Joe guffawed at my dig as usual. “Too bad you are my business.” Clapping one heavy paw on my back, he thrust the other forward, enveloping mine.
I corralled Claudia and drew her forward. “Claudia, this lug is my boss, Joe Delfino—one half of Delfino Construction.”
Claudia smiled and extended her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Delfino.”
“Joe, please.” His eyes swept over her face as he sandwiched her hand in between his two thick, callused ones. “Italiano?”
“Half,” she confirmed.
“The better half.” Joe’s features instantly softened. “What’s a lovely young woman like you doing with this ugly brute?”
I rested a shoulder against the steel shelving and shook my head at his sad attempt to insult me. “Hey, just because you’re not getting any at home, don’t try to ruin it for the rest of us.”
“Eat shit. Excuse my French, darlin’.” Joe grimaced apologetically at Claudia. “So you tell her yet or what?”
Claudia perked up. “Tell me what?”
“What?” Joe smacked my shoulder. “Our offer not good enough to tell the little woman? You mean to insult us?”
“No, man, honestly. I was waiting to talk to her about it.” The words tripped out of my mouth. I didn’t want to have the conversation right then, but Joe didn’t give me a choice.
“Me and my brother, Sal, want to send this guy to classes. Learn AutoCAD on the company’s dime. We need a designer, and we think he’d be good at it.” Joe stepped closer to Claudia and made like he was telling her a secret. “He’s something else with numbers. Between you and me, the guy actually has some brains between those big ears of his.”
“Yes, he does.” She reached for my hand, her lips arching in a smile. “His ears and his brain are just a few of the many things I love about him.”
“Aww, ain’t that sweet. She’s a keeper, this one.” He winked at her, and taking a step back, he pointed at me. “Classes start Monday, so we need an answer right away. Don’t disappoint us. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Claudia.”
After Joe ambled away, Claudia spun around and grabbed my forearms. “Tell me all about it!”
“They promised me a promotion and a raise when, and if, I complete the course.”
“Oh, my God! I’m so proud of you.” Her arms flew around my neck, and she bombarded my face with quick, rapid-fire kisses. I tried to play it off coolly, but I was pumped at how ecstatic she was over the news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. They’ve been pressuring me about it, but I kind of see myself being a foreman. Maybe it sounds crazy since I’m only twenty-three and been with them less than a year, but Delfino’s current foreman is retiring next year. I was thinking of asking Joe and his brother Sal to consider me for the position.”
“I don’t think it’s crazy at all, and you’ll be twenty-four a couple of weeks,” she reminded me. “That isn’t too young to have those kinds of aspirations. The class sounds like the perfect opportunity to become more useful to the company.”
“The training is three nights a week, forty minutes away. I’d have to go straight from work to class. I won’t get home till late, and then there’s band rehearsals and performances. It would be another hoop to jump through to spend time with you.”
“It won’t make much of a difference with me in night classes. Those three days you’ll be in class, too, and how cool will it be that we’ll both be students?”
The noose’s fiber itched against my throat, but I could see how much the idea excited Claudia. I found myself grinning with her. “Okay. I’ll call and tell Joe and Sal I accept their offer.”
“Great,” she said. “I’m so excited.”
For some reason I thought about the day we saw the whale in the bay. I remembered how badly I wanted it to come to the surface, so I could see it one more time. Instead, it had swum away.
* * * *
Ray held the handrail in place, and I hit the last nail in, securing it in place. The new porch was done, complete with a railing. I stepped back, Ray next to me, and the two of us admired our work.
“L-looks real good,” he said.
“Yeah, it does.” I nodded, satisfied. There was something easy about working alongside Ray. We didn’t feel the need to make small talk or be on our best behavior. “Thanks for helping, Rudy. You hungry? I’ll order us a pizza.”
“Okay,” he said and followed me into the kitchen.
I put in our pizza order, and Ray rifled through the refrigerator, eating baloney slices directly from the plastic deli bags.
