“Are you talking smack about your only brother? Keeping secrets from me?”
The comment was a push too hard. And not just because it was actually Jake keeping secrets, but to call himself Luke’s brother? It was an insult that couldn’t be born. Bile gathered at the back of his mouth from Jake’s insinuation that they were equal. He left the termite burrowed into his mother. Once again his questions would have to wait.
I am not your friend. I’m not your brother. But I will be the burr in your side. You’ve been a festering blister on my ass for ten years, and I’m ready to return the favor. You’ll have your triumph, for now, but you’re going to be miserable.
A litany of things could be done to not destroy his father’s funeral, but undermine Jake’s purported control of the situation.
Whenever he walked by the funeral home’s front doors, Luke casually turned the lock. He waited in the nearby hallway to hear the glass pane shuddering as the keyed door lever was tried repeatedly. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, eventually let the mourners in after they resorted to ringing the bell, but he was always careful to have fled the scene by that point.
He felt only a little guilty when he swiped Jay’s “Celebration of Life” guest book from its podium the first time.
It’s just a collection of signatures. Who cares? He wedged the book in between two couch cushions and grinned. Jake will care. That’s who.
But he needn’t have even attempted to rationalize the action, since the damn book kept reappearing no matter where he hid it—under a potted plant, behind a lamp, inside a desk drawer.
You can try to best me, try. Luke checked behind his shoulder to ensure the entryway was deserted. Quickly, he unscrewed the nib from the ballpoint pen that rested beside the recovered guest book. Plucking out the full ink refill, he inserted a dry tube and refastened the nib. Keep the fucking guest book.
And it wouldn’t just be the funeral’s beginning that would be fraught with “mishaps” that any competent person wouldn’t have allowed to happen. Luke imagined the chaos that would ensue when people went to the front closet to retrieve their coats and found them all missing. He chuckled as he transported another jacket and a pea coat to the rear closet and shoved them in.
And, imagine this: right as Jake is up at the pulpit wrenching out more fake tears and—
“Meow.” He crouched and held an open can of tuna fish out the side door. “Meow. Meow. Come on you dumb little fuck. Meow.”
The feral gray cat didn’t answer back. It eyed Luke suspiciously as he waggled the can toward it.
Jake will be at his prime, gushing about how much he loved Dad and bullshit, bullshit, bullshit and then suddenly, this cat will streak across the room. It’ll climb up the curtains, or maybe even tear apart a flower arrangement. Seriously, Jake? You can’t even keep a wild animal out of the funeral home?
“Meow. Meow.” The cat shifted nearer to the tuna can, and Luke dumped a little on the concrete, trailing the rest inside. “That’s right, boy. You’ll like it in here. It’s nice and warm. There’s lots of things to shred and piss on. You can even invite all your mangy friends.”
He got to his feet and took a couple steps back, smiling as the cat edged closer.
“I’ll leave your tuna right here. Good kitty.”
To his irritation though, he didn’t hear anyone talking about his disruptions. Someone, presumably that fucker himself, kept “fixing” things. Not only had the guest book continued to reappear, but Jake caught on to his dry pen trick and kept replacing those as well. He’d transported the same fucking pea coat to the back closet three times. And on returning to the side room where he’d tried to lure in the cat, the door was closed, the tuna gone, and his would-be minion gaped at him hungrily outside the window.
A bolder approach in provoking Jake was necessary.
Yes, Luke knew Jay had outlined that he was to sing a specific song, not just play the piano. But what kept him from feeling any remorse for refusing his father’s request—
“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. And don’t call him ‘Dad.’ He’s my dad. Not yours.”
The audacity that ass rammer had. However, there was success. He could tell from Jake’s expression that he’d hit a mark in frustrating him.
“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 pushed the bridge of the sunglasses, firmly sliding them tight to his face.
This is the way to go then. You need more than pranks. Fine. I have no problem in blatantly challenging you for what’s rightfully mine.
Whether it was Luke’s contribution to the funeral, or having a designated place carrying his father’s casket.
Luke had pitched in to be a pallbearer hundreds of times when families were short on them. Typically, he hated having a front corner. It was too much responsibility. If the front went down, everyone followed. One false step on a curb and he pictured there’d be a corpse splayed out over the side of a casket. It’d never happened, but if it did, he didn’t want the finger pointed at him.
You think I’m going to drop it on purpose. You think I’m not trustworthy enough to carry a corner of my own father’s casket.
“Will you just let him have a corner? It’s not important.”
His cousins saw right through Jake’s treachery.
You see, I have a family. It was difficult to not smile and just keep locked on Jake’s glare without expression. This is my family. Not yours.
“Give him what he wants.”
