“Can you teach me how to pass the ball off my head?” Spence asked. “Andille said you knew how to do it.”
“Of course,” Ian said, wondering if he still had that particular trick up his sleeve. It had been years. Eons. Since he’d touched a soccer ball.
A huge crack of thunder practically shook the house and Spence looked outside, his smile fading. “But it’s gonna rain.”
Fat raindrops, as if summoned, began to splat on the window. A drizzle warning of wetter things to come.
Spence and Ian groaned at the same time.
“What are we going to do, Mom?” Spence asked.
Andille came downstairs, looking sleep-deprived but calm. Happy. There was a certain looseness to his walk, a little I-just-got-laid.
The hairs on the back of Ian’s neck went on high alert.
“Good morning,” Andille said, his voice even darker, rougher in the morning.
“Morning, Andille,” Jennifer said, watching him. She smiled, Andille’s glow spreading to her, which was ludicrous since Ian knew for a painful fact Jennifer had not just been laid.
“Paperwork done?” Ian asked, a little sharper than he intended, but the last thing he needed was Jennifer catching Andille’s glow, for crying out loud. Things were complicated enough.
He glared at Andille and the man didn’t seem to care. He’d clearly seduced Deb, a woman with roots so deep to this place it was a wonder she could move, and he was grinning about it.
Andille wasn’t usually a cad. The guy was more of a monk, but there was nothing good about what he’d done. Not from Ian’s perspective.
“Sent the last e-mail last night about 2:00 a.m.,” Andille said and yawned, nearly splitting his face in half.
“Mom.” Spence’s voice had a good chunk of whine in it and it set Ian’s teeth on edge. “What are we going to do all day?”
“We should celebrate,” Ian said. “Hey.” He turned to Spence, creating a coconspirator in the boy. “Is that arcade still open in Northwoods?”
“The one in the bowling alley?” Spence asked.
“They added a bowling alley?” Ian asked, as if the news were the greatest thing he’d ever heard. “We need to check this out.”
Jennifer stared at him, coffeepot poised over mug as if she were watching a magic trick. Or a car wreck.
“That okay with you?” he asked her and she nodded. She was so cute, with three pencils caught in her sloppy bun and a coffee stain on the sleeve of her oversize blue button-down shirt. She was so cute, he winked, just a little, to let her know he was trying to help out.
Just to let her know they were friends, despite what he wanted to do to her on the kitchen table.
“You’re going to a bowling alley?” Andille asked, sitting at the table with his coffee cup. He sounded skeptical.
“I bowl,” Ian said, defensively. “I am, in fact, a very good bowler. Why don’t you come, too?” Ian asked Andille. “See for yourself.”
Andille hesitated and Shonny burst in the back door, Deb not far behind him.
“We need help!” Shonny yelled, jumping with both feet.
“Groceries,” Deb said, with a smile. “I can’t—”
“I got it,” Andille said, standing.
Deb blushed. She actually blushed. And when she looked at Andille, she smiled, a soft womanly smile. A glowy smile.
Ian gritted his teeth. The woman was clearly halfway in love with Andille, which, of course, was what always happened with Andille. The man smiled at a certain kind of woman and they just fell in love, right then and there.
What a mess, Ian thought. He’d expect this kind of behavior from himself, but Andille always acted as though he was above flirtations. Above string-free relationships.
And now here he was embroiled in one at the worst possible time with the worst possible woman.
Deb had strings everywhere.
“Wait,” Deb said, stopping Andille at the door. “I think you should see this.”
Deb pulled from her purse three magazines and tossed them onto the table in front of Ian.
People. Star Magazine. The National Enquirer.
All of them had cover stories about Ian.
“‘Where in the world is Ian Greer?’” Jennifer read from one of them, flipping to the story. “Is that your apartment? And your mother’s grave?” She was horrified. “There is an interview with the actress you took to the funeral.” She skimmed the article, paraphrasing for everyone’s benefit. “She claims you just disappeared, leaving her stranded in New Hampshire. Is that true?”
Ian shrugged. He was too drunk to remember. Too heartbroken to care.
“I gave her plenty of cab fare,” Andille said, finally meeting Ian’s eyes.
Don’t you dare judge me, Andille’s eyes said. You have no right.
And Ian didn’t. Not really.
“The Enquirer says you were either abducted by aliens,” Deb said, “or the mob.”
“Slow news day,” Ian said, not touching the newspapers.
“I could not take this,” Jennifer said, shuddering. “People outside my house. Thinking they have rights to me? How do you handle this?”
As if he needed evidence of how different they were, of how she would not fit into his life—there it was.
“I used them and they used me,” he said. Parasites, he thought. All of us.
“They’re looking for you,” Andille said, flipping through one of the papers.
“They won’t find me,” Ian said, laughing at the idea. “They wouldn’t even know where to look.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go into Northwoods,” Jennifer said.
“In case the paparazzi are there?” he asked, incredulous. “I think I’m safe.”
“There weren’t any at the grocery store,” Deb joked, adding further proof that something had happened to lighten her up.
Andille crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at Ian. “Two weeks ago, the paparazzi wouldn’t have had to look for you.”
