“Wait,” he said, turning to set down his beer. I ignored him and rushed out to the cab. I heard him trailing after me shouting over the crowd, but before he could catch up, I was in the cab.
“Drive,” I blurted, when I saw Mac had followed me out of the bar. I couldn’t even bring myself to wave to him as we pulled away.
MURPHY’S LAW SEEMS to have a standing reservation to mess with my ass. Since high school, that little demon has tried to make me its personal bitch. Nearly burning down Granny’s garage the first time Mason and I snuck a cigarette was a good example. She took a switch to us, and that was nothing compared to what we got when Dad found out.
The one time I actually drank during high school, the superintendent dropped by for a surprise visit. That got me suspended for a week and more than one whack with a wooden spoon at home from Mom. Then there was what I laughingly refer to as my marriage. Other than my boy, that entire experience was textbook Murphy’s Law. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
Still, I’d go through it all over again if it gave me Mac Junior. Truth be told, I’ve gone through more shit with Patty since the divorce than I did during our short time as man and wife. She’s had a lot of problems over the years, and her problems usually ended up as my problems.
When I first met Patricia, she was the only bartender I’d ever met who didn’t drink. I thought it was funny at the time, and that very first night, I teased her into doing a shot with me. I figured it was a harmless icebreaker. She was hot, and I was trying to get into her pants.
It wasn’t long before I understood exactly why she didn’t drink. She was a lightweight, and when you added even a pinch of liquor, she transformed into a wild animal. We went out for a smoke on her break, and the next thing I knew she had me pinned up against the side of the building with her hands down my pants. It was plain to me that she knew what she was doing, and at the time, I considered it a major victory. In retrospect, that simple decision to go out back with her was probably the biggest mistake of my life.
For three weeks straight, I repeated my tactics, sitting at the end of her bar, telling her dirty jokes while Mason lost us game after game of pool. Patty was really something to look at back then, before she had bleached her hair blonde and taken to three-day benders. She was bubbly and fun and had an infectious laugh that I did my damnedest to hear as often as possible. Soon, other patrons were buying her drinks so they could see her dance on tables and do tricks with the bottles while she poured. Patricia wasn’t above doing body shots with me for all the world to see, and then she’d stumble around spilling drinks on people and generally being useless as an employee.
One night, her boss caught on when he stopped by to pick up the deposit, and she was on top of the pool table actin’ a fool. He canned her on the spot, and I gave her a ride home. She asked me inside, gave me a ride of her own, and the rest was history. By then she was a hardcore partier, just like me.
I sometimes wonder if I hadn’t pushed the booze thing, if she would have turned out to be a raging drunk. Guilt, and MJ had kept her in my life long after I’d have given her the boot. It may have all started out as fun and games, but the amusement ended years ago. All that was left were obligations.
In the past year, I’d had to bail her out of jail twice. She has run the gambit of illegal stupidity. Bounced checks and driving off without paying for gasoline. The second offense was what I spent Saturday morning cleaning up. Mac Junior had been with Patty, and the arresting officer was nice enough to let him call me on their way to the station.
When I arrived, Junior was seated at a desk with a uniformed female officer. He was drawing her a picture and wearing her police hat. The sympathetic way she looked at my son was nearly as upsetting as the cheerfully undisturbed reaction he’d had when he saw me approaching.
“Dad! I got to ride in a police car!” M.J. gushed. “I even got to turn on the siren.”
“That was supposed to be our little secret,” the officer reminded him, and Mac Junior gave her a flirty smile that would have made me proud any other day.
It killed me when the kid got caught in the middle. I did my best to keep him from knowing as much as I could, but he was a smart boy. I had decided not to pay Patty’s bail that time and let her spend the night in jail. I figured mom could watch M.J. while I was out on my date if necessary. When I told Mac Junior this, he shrugged.
“Bill will get her out,” he said, stuffing a potato chip in his mouth. A bag of chips was another thing he’d conned out of the officer before I’d arrived.
“Who’s Bill?” I asked.
