He thought of Jay. Of closing the casket. They’d only open the lid one more time that afternoon. Then he’d be lost in the darkness forever. He also thought of the white cardboard container—his shameful secret. And the name he’d written on its side prior to tucking it in.
No one will ever know, Dad. No one but you and I.
He knew he was primed to interpret things as being more caustic, but his brother-in-law could be a colossal dick sometimes. Demanding to know why Ginger was there? Being such a slob on the day of his father’s funeral?
“He’s here to usurp you. Steal your throne. Divorce Beau and marry me. Just to piss you off, Hamlet,” Jackie said to Luke. She laughed as his face grew red and he stood. “Luke, sit down. What do you want to talk about?”
“I can’t talk to you while he is here. I want to talk to you alone.” The boy remained standing.
“Why? Are you talking smack about your only brother? Keeping secrets from me?” Ginger smiled.
“I don’t keep secrets from people!” Luke tore the sunglasses from his face and banged them on the table, making the coffee mugs jump.
He fled without waiting for a response. His footsteps thudded up the stairs, and his bedroom door slammed. Jackie sighed.
“He had a lot to drink last night. And probably this morning.”
“It appears that way.” Ginger nodded.
“Don’t worry; I’m not letting him wear that shirt.”
“Good. We can’t have him acting and looking ridiculous.”
“Ginger.” Jackie touched his hand. “Cut him some slack. He’s just a boy. He’s not put together to handle things as well as you.”
It wasn’t like his mother-in-law to make excuses for anyone, especially her children. He decided not to question the sudden change though. It’d be a hard day for everyone, and she shouldn’t have to justify the defense of her son. Ginger just patted her hand in return.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Mom.”
But Jackie’s justification of Luke’s behavior nagged Ginger throughout the day. Luke wasn’t “put together to handle things.” What did that mean? Ginger didn’t necessarily believe that he himself was “put together to handle things.” Hadn’t he spent part of the night sleeping on the roof of a van? He could fall apart, like anyone else. But Luke was constantly breaking down. Luke had always been able to unravel, which was the difference between them. Ginger hadn’t been “put together to handle things.” Luke just had never been given anything to handle in the first place. He didn’t know how to handle things. He’d been too protected, too sheltered.
It’s a chicken and egg thing. Was he protected because he couldn’t deal, or he can’t deal because he was protected?
Ginger was inclined to believe the issue was innate with Luke. After all, he and Beau had the same childhood, had been raised by the same parents; but, he’d always been different. He had this sense of being ill-equipped. Ginger wouldn’t trust him to keep a plant alive for more than a day or two.
He also remained curious about the topic Luke wanted to discuss with Jackie. Ginger really didn’t think it was in reference to him, but it was evident Luke was bothered. And Ginger sensed the issue was more than Jay’s death as the antagonism continued.
“I only want to play the piano.” Luke argued with him outside the chapel.
“You practiced this. You were practicing yesterday. Why the change?” Ginger tried to be kind, as he’d promised Jackie.
“Why not?”
“This is what Dad wanted. He wanted you to sing, Luke. He didn’t want you to just play the piano.”
“I don’t care what he wanted. I’ll do it only on the piano, or I won’t do it at all.” Luke gave Ginger a black glare. “And don’t call him ‘Dad.’ He’s my dad. Not yours.”
There’s something wrong in your fucking head. Ginger clasped his fists until his knuckles were white. It’s like you fly off the hinges. You need medication. Strong medication.
“Fine. But don’t make a scene. Stick to the song he wanted. Nothing else. And put those fucking sunglasses away.”
“I don’t make scenes.” Luke skulked from the room.
Ginger also questioned if his brother-in-law was being difficult with everyone, or if the boy had singled him out. Not an hour later, when Ginger gathered him with their four cousins to plan how they’d proceed in carrying the casket, Luke folded his arms, and that look crawled over his face.
Goddamn it. What’s wrong now?
“Why do I have to be in the middle? I don’t want to be in the middle.”
