The Hook Up (First Impressions)

by Tawna Fenske

  Henry was halfway through his burger already. Across the table, Ellie was urging him to eat a few carrot slices. Ty picked one up and bit into it, doing his best to set a positive example.

  “This is the best hamburger ever,” Henry said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before Ellie shoved a paper towel napkin at him. “Thank you, Mr. Ty.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Henry.”

  The boy laughed and polished off the last of his burger before starting in on his apple slices. “Maybe after dinner you’ll show me some of the pictures you took today?”

  Ty nodded and finished chewing his own mouthful of burger before answering. “Absolutely. We can even run them through the television so it’ll be just like watching yourself on a TV show.”

  Henry’s eyes went wide at that suggestion, and he gave an exuberant nod. “And maybe we can put music with it,” he said. “Like they do in the movies. Something like nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah—”

  “Batman!” shouted Ty, completing the song. He held up a hand, delighted when Henry smacked a ketchup-sticky high-five in the center of his palm.

  He’d just swallowed his last bite of burger when the doorbell rang. Ty frowned, glancing at his watch.

  The screen door to the house was open, and Ellie glanced that direction, holding the last of her burger in both hands. “Are you expecting company?”

  “No.” Ty swiped at his mouth with a paper towel and pushed back in his chair. “No one ever drops by unannounced. It’s probably someone selling something.”

  “At dinnertime on a Sunday?”

  He shrugged and stood up. “I guess it’s when they know people are home.” As he made his way across the deck, he waved at them to stay seated. “I’ll be right back,” he called. “Save some apple slices for me.”

  Henry giggled and pantomimed hiding the plate full of apples. Ellie gave him a mock-stern look and pretended to swat his hand.

  The casual playfulness of it all nearly took Ty’s breath away.

  As the doorbell rang again, Ty hustled through the sliding door and strode through the living room to the front door. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he wondered if this was a teaching opportunity. If Ellie and Henry were watching, maybe this was Ty’s chance to show how to be polite but firm with the salesperson, letting them know that while he had the utmost appreciation for small business owners, he wasn’t in the market for vacuums or gift wrap or whatever else they were selling.

  Ty grabbed the doorknob and twisted, yanking the door open to let in a gust of warm summer breeze. “Evening! Now’s actually not a good time for—oh.”

  The words froze in Ty’s throat. He stood staring at the man in the rumpled clothes and grizzled gray beard. A man with worn crinkles at the corners of his eyes and a scowl Ty would know anywhere.

  Doffing his dirty, black Johnny Cash cowboy hat, the man stared at him with dark-brown eyes that were achingly familiar.

  “Hello, son.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ty stared at his father on his doorstep, too stunned to form words.

  “John,” he managed at last, unwilling to call the man “Dad,” or “Father,” or anything like that. “What are you doing here?”

  The old man scowled and planted the cowboy hat back on his head. It was the same one Ty remembered from his youth, from those rare occasions his dad would make an appearance in his life.

  “Helluva goddamn greeting for your old man,” he muttered, pushing his way through the front door before Ty could object. He wore a dirty gray trench coat so tattered it was almost a cape. “I got your address from the county assessor,” his father continued, looking around the room like a thief casing the joint.

  Considering his last prison sentence was for burglary, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

  The old man swiveled his gaze back to Ty. “Free internet at the library. You wouldn’t believe the shit those county assessors put on the goddamn website. Addresses and how much people paid for their houses. It’s all online if you know where to look for it.” He cackled and tapped his forehead with one dirty fingernail. “You got your big brain from someplace, you know.”

  Ty said nothing. He was focused on figuring out how to get his father out of his home and out of his life before Ellie or Henry came in from the back porch.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?” Ty asked.

  “Early parole.” His father gave a smug nod. “Happens a lot for non-violent crimes.”

