by V. L. Locey
His eyes flared at the news.
“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. She’s in her room stewing, but I wager she’ll be talking to me again around midnight, maybe sooner if I mind my Ps and Qs.”
“How did she find out?” he asked, then leaned back to look in the direction of Lila’s bedroom.
I slid my fingers into the band of my kilt, then pilfered another pizza roll.
“It just slipped out during conversation,” I said, and took a bite of the steaming hot snack.
“You fucking suck,” Langley snapped, and whipped the plate of pizza rolls at the wall.
With that out in the open, he made a dash for his room and slammed the door.
There I sat with my hand in my kilt, alone, with the burn of my woman’s fury on my nuts and the rancid taste of overcooked pizza rolls coating on my tongue. Now wasn’t I glad I’d made the drive for some quality family time?
Thinking someone should clean things up, I went to go haul Langley back out and have him do just that. My foot came down on a slippery folder, nearly sending me to my ass. Muttering expletives under my breath, I bent down and began collecting the kid’s schoolbooks, pencils, and a sketchpad. Knowing I shouldn’t, I peeked into the sketchbook and was blown away.
Inside were comic book pages, fully drawn and fucking amazing. The detail was incredible. I didn’t know who the characters were – probably original characters – but they exploded from the pages. I flipped page after page, losing myself in the storyline about a young hero who just happened to bear a striking resemblance to a certain lettuce-head I knew. The young hero had been forced to leave his hometown and move in with his mother who, it seemed, appeared to be some kind of alien living on earth in secret. Lila would not be pleased to see she had been cast in that light, but damn her comic self was incredibly hot, even if she did have some slippery snakeskin hidden under her human disguise.
The hero, a kid named Cliff or Cleft – the tiny words were hard to read – had inherited his powers from his alien mother. It looked like Cliff or Cleft had snakelike venom that he could spit into the faces of villains to incapacitate them, which was fucking cool. The downside of Cliff or Cleft’s unique genes was that he shed his skin quite often, which the young ladies and gents at his school would find really gross, so he had to chill by himself during the shed, as well as hide who he really was. Enter the costume that made him look like that pissed-off little dinosaur in Jurassic Park that had spewed venom in Newman’s face.
The story held my attention right to the last block. The lettering was difficult to read and the pages were pencil drawings and lacked color, but wow, this was one kick-ass comic that young adults would devour like frozen pizza treats. It touched on problems all teenagers faced such as fitting in, the gap between parents and offspring, and the pressure society puts on people to conform.
I closed the sketchbook and stared at the wall that now had tiny grease spots marring the off-white paint. Lila would have a cow when she saw that. Rapping my fingers on the adventures of Cliff or Cleft, I ruminated for a good long time on a nugget of an idea. I was amazed at how simple and clear the future now appeared. Then I shoved Langley’s stuff back into his bag and started picking up cold afterschool snacks, my mind already settled on a good course of action. I hoped that my lady love would think it was good as well.
That night, right around midnight, I rapped on Lila’s bedroom door. I had given her and Langley space. Sitting in the living room, stuffing homemade beefaroni into my pie hole, dully watching old movies sucked dick and then didn’t even have the courtesy to swallow. It was becoming obvious that I was not happy being alone with my own company any more.
When I got no reply, I cautiously opened the door just a crack. The smell of my woman swallowed me up. It took all the inner fortitude I possessed not to push into her room and grovel at her feet. I stuck my hand through the small opening, waving the sketchbook in the air like a white flag. Shoving my fat head in seemed stupid and dangerous. She might wing something at me that was not coffee filters. Imagine explaining to the press that a mascara wand thrown at me with malicious intent had blinded me.
“You may come in, Seamus,” Lila called.
I gathered up my courage and flung the door open, planting my feet. I was going for the hot Scotsman look that you see on all those romance novel covers. Lila glanced up from the book she was reading, which was probably not a romance about a hot Scot, sadly. She’d propped herself up on her bed, an angel amid a heavenly explosion of pillows, scarves, and simmering potpourri of my chosen aroma. A sky-blue gown barely covered her enticing body from my greedy eyes.