“Mommy’s ‘special friend,’” he replied. I started to feel my blood pumping. I knew where this conversation was going, and I knew I’d end up pissed off.
“Have you met this Bill guy?” I asked, keeping my voice jovial. Junior took a long drink of his can of Big Red and smacked his lips.
“Yeah. He comes over for sleepovers a lot. Mommy locks her bedroom door, and I have to knock if I need her.”
Not that the boy would have known it from my outward appearance, but I was beyond pissed. I didn’t give a shit who Patty screwed, but the last time I’d had a girlfriend, she had been a raging bitch about it. When I was seeing Molly’s cashier, Stacy, Patty had filed paperwork with her lawyer to enforce a ‘morality clause’. Stacy wasn’t allowed to be at my place when I had Mac Junior from 9:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Luckily, Stacy and I were pretty casual, but it was a cheap shot by Patty. Her sneaking around with this Bill fellow showed what a hypocritical bitch I’d been married to. I decided it might be time for me to get a lawyer again, if for no other reason than to keep Patty’s psycho ass in check.
When I talked to Mom about watching M.J. later that day, she got very excited. She’ been wanting to take M.J. to The Thinkery, which she informed me was the Children’s Museum. As soon as I mentioned it to Junior, he was psyched about it. I love nothing more than to see him interested in using his brain.
The next day, when I dropped MJ off, my mother was ready for me. The interrogation began before I even set MJ’s bag down on the kitchen table.
“So who’s this girl you have a date with?” Mom asked. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes that let me know I was in for some shit. Ruffling M.J.’s hair, I waited for him to run off into the house before turning to face her.
“Why do you want to know?”
She shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance that was totally forced.
“Molly says she’s pretty. She says you actually like her. And she says she’s too nice for you.” I felt my face get hot.
Nothing like the loving support of your family.
“Molly has a big fucking mouth.”
“Malcolm!” Mom smacked me with the newspaper, and I snorted. Granny came in from the other room, like a shark sensing blood in the water.
“Malcolm’s got a date? Is there a hooker convention in town?” I resisted the urge to tell the old bird off.
“Mother,” Mom said in a scandalized tone.
“Her name’s Kelly. She’s Francis’s daughter. She’s a teacher at M.J.’s school. She is nice. And very pretty. And I do like her. And everyone needs to back the hell off and leave me alone.”
“You just keep it in your pants, Malcolm.” Granny Hildebrandt demanded. “You have a baby to think about.”
“He’s not a baby; he’s seven, Granny.” I snapped. “And he’s always my number- one priority.”
“Good to hear it,” Granny sniped, plopping down in her recliner and flipping on Fox News.
I rushed home to get ready for my date with Kelly, but I kept thinking about what Granny had said. Kelly was a teacher, so she surely liked kids. Insecure, I wondered if I should introduce her to M.J., but it seemed a little early in the game for that. I didn’t want to disappoint him if something happened with Kelly, and I didn’t want to scare Kelly off either.
I’d already decided to take Kelly to Ginny’s, since it was more than dinner (which I felt was b
oring and cliché) and not a movie (where you can’t talk). After our conversation the other night about her dad, I thought she might like to have a little fun, so Chicken Shit Bingo seemed like a light-hearted option. I wasn’t prepared for how bad a choice it was.
When I picked her up, she was done up for a real date. I kicked myself for not dressing nicer, and not having a reservation for some darkly lit French restaurant with decadent desserts. Her legs looked stunning in a skirt and heels, and I felt stupid for not bringing my truck instead of my bike. I tried to play it off casually, but I already had the vibe that I’d disappointed her.
Later, when I ran into Monica while Kelly was in the ladies’ room, I went into immediate damage-control mode. Monica was Patty’s best friend, and I hadn’t seen her since shortly after the divorce from Patty. Monica slithered up to me nice as can be and started her heavy handed 007 routine.
“Who’s that pretty young thing you came in with, Macster? New lady in your life?” She smiled her yellow smoker’s grin that made me glad I’d finally quit the cancer sticks.
