He disconnected and went inside to pack a small bag. Who could be expected to give up the chance for the open road during an Indian summer? He had his whole life ahead of him to work the daily grind. He’d watched his dad work himself sick. Seamus O’Malley wasn’t enjoying retirement. Sean couldn’t remember his dad ever having fun.
The same could be said of Jimmy. They spent all of their time taking care of everyone. Sean made sure he took his share of good times. He refused to get bogged down in a life of monotony and misery and responsibility. He was twenty-six. This was the time to enjoy life.
With a small bag of clothes and toiletries, he went back to his bike. He left messages with Tommy and Norah so they wouldn’t worry, but in truth, he knew they wouldn’t. He’d done this before, so they should be used to it.
Climbing on his bike, he revved the engine and let the vibrations sing through his body. The sun beat on his back as he slid the helmet on his head. He wanted to ride without it, but he’d promised Jimmy when he got the bike that he would always use a helmet. And he almost always did. A warm breeze blew and he itched to hit the highway. Nothing but good times and fresh air.
* * *
Friday evening, Sean rumbled up to the front of the house. He was exhausted, but he’d enjoyed every minute of the ride. Not much could beat the freedom of a motorcycle ride. Having Emma’s body tucked close to his was the only thing that could’ve added to the experience. He climbed off his bike and grabbed his bag.
Inside the house, Kevin and Jimmy were sitting on the couch in the living room. Odd, since neither of them lived there anymore. They both looked up from the TV.
Jimmy said, “About time. You said you were on your way back hours ago.”
“I stopped for a break and food. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that you took off, which means you got fired again. Then no one heard from you for days.”
Sean was too tired for this. “I let Tommy and Norah know where I was. I texted them when I was on my way back.”
“But you didn’t return any of my calls.”
Sean shrugged. He’d intentionally avoided calling Jimmy back because he didn’t want a lecture to dampen his fun.
“When are you going to grow the fuck up?”
“I’m an adult, Jimmy. I don’t need you to police my activities. Stick to the job you get paid for.”
Kevin waved a hand at him. “Before you guys start throwing punches, can I get my ten bucks? I knew you wouldn’t make it six months. You never do.”
Sean reached into his front pocket and pulled out crumpled bills. Tossing them at Kevin, he said, “Totally worth it.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Dude, what are you thinking? You can’t float through life like this. You can’t count on Dad to always be here to keep a roof over your head. Being an adult isn’t about doing whatever the hell you want all the time.”
“I have money in the bank so I can float until I get a new job, which won’t take long. Never does. You need to lighten up.” He turned to leave the room.
Jimmy grabbed his arm and turned him back. “No, you need to grow up. Taking off without keeping in touch and making your family worry isn’t being an adult. Not being able to afford an apartment because you can’t hold down a job isn’t being an adult.”
Sean dropped his bag and his hands fisted. “You don’t get to decide how I live my life. You live yours however the fuck you want. I refuse to be like you, Jimmy. I don’t want to be stressed out and hate every moment of my life until I keel over.”
“I don’t hate my life.”
“I sure as hell would.” Without another word, he bent for his bag and went to the basement. A long, hot shower would ease some of the tension caused by his conversation with Jimmy.
When was Jimmy going to leave him alone? Sean was twenty-six, turning twenty-seven next month. He could afford an apartment, had been able to for years, but it seemed like a waste of money. He didn’t need a whole apartment.
And for the most part, he liked being around his family. This neighborhood was home. He had friends here. Coworkers came and went with each job, but the guys from the neighborhood would always come back here.
He twisted the knobs for the shower. He peeled off his sweaty clothes while he waited for the water to heat up. The peace and quiet of the shower was a welcome change. He let the water pound on his head and beat against his muscles.
Then the door blew open. Damn, he knew he should’ve locked it. For as long as he could remember, Tommy always barged in on him in the bathroom.
“Can’t I get ten minutes of peace?”
“Nope. Jimmy’s really fuming. What the hell did you say to him?”
Sean yanked the shower door open. “Nothin’ but the truth.”
Tommy leaned against the pedestal sink, crossing his feet at the ankles like he was settling in. “Why are you starting with him?”
“I didn’t start. He did. As soon as I walked through the door. All I wanted was a hot shower and a cold beer, and he laid into me.”
“He was worried. You know how he gets.”
“Don’t care. He doesn’t get to tell me how to live. I’m not a kid anymore.” Sean stuck his head under the spray to rinse off. Tommy might’ve continued talking, but Sean tuned him out with the hope that his little brother would take the hint and leave.
Sean turned off the water and opened the shower door. Tommy handed him a towel. So much for his hope for solitude. No, he didn’t really want solitude. He’d had days of that. He just wanted his family to leave him alone.
“What do you want?”
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. A heat wave came through and I found an opportunity, so I took it. I had an awesome time riding in sunny weather all week. Now I’m ready to park the bike for the winter.” He swiped the towel across his body and wrapped it around his hips.
“Liar.”
