A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  The impact of the cooking utensil put a sticky, warm fudge imprint on the seat of his pants. There were globby drips of brown on his sandals and spatters across the front of his shirt too. He dodged left before she could deliver another blow. ‘I’ll say whatever I damn well please until you learn to be civil to the women your sons love!’

  Brooklyn-raised hackles up, she came after him again, lifting the spoon higher as she yelled, ‘You’re not too old for me to give you a lickin’ when you deserve one, and buddy you’re gonna have splinters in your ass when I’m through!’

  ‘Mom, put that thing down or I’ll turn you over my knee!’

  ‘Ho! Are you threatening me?’

  ‘You want to find out?’

  ‘Boys, your brutha is threatening me!’

  Marcus stood up.

  Christian glanced at Marcus, pushed his chair back and stood up too. ‘Just hold on a minute, Dom.’

  ‘Grow a pair will you, Christian? Quit being such a pussy, Marcus, and think about your wife!’ Dominic looked at his two long-suffering sisters in law. Lily was busy inspecting her dessert spoon. Heather folded and refolded a napkin into ever smaller squares.

  How many years had it been like this?

  Glory days, she’s always been harsh. She’s played favourites while we’ve vied for attention or disconnected, but was she this bad when Dad was here? And where the hell is Terry?

  This damn dinner was supposed to be for the birthday boy. The cake his mother baked and iced sat on the table. It said: ‘Happy Birthday to My Most Precious Baby’. She’d made all Terry’s favourites too – black bean and corn salad, chipotle brushed steaks, garlic-butter-stuffed baked potatoes, the fudge sauce – and the dick hadn’t bothered to make it back from The Cities of Gold Casino in Pojoaque, where he’d gone to meet some old buddies.

  Secretly, Dominic was pleased he didn’t have to put up with the little sewer rat. He was always glad when Terry cut his visit short or showed up late because that meant less time they had to spend together, but he felt sorry for Susannah. He’d even felt sorry for his mother until she started in on how incorrectly the newest Brennan family member scooped ice-cream out of the container.

  Then he remembered.

  He remembered a distant Thanksgiving when a bespectacled Lesley had been vilified for daring to sprinkle cranberries over the candied yams. Callously, he’d sat back and watched her take it because that was how it had always been. He’d said nothing. Done nothing, hadn’t cared because he’d thought she was nothing, but that nearly faded memory took him right over the edge.

  ‘Lily, wouldn’t you and Heather like to enjoy Christmas or a birthday party for your kids just once, without her nit-picking, without her bitching how you’re doing it all wrong, without the snide little comments?’ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother was ready to pounce. ‘Mom, drop that or I swear to God…’

  Peggy glared at him. ‘Oh, Dominic, what would your father say?’

  ‘Probably, do it.’

  Peggy shook the spoon at her oldest. ‘She’s poisoned you. She’s poisoned you!’

  ‘And you don’t want to accept the truth. You don’t know this woman, but you insult her, you belittle her in front of everyone, blame her for everything, you make sure she knows you think she’s nothing, and for what? Why is it you do that? What sort of threat is she to you? What kind of threat are any of the women who married into this family?’

  ‘Aw, Dominic,’ Susannah wiped ice-cream from her hands and tossed her ebony curls, ‘I don’t care if she doesn’t like me or thinks I’m dumb as dry toast. She’s nuthin’ to me too. But you sure are sweet, like you’re some kind of knight.’

  Peggy tittered. ‘A knight? You dopey country bumpkin, he’s not standing up for you! He means that liar, the first little whore of Terry’s.’

  Jaw on edge, Dominic watched his mother laugh as fudge sauce dripped all over the terracotta floor. For the last few years, they’d all avoided confrontations with their mother because it was easier. That didn’t mean he’d been afraid to tackle some situations, it was just that altercations never made much difference. Nothing changed.

  They were alike, both pigheaded, but a lot of his mother was, and had always been, front. That stubborn, don’t fuck with me attitude was how she’d coped with having a very sick child. Consequently, she knew best, which meant she believed she was always right – even when she was blatantly wrong. Fixed in her ways wasn’t the right expression. She had a stranglehold on a picture of how things were supposed to be, especially her family, and she bit like a rabid dog if anyone tried to alter that view, including members of her own brood. Once his dad died, she’d built up an even more elaborate veneer of pit-bullishness.