  “So I recall,” Ty said, folding his arms over his chest as a sharp shard of rage lodged itself between his ribs. “Not that all those early releases seemed to free up your time to visit your children or get a job or send child support to—”

  “Oh, come on!” The old man waved one gnarled hand like that was water under the bridge. Like years of neglect could be erased by a simple hand gesture. “You’re not still sore about that, are you?”

  Ty stared at his father. “Why are you here?”

  “I’ve turned over a new leaf.” The old man adjusted his hat. “And when I saw Anna’s engagement in the paper, I thought maybe I’d get in touch. You know, make amends, meet her new man, maybe walk her down the aisle.”

  Fresh fury washed through Ty’s body. His hands curled into fists, lodged against his crossed arms. “Stay away from Anna,” he growled.

  The old man snorted. “I can’t even find her. Wily little bitc—little bit of a thing.” He cleared his throat. “I been looking, though. Was hoping you’d help me get in touch.”

  Ty took a few deep breaths, struggling to gain his composure. To formulate a response that contained the least amount of profanity possible.

  He was still thinking about it when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Mr. Ty? I can’t find the bathroom, and I hafta go really bad.”

  …

  Ellie dashed into the room and caught Henry by the arm, ready to steer him back down the hall. She saw from the rigid set of Ty’s posture that the man standing in the living room was no salesman, and she sensed now wasn’t the time for inquiries or introductions.

  “Henry, remember what I said?” She stooped down to her son’s level, trying to shield him from the surly stranger’s stare. “Let’s look together down this hall right over—”

  “Well, hello.”

  Ellie cringed, not sure how the man had managed to make a benign two-word greeting sound lecherous. She turned to see the stranger leering at her. His voice sounded like Ty’s voice if it had been pushed through a rock crusher and spit out the other end, and something about his eyes was familiar.

  “Aren’t you a pretty little thing.” The man touched the brim of a dirty cowboy hat and continued to stare.

  Ellie straightened up, putting herself between the stranger and her son. The old man elbowed Ty in the ribs and gave an approving nod. “I’m Johnny,” he said. “Like Johnny Cash, ya know?” He grinned like someone proud of his own joke then stuck his hand out to Ellie. “Johnny Hendrix,” he said. “I’m Ty’s dad.”

  Realization pinged through her as she shook the old man’s hand and darted a glance at Ty. His expression was stony, and he stared at their linked hands like he wanted to sever them apart with a saw.

  Behind her, Henry stepped forward. “Your dad is Gentleman Ghost?” He looked from Ty to Johnny, an expression of wonder on his small face.

  Ty found his tongue at last. “Uh…Gentleman Ghost?” He shot a baffled look at Ellie, but it was Henry who answered.

  “Gentleman Ghost,” Henry repeated. “From Batman: the Brave and the Bold. He wears a big hat like that one, and a gray cape, and he’s in ‘Terror on Dinosaur Island,’ and that one episode where—”

  “Ha!” The old man hooted like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “You heard the kid,” he said, turning back to Ty. “I’m a real motherfuckin’ gentleman. The Gentleman Ghost. I like that.”

  The words seemed to jolt Ty from whatever trance he’d been in. With steel in his jaw, h
e stepped between Ellie and his father and put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Let me show you the bathroom,” he said, taking Henry’s hand and hustling him down the hall so fast that Ellie almost had to jog to keep up.

  Ty looked back over his shoulder and shot a glance at his father. It was a look that suggested he’d glue the old man’s eyebrows to his knees if he touched one single thing in that living room.

  Ellie moved behind him, wondering if there was any way to make this awkward reunion less uncomfortable. As they turned into the master bedroom, Ty led them to a small bathroom tucked into the far corner of the house. “You guys can use this one,” he said. “It’s—uh—farther away than the guest bath.”

  Ellie nodded and ushered Henry inside. “Thanks,” she said to Ty, patting Henry on the shoulder. “You go ahead, baby,” she said. “I’ll wait right here.”

  Ty nodded, relieved. As Henry closed the door behind him, Ellie took a few steps away from it. Ty did the same, and Ellie lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “Are you okay?”