“There’s bread, Holmes,” I said, tossing him the bagged loaf from the counter. “Make yourself a sandwich if you can’t wait for the pizza.”
“No, I’m g-good. Got any chips?” Not waiting for an answer, he hunted through the cabinets. “This kitchen’s r-real nice. Must have set you back some dough, huh?”
I shrugged. “Julia had an insurance policy. I used some of it for the renovations.”
Ray halted his search to look at me. “Any of it left?”
The eagerness of his question had me holding back the answer. Loaning him a few bucks was one thing, but I wouldn’t finance his life. “There’s some left, but I can’t help you out, Ray. I have plans for it, a business investment.” I reached into a cabinet over his head and pulled out a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. “Are you and Eddie still not working?”
“I got hours at that Gas-n-Go near town, but Eddie…” Ray shook his head. “Up l-late every night playing video games and sleeps all day.”
“That’s bullshit, Ray. Make him interested. Kick his ass out of bed.” Annoyed, I tossed the chip bag to him with a little more force than necessary. “Nobody gets a free ride because they’re goddamn lazy.”
No one had ever made it easy for us.
He nodded and busied himself with opening the chips bag. “W-what kind of business are you th-thinking of?”
“Not sure. Something I can do aside from my day job and squeeze in around my new technical classes,” I said. “Something small with a minimum start up investment, something I can build upon.”
“Maybe y-you could provide a service people need,” he said and smiled hopefully. “I c-could help you.”
I slapped his back. “Ray, if I need a second man, you’re it.”
Chapter 9 • Toby
I pulled up in front of the house after work. Claudia’s car was already in the driveway. It was finally Friday, and that fact made me breathe a sigh of relief. We’d successfully finished a month of our new schedules. It’d been a long haul, but Claudia relished the fact that we were now both students. In spite of our busier schedules, we did our best to squeeze out a couple of hours here and there whenever possible to be together. Luckily, my class didn’t give out homework, but Claudia’s made up for mine, and then some. She came over after classes, plunked herself on the couch with her laptop and textbooks, and studied. When she was in student mode, she was serious. Friday, though, was the start of a few days reprieve from the weekday grind as neither of us had class that night. She had plans for us and had asked me to get home a little early.
I was born in the fall, an October baby. Julia used to retell the story each year of how she’d sweltered through the heat, her belly swollen with me, through an unbearably hot Indian summer twenty-four years ago. How happy she’d been when the cooling weather of October finally came, and I entered the world. She’d said anyone born at that time of year was destined to bring harmony and peace. She said she’d known it the moment I was born.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Still, the weather had cooled, and it was my birthday again. Twenty-four put me halfway between leaving high school and hitting the big three-oh, the land of adulthood where fuck-ups were less tolerated.
From the outside, things looked good. I had a house and a good job and was in a solid relationship with a girl I loved. In a few months, we’d celebrate the holidays—our f
irst together. However, I had this phantom feeling there was supposed to be more; that something was missing. I just didn’t know what it was.
I took the keys from the ignition and sat for a moment looking at my house. The new porch I’d finished last month was like a clean shirt on a dirty child. The house cried out for attention, but over the years, like a quiet child used to being ignored, it rarely got any. My family had been too busy hiding behind its closed doors to pay it much mind. My father with his drinking and heavy-handed rule, my brother with his violent outbursts, and my mother ambling through her grief and sickness had used the house as a refuge from the rest of the world.
I’d spent years inside the worn walls feeling alone, but I hadn’t really understood what it was to be truly alone until Julia died. It’d been two years since her death. Gone were the demoralizing smack downs and a widow who had all but given up her will to live.
Nothing left behind but empty solitude.
Except now, there was another car parked out front, and like the other houses on the block on those quickly darkening fall evenings, my house was warmly illuminated. Claudia was inside, waiting for me. For the first time, I wanted to go home—couldn’t wait to get there.
