Joe rolled his eyes. “Good lord. She’s just a year or two older than Brandon. That makes her young enough to be my child.”
Lisa bent over to remove the turquoise rubber spacers between her toes. “Hey, pal, I gotta go. I promised Maureen I’d watch the bar while she cooks for the dinner crowd.” She stepped down from the pedicure throne and hugged her friend. “Thanks for this. I’ll see you at the party.”
“Wait. Your present,” Jen squealed. She waddled away and returned a second later with a small gold box. “It’s a toe ring for the sexy graduate.”
When Lisa hugged her friend, Jen looked over Lisa’s shoulder and said, “See you around, Joe. I’m keeping my eye on you.”
“I’ll behave.”
“I doubt that. You’re a Kelly, aren’t you?” Her laughter followed him out the door.
You’re a Kelly, aren’t you? He was, indeed. And so was Brandon. Joe had ignored his brother’s problem; hell, in some cases, he’d even lied for Pat. But that wasn’t going to happen this time.
LISA LIFTED HER CUP OF COFFEE to her mouth, but didn’t drink—a trick she used to give people the impression she was drinking, when all she wanted to do was observe.
A small, post-dinner crowd. Mostly locals. One couple in motorcycle regalia. She’d never seen them before, but someone had whispered they were new to the area. The couple had ordered two bowls of Maureen’s broccoli-corn chowder and one of Lisa’s better bottles of wine.
Lisa was looking forward to experimenting with a few recipes of her own, once Maureen turned over the keys to the kitchen. An aspect of the sale Maureen didn’t seem too enthused about.
When Gunny had dropped by earlier, Maureen had more or less shooed him out of the bar so she could focus on her cooking. Was Joe right? Had his mother rushed into making changes, both business-and relationship-wise, that she was going to regret?
Lisa hoped not.
“That’s a very serious look you have on your face.”
Lisa lowered her cup and looked to her right. Joe had slipped behind the bar without her noticing. “Am I doing the right thing buying this place?”
“Ahh, second thoughts. There’s a lot of that going around these days.”
She checked on her patrons—three couples at separate tables and two regulars at the far end of the bar. None appeared in need of service, so she turned to face him. “I’m worried about Brandon. What if you’re right about this place contributing to Patrick’s death? History has been known to repeat itself.” The thought made her shiver.
“That isn’t going to happen. For one thing, you’re not in denial. My dad never confronted Patrick about his problems.”
They happened to be standing in front of the “Rogue’s Gallery,” a grouping of framed photos that had hung in the same spot above the cash register for as long as Lisa could remember. She looked at one of her favorite shots—Joe Sr. and his sons, who were probably about six. “Your father did the best he could, Joe. He might have made mistakes with you and your brother, but he was great to Brandon. They were really close.”
Joe removed the photo from its place on the wall and carried it to the bar, where the light was better. “I remember when this photo was taken. Dad woke us up early and took us to the river to do a little fishing before school. Pat and I were shocked, but really excited. Patrick and Dad fished and I explored. I saw a snake eating a toad.”
Lisa shuddered.
“I know,” he said with a smile. “It sounds gross, but to me, it was like participating in a National Geographic shoot.”
Lisa touched her finger to Joe Sr.’s image. “He and Brandon went fishing a lot. Maybe I should have taken Brandon to grief counseling after your father passed away. But he’d seemed okay, and then I was so busy helping Maureen with her treatments. Maybe Brandon felt shortchanged.”
“You really helped out, Lisa, which is more than I can say.”
Lisa could tell this bothered him. “I figured you wouldn’t be much help anyway,” she said, using one of his tricks, humor, to lighten the mood. He smiled, but only for a moment.
She put her hand on his forearm. “Listen, some of the procedures—and what your mother endured afterward—stripped Maureen of any dignity. Bad enough to share that with another woman, but your son?” She shook her head. “I do think the experience brought us closer.”
Joe picked up the photograph. “How much of Brandon’s problems stem from not having a father?”
