

Daemon glares at me. TJ glares at Bodie.

Oh boy.

Yikes! Dinner should be interesting!

How do you think the Bodie/Marley/Darius dynamic is developing? Are they cute are what?