I made the spontaneous decision to lie my ass off. With Patty and her morality clause bullshit, I wasn’t about to have her or any of her spies knowing my business. I’m no idiot: Monica would have Patty on the phone before Kelly and I left the bar. My good intentions ended up paving my road to hell.
“Nah. She’s just I friend.” I lied, and as luck (or Murphy’s Law) would have it, Kelly appeared next to Monica. I wanted to roll back time, but I could tell by the look on her face that Kelly had heard enough.
I chased after her, but she jumped into a cab in the parking lot. That stopped me in my tracks. The waiting cab told me two things. One: she already hated the date enough to leave, and two: she didn’t even want me to take her home. I’ll admit that it was a kick in the ass. More than anything, I’d wanted to show her a good time and take her mind off of the drama with her dad, or at the very least, give her a shoulder to cry on again, if that’s what she needed.
I’d been tempted to fuck her senseless a couple of nights before. She was so beautiful, and she tasted amazing. Until that make-out session, I worried that she might be all form, no substance. A lot of beautiful girls just lie there and look good and expect that to be enough. But I could tell by the way Kelly moved and by her incredible enthusiasm on the couch, that I’d misjudged her terribly.
The problem was that by that point I really liked her. Hearing the shit she went through as a kid made me want to take her to my house and guard her like the princess in that Mario Brothers game. I needed to take things slower. I wasn’t just going to fuck her and move on now that I knew her like I did.
I’d tried to call Kelly a couple of times since Bingo and texted her several messages. I got no response at all. After a few days passed with no response, I figured I’d go over and explain myself. She either wasn’t home that night, or she was actually hiding from me.
The holidays were a welcome distraction. My entire family had a Thanksgiving getaway planned with Joe’s family, a sort of “Sorry y’all are knocked up, and she’s refusing to marry you” kind of deal. Joe’s sister, Tamryn, and her husband Robbie were hosting all of us at their ranch out in Driftwood, and I decided I could use the fresh air to think the whole Kelly thing over.
Going to Tamryn Jensen-Wright’s house is not something you do lightly. These people operate on a completely different level than my family does. When the day is also a mash up of the Jensen/Hildebrandt clans, it’s best approached through a haze of alcohol.
Mason planned to pick up M.J. on his way out of town, so I took the opportunity to ride out on my bike. I’d never been up to Tamryn’s digs, but the memory of Joe’s parent’s place was forever branded into my brain. I’d never been around that much money until Joe started running with my brother and me, and the first time we crashed at his house was like visiting a four-star resort. I’d had dreams about being in a place like the Jensen’s; but it’d been the Playboy mansion, and I was surrounded by bunnies.
The closer I got to Tamryn’s, the more I understood just how much money Robbie Wright had. The houses kept getting bigger and bigger, some larger than small hotels. One had an entire driveway that looked like it was made out of high end marble squares.
By the time I pulled my Harley into their circular driveway, I was starting to feel a little bit Beverly Hillbilly. As I rang the doorbell, which probably cost a few months of my salary, I realized why Tamz always had an unattainable air about her when I hit on her as a kid. That girl had been going places, and she’d known it.
I was glad when Molly answered the door, ‘cause if it had been a butler, I’d have been tempted to jump back on my bike.
The room I was staying in was the size of my living room. At least it gave me a place to hide out until I adjusted to the idea of being in Buckingham Fucking Palace. I guess I wasn’t the only one whose nerves were jangled. Molly and Joe both seemed anxious and out of sorts.
I made Joe drink a beer with me in hopes of loosening him up, but his mother called him out of the room for a private powwow, and I gave up and wandered out to the heated pool.
Joe’s parents had cut him off after high school, when he refused to go off to pursue a pre-law degree. They’d basically abandoned him right when he was going out into the world. When he met his first wife, Jessica, they’d mended fences a bit, but after she died in an accident, Joe was in no condition to be around anyone. His parents vanished on him again, though with the way he’d dissolved, it was hardly surprising.