“Does it matter where you are?” Ginger attempted to cloak his exasperation.
“Of course, it does! He’s my father. You don’t think I’m important enough to have a corner? You don’t trust me with a corner? I want a corner.”
“I didn’t assign positions based on rank, or amount of trust, Luke.”
“How did you decide then? Dad didn’t draw a fucking map of where he wanted the pallbearers positioned. You get a corner. I want one.”
“I’m leading. Leading. Can you stop acting like a little boy?”
“I want a corner. I want a front corner. I deserve to have a front corner.”
“Will you just let him have a corner?” One of the cousins whispered and elbowed Ginger in the side. “It’s not important.”
But it was important. That’s what no one understood. No one but Luke, who’d spotted it right off.
No. I don’t trust you. You’re drunk, hungover, or God knows what, but you’re not acting sane. I’d gladly give you a corner. Gladly. If I could trust that you wouldn’t drop him, accidentally or purposefully.
Ginger stared Luke down in silence, until a different cousin nudged him with another plea for peace. “Give him what he wants.”
That’s what it always comes back to. “Give him what he wants.” “He’s not put together for handling things.” Ginger covered his eyes with his hand. For you, Dad. I can’t trust him, but I have to believe he wouldn’t do that to you.
“Fine. You take the front right hand—”
“I want the left.”
Oh, the pain. The ulcers Ginger knew were beginning to fester from holding back knocking Luke to the ground. Especially when he caught that smirk.
If I’d offered left, you would’ve wanted right. You’re going to fight me on everything. For whatever reason, you really have singled me out, asshole.
“Luke, you take any corner your heart desires.” He managed to release only the words, keeping the desire to punch him in reserve.
“I want the front left-hand corner.”
“So be it.”
Ginger made a hand-washing motion and walked away. He went to his office, miraculously refraining from slamming the door. After he’d locked it, he picked a pillow from the couch, held it over his face, and shouted all the things that his respect for Jay prevented him from yelling at Luke.
Why do you care about songs and corners? He’s dead! It doesn’t matter which fucking place you are around his casket! He’s in there, and he’s still dead! And all you can think about is baiting me? Embarrassing me and making me seem unreasonable?
When he reentered the viewing room, Ginger felt better. He toyed with pulling Luke aside and threatening to kill him if he dropped Jay’s casket, or if he caused further problems. Instead he locked eyes with his brother-in-law across the crowd filling the chapel and shot him an unmistakably hostile look. Luke knew Ginger would kill him.
And Beau will kill you. And Mom. We’ll each take one of your limbs and pull you apart. Slowly. Painfully. And I’ll take both corners of your fucking casket and push you into the Goddamn creek, you piece of shit.
Chapter Ten
Earlier that morning, during their breakfast engagement, Luke had approached Tom the best way he could. In addition to uncovering Jay’s secret, the desire to slake his guilt by picking Tom’s brain motivated him to be indulgent and polite in exchange for his answers.
Though valuable minutes t
icked by, he waited while Tom thumbed through the yearbook. His attention had only been mildly piqued that Tom had been first chair in violin and attended Julliard. Tom’s connection to his father and any of their shared adventures could be of interest, but if playing the piano had nothing to do with Jay, it was as inconsequential as the rest of Tom’s memories.
When it looked like Tom could spend the entire morning sorting through the faces of his past, Luke had been forced to maneuver the conversation. By playing his cards wisely, he kept Tom from discovering that he hadn’t been the caller until too much had been revealed.
Even though Tom hadn’t divulged the actual secret, validating there was a secret and Luke wasn’t obsessing over what didn’t exist had been a keystone. And while Tom had been angry at Luke’s deception, there’d been other things swimming behind Tom’s eyes. Was he upset with Jay for not revealing the information? Luke felt a sense of camaraderie with him on recognizing that Tom too was placed in a difficult position.
If Jake could know, I deserved to know. It shouldn’t fall to a stranger to be the equalizer.