“Is there something you wish to say to me?”
“Yeah,” I said, then had to clear my throat to get a manlier timbre. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Her left eyebrow arched just a tiny bit. She closed her hardcover book – a cozy mystery if I knew her tastes, and I did – and laid her hands on the back of the book to study me as if I were a kilted bug pinned to a board.
“And I fucked up royally,” I continued. “I love you. I need you. I will die without you. Do you forgive me?”
“Silly man, you wouldn’t die without me. Yes, you are forgiven,” she replied, then allowed a smile to appear.
I hooted, threw the sketchbook into the air, and hustled over to the bed to throw myself on it. She bounced a good six inches off the mattress. Her book flew to the floor and she flew into my arms. I captured her cry of surprise with my mouth. She melted into me.
Thank you, Blessed Mother, for this woman’s forgiveness.
“Seamus.” Lila giggled when I began dropping kisses on her knees a few moments later. “Please, that tickles!”
“Let me kiss your feet. I really need to do that,” I said, then lifted her perfectly pedicured toes to my lips and bestowed each pink nail with a small smooch. She snorted and wiggled. I had several naughty ideas coming to life when she asked me about something that had nothing to do with licking my way up from her soft feet to her smooth balls.
“What?”
“I asked what that was you waved in the air,” she repeated, then tugged her foot from my hand.
My mind was a little murky, what with the lust and happiness flooding it. “Oh, that, yeah.” I had to leave her bed to fetch the sketchbook from the floor where I’d dropped it in my rush to get her close to me. “Have you seen Langley’s drawings?”
I sat down beside her and passed the sketchbook over.
“No, I have not.” She glanced at the pad, then to me. “I thought to go through his school bag, but then decided violating his privacy in such a manner was not the way I wished to parent him.”
“Oh.” I ran my hand over the top of my head. “Well, I just happened to find it lying by my foot and it kind of fell open when I picked it up.”
“You are a horrible liar, Seamus.” Lila chuckled, then returned her attention to her son’s sketches.
I sat silently beside her, one leg bent and the other dangling off the side of the bed, watching her lovely face. She was shocked, yes, but as she continued to read, you could see pride taking over her expression. When her eyes met mine, I saw a sheen of tears.
“My child is so very talented,” she whispered.
I nodded and reached for the small box of tissues beside the scarf-covered lamp. She took it with a trembling smile.
“Yeah, he really is. Lila, there’s a college in Cayuga, an art college, where he could study.” I had meant to work up to it, but the news just rolled out. “It’s called the Cayuga School of Modern Arts. I remember going out there once for a charity thing the team sponsored.”
“But Seamus, Langley is just a sophomore in high school,” she replied with confusion.
“Oh yeah, I know, but they have this apprenticeship program for passionate comic book artists who’re still in high school. They can gather college credits ahead of schedule by attending after-school classes at the art school.”
I didn’t menti
on the half hour of research I’d done on the school’s website during my lonely dinner. She would figure that out, I was sure.
“We’d have to live in Cayuga to do that, though, Seamus.” Her sharp mind was generally ten steps ahead of mine, but for once I actually had the advantage.
“I know.”
She nervously wet her lips.
“I’ll buy a house. We can convert the basement into your studio. You can still do your work, I can do mine, and Langley can do this apprenticeship stuff until he graduates and heads off to his chosen college.”
“It seems you’ve thought this out quite thoroughly,” she murmured distractedly, her hands now resting on the sketchbook.
“I’ve had nothing else to do but think about our future, eat your delicious beefaroni and watch seven hours of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby taking different roads to hilarity.” I shifted a wee bit to sit so I could look her right in the face. “Lila, I know you’re concerned about living in such a small town.”
“Yes, because generally the people who reside in such tiny hamlets are not welcoming to a woman of my uniqueness.”