  Looking far from okay, Ty raked his hands through his hair. “Yeah.” He glanced toward the living room. “I need to get back out there. I don’t trust him alone.”

  “I understand.” Ellie hesitated. Not sure if it was her place to ask questions. “I heard you say ‘Anna’ when I came in. Is there a problem with your sister?”

  Ty’s jaw clenched as he nodded. “Yeah. I need to make sure he doesn’t find her. I need to—” He glanced at the bathroom door, but Henry was still safely out of earshot. “I need to warn her that he’s out.”

  “Out?”

  “Of prison. Again.”

  She must have looked alarmed because Ty put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s not dangerous. Not like that, anyway. It’s mostly car theft and forgery. Things like that.”

  “Oh, that’s all.” Ellie nodded, understanding now why they probably wouldn’t be inviting Ty’s father to Christmas dinner. Her heart ached for Ty, and she wondered how to make this better. “Do you want to call her?”

  “Yeah. I should actually call his parole officer, too.”

  “Want me to keep an eye on your dad so you can do that privately?”

  He looked conflicted for a second. She wished she could reassure him that this would all be okay. That they’d deal with this together. That having a criminal for a father didn’t change how she saw him.

  “I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Ty muttered.

  “You said yourself he’s not dangerous,” she said. “And you’ll be fifteen feet away, well within earshot.”

  Uncertainty played across his face. He glanced back at the bathroom door. “If I stand here and make the call, I can head off Henry. I’ll be two minutes, three tops.”

  “Okay.” Ellie nodded and started toward the door. “I’ll babysit your father. If he starts to run out the door with any valuables, I’ll scream bloody murder and call 911.”

  Ty’s expression was so haunted that she wanted to turn back and comfort him.

  “I’m kidding, Ty. It’s okay. I’ve got this. Make your calls.” She turned and marched down the hall, straightening her spine to show she wasn’t one to be trifled with.

  “Thanks for waiting, Mr. Hendrix,” she said. The old man had seated himself on the sofa, and his gaze swept over Ellie’s body as she marched into the room. She suppressed the urge to cringe. “While Ty gets my son situated, can I grab you something to drink?”

  The old man frowned. “Getting your son situated,” he muttered, his tone mocking. “Lemme guess—that’s code for calling my fucking parole officer.”

  From the end of the hall, Ty’s voice rumbled. “Do not swear in this house!” he shouted. “Especially not in front of Ellie or Henry.”

  Knowing Ty could hear every word of the conversation gave Ellie a renewed sense of safety. She took a deep breath and hoped like hell Ty’s call went fast.

  “So your name’s Ellie,” he said. “You’re fu—you’re hooking up with my son?”

  Ellie bit her lip and decided not to dignify that with a response. Even so, part of her wanted to argue. Wanted to shout, “this is more than just a hookup!” because that was true now.

  The thought calmed her down. “I know there’s milk in the fridge,” she said. “Or I can grab you some water.”

  “Can’t I get a beer?”

  “I—uh—I don’t think there’s any beer.”

  She had no idea, but offering alcohol to a criminal seemed like a bad idea.

  She moved toward the refrigerator, keeping an eye on Johnny the whole time. As she opened the door, she heard the old man snort. “No beer,” he muttered. “Bullshit. My boy’s just like his old man—loves a good IPA. I taught him to open beer bottles myself when he was still in diapers.”

  Ellie nodded, pretty sure that sort of childhood memory was precisely why Ty was so upset by his father showing up. Had Ty managed to reach Anna? She located a can of Coke in the fridge and pulled it out.

  Pushing the door shut with her hip, she popped the top on the soda then headed back to the living room. “Here you go,” she said. “Let me know if I can grab you a glass.”

  “Hmph,” the old man grunted as he took a noisy slurp. “So, what do you do, Ellie?”

  She shot a nervous glance down the hall as she heard a toilet flush. Would Ty be able to stall Henry? “I’m in sales,” Ellie said carefully. “How about you?”