He’d watched Tom storm out of the restaurant with disappointment, but at least he’d been pointed in the direction of who to ask. Jackie couldn’t withhold any truth she might know when he was aware of this much. If she knew anything, she’d tell him. In a sarcastic, deprecating way, but she’d tell him.
And if he needed to find Tom, he could.
Not that I should have to crawl to that bastard, but Jake has his number.
As Luke drove home, the unfairness pushed his thoughts down a spiral of hatred for his brother-in-law.
This is your fault! You swooped in and stole my parents and sister from me! It’s not good enough that they love you most, but then you build this secret world with them. You’ve been walling me out of my own family, brick by brick for years, you motherfucker!
Luke crept into the house as silently as he’d left it. Jackie had likely been awake all night slugging coffee, and everything was still quiet. He’d started to ascend the stairs, but the kitchen light made him stop.
Get it over now. But I can’t be angry with her. Calm down, Luke. It’s not her fault. She’s your mother. Save it for that douche bag. She could be as innocent as you and Beau.
When he entered the kitchen Jackie was asleep at the table with her face hidden in her arms and her shoulders moving in an easy motion.
You cried yourself to sleep.
Sympathy for his mother dismantled the urgency. He wanted to touch her hair, to kiss her cheek and hold her like he had the night before when she’d been upset at Beau’s reaction to the rings. He wanted to be of comfort to her.
But you should rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.
Luke went upstairs to his room, his resentment for Jake blunted to some extent. Yesterday Jackie hadn’t seemed opposed to Luke being the consoling son. And he was her son. Not Jake. No matter how the maggot had tried to worm his way in. And she may not be as warm as Jay, but her criticisms were given out of love for him.
Maybe I should take her advice. Perhaps I am “more stupid than I give myself credit for.”
He relaxed onto his bed and folded his arms under his pillow.
Here’s what I’m going to do: I will give her a couple of hours to rest. I’ll go downstairs and press her shoulder to wake her. I’ll listen to her woes and sit beside her, petting her arm and letting her cry. Nodding my head for her to go on. I could have a handkerchief in my pocket and pull it out with a flourish. I’ll offer it to dry her eyes like a knight in shining armor.
And after she expelled all her sorrow—
There’ll be nothing to say to Jake. He’ll have no purpose. I handled it.
Luke would ask his questions about Tom DuBelle and what Jay had been hiding. Either she’d know as Tom claimed and tell him. Or she’d be vindicated. Whichever it was, he’d get what he wanted, whether from her or Jake.
If she doesn’t know, however fucked-up it may be, I’ll go to him. Jake would love to see me grovel. But once I have what I want, I’m going to exterminate him.
Luke had no intention of literally killing his brother-in-law, but he’d create a plan to get Jake out. Push him away from his mother and his sister if he could.
Of course, it’ll be difficult with him now controlling the business. I want to be the good son, but I’m not filling Dad’s role. I can’t lose sight of Broadway.
And Mom and Beau still like him. They’ll like him even more when she has the baby. I just need to convince them they don’t need him, and they can rely on me. His days are numbered.
But that scheme had to wait. He rewound to the plan.
Ideally, Jackie would tell him. That would mean she’d been a party to keeping him in the dark; however, he’d forgive her when she apologized.
Then I’ll tell Beau.
By telling her, once again Luke would be the star. The hero. A bringer of news. He’d be in control, and she’d be grateful. Impressed that he’d solved everything and been unselfish enough to share his knowledge. Jake wouldn’t have told her as much as he was willing to share.
Maybe the initial step in revealing what you really are is to expose how you’ve kept secrets from her. Your lies will be the first of your underpinnings to come loose.
Luke gave a crisp nod. It was a decent start. Considering they’d bury his father that afternoon, he felt good.
But then he heard the car engine.
A feeling of irritated dread came over him as he went to his bedroom window. The engine cut, and he pulled aside the curtain. His fantasy disintegrated when he recognized the white van in the driveway with Jake in the driver’s seat.