I know I froze up earlier and considered showing you mercy when I thought you were dying. But not anymore. I changed my mind. And it’s more than a fucking corner.
“Fine. You take the front right hand—”
“I want the left.”
Jake met his stare again, and Luke found he couldn’t keep the grin hidden any longer.
I want back what’s mine. I want you out.
Even if Luke hadn’t known he was winning, his brother-in-law’s immediate acquiesce to his demands and retreat proved it.
Go punch your couch cushions, douche bag.
With Jake throwing a pussy tantrum, Luke was free again to continue planting his tricks without them being “corrected.”
After reopening the side door for his feline friend, he snuck into the empty chapel. He took the microphone wire that curled from the podium and held it as he crawled under the stage’s platform to find the jack connection.
So, even before Mr. Kitty wrecks Jake’s crap-ass speech, he discovers that no one can even hear his stupid fucking—
A sharp kick to his leg.
Luke sat up and smacked his head on the low ceiling. “Fuck!”
“What do you think you’re doing?” His mother’s voice made him drop the black wire.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing, my ass! Get out of there!” She kicked him again.
Luke scooted out from under the stage. He ducked his head and met her eyes expecting to find curiosity.
What’s the big deal, Mom? I’m fixing the microphone. Someone disconnected it. Yeah, that sounds—
“Stop acting like a petulant child! I’ve spent more time in the last hour cleaning up your pranks than I have with the people who came to see us! To honor and remember your father!” Jackie’s arms were folded tightly across her abdomen. “Do you think this shit is funny?”
“No,” he said, and his stomach somewhat sank. He hadn’t meant for his mother to cover for Jake.
But why should you be rescuing him? He’s not your son. I am.
“Then why are you doing it?”
Luke hadn’t been sure what to say, but she saw through him.
“Damn it, this is not about you and Ginger! Stop taking everything as a personal attack. No one,
not a single soul, is thinking of you, Luke! You’re not the center of attention!”
“But Jake always gets to be the center of attention. Always.” He stood and swept the dust from his slacks. It’s the same old shit.
“Jesus Christ! You know who’s the center of attention right now? The man in the casket. Do you want me to throw you in there with him? If it’s that important for you to upstage every event and try to undermine the good work your brother is doing, I’ll toss you right in!”
“He’s not my fucking—”
“Listen to me.” Jackie cut him off. “You will fix whatever you broke under that stage. And you will stop this juvenile bullshit and act like a civilized human being.”
Luke hated always being spoken to like he was a child. Was that why Jake felt he could be run over? Because his family labeled him as only a boy? It was as unjust as Jake being the favorite. As unfair as him spoiling the magic Luke could’ve had with his mother that morning. As ludicrous as keeping a secret from him about his own father.
“Mom, I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“It can’t.”
“I don’t have the time or energy to argue through any of your paranoid delusions right now. Fix what you broke and leave Ginger and everything else alone. If you can act like a good boy, I’ll talk to you tonight.”
Jackie didn’t even give him the opportunity to respond. She turned on her heels and strutted out of the chapel, slamming the door behind her. Again, Luke’s anger hit the ceiling.
You don’t have to bribe me to be good! I am good! I’m just sick of his shit! Of all your shit! And it isn’t a “paranoid delusion!” I’m not crazy! You people are the ones hiding something from me!
He hated to consider it, but maybe Jackie was an active conspirator.
Just look at how quick she is to defend Jake. And it’s one thing for him to call himself my brother. I know he’d give his nut sack to be an actual part of our family. But for her to say it. He wanted to gag. Yes, based on her actions she probably was among the pit of snakes.
But I need her information about Tom DuBelle. And not just for me.
Luke walked down the hallway toward the viewing room.
He couldn’t forget that he wasn’t alone in being deceived. Manipulated. Conspired against.
There’s Beau. She’s my only ally. For both of us, I need Mom to answer my questions and tell the truth.
So, when the gray cat bounded past him toward the chapel like a good little accomplice, Luke chased him back outside and tucked the sunglasses in his pocket. If he had to let Jake have his way to get a private audience with his mother, the asshole could take his moment.
Chapter Eleven
To Ginger’s relief, once everything started, it turned out as okay as a funeral could go. Luke didn’t make more trouble. He played the music Jay had wanted on the piano. He carried the front left corner of the casket without stumbling. He kept his sunglasses off and tie straight. He didn’t say anything civil to Ginger; however, he also didn’t go out of his way to be difficult.
With Luke behaving, Ginger was able to concentrate his energy and attention on being the business professional. He detached himself just enough, and the distraction even made him forget the private conversation Luke had requested with Jackie. Until it resurfaced that night.
The three sat silently in the living room. Jackie lounged in her recliner, pretending to read but not faking it well. Beau lay on the couch, with her head in his lap, pretending to sleep but not faking it very well either. Ginger stared into space.