Guilt twisted inside Lisa’s belly. It’s not my fault Brandon didn’t have a father, she told herself, but the excuse no longer kept her doubts at bay.
Her gaze followed Joe as he hung the picture back in place. “You can ask him when he gets here for the business meeting,” she said, in answer to his question. Maureen had been too busy to discuss the transaction earlier and had asked that they all meet after the dinner hour. “I don’t think he suffered too badly. Besides, this is all he’s known.
“Unlike me, who had a father for a few years then lost him when he decided he wanted a different daughter.”
She regretted the slip, which she knew Joe caught because he spun around to look at her. From the corner of her eye, she spotted one of the customers at the end of the bar wave his empty stein.
“Duty calls,” she said and walked away. Saved by the king of beers.
“WELL, IF WE’RE ALL AGREED, then I guess we can lock up and go home,” Joe said, scanning the faces gathered around the table. They’d closed Joe’s Place early to formally talk about Lisa’s offer and Joe’s counter-offer.
Generally speaking, Joe was pleased with the way their business meeting had turned out. Short. Simple. And everyone—his mother, Lisa, Brandon and Martin—seemed to agree that what he was asking was neither punitive nor intrusive. Joe would have access to the bar and its patrons for as long as it took him to shoot the story his mind was beginning to see. In return, he would pay for Lisa’s remodeling costs—within reason.
“Can I go?” Brandon asked.
Joe swallowed. This was the moment he’d been dreading. Since Brandon had made himself scarce all day, Joe had no choice but to bring this up in front of the others. But he was prepared to fail. Nothing Joe ever said had made a difference to Patrick.
“Actually, Brandon, as long as we’re all together, this might be a good time to talk about what’s going on with you…in school.”
The boy’s chin jerked backward as if slapped. “Whaddaya mean? Everything’s fine in school.” He turned toward his mother, his eyes narrowed suspiciously—a look Joe had seen many times on his brother’s face. “Is that why you were sneaking around school today? Did that stupid cow call you?”
Lisa clasped her hands in front of her on the table. “Mrs. Day called because she’s concerned about your attitude lately. You don’t participate in class. You—”
He cut her off. “English lit is boring. She’s boring. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. She puts us all to sleep.”
“You’re failing her class, honey. And you’re barely making Cs in two other subjects. That isn’t like you. You’re too smart to flunk out.”
“School sucks. I hate it. It’s all a big popularity contest. If you don’t hang with the right people and do the right things, you’re some kind of loser freak.”
Maureen leaned across the table to touch her grandson’s hand, but he moved out of reach. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? You’re a star athlete, just like your daddy—”
He didn’t let her finish. “No, Grandma, I’m not. I don’t even like football. I only played because Grandpa was gung ho about it. He got a kick out of coming to my games and talking about them afterward down here at the bar. But he’s gone, so why bother?”
Joe’s mother appeared shocked.
“Football ended months ago,” Joe said. “We’re talking about grades. You have to do more than show up to get a diploma. You have to study and participate. Just ask your mother.”
Brandon gave him a dirty look. “I study,” he s
aid sulkily.
“When?” Lisa asked. “I offered to help you go over your notes for that big algebra test, but you said you had to finish writing a paper for English. Mrs. Day said you never turned in that assignment.”
Brandon pushed back his chair and rose, hands flat on the table. “Now you’re the study-hall narc? I did it, but my printer doesn’t work. I told you that, remember?” he said snidely. “You were too busy with your own finals to give a shit about my stuff.”
“Take it down a notch, guy,” Joe said. “We’re talking here, not shouting.”
“And none of this addresses the issue of your sleeping in class,” Lisa said. “Brandon, your teacher thinks this could be due to drug use or alcohol. Is she right?”
The boy exploded in a torrent of curse words aimed at his mother. Joe reacted without stopping to think. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the front of Brandon’s shirt in his fist. His chair made a loud clattering noise as it crashed backward. “That’s enough. Your mother asked you a question. Are you using?”