  Fabian’s jokes about being a blue-ribbon winning chicken had been dead on accurate. Proverbial feathers would fly because the fact her eldest was seeing her most precious baby’s ex would be an issue of gargantuan proportions for Mary Pegeen Muldoon Brennan, and it was something Dominic hadn’t planned to address unless forced to.

  Well, he’d suddenly been forced to.

  And the level on his give-a-shit-o-meter rested at about negative ten.

  He’d had enough. She’d pushed too far and widow or not, Dominic didn’t care how his mother felt or what she thought.

  He smiled and took the fudge-coated spoon from her hand. ‘That’s right, Mom. I’m standing up for the woman I love.’

  Chapter 20

  The old green Bronco stuck out under the bright lamps at the Shell gas station, but Dominic would have noticed Lesley’s Ford even if he hadn’t stopped at the lights where Diamond Drive crossed Arkansas. He made a left and pulled into the bay on the other side of the set of pumps she was using.

  With the flick of one finger, the window went down then he shut off the engine. ‘Hey, would you mind washing my windshield?’ he said above the hum of gas filling the tank.

  Lesley looked over her shoulder. She was wearing her glasses. A big smile bloomed on her face. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again tonight.’

  Dominic put an elbow on the window’s ledge and set his chin in his palm. ‘I left early, after my mother recanted her statement to the police.’

  Lesley let go of the pump’s trigger. The humming stopped. ‘What? She did what?’ It was good she’d stopped pumping gas since she was so surprised the gun nearly slipped from her hand.

  ‘Recanted. I was there when she made the phone call. She said she might have blown the incident out of proportion. Guess who the officer on duty was? Tilbrook told me it was possible she could be charged now.’

  Thoughts of Navajo-stylin’ Peggy in orange-striped prison-wear made Lesley smile a little too broadly and she bit her top lip. Sighing, she chastised herself for enjoying evil ideas instead of moving on like a decent person. ‘For all our sakes,’ – especially mine – ‘we should forget about this. Put it behind us.’

  ‘You’re good at that, aren’t you?’ Dominic opened the door and hopped out of the Jeep. ‘I don’t know how you manage it, but I’m damn glad you do.’

  She shrugged, ‘Why carry it forward into t—’ Lesley broke off when she noticed dark streaks, like cast-off blood spatter across his chest. ‘Is that dried…’ she pointed, ‘Was there some kind of Texas Chainsaw Massacre carnage at the Brennan ranch?’

  ‘No. It’s chocolate. My mother spanked me with the wooden spoon she was using to make fudge sauce.’

  ‘She spanked you?

  ‘Yep.’ He turned around and showed her stains on his ass. ‘She was unimpressed by my attitude and language.’

  ‘Your mother’s nuts.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Dominic barked with laughter then his expression shifted from amusement to fiery lust, which suddenly seemed a little dangerous around all this gasoline. ‘Come here for a second.’

  Instinct told her to run before everything combusted but, staving off that ridiculously illogical flight response, she squeezed the trigger until the humming began again. ‘L
et me finish filling the tank.’

  In three steps, Dominic reached out, and set the clip on the pump handle beneath her thumb. ‘We can’t waste any time when we seem to have so little.’ He pulled her up onto her toes and kissed her, very, very slowly.

  Lesley couldn’t tell if it was unleaded fumes or the way Dominic’s tongue moved with such languid ease, but dizziness combined with the sense of danger and she knew it was too late to flee. There was no way to escape him, to escape this.

  She’d been damned the day he showed up with a box of chocolate and bag of rat traps.

  You know what this is?

  Shut up.

  Why? This is good, old-fashioned, feel-it-to-the-soles-of-your-feet, plain out-and-out L-O-V-E.

  No, it isn’t.

  Wanna bet?

  Resigned to the fact fate was going to put her through hell, Lesley dug her fingers into his neck and held on tightly, desperately. Her pounding heart expanded and pushed through her breasts until it joined with his to beat with one pulse. In a rush, she felt his body, his life absorb her completely. She wanted it, to share what he had. She wanted him, and wanted him for good because it was so right, so perfect.

  Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad. Walking away is really going to hurt.

  The pump handle clicked off and Dominic drew back slightly, setting her down, touching her cheek with his big thumb. ‘I stood up for you, Lesley.’

  She was having a hard time catching her breath. It still seemed to be mingled with his. ‘M-hm, I can tell,’ she said, swallowing. Oh, Lord, she wanted to crawl beneath his skin and stay there. Forever.

  Snap out of it, you idiot! It’s an affair, an affair! This is just an affair!

  ‘Yes, well, that way, too,’ he gave a little chuckle. His hands roamed down her back. ‘Follow me to my house.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I made plans. I’m on my way to my parent’s place to pick up my laundry. Then I’m going to John’s to watch a movie.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘Are you OK with me spending time with another man, Mr. Boyfriend?’

  He quirked a brow. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘You trust me?’

  ‘Yeah. You want my ATM card and my PIN?’

  ‘I don’t need your money.’

  ‘What do you need? More importantly, what do you want?’ Before she could answer, he kissed her again, like he had all night and they weren’t in the parking lot of a gas station. She felt as if warm honey had been poured all over her body just so he could soak her up with his mouth.

  When he finally let go, he walked backwards to his Cherokee. ‘There weren’t enough gratuitous shots of you naked today. No more PG-thirteen stuff. Tomorrow, it’s full frontal nudity.’ He gave her a smile that was X-rated and pulled out the station.

  With her mind full of images of skin on skin, Lesley watched him go. Mindless, she replaced the pump handle and cleaned her windshield. Then she climbed into her Bronco, and drove off. Halfway past the moonlit sand traps on the golf course, heading towards the only roundabout in Los Alamos, she realised she hadn’t paid for the gas.

  Wonderful.

  The security cameras positioned around the gas station would have recorded her driving off. There’d be video proof of the crime and something would appear on her soon-to-be-expunged police record. There’d be a photo of her up in the Shell station, beside the cash register, just next to the bounced checks and pictures of shoplifters.

  She made a u-turn and headed back to the gas station.

  Six minutes later, she made a right onto Navajo and rounded the bend at the edge of her parent’s house. She pulled to the curb side and saw a bright yellow Ford Ranger parked at the top of their driveway.

  Under the streetlight, Toby was busy sliding a ramp off the back end. The big jeans were back, but they were black this time and bunched around his ankles. Shiny, white leather sneakers poked out of the hem and nearly glowed in the moonlight. A white bucket hat sat low over his ears.

  Lesley prayed when he turned around he wouldn’t be wearing a giant gold dollar sign on a big fat rope chain.

  She got out of the Bronco and called out to him, ‘Yo, Toe-bee!’

  Toby jumped a good foot off the pavement and grabbed his hat with both hands. ‘Holy crap! You scared the hell out of me!’

  ‘Sorry.’ She glanced at the ramp behind his truck. ‘What are you doing?’

  With eyes like huge blue marbles, the white hat slid off his head, sandy brown stuck up in tufts. When he looked at her, white faced, he smoothed down his hair with a palm and swallowed, catching his breath. ‘I’m…your dad and…I…’ He swallowed again.

  ‘I really did scare you didn’t I?’

  Nodding, he fanned himself with the bucket cap. ‘Um…yeah. I, whew…oh, jeez…’ A little colour returned to his cheeks and he grinned suddenly. ‘So, you and the guy from Trujillo’s hardware, huh?’

  Now it was Lesley’s turn to have a pink face. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘You mom was grumbling about it.’

  ‘OK. He’s…my boyfriend,’ she said, discovering she was suddenly very fond the word.

  Toby’s laugh came with a slightly French inflection of haw haw haw. ‘I guess that means you and Boyd were a bust?’

  ‘Your friend was nice, but…’

  ‘I knew that would happen. You can’t force these things.’

  ‘So why’d you agree to set us up then?’

  ‘Sometimes parents make strange requests and do weird things to keep their children safe and happy,’ he chuckled. Then, the garage door began to rise at the bottom of the sloped driveway. Yellowish light spilled up the white pavement and Toby’s laugh turned into a hacking cough.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lesley asked.

  ‘I…sucked in a mosquito. There’s your dad. Hi, Uncle Pat!’