It was a blessing that they hadn’t been around for the times it got really bad. When he’d been so drunk he’d broken into the house he’d owned with Jess. Luckily, the guy who’d bought the place was an antiques dealer I knew, and he called me instead of the cops. I dragged Joe’s sorry ass out, promising to fix the door frame he’d obliterated. Seeing him that out of it, sobbing for Jess and his baby boy haunted me even now.
It was hard to stomach watching Joe’s parents trying to play the doting mother and father now. It bugged me that they’d be grandparents to Molly’s babies, and I was afraid I’d lose my catered dinner all over their designer shoes if their posturing went on much longer. I stepped outside to get some country air and check on M.J., who was still in the pool. I swear that kid is part dolphin.
The pool was the fucking American dream on a cracker with caviar, and the kids begged to swim for another hour. Mom and Tamryn’s husband had it under control, so I went back in and dished myself up some desert. Then my grandmother opened her mouth and stepped in it.
The old bat had been hard on Molly since she hit puberty. As always, Molly took her barbs quietly, but this time things went down a bit differently. Granny told Molly to step away from the sweet stuff, telling her she was gonna get a fat ass. I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but old habits don’t die easily.
Joe flipped out and unloaded on Granny for disrespecting Molly. Tamryn tried to intervene, and he started in on her and her overbearing advice. Then he turned on everyone in the entire room one by one. I was secretly glad to see him get stuff off his chest after watching him stew for months. Of course, I would have liked it better if he hadn’t had a choice bit of advice for me as well.
“...if you like the girl, you should tell her. God knows, you aren’t getting any younger.”
Love him, or hate him, Joe Jensen knew how to cut through the bullshit.
That night I tossed and turned thinking about the Kelly situation. I hadn’t had a girl on my mind so much since Patty, and that had been such a massive mistake that the correlation made me automatically want to walk away. I picked up my phone to text her and then I remembered the angry way she’d flipped her hair as she hopped into the cab, and I tossed the phone onto the bedside table.
The next morning, I took off right after breakfast. Angry Joe or no…I wasn’t missing Molly’s cooking. The girl made pancakes like no other. Crispy on the edges (from cooking with bacon grease on a cast iron skillet), and smothered i
n butter and Karo syrup. They were like heaven on fine china, and my sister’s candied bacon assured that me that I’d never be confined in a nursing home, since I was sure to die from a heart attack long before my time.
I wasn’t surprised when Joe called me later that holiday weekend. I could read between the lines that he regretted his outburst. The truth was that he’d chewed his sister Tamryn’s ass way worse than anyone’s, and that was going to be a tough bridge to repair. He offered to take me and Mason out to make up for things. He rambled on about something else, but I wasn’t really listening. He had me at ‘beer.’
I rounded up Mason, and we all met at Banger’s. Joe apologized, we apologized, and we moved the fuck on. We drank some beer, chowed down on way too much processed meat, and I got to hear the guys’ perspective on my failed date with Kelly. Both Joe and Mason agreed that I was an idiot for taking her to Ginny’s. They told me to beg for a Mulligan and to step up my game.
A little while later, some past piece of ass sent some pretty boys after Joe to start a fight. A bar brawl ensued, and I got to take out my frustration on several little pissants. The Austin PD showed up, and we were nearly hauled off to jail. Luckily, many witnesses stepped up to say we were minding our own business when The New Kids on the Block came looking to rumble. While the cops were sorting things out, Mason confided in us that Robin had had a recent breast cancer scare. I was pissed that they had kept this from me, but then I realized I hadn’t really been making myself available to anyone lately. It was a wake-up call and reinforced the fact that I needed to quit being so self-involved. If the closest people in my family didn’t feel like they could confide in me, I wasn’t being a very good brother.
Mason said Robin had found a lump a couple of months before, and they hadn’t told anyone. Mason claimed they’d been worried about the stress it would cause Molly, since her pregnancy was high risk. As for Joe, he was still reeling from the news of the twins. With his past history, they figured he was trying to sort out enough without adding their shit. They didn’t tell me because they thought I’d blab to Joe.
Wood U (Carved Hearts #4) Page 10