My cell vibrated and lit up, drawing me from my thoughts. The crescendo of “Your Song,” a cover version of an old Elton John song sung by an obscure English artist, Lee Mead, filled the Jeep. Claudia uploaded it to my phone and designated it as her personalized ring tone. She had fallen in love with the lyrics, said they made her think of us. I’d told her that when the guys at work heard it I’d be stripped of my Man Card, but I hadn’t changed it.
“Hey, where are you?” Claudia’s question met my ear. “I want to take you somewhere special, but if we don’t leave soon, they’ll be closed.”
“I’m in the driveway. Come on out.”
Somewhere special turned out to be the Bideawee Animal Adoption center. I told the volunteer I wanted to see the puppies, but Claudia tugged my hand in another direction.
“Let’s consider a young adult dog first. Just think how good would it feel to know we’d be saving a dog’s life?” She turned guileless eyes on me. Her intention was, as usual, altruistic, and my resistance unraveled. How could I deny her any good deed?
It was loud. A handful of dogs barked nonstop, and the sound echoed off the walls of the utilitarian cement corridor.
“A few years ago, I sort of had a dog by default. My girlfriend in Cape Coral had one.” I stopped, pretending to check out a few sad, dejected-looking mutts, and waited for the questions.
“Oh, yeah? What kind of dog?”
No interrogation. Could it be that easy? I swooped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “A yappy little terrier. Did nothing but bark. Yappy little dogs are automatically ruled out, so don’t you go falling in love with one.”
She nudged her head into mine and laughed. “Okay, no yappy little dogs.”
We scanned several cells, but none of the adoptees appealed to us until, ahead of me, Claudia dropped down onto her knees.
“Aww, look, babe. This one is quiet and super adorable.” Claudia waved me over, cooing to the dog, who in a happy frenzy over the attention slathered her hand with dog drool. “You’re so sweet, and a good boy, too. Yes, you are.”
It was a good looking dog, a solid body with smooth brindle coat and a broad white stripe down its neck. It’s square head was flanked with ears that didn’t seem to know if they wanted to stand up or flop over.
As I approached, his big, dark brown eyes zeroed in on my face, silently pleading to be loved. That one look hit me where it counted most.
I bent down and offered my fingers. The pooch licked them. “Poor guy, locked up in here. You need a place to run around, don’t you?”
Claudia rose to look at the information card posted on the front of the pen.
“Poor girl,” she said. “Her name is Bernie. That’s an awful name for a girl dog.”
“No, it couldn’t be more perfect. It’s a sign—she shares the same name as one of the Yankee all-time greats, Bernie Williams.”
“A Staffordshire terrier mix, just over a year old,” she continued.
“A Pit Bull mix.”
It didn’t surprise me, but Claudia immediately retracted her hands.
“The breed gets a bad rap, Claude. Years ago, these dogs were used to protect kids. They called them nanny dogs.” I stroked Bernie’s silky muzzle. “You’re too sweet a girl to be locked up in here. Don’t worry. We’re going to make a jail break. I’ll knock out a guard and steal the keys. Then we’ll make a run for it.”
Turns out, a jailbreak was unnecessary. The volunteer set us up in a room with Bernie. She was energetic and playful, and I knew right away I wanted her. We signed adoption papers and gave a donation before loading her into the Jeep and taking our new friend home. We stopped en route at the local pet warehouse, and I walked her through the store like a proud poppa. We picked out all the essentials: bowls, food, collar, leash, and a training crate. There were so many different dog toys and chews available that I had a hard time narrowing it down to only a few. I bought a dozen. Claudia said I was already spoiling her.
At home, we set up the crate next to the couch and lined the bottom with an old blanket and watched as Bernie sniffed around the house, getting familiar with her new turf.
I pulled Claudia to me. “Thank you. I've always wanted a dog. This is the best birthday gift ever.”
“But there’s more,” she said and handed me an envelope. “Tickets to the Yankee game tomorrow.”