Brandon appeared shocked by Joe’s voice, but he met Joe’s gaze. Fire. Anger. And guilt.
“No.”
A lie. Joe had seen the same look in Patrick’s eyes a hundred times. “Are you high?” Joe had asked his brother. “You promised you wouldn’t touch that stuff again.”
“I’m cool,” Patrick had claimed. “I haven’t smoked dope in months.”
But he had, of course. Joe had always known.
Joe felt just as impotent at this moment as he had in the past, and the frustration made him tighten his grip.
“Let go of me,” Brandon said. “You’re not my father.”
Lisa made a strangled sound that distracted Joe long enough for Brandon to wrench free. Joe looked at her. She was as white as the papers they’d just signed.
“Brandon,” she said, holding a hand toward her son.
The boy backed away from the table. “What is this? Some kind of freaking intervention? Well, forget it. I’m not a drunk,” he said, giving his mother a black look. “And I don’t do drugs,” he added for Joe’s benefit. “So get off my back.”
Joe wanted to believe him, but he’d listened to the same kind of self-righteous indignation time and again from Patrick.
“Great,” he said. “Then, you won’t mind an occasional urine test. Just until you bring your grades up.”
Brandon’s jaw dropped a good two inches. The expletive that followed his look of shock had been one of Patrick’s favorite comebacks—especially when he knew he was in the wrong. “Hey, I heard every excuse from my brother, Brandon. As far as I’m concerned, this is non-negotiable. You test clean, you get the keys to your car. If not, you walk.”
“Mom,” Brandon said, turning to Lisa. “Tell him he’s full of—”
She put out her hand. “Give me your keys. Every action in life has consequences. You might as well learn that, now.”
He looked astounded. And betrayed. He gave Joe a look that said I hate you, then tossed his keys on the table and stormed out of the room. The back door slammed with conviction a moment later.
Lisa didn’t move, but she looked shattered. Joe walked to where she was sitting and put his hand on her shoulder. “That took guts. I’m proud of you.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his hand. “Thanks. I figured if you could be brave, so could I.”
“For what it’s worth,” Martin said, from across the table, “I believe him about the drugs. I’ve known a lot of users, and you can see it in their eyes.”
“I hope you’re right,” Joe said, squeezing Lisa’s shoulder supportively. “But, drugs or alcohol, we all know how fast a problem can get out hand. I don’t know if there’s anything I could have done to help my brother. All I know for sure is that I didn’t try. And I’m not going to let that happen with my nephew.”
BRANDON SAT IN HIS CAR. He knew there was a spare key on a wire under the wheel well. His grandfather had put it there and showed it to Brandon. “Better safe than sorry,” Gramps had explained.
He could have started the car and driven off, but he didn’t. For one thing, he was too mad. He needed a minute to think about what he was going to do.
“Damn teacher,” he muttered, sinking low in the seat. His knees bumped the steering wheel and he slammed it with the heel of his hand. He hated this ugly car, but he didn’t make enough money to buy a new one.
It was tempting to say “Screw it” and drop out of school so he could work full-time and buy the things he wanted. But he knew his mother would have a hissy fit. She’d probably kick him out. And Grandma C was so wrapped up in her new boyfriend she probably wouldn’t even notice Brandon was gone. Normally, Brandon could have counted on his other grandmother to come through for him, but Grams was getting married and leaving.
A gnawing emptiness deep in his gut made him flop sideways and reach for the glove compartment. He opened it and dug under the registration papers and insurance information until he found what he was looking for—a small, flat bottle.
Straightening up, he unscrewed the top. It had once held a kind of fruity booze some girl had brought to a party. Brandon had picked it up thinking the bottle might come in handy. He’d filled it with vodka from a bottle Grandma C’s new boyfriend had left on the counter one night. Brandon had replaced the missing liquor with water so no one would notice.