Tommy knew him too well. Sean wouldn’t park the bike until the temperature got unbearably cold, probably in another month. He’d milk it for every ride he could take.
“Want to go out for a beer?” Sean asked.
“Nah. I’m going back to work. Kai has me set up with a new client.”
Sean nodded. Looked like he’d find that solitude after all. “Text me after if you want to meet.”
Tommy nodded and stepped out of the bathroom. Finally. At the door, he turned. “Talk to Jimmy.”
“That doesn’t work so well.”
“Try. He just wants you to be okay.”
“I’m fine.” Sean scooped up his dirty clothes and tossed them in the corner by his dresser. He’d need to do laundry soon. Unless he could convince Norah to wash it for him. He dressed quickly and grabbed the keys to his car. As much as he loved his bike, he needed a break. At the bottom of the steps, he listened, hoping to be able to tell if Jimmy was still there. He heard nothing, so he figured it was safe to go up through the kitchen instead of sneaking out the basement door like a kid.
Dodging Jimmy made him feel like a kid again. Upstairs, in the kitchen, Kevin was rummaging around in the refrigerator.
“Want to go grab a beer?”
Kevin straightened and turned around. “Nah. I’m going to hang with Dad and watch the game.”
“Jimmy leave?”
“Yeah. He figured if he stayed you two would be brawling.”
Sean smiled. “And who would you put money on?”
Kevin laughed. “What makes you think I’d bet on my brothers fighting?”
“I know you.”
Kevin lifted a shoulder. “Jimmy still has size on you. He’d win.”
Sean shook his head. “Wrong. He’d hold back because he wouldn’t want to hurt me. Gives me an advantage.”
“Good point. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He reached back in the fridge and grabbed two bottles of beer. “Join us?”
“Nah. I’m going out. Find me some company.”
“What about the cu
te chick you had here for the barbecue?”
Sean didn’t want to admit Emma had given him the brush-off. “You know how it is. Lots of fish and I’m just one fisherman.”
“Have fun.” Kevin returned to the living room with the beer.
Sean thought of reminding him to check their dad’s blood, but Norah would do that before bed like she always did. Jingling his keys, he walked out the back door. Now that Kevin had brought up Emma, she was in his head. It was Friday night. She had the weekend off.
He sat on the back porch and pulled out his phone.
Chapter Eight
Emma sat at the table with the other teachers and raised her glass. “To surviving our first full week of school.”
Everyone clinked glasses and drank. It had become tradition for the teachers to meet on Fridays after school for a couple of drinks. Not everyone came every week, but they all showed up occasionally. They chose a bar that was safely away from the school. No one wanted to run into their students’ family members.
Barb took a sip of her beer and then asked, “So how are your kids? I’ve barely seen you this week. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
Emma smiled. “Good. Definitely. I think this group will be easier than last year’s.”
Both she and Barb knocked on the wood table and then laughed.
“Many of them were in preschool together, so they have friends and they’re already good with sharing and including everyone.” Emma took a drink. “They make me laugh. I love going to work in the morning because they’re so excited to be there.”
Before she knew it, she launched into stories of Sasha and Marcel and Darius and their antics. When she caught herself, she said, “Sorry. I don’t have people who get it, you know?”
Barb patted her hand. “Never apologize for your enthusiasm.”
“But this isn’t about the kids. Going out is about being with friends.” As she said it, she realized it was true. She liked being here with her colleagues, even though she often felt out of place, like she wasn’t really one of them. She took another drink. Fake it ’til you make it.
The bar they sat in today was new for them. They’d decided they wanted a change from where they had gone last year. When one of the fourth-grade teachers suggested this one, Emma had almost declined. The bar was in Old Town, and driving through the neighborhood made her think of Sean and the fun they’d shared at the fest. But now she was glad she’d reconsidered.
The place was full of businessmen. She assumed some of them had to be single. This was her new dating pool. Serious guys with jobs and responsibilities. Adults. She knew she’d still have to weed through the guys who were just looking to hook up to find the ones looking for a relationship, but at least the odds of finding what she wanted increased.
As if reading her mind, Barb leaned close and said, “The guy by the bar is giving you the eye.”
“What are you talking about?” Her gaze tracked across the room to the bar to try to figure out which guy Barb referred to.
“Gray suit. Fuck-me eyes.”
Emma choked on her drink. Every now and then, Barb totally took her by surprise. “You are not supposed to talk like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” Emma waved her free hand around. “You’re Barb. You’re a teacher and a mom.”
“Which means I have precious few moments when I can talk like this.” She clinked her glass against Emma’s. “But really, he’s been checking you out for an hour.”
Emma’s eyes met those of the man Barb talked about. He was cute. His blond hair was almost too perfectly styled and she had the urge to rub the top of his head. But his smile was friendly, so she smiled back.
And so the dance started.
She wasn’t particularly good at dating. She excelled at picking a guy up for a night of fun. But the ritual of dates and good-night kisses and figuring out where this thing was going was something she had little experience with. However, she knew enough to realize that while she was sitting at a table full of her friends, it would be hard for him to make a move. Emma downed the last of her drink and stood. “I’m getting a refill. You need anything?” she asked Barb.
