they came out, he ruffled Portia’s hair. She squealed and ducked out from under his hand, but Shayla could tell she liked it. Liked Link. A thread of caution tugged at her spine.
“Do you want popcorn?” Link asked.
“This girl can’t watch a movie without popcorn,” Shayla said. “But I’ll get it. You want anything?”
He eyed her, then fished in his back pocket for his wallet. “I’m a little old-fashioned, okay? This is a date. I’m buying the popcorn.”
She shrugged, somehow fully relieved of guilt that he was paying for everything. “Portia and I will share.”
He stepped into the line at the concessions counter and herded them close with an arm lightly around each. Despite how much she liked the way it felt, Shayla couldn’t let herself lean in the way she might have if Portia hadn’t been with them. She tried not to resent her niece for that fact. But at the same time, she couldn’t let Portia get too attached to Link Whitman. He might be gone next week. And Portia’d had enough heartbreak. So had she.
While Link ordered their snacks, a group of teenage boys roughhoused in the line next to theirs, punching each other hard in the shoulders, not caring who they bumped into. The ringleader had a tall, yellow-dyed Mohawk, his eyebrow pierced with a silver spike identical to the one in his lip—newly installed, judging by the way he kept working his tongue over it. She turned away, pretending she didn’t see them.
“Man, look how dirty that kid is. That’s what happens when you mix where you shouldn’t mix.”
She wheeled to see the ringleader pointing at Portia. Shayla pulled her close, turning her back to the thug and shielding Portia from their view. It had been a long time—since she was a little girl—but the script hadn’t changed. Mama and Daddy had taught her and Jerry that some people—both black and white—didn’t think races should mix. “That’s like saying tall people shouldn’t marry short people,” Mama had said. “But there’s no accounting for ignorance.”
“Just ignore them,” was Daddy’s mantra.
But sometimes Mama couldn’t seem to resist muttering an argument. Shayla had never understood that like she did now. But she held her tongue, hearing Daddy’s voice louder than Mama’s in her head. It helped that Mohawk weighed probably two hundred pounds.
Link left the concession stand in time to see Mohawk pretend to spit on the carpet near Shay’s feet. She instinctively jumped away, pulling Portia with her.
“What’s going on?” Link thrust two tubs of popcorn at Shayla, shooting her a questioning look.
“It’s nothing.” She started to walk toward the hallway where their movie was showing.
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree apparently,” one of Mohawk’s sidekicks muttered.
He was rewarded with guffaws from his buddies.
“A little soap and water might be in order . . .” Mohawk raised his voice. “Don’t you think?”
Shayla pulled Portia closer and tugged on Link’s sleeve. “Come on. Let’s go.”
But he didn’t look at her and instead glared at the gang, his hands in tight fists at his side.
“Come on,” she said, panic rising in her throat.
Ignoring her, Link took a step toward the kid with the Mohawk. “You need to apologize.”
“For what?” he challenged.
“For what you said.”
Mohawk only made himself taller, standing with legs apart, and crossing his arms in front of him like Mr. Clean. He flexed his muscles comically.
“Just forget it, Link.” Shayla shifted the popcorn in her arms and tugged on his shirt sleeve. “It’s not worth it.”
“Apologize,” Link told the kid again.
Mohawk’s buddies flanked him, copying his stance. People were watching now and Shay’s breath came in shallow huffs. This would not end well. “Link, come on.” Her voice rose.
“What’s wrong, Shay?” Portia looked up, her tiny brow furrowed. “What did that guy with the funny hair say?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Come on. Let’s go find our seats.” She couldn’t stay here and let Portia get caught in the middle, but everything in her wanted to scream for Link to let it go.
She hurried away, but before they reached the ticket-taker, she realized Link still had the tickets in his shirt pocket. “Come on, sweetie, we’ll wait over here.” She guided Portia to a spot where she couldn’t see over the concession stand to where Link stood. Shayla could just see the yellow Mohawk quivering and hear their raised voices.
Link glared at the guy. “Does it make you feel like a man to pick on a five-year-old?”
“Wasn’t her I was picking on.” The guy sneered.
“Well, if it was either of those ladies, you owe an apology. And if it was me, you still owe an apology.”
“You gonna make me?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He took a step closer, straightening until he was half a head taller than the guy.
Shayla saw fear in the punk’s face. His so-called buddies had slinked away, apparently not willing to defend him. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t help him get even later. She shot up a prayer that Link would just let it go.
Instead, he took another step closer and got in the kid’s face. He lowered his voice, but Shayla could read his lips. “I want to hear an apology.”
“Yeah, and people in hell want ice water.”
“Real original.” Link gripped the guy’s bicep. To a bystander, it could have looked like a friendly grasp, but Mohawk’s expression said otherwise.
Link’s jaw tensed. He spoke through clenched teeth, and Shayla couldn’t hear what he said.
But Mohawk’s eyes widened. He looked at the ground and muttered, “Yeah, whatever.”
“What’s that?” Link said, tightening his grip.
“Sorry.” The guy shrugged and jerked away from Link. “Now get your freakin’ hands off me.”
“Happy to. Enjoy your movie.” Link gave guy’s bicep a pat and walked away.
A minute later, he appeared at Shayla’s side looking pleased with himself. “Okay, let’s go watch a movie.”
“What did you do?”
“I just taught the guy a few manners is all.”
She stopped and put a hand on her hip. “This isn’t funny, Link.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“You’re being smug.”
“I kind of think I have a right to be smug.”
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“I just squeezed an apology out of him is all.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, well, you have that luxury. We don’t.”
He stopped, cocking his head. “What do you mean? We? Who’s we?”
She gave him a look meant to say, “Seriously?” She didn’t think Link was that naive, but maybe he was. Sometimes the nicest people were the most clueless. “You know what?” she finally said. “Let’s just go watch a movie. Forget about it.”
She felt a tug on her jacket and looked down to see Portia’s huge blue eyes looking up at her. “Why did that guy with the crazy hair say I was dirty?”
Shayla