“Now who’s getting spoiled?” I lifted her off the floor and spun her around.
Bernie butted her head against Claudia’s leg. “Everyone deserves to be spoiled on their birthday, right, Bernadette?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I wielded a finger at her. “As birthday honoree, I decree her name remains Bernie.”
Claudia stood toe-to-toe with me, a big-ass grin on her face. “But I like Bernadette. It’s prettier.”
I bumped my chest against her. “You prepared to fight for it?”
“Bring it,” she taunted.
I wrestled her to the floor, the two of us laughing as I easily pinned her underneath me. With growing excitement, Bernie raced back and forth across the small living room, pausing every so often to let out a deep bark.
In a German accent, I said, “Das is my see-kret veapon: Bernie,” and restraining Claudia’s arms, I leaned back and let Bernie smother her with wet, dog kisses.
Claudia’s laughter rang through the house, and something settled comfortably in my chest. Releasing her arms, I drew her up to me and kissed her.
“Love you,” I whispered, amazed how easily the sentiment fell from my lips, but more so, how grounded those words made me feel.
It would be easy to get used to a life like this.
* * * *
Early Saturday afternoon, we took the Long Island Railroad into Penn Station and took the subway into the Bronx. We sat among the unruly and loud devoted New York fans and cheered on the Bombers. Claudia asked questions about why certain players did things, and I explained the rules on a squeeze play and an infield fly and that a ‘can of corn’ was considered an easy catch.
“You know so much about baseball,” she said, sounding impressed.
“When I was a kid, I lived and breathed baseball.” I looked out at the field, remembering the reverence I once held for the game. “There’s something about the smell of the dirt out there, the quick, biting sting of a ball snapping against the oiled leather of your glove, or the sensation of hitting one deep into the outfield.”
“How come you stopped playing?”
“My brother,” I said, and knowing it’d raise more questions, I explained. “Al didn’t go for anything that drew attention to me. Our father, Big Al, liked baseball. It was one thing we connected with. I figured out pretty quickly that if I didn’t want to have a run-in with my brother I had to stay out of the spotlight.
”
“Even back then, you were built like a baseball player, all tall and lanky. I’ll bet you were good,” Claudia said.
I was good. Really good—a natural the coaches said.
“I don’t know. I guess I was pretty good. Might’ve even landed a scholarship or something if I’d have kept playing.” I smiled at her, tempted to boast and brag, but instead, I leaned back in my seat and watched the Yankees lope out onto the field, stealing those few seconds to shake the feeling off.
“Liz at work mentioned her husband plays on a local men’s team. I can ask her about it.”
She was trying to plant a seed of possibility where there was none.
“Nah.” I shook my head, squashing it. “I haven’t played in years, and besides, I don’t have time.”
Her hand found mine, her fingers lacing through my own. “You make time for the things you love.”
“That’s right.” I dropped a kiss onto her knuckles, tuning out the phantom hope that tried to sprout inside me. “That’s why I give all my time to you.”
She gave me a sideways glance, and I knew she was on the verge of imparting some meaningful Claudia-isms.
“Don’t, Claude. It’s my birthday,” I said, squeezing her fingers to soften the edge. “I’m happy with my life just the way it is.”
She bit her bottom lip but settled back in her seat, gifting me a pardon.
The Yanks won, and we left the stadium and made our way to Penn Station. Claudia was distracted with incoming texts, and once we boarded the train back to Sayville, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. When we got home, Claudia was adamant that we take Bernie to the beach, so I loaded her into the back of the Jeep and headed down to the water. On the beach, a crowd surrounded a small fire. It looked like someone was having a party.
As we neared the group, they rushed us and yelled “Surprise!”
I thought it was all a mistake until I saw April and Dario. The someone having a party was me. I laughed and found Claudia’s hand.
“You little minx. Thank you,” I whispered, feeling mildly shaken. I’d been to lots of parties, a few on the beach, but never one in my honor. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually celebrated my birthday.
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 10