“I’m good. I’m finishing this and going home. Behave yourself.”
“Always.” Emma managed to say that with a straight face because Barb knew her as a good girl. No one from school knew about her family or her past, and Emma planned to keep it that way.
She strode to the bar and leaned in near Mr. Blond, but she said nothing. If he couldn’t strike up a conversation after she made the trek over here, he didn’t stand a chance.
“Hi,” he said, his smile broadening. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure. Coke. Thank you.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“Not tonight.”
“I’m Caleb,” he said, extending his hand.
“Emma. Nice to meet you.” They shook briefly, and then Caleb waved to the bartender to place her order.
When the drink arrived, Caleb put cash on the bar and handed her the glass. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends.”
Score two for Caleb on the polite scale: one for buying my drink, one for mentioning my friends.
“Can I have your number?”
Emma smiled at him. “Actually, my one friend is heading home, so we can take this to a table if you’d like.”
“I would.” He picked up his bottle of beer and held out an arm for her to lead the way.
As she walked by Barb, Emma winked and then found an empty table not far from the other teachers. If Caleb turned out to be an ass after all, she could escape.
They sat, and Emma said, “Tell me about yourself.”
Twenty minutes later, Emma realized what a mistake she’d made. While Caleb seemed like a nice enough guy, he hadn’t stopped talking about himself. Her phone vibrated against her leg and she pulled it out. She looked at Caleb. “Excuse me, I need to check this.”
He nodded and checked his own phone.
Emma had assumed Barb was texting to see how the date was going, but it was a text from Sean.
How’s school going? It’s Friday night. Want to meet for a drink?
As much as meeting with Sean appealed to her, especially while sitting across from Caleb, she knew it would be a mistake. Before she knew it though, her fingers were flying across the keys.
School’s going well. Can’t meet. I’m at a work thing.
She sighed and tucked the phone away. Looking back at Caleb, she said, “I need to get going.”
“Problem?”
“No. A friend wants to meet. I hate to duck out, but we haven’t seen each other in a while. Thanks for the drink.” She hoped the small fib would be enough to end the horrible monologue he’d been tossing her way. Her phone buzzed again. Then she added, “We go out most Fridays, so I might see you around.”
She scooted from the booth, waved at her colleagues who were still chatting, and walked out the door. Once outside, she fished her phone out again.
All work and no play . . .
Didn’t she know it? But she held her resolve and didn’t call Sean, no matter how much she wanted to.
* * *
The crazy ninety-degree heat had taken its toll on the city all weekend. Emma walked into school Monday morning and already felt wilted. She’d gotten as far as setting her coffee on her desk when she was summoned to the office. It was never a good way to start the day, but that went double for a Monday.
Emma entered the main office and stared at the solemn faces around her. What the hell was going on? They all looked at her like she was heading into a firing squad. But since the third week of school had barely started, she was pretty sure she wasn’t losing her job.
Mrs. Pitts, the secretary, waved her in to the principal’s office. Emma eased through the door and saw Barb already sitting in front of Mrs. Sloane’s desk. Barb turned and Emma saw that she was on the verge of tears.
“What’s go
ing on?”
“Please have a seat.” Mrs. Sloane pointed to the chair beside Barb. “As you may have heard, there were many shootings over the weekend. Forty people were killed.”
Emma’s heart raced. She’d seen the news. Unfortunately, it wasn’t unusual for Chicago. But there was no reason to lead with a story like that unless things were really bad. She asked the only question that mattered. “Who?”
“Darius Bates.”
Emma’s heart dropped into her stomach. She hadn’t known what to expect, but part of her had assumed it was a relative of one of her students. Not one of her little five-year-olds. The coffee she’d drunk churned in her stomach, and she took a slow, deep breath to try to keep from vomiting.
“How?” It was a dumb question. But the whole idea of someone shooting a kindergartener was absurd.
“He was caught in the crossfire last night. His sister called this morning.”
That was why Barb was here. Darius’s older sister was in Barb’s class. A second-grader should never have to deliver news like that to her school. Emma swallowed hard.
“I know you’ve only been with these students a couple of weeks and you don’t know them well, but—”
“They’re his friends,” Emma croaked out. “He was in the preschool program. His friends are in my class. How will they process this when I can’t?”
Barb reached over and took her hand. “Counselors should be here to help.”
The way she said it made Emma question if they would even show.
“Should I bring it up? Wait for them to ask?” Her gaze bounced between Barb and Mrs. Sloane.
“Since he was in your class, you need to address it. They’ll need time to talk.” Barb gave her a small smile. “Most of what they say will be off topic, but that’s okay.”
Emma nodded. College hadn’t prepared her for this. There was no course on what to do if a student was killed.
Mrs. Sloane stood. “The family will share the funeral arrangements with us once they’ve been made. We’ll send notice out to the families.”
In Your Arms Page 11