  The old man snorted again, a sound familiar enough that it took her a second to place it. Ty. He made that noise all the time when he scoffed at something.

  “I take it he hasn’t told you about me.” John folded his arms over his chest and stared her down. “I was kind of a shit when he was growing up. Apparently, he’s still sore about it.”

  Ellie gave a bland nod, not willing to betray anything Ty had told her about foster homes or the deadbeat dad who spent more time in prison than he did at Little League games. Coming face-to-face with that dad now made her grateful Henry’s father wasn’t this bad. Chuck might have little involvement in their son’s life, but he wasn’t a criminal. That was something.

  “I’m aware of Ty’s childhood,” Ellie said mildly. “So, what brings you by for a visit?”

  There was that snort again. “I’m not here for a fuckin’ tea party, doll.” He took a noisy slurp of soda then belched. “Just trying to track down my daughter. I saw she’s marrying a lawyer.”

  Ah. Realization dawned. So that’s what this was about. He thought Anna had money. Or access to free legal help or something. Rage bloomed in Ellie’s chest, and she fought the urge to tell him exactly where to shove his intentions.

  “Weddings are nice,” Ellie said, still trying to keep things light.

  John eyed her again, and Ellie kept her spine straight, not willing to let him see she was nervous.

  “You want a word of advice, sweet tits?”

  Fury fizzed in Ellie’s veins, but she ordered herself to stay calm. “Please don’t call me that,” she said evenly. “And no, I don’t particularly want advice.” She folded her arms over her chest and kept her breathing even. “I’m not inclined to take tips from anyone who uses the term ‘sweet tits’ to address a woman he’s just met.”

  John snorted and took another slug of Coke. “Run fast from this one,” he said. “Ty? He’s all kinds of fucked up.”

  This time it was Ellie’s turn to scoff. “If he were—which I certainly don’t believe—don’t you think his upbringing would have something to do with that?”

  Something flashed in the old man’s eyes. He stared at her through narrowed slits then stood up, slamming the soda can on the end table. She curled her hands into fists, ready to defend herself if it came to that. Being a single mom had spurred her to take at least a dozen self-defense classes over the years. If push came to shove, she could damn well stand her ground.

  “That’s enough!”

  The boom of Ty’s voice made them both turn. He was storming down the hall toward them,
anger making sharp creases in his forehead. “John. Your parole officer is on his way here right now. Looks like you’re not supposed to set foot outside Polk County.”

  John frowned and gave a snort of rage. “Fuck that shit.”

  Ellie spotted her son right behind Ty, and his eyes widened at the curse. She hustled over, putting her hands on Henry’s shoulders and her body between the angry stranger and her child.

  Ty stepped forward, ready to face down his father. “That’s it!” Ty snarled. “I told you not to curse in my house. You’ll wait on the porch until your parole officer gets here.”

  Ellie felt Henry’s shoulders stiffen beneath her palms. She watched as her little boy processed everything—the fact that Ty was angry, that John had said something inappropriate, that the moment called for a strong reaction.

  “Yeah,” Henry said, puffing out his chest and stepping up beside Ty. “Gentlemen don’t talk like that,” he said. “And you’re a squirrel fucker!”

  Ellie heard herself gasp, and she glanced at Ty in time to catch his reaction. Horror flashed quickly, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with something worse.

  Embarrassment.

  Guilt.

  Defeat.

  Johnny said nothing, seeming at a loss for words for the first time since he’d set foot in the house. Ellie kept her hands on Henry’s shoulders, knowing there’d be time for a scolding later. Right now, Ty looked like a man who’d been punched in the gut.

  When he turned to face her, his expression had gone blank.

  “Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll be right back. My father will not.”

  Ellie nodded as Ty hauled his father up off the couch and marched him to the door. Something in Ty’s posture, in the harsh set of his jaw, told her some line had just been crossed. That something had just split wide open inside him.

  She shivered and bent down to hug her son.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The police cruiser pulled away with Ty’s father in the backseat. As the car turned the corner, the old man caught his eye and flipped him the bird.