There was something smug in Andille’s voice and Ian wondered why everyone thought they knew him so well all of a sudden.
“What’s your point?” Ian muttered into his mug.
“Something’s different. You’re different,” Andille said, his smile growing. “Coming here was a good idea.”
Ian’s eyes bounced from Andille to Deb. “Certainly was for you.”
Jennifer gasped, Deb went bright red.
“Why don’t you help me with the groceries?” Andille said through his teeth, all but hauling Ian up by his shirt and leading him out the back door.
The door slammed and the silence behind the men rocked and shook.
“Whoa,” Spence said. “What’s going on?”
“Andille and Ian are getting groceries,” Jennifer said, craning her neck to see out the window. “And arguing.”
“What are they arguing about?” Spence asked, hooking his feet on his chair and propping himself up on the table so he could see out the window, too.
“Nothing new,” Deb murmured, her eyes soft and sad when they looked at Andille. “And nothing he’s going to change.”
“Does this mean we aren’t going to the arcade?” Spence asked and Jennifer smiled. Ian volunteering to take Spence off her hands for the day was one of the nicest things anyone had done for her since long before Doug died.
He just wants the story out, she reminded herself when she wanted to take the gesture and wrap it in hearts and flowers and make it about her.
“No,” she told him, “I’m sure you’re still going to the arcade. Eat up, buddy.”
Spence dug into his cereal, flipping the box so he could study the word puzzles on the back.
“Deb?” Jennifer asked quietly. “Everything okay?”
Deb watched the back door for a second then looked down at her casts, her fingers. She pressed the hot pink plaster to her stomach and took a deep breath.
When she finally looked up her smile was radiant. It was as if Deb we
re shot through with bright white sunlight.
“Everything,” she said, “is just fine.”
“You want to elaborate?” Jennifer asked, dying for details. Spence was occupied with his cereal, Shonny was going through one of the drawers—if they spoke in adult code, the kids would never know what they were saying.
“I’ll just say…” Deb sighed, her eyes so knowing and womanly that Jennifer suddenly felt like the last virgin on earth. She felt old and dry and withered, compared to Deb’s sudden lushness. “That I finally know what all the fuss is about.”
16
Spence carefully wrote a four in the box for frame two then glanced at the big lit screen above their lane to make sure the four was there, too.
So cool how that worked.
Ian sat, after rolling that terrible four, and grabbed his red cup of Coke, slurping the last of it through his straw.
And then, because they had a pitcher—a pitcher of pop—he poured himself some more.
Mom would have a heart attack.
“Hey,” Spence said, swiveling his chair all the way around to face Ian. “You lied.”
Ian choked on the pop. “About what?” he asked, setting down the cup.
“About being a good bowler. You suck.”
“I do?” Ian asked, grabbing some of the french fries from the basket on the table. “Go get ’em, Shonny!” he yelled. Andille was helping Shonny hold the ball. Shonny sucked, too, but he was three. And while Andille wasn’t as bad as the rest of them, he certainly wasn’t great.
Spence won the last game.
“Yeah, you do,” Spence said, reaching for some fries before Ian ate them all. “So, why’d you lie?”
Ian leaned forward and whispered, “Isn’t this more fun than hanging out with your mom and Deb?”
“Of course.”
Ian shrugged and poured a little more pop in Spence’s glass, even though it was half full and Spence already felt like he could run around the bowling alley, like, a billion times without getting tired. “Welcome to your first guys’ day out,” Ian said.
Spence liked the sound of that. Guys’ day out. Not that Mom wasn’t fun, but she was Mom. But now she was Working Mom, which did make her less than no fun.
Ian, on the other hand, was a blast. He had never-ending quarters for the arcade and a cool car and he and Andille made fun of each other all the time.
Ian was wearing a ball cap, pulled real low over his eyes so no one would recognize him and call the magazines.
Ian said he was going incognito.
Spence wished he’d brought his ball cap.
It was really cool to hang around guys.
Shonny’s ball went right into the gutter and Ian applauded anyway, like the kid had hit a strike. “Way to go!” Ian yelled. Then it was Andille’s turn, which took forever because Shonny thought he had to help him carry the ball.
Babies. Sheesh.
But it gave Spence a little more time to talk to Ian. Which was good, because Spence had a question he was dying to ask, but couldn’t seem to work up the guts.
He’d been wanting to ask his mom the same question, but she’d been in her office nonstop and he didn’t have the chance.
Or maybe he was just a big chicken.
But now was the time. The question had to be asked.
“What’s up, Spence?” Ian asked, brushing the grease and salt from the fries right on his jeans, which would make Mom dive for the paper towels. Another reason to like hanging out with the guys. No paper towels. “Something wrong?”
“Nah,” Spence said and stared down at his blue and red shoes. They were slippy, these shoes, and he slid them over the floor.
“Now you’re lying,” Ian said, real quiet.
“Do you like my mom?” Spence blurted, then winced. Not the coolest move ever.
There was a long pause and Ian finally said, “Of course.”
Spence rolled his eyes. “No, I mean, do you like her like her?”
Ian’s mouth hung open.
