Page 106 of The Man I Hate

Hap laughed. He looked at me. “I told you.”

Anna glanced at each of us. “Told him what?”

“I told Dipshit you were Italian,” Hap replied. “I knew you were either a wop or a Mexican.”

“I’m half wop,” Anna said, seeming unoffended by the derogatory term.

Knowing nothing would be off-limits to the old man, I scanned my memory for anything I’d revealed that I wouldn’t want him repeating. While I tried to recall everything we’d discussed, Anna sauntered to the wheelchair.

Anna smiled at the orderly. “Is it okay if I drive?”

Outwardly relieved the incident was concluding, the kid struggled to hide a smile. “Absolutely.”

Anna motioned to the wheelchair with a wave of her hand. “Get in.”

Hap folded his 6’-3” frame into the wheelchair like it was his idea to do so all along. Anna grabbed the handles and turned the chair in my direction.

“My mother’s parents were Italian immigrants,” she explained, pushing the chair past me. “While my father was in New York staying with his uncle, he met my mother. He was supposed to come home at the end of the summer, but he ended up staying for two years because of her.”

“What was your mother’s last name?” Hap asked.

“Regio.”

“I knew it was something like that.” Hap glanced up. “Did you put dumbass on a diet? Or did he do that on his own?”

“He lost weight when he was—”

I got Anna’s attention and mouthed the words don’t tell him. Anna pushed the wheelchair to the SUV and set the wheel brake.

“When he was what?” Hap asked.

Anna seemed confused. “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘he lost the weight when he was’, and then you stopped,” Hap replied. He got out of the wheelchair. “When he was what?”

“When he was waiting for you to get out of here,” she replied. “He was so worried he could barely eat.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet.” Hap said in a snide tone. He faced the orderly. “Satisfied?”

The orderly reached for the wheelchair and flashed a smile. “Extremely.”

I opened the back door and motioned inside. “Get in, Old Man.”

He gave me a look. “Are you taking me home?”

“You’re coming to my house for a while.”

“You can go fuck a goat, too,” he said. He looked at Anna. “Take me home. Dipshit can tell you how to get there.”

“I’m driving,” I said.

Hap slid into the seat. “When you drive it makes me sick to my stomach. You want me to barf all over this pretty British piece of shit?”

“I’ll drive,” Anna said. “But you’re staying with us.”

Hap’s brows raised. “Us?”

Anna nodded. “Us.”