He closed his eyes and took a gulp, ignoring the gag reflex that nearly made him spew. His stomach settled down after a minute and he took a second drink. Brandon didn’t care what anybody said—not the counselors at school, the people at Alateen, or even his mother—booze didn’t make you feel good; it just made it so you didn’t feel so bad.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOE LOOKED through the viewfinder of his digital camera and worked the toggle switch to zoom in on the line of graduates waiting to approach the dais to receive their diplomas. Lisa had insisted he leave his bulky video recorder at home. “Film me and the deal’s off. Got it?” she’d threatened, with a look that said she meant it.
Considering the turbulent week they’d all had—thanks to Brandon—Joe had conceded the point.
He scanned the crowd but couldn’t find her.
Stately and decorous, the protocol seemed befitting the goal that she’d worked so long and hard to accomplish.
“She looks rapturous, doesn’t she?” a voice to his right said.
Joe looked at Lisa’s mother. Constance was sitting beside a tall, thin man in a black suit. Joe thought the gold shirt and matching silk tie was a bit much, but Constance seemed thrilled by his presence. She’d gushed through introductions when Maureen, Gunny and Joe found the Malden party by the gate.
“I can’t pick her out. Where is she?”
Constance put one hand on his arm to direct him. “Front row of the second group.”
Joe squinted for another couple of seconds then nodded. “Oh.”
Even from a distance, Joe could see Lisa’s smile. She appeared to be talking to someone behind her—a young man a few years older than Brandon. Whatever he’d said must have been amusing because she was laughing.
Joe felt an instant reaction in his belly. It took a moment to realize that he was jealous. Making Lisa laugh was the one thing he’d been good at—except for that time after Patrick’s funeral when she’d come to him upset and angry at his brother for dying. If Joe had given her a chance, would she have told him that she was pregnant?
Joe had hated her for a few years. Or wanted to. While she’d been warmly embraced by his family, Joe had felt like a pariah—booted from the Kelly family unit because of the argument he’d had with his father. Like a spoiled older child resentful of his younger siblings, Joe had blamed Lisa and Brandon for usurping his birthright.
He zoomed in and snapped the shot when she looked his way. He viewed the image on the little screen. The mortarboard hid her beautiful hair and the shiny material of the gown did nothing for her coloring, but she looked radiant. And Joe
realized that he’d never stopped loving her.
Two hours later, Joe wandered around Joe’s Place with a paper plate filled with hors d’oeuvres in one hand and a plastic glass of white wine on ice in the other. Twenty-five people mingled in small clusters; the largest group was gathered around the graduate herself.
Lisa glowed in her slim-fitting dress of fuchsia silk. The neckline was low enough to make Joe’s throat close up. Her open-toed stiletto heels added four inches to her height and made her legs look model perfect. On one toe, a tiny silver ring sparkled.
She was more animated than he’d ever seen her. Did the validation of a diploma do that to a person, he wondered?
“Nice party, huh?”
Joe turned to greet Martin, who had been behind the bar since Joe arrived. “Hello. Taking a break?”
“Constance’s gentleman friend offered to cover for me. Apparently he had experience bartending in college.” Martin shrugged. “Since this is a private party, it can’t hurt.”
“Frees you up to dance with my mom.”
Martin gave Joe a loaded look. “The way you’re dancing with Lisa?”
“Touché.”
Martin shook his head. “I’m an old man, what’s your excuse?”
He walked away before Joe could come up with a reply. Besides, what was his excuse? History? The fact that she was almost, but not quite, his sister-in-law? That they’d grown apart over the years and had nothing in common?
He liked that one best, but every time he looked at her his hormones reverted back to adolescence and screamed, “Who cares, man? She’s hot.”
Joe scanned the room. The crowd around Lisa had dispersed for the moment and she was staring thoughtfully at the couple behind the bar—her mother and her mother’s boyfriend.
He dropped his plate on a table and walked to her. “Congratulations. You look stunning, by the way.”
She put a hand to her cheek. “It’s the dress. A bit young for me, but Jen insisted. She said it matches the nail polish you picked out.” To prove it, Lisa lifted one foot and wiggled her toes. This put her off balance and she teetered.
His Real Father (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 10