Damn right she was unique, and wasn’t I the luckiest man on the planet to be able to call her mine?
“Lila, no matter where you live you’re going to have bigots. It’s just the way the world is – you know that probably better than anyone. But up there in Cayuga, you’ll have an entire hockey team to back you up if someone acts up. Also, may I remind you the Cayuga Heights Police Department has a tender spot in its heart for you as well?”
“That’s only because I send them huge checks to help with their LGBTQ Youth Outreach Program.”
I wasn’t going to let her brush her appeal aside. “No, it’s because you’re one hell of a woman who has an incredibly big heart. Everyone who meets you sees that. It’s one of about ten thousand reasons I love you like I do.”
“You flatterer,” she said with a small smile. “What about Langley? He might not wish to move yet again.” She lifted her hand to her mouth, probably to chew on her thumbnail.
I took that hand and held it. “I’m betting he won’t. He’s at that age. But I suspect that once he understands what he has to gain, he’ll come around, because he’s smart just like his mother.” I kissed the back of her soft hand. “Just tell me you’ll think about it, okay?”
“I’ll think of nothing else over the coming days,” she promised, then laid the sketchbook aside.
I wiggled into her arms, my head coming to rest on her breast, my arm around her waist and one thick leg sliding over her thighs. Her hand rested on my head and I fell asleep instantly. Guess that’s what happens when you’re cradled in the arms of an angel.
“I can’t believe you went through my shit!”
I put my mug of fresh coffee on the quilted placemat and leveled a steely look at Langley. This kid had the affronted teenager attitude down pat. Lila stood behind me, her back to the conversation, frying eggs.
“First off, I didn’t go through your shit. When you throw an open backpack on the floor like a hog, shit falls out of it. So sit down and stop glaring at me.”
“You suck. Why the fuck are you dating such a fucking caveman?” Langley threw the question at his mother.
I threw my bulk up from the chair to block his view of the woman. “Here’s the new rule. The next time you use an F-bomb in front of your mother, I will wrestle you to the floor and shove a bar of soap into your mouth. No, don’t try to look at her; she’s busy cooking food for you and your ungrateful gut.”
“Seamus, I don’t think that threatening the child with a mouth-washing is the best way to get him to stop using profanity,” my gal said behind me. I threw her a look. Her gaze locked with mine.
“I disagree. My mother raised a son who never curses in front of her with that threat. Hell, she actually acted on the threat a time or two.” I looked back at Langley and crossed my arms over my black Cougars T-shirt. “So shall we try to talk like the gentlemen we are, or do I toss you down and cram some Irish Spring into that rancid clap-trap of yours?”
“You’re a dick,” the kid snarled, then threw his skinny self into a chair.
I dropped back down as well. Lila was muttering to herself. I couldn’t catch what she was saying, which was probably for the best.
“And you suck dick too.”
“Please, stop trying to hurt me with taunts. I play hockey. I’ve heard, and said, things a million times more cutting then anything you can dream up. So, about this comic book…”
“What? You think it’s trash, right? Grandma did.” He put on his sulk face. “She said I needed to stop drawing cartoons and focus on a real profession.”
“Nope, actually your mom and I think it’s awesome.”
I raised my mug to my lips and took a sip of coffee. Smooth as the velvet covering on my woman’s blue room bed. How did she make such good coffee? Mine always tasted like it had been filtered through sweaty hockey socks. Langley’s mouth drifted open an inch. His eyes, what you could see of them, flew from me to his mother.
“Isn’t that right, Lila?” I said.
“Yes, it is,” she replied as she stepped around me to place a platter of perfectly fried over-easy eggs on the table. “I must confess that I find myself quite an attractive snake.”
“I always told you that you had a great asp,” I said, then began to chuckle at my pun.
“Man, that was awful,” Langley muttered, and his mother seconded his comment while taking her seat between us two males.
“Everyone’s a critic,” I sighed dramatically.