“I know you’re spending a lot of time together. And sometimes when you look at her—” Spence stopped. Probably too late, because it looked like Ian was going to kill him or his head was going to explode.
“When I look at her what?” Ian asked, his voice sharp and Spence wanted to crawl under the table. He knew this was a bad idea. He never should have said anything.
“Never mind,” he whispered, swiveling around and lining up the little half pencils along the top of the scorecard. His stomach felt sick. Too much pop.
Behind him, he heard Ian swear.
Oh, man, Spence thought, that’s a really bad word. Mom would flip right out.
He heard Ian move and Spence’s whole body went tight when the guy came and sat next to him at the score table.
“I’m sorry, Spence,” he said. “You just surprised me.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, but…” Ian sighed and spread his hands out on the table, palms down, fingers wide. “Finish what you were going to say.”
“You look at Mom like my dad used to,” Spence whispered, feeling like the biggest bonehead in the world. “And sometimes she looks at you like she used to look at my dad.”
Ian didn’t say anything. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.
“It’s okay,” Spence said quickly. “If you are. It’s totally okay.”
“How’s that?” Ian asked. “How is it okay if I’m in love with your mother?”
Whoa, Spence didn’t say anything about love, and there was something weird in Ian’s voice that made Spencer feel careful, like when he and Dad went to visit Grandpa in Wisconsin in the winter and all the water was frozen over. Spence, when no one was looking, walked out on the ice and heard it crackle under his feet.
This conversation felt like that.
“I’m just saying that I’m not mad. My friend Ed’s mom started dating a guy after his parents got divorced and Ed hated that guy, was really mean to him, and I’m letting you know that I won’t do that.”
“Be mean?” Ian asked, with what sort of looked like a smile on his face.
“Nope.” Especially if the pitchers of pop kept coming, but he didn’t say that.
“Well—” Ian laughed “—glad we got that taken care of.”
Spence could feel Ian watching him, but he was too embarrassed to look at him. He played with the light for the scorecard projector.
“Do you miss your dad?” Ian asked.
Spence’s heart hammered hard in his chest. Once. But then it went away. “Sure,” he said. “But not like I used to.” Ian didn’t say anything and so Spence kept talking. “I used to think about him all the time. And Mom used to talk about him all the time, and we—” He darted a quick look at Ian. “We cried sometimes. But it’s gotten better.”
“Do you think your mom misses him?” Ian asked.
Spence shrugged. “Yeah. She says part of her will always miss him.”
“That makes sense,” Ian said, and Spence didn’t want the guy to get the wrong idea.
“But she likes you now,” he was quick to point out.
“Spence.” Ian shook his head and his voice, for the first time all day, sounded like an adult voice. Which was weird. He didn’t always think of Ian like an adult. More of like a big kid. It would be easy to be his friend, eventually. “You don’t know that—”
“Of course I do,” Spence insisted. “She’s my mom. And I told you, she looks at you like she used to look at my dad.”
Andille finally finished his turn and somehow, even with Shonny attached to his hip, managed to bowl a spare. Spence made the careful slash in Andille’s row and leaped to his feet.
“My turn,” he cried. “Watch and learn,” he said to Ian, giving him his best smirk. “Watch and learn.”
Ian was literally dumbstruck. He sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, sick to his stomach from the junk food he’d been eating all day, and felt like Spencer had just taken a crowbar to his
head.
“You all right, man?” Andille asked, practically filling the whole bank of seats in their lane. Shonny was dwarfed as he sat by Andille’s side. “Someone recognize you?” he asked, glancing around. “Should we get going?”
Ian shook his head, scrubbing his face with both hands. He knocked off the ball cap and just left it on the seat next to him. No one was going to hassle him here, and the whole thing was beginning to feel ridiculous.
“Then what happened? You look sick.”
“Spence said it’s okay for me to like his mother,” Ian said, a tad too loud and Andille sat back, his eyebrows in his hair. “And apparently it’s okay for Jennifer to like me.”
“Boy’s got it all worked out.”
“The boy is delusional.”
“What’s wrong with Jennifer?”
“Nothing!” Ian snapped. There was not a thing wrong with her, from head to toe. One side to the other, the woman was amazing. What was wrong was that she wasn’t for him.
Andille spread his arms across the top of the chairs and crossed his legs at his ankles. He had his “the doctor is in” look on his face that always made Ian want to start a fight. The impulse was particularly strong right now.
“What are you going to do when this is all over, Ian?” Andille asked.
“When what is all over?”
“Your revenge mission against your father. Because this story is going to end it, right?”
“That’s the point.” Ian felt defensive. There was something about Andille’s tone that made him feel pressured.
“So what are you going to do?”
“Go back to my life.”
“Your life that was all about the revenge? You’re going to go back to the clubs and the women and the tabloids?”
His whole body, everything in him, shuddered at the thought. Recoiled. It had been no way to live before and after the story, after Serenity, it would be worse. Emptier. Lonelier.
“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered, knowing what Andille was getting at. “Pack up Jennifer and Spence and take them to my apartment? Introduce her to the pack of photographers who live outside my door?”
And Then There Was You (Serenity House Book 2) Page 17