The left side of Luke’s face twitched, and his aggravation resurfaced. Jackie was still asleep, and Jake was about to saunter in and wake her up. He pictured his brother-in-law goading her into releasing her unhappiness to him without giving Luke a chance. He’d steal the spotlight like always.
I hate you so much. I wish I had a crossbow. A spear. Or one of those fucking African straws to shoot a dart into your neck. You’d drop like a rock. That’d be hilarious.
He waited for Jake to leave the car.
Come on in! You practically own the place!
But instead of trouncing in to ruin everything right away, Jake folded over the steering wheel, his body shaking.
Luke held his breath, frames of Jay’s death flickering in his mind.
He’s having a seizure. I should get help. I should do something. Anything.
But he clenched the side of the curtain and stared. He’d faced death previously—only days before—and lost. What made him think his intervention would yield any different result from last time?
Last time. It felt like a tight fist grasped the center of his chest. Seconds ago he’d wished for his brother-in-law to “drop like a rock.” That will live with me forever. Just like Dad. Just—
Jake’s convulsions stopped. He brought his head up and rubbed his suitcoat’s arm across his eyes.
You were crying? Crying? A near spontaneous combustion of the guilt that had been building. In its place remained the fury. What do you have to be upset about? He was my father! Not yours! Mine! They’re all mine! You have no reason to be that upset!
Except to spite Luke.
You dredged up tears to put on a show for Mom! To establish common ground so she’ll talk to you instead of me!
Under Luke’s glowering eyes, Jake stepped out of the van. He leaned down to the side mirror to adjust his tie, dust his suit coat, and pat his hair.
Believe me, I know prepping for a performance when I see it. Must be perfect, mustn’t we? Just red around the eyes to get her sympathy.
Luke let the curtain fall, clenching and unclenching his fists as he imagined Jake rehearsing lines, practicing precisely timed sniffles.
It’s always all about you!
He felt the shift in the house from its front door being opened, and heard the footsteps approach the kitchen.
/> And the master manipulator begins. Get your tickets, folks! It’s going to be a great fucking show!
He began to pace his room, trying to work down the anger.
Relax. Relax and think. Why shouldn’t my plan work? He’s forgetting that I still have an advantage.
The coup being staged was on Luke’s territory. No matter what Jake wanted to pretend, Jackie was Luke’s mother. Jay was his father. And this was Luke’s motherfucking house, his stage. Jackie knew that. With Jay gone, everyone else would realize it too.
I’ll uncover whatever piece of info you know and then make sure you’re kicked to the curb. This is my Goddamn show!
He slammed the door to his room and started down the stairs.
Also, you don’t even realize who you’re up against. Sure, the plan now has to be impromptu, but I know ad lib. I’m a professional. You just pump rotting bodies full of chemicals. I’m an artist. I can easily outplot and outact you whether I have ten hours or ten seconds to put it together.
He pulled a pair of sunglasses from the basket in the hall to hide any rage that might unintentionally reveal itself in his eyes, and entered the spotlight.
But somehow, despite the careful application of his skills, Jake had known. While Luke had merely made the reasonable request to speak with Jackie alone, he’d been shot down. Jake rallied Jackie to his cause, sitting beside her with a nasty sneer as he baited Luke. Repeatedly. He presided over the kitchen table like he’d already won.
You think today is about you, don’t you? Luke thought, staring Jake down from behind the dark lenses. You think this is your finish line. It’s my turf for now, but you’ll send Dad off today with perfection, and your performance will seal you in.
He realized there was nothing he could do about this aspect. As the funeral director, Jake was in charge. He was going to ensure everything went off without a hitch, and thereby “prove” how valuable he was, and how much of a jackass he wasn’t. And words aside, with that beady look in his fake grief-stricken eyes—was he daring Luke to wreck the funeral?
I know you want me to make a scene. There’d be more pieces for you to pick up. Think of how good it’d make you look, you self-seeking dick hole.
Boy Page 10