  Patrick looked out into the darkness for a blank moment. He raised his hand and yelled, ‘I’ll bring it out in a sec, Toby.’ Then he squeezed between his ruby-coloured car and a fishing boat that hadn’t seen water for at least three years.

  Lesley shook her head with a smile. ‘Once he starts goofing around in the garage he’ll be a while. You going to come in?’

  Her cousin cleared his throat. ‘Uh, sure. In a minute. Your dad asked me to help him move something.’

  ‘Does he need another set of hands?’

  ‘No, no. We’ll…we can handle it. You don’t want to get dir—’

  Metal scraping metal and a raucous crash jerked their attention towards the open garage. Patrick started hollering. ‘Oh this is just wonderful! Toby, get this damn thing off me!’

  Toby took off, moving faster than Lesley had ever seen before. She followed her cousin, surprised he could be so quick in pants so huge. When they got to the garage, she tried to squeeze past him in the narrow space between the big red Audi and the boat, but Toby filled the space completely, his elbows bent. ‘Uncle Pat?’ he said, moving forward.

  ‘I’m over here, Toby.’ A hand waved beside the right front wheel. ‘I scratched my damn car and…oh crap, Lesley.’

  ‘Dad, are you all right?’ Lesley peered under Toby’s armpit and her mouth sagged open.

  Her father may have been lying in front of a German car with his torso half-covered by a rose-printed blanket, but nothing hid the candy-apple red Harley Davidson pinning his legs to the cement floor of the garage.

  Lesley sat in GP’s creaky Lay-z-boy, head in her hands as she rocked. ‘Toby, how could you? What were you thinking?’

  The ice pack on her father’s swollen knee made a crunching noise as he shifted it. ‘Your cousin and I just wanted you to be safe.’

  ‘It’s a dangerous hobby, Lesley.’ Toby shrugged.

  Her head shot up. ‘And skateboarding isn’t, Toby? You stole my bike. You took it right out of a parking lot. At night.’

  ‘We left your groceries,’ her dad said.

  ‘You left my groceries.’ Lesley’s furious laugh was a high, tittering sound she was quick
to strangle. ‘What the hell is the matter with you people? Doesn’t it bother you in the least that I could be arrested again?’

  Her mother handed her husband an ice-cream sundae. ‘What do you mean? Why would you be arrested again?’

  ‘Gee, I don’t know? Maybe because I filed police report and an insurance claim for a stolen motorcycle that wasn’t exactly stolen? That’s fraud. Fraud!’

  Gina waved her hand. ‘You told me being arrested wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘I lied.’ Lesley stood up and began to gesture the way her grandfather sometimes did: fingertips together, hands shaking. ‘You listen to me, all of you! I’m not some idiot who had a midlife crisis and went out and got a big Hog to try to recapture my youth. I bought the bike when I was twenty-six. I am an experienced rider.’

  ‘You should be in a Volvo.’

  She swung around to glare at her dad. He had a smear of vanilla ice-cream on his chin. ‘This is part of some master plan you have to get me to live here. First you take away my motorcycle, then later, you have one of the Sicilian cousins come and torch my Bronco, just so I’ll be forced to say here? That’s what it is, isn’t it?’

  No one said anything. They simply ate ice-cream. Toby dug at the maraschino cherry on top and slurped chocolate syrup from his fingers. Her mother licked the back of her spoon.

  ‘You’re all insane.’

  Gina smiled smugly. ‘Are you sure you don’t you want a sundae, Tootise?’

  Lesley rubbed her palms over her face so hard she dislodged her contacts. Blinking them back into place she dug into the pocket of her shorts and jerked out a set of keys. She started for the front door. ‘Where’s my helmet? You took that too. Where is it?’

  ‘Where are you going?’ her dad asked.

  Turning, she smiled back at her family ever-so sweetly. ‘I’m taking my motorcycle an—’

  ‘The hell you are!’ Patrick Samuels rose to his feet.

  Lesley paid no attention. ‘I’m taking my motorcycle and rid—’

  The door crashed open and a suitcase slid across the floor, taking the little cotton rug at the threshold along on the ride. GP stepped inside and smiled. ‘Oh, good, you’re all here.’