Lila patted my arm, then handed me a small green dish that held a pile of toast.
“Seamus’ horrid wit aside, he and I have been discussing a possible future scenario, and we’d like your input.” Lila glanced at me.
I nodded, then dove into my breakfast with gusto, my sight moving from mother to son as Lila laid out my suggestion. Langley looked confused, then stunned, angry and shocked, and then confused again. I forked my fourth egg from the platter and grabbed another slice of buttered rye toast to dunk in the yolk. After the whole idea was on the table, Lila stared at her son with a wary kind of expectancy. My gaze lingered on her neck. Her Adam’s apple bounced as she swallowed nervously. I found that to be a real turn-on.
“I don’t get why you’re willing to do this,” Langley said, his gaze zeroing in on me. “You’re not even my father or step-father. You’re just some guy that she’s fu— screwing around with.”
Knowing I had to speak now, I laid my toast beside my egg and met Langley’s gaze.
“I’m offering to do this because I love your mother, and I like you when you’re not being a chowder-head. It would be kind of nice to have a family to come home to after a night on the ice.”
He studied me for a long time. Lila sipped her coffee. I returned to my food, because I hate cold eggs.
“Are the schools up there cool?”
I looked up. “I don’t know. I guess they’re as cool as any other schools. They’re smaller, so you’ll probably get more teacher time,” I said, then went back to eating.
“Perhaps we should all think on this proposal of Seamus’ for a few days and then come back, say Sunday night, and discuss what our conclusion is,” Lila offered.
I nodded, although the thought of waiting to see what my woman wanted to do would make me crazy. Now that this idea had taken root, I really wanted it to grow.
“Yeah okay,” Langley replied before he fell into silent egg-eating.
Lila gave me a soft smile over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Good, so we’re to meet Sunday night,” I said.
Both the others at the table nodded and chewed or sipped.
“Can I just add that if you decide to do this, I can assure you both you’ll have season tickets to all the Cougar games?”
Langley’s eyes widened at that.
“Seamus, please do not bribe the boy,” Lila chided from behind her cup of Joe.
> “Just putting out the plusses and minuses, baby,” I told her, and stole the last buttery egg from the platter. “Oh, and Langley?”
Eyes just like Lila’s lifted from his food.
“Tonight after school, you’re painting over the grease marks on your mother’s wall.”
His mouth dropped open, and then he flew into sullen teenager mode. I was really starting to enjoy this whole guiding a youth down the proper path thing. I’d never tire of that slack expression. Did that make me a bad mentor? I’d have to ask Mama if she’d enjoyed times like that as well.
Was it possible to will a day to come faster? It didn’t seem so, because by the time Sunday arrived I was just about ready to throw being polite out the window and demand that the woman and child listen to the man and do as he wanted. Of course, I knew better. Lila would peel me like a grape if any such sexist thing ever left my mouth.
We’d gone to two museums, one all about trolleys, then stopped at a chain restaurant for dinner. I suspected Lila was dragging this out. When she suggested a movie after our meal, I put my foot down.
“Look, I’m all for seeing the sites of Scranton, and hell, I like a good flick as much as the next guy, but I am not waiting until after the film to find out what you two have decided about coming up to Cayuga.”
I sat back after delivering my decree and folded my arms over my chest. Lila glanced around the restaurant, then focused her brown eyes directly on me.
“It was just a suggestion, Seamus.”
“I guess I don’t care,” Langley said. “I mean, the after-school classes at that college would be cool. And it’s not like I care about the asscracks who go to the schools here.” I seriously had the urge to hug him. He and I had spent a good amount of time together during my suspension. We’d watched pro hockey almost every night for hours. During those games, we hadn’t talked much – not about important things – but I sensed a real connection beginning to establish itself. The kid was smart, quick to learn, and he enjoyed hockey. Yep, I could see him and me being friends. I tilted my head slightly and gave my gal a good “Ball’s in your court, baby” look.