He thought about Jay, as he assumed they all did. Only he reflected on where he now was. One of the warmest people he’d ever known, who formed lasting connections instantly and was only by himself when he opted to be; now he was below the earth. Cold and alone. Ginger couldn’t break away from that image.
Though not quite alone. The thought of the white box comforted him.
“It smells like a bunch of fucking flowers in here.”
Luke appeared in the doorway. Once again he wore the sunglasses, and he had a book tucked under his arm.
“There is a bunch of fucking flowers in here, Einstein.”
Ginger smirked at Beau’s comment. She hadn’t been asked to give Luke a break, or if she had, she didn’t care to.
“Mom, I need to talk to you.” Luke ignored Beau; he never took swipes at her.
“Talk. I’m listening,” Jackie said, but she didn’t lower her book.
“Alone.”
“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of them.”
“Beau can stay. But make him leave.”
Again? What kind of conspiracy is this?
Beau propped herself on her elbow and looked back at her brother still standing by the door.
“What’s wrong with you, Luke? And will you take off those stupid glasses?”
“I want to talk to my mom. And my sister. My family. Alone.” He removed the sunglasses, and after jamming them in his pocket, focused on Jackie. “Mom, make him leave.”
“I absolutely will not!” She slammed her book on the side table. “After how you treated him today? After you were an asshole to him and made things more difficult for everyone? You should be ashamed of yourself! You’re lucky I don’t make you leave!”
Ginger felt glad. Not because Luke was being reprimanded, though he had to admit her rebukes had a sweetness. Jackie was sticking up for him. He’d always had a more special relationship with Jay, but Jackie had been the mother he also never had. It felt nice that she was as willing to champion him now as she’d been to defend Luke that morning.
“Yeah, you’ll make me leave. Just like Dad. Kick me out. Go ahead. You don’t need me when you have him.”
“You’re bringing this up on the day we bury your father? But how am I not surprised?” Jackie laughed, but then her lips formed an unsympathetic line. “You can’t throw an ace that doesn’t exist.”
“It does exist! He kicked me out!”
“Is this what you wanted to discuss? You want to disturb a semipeaceful evening to argue over arbitrary bullshit?”
“I didn’t want to talk about it! You brought it up!”
Jackie closed her eyes and dragged in several breaths.
“Luke, just say what you want to say.” Ginger knew he should keep quiet. It would be wise to lay low, but he could see his mother-in-law struggling to hold her temper. Buying her extra time would help, and if he said it in a kind—
“Shut up, Jake. Nobody asked you.”
“Don’t tell him to shut up! He didn’t do anything to you!” Beau stood. “You were a total dick today! If it hadn’t been for him—”
“No,” Jackie cut her off. “Don’t make it worse.” She took one more breath and paraphrased Ginger’s words. “Say what you want to say. What is it?”
The boy’s body language reminded Ginger of the initial tremors preceding an earthquake or volcanic eruption. He stood in the doorway, his frame subtly shaking as he wound himself up for a fantastic explosion. When he finally snapped, he threw the book he’d been pinching under his arm to the floor.
“I want you to tell me what you’re hiding! What I’m not good enough to know about my dad, but he is!” Luke jabbed a finger in Ginger’s direction. “Tell me why Dad forged that yearbook! Why did a stranger show up yesterday thinking I called him? Why did he tell me Dad was a different person before and after he ‘came out’! Came out of what? He wouldn’t say! Tell me who Tom DuBelle is, and stop lying to me!”
He kicked the yearbook, and it slid beneath his mother’s chair.
Ginger’s heart pounded. It’s all coming out, including my part. Mom will never forgive me.
But instead of launching into a fury, Jackie sat there. At first her expression just read confusion until she laughed. “What are you talking about? My God, boy, how much have you had to drink?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about! And stop
calling me ‘boy’! All of you!” Luke turned to his sister and Ginger. “I’m not a boy! I’m a man!”
“Act like one!”
“Then treat me like one, and tell me the truth!”
Jackie didn’t respond. She examined her fingernails, idly allowing time to tick on until it was unbearable. Ginger watched the outrage build in Luke the longer she kept him waiting, her detachment pitching him to a higher intensity. Finally, as he was on the verge of exploding again, his mother spoke.
“Your father didn’t want you to know. Either of you.” She tilted her head to Beau. “Neither of you had or have a reason to know. So he didn’t tell you. Jake had a reason to know, so Jay told him.” She stared at Luke, her mouth in a snide smile. “Get over it.”
“Get over it? Get over it!”
“That’s right. Repetition will cool you down.” Jackie leaned back in her chair. “Like a mantra: ‘Get over it. Get over it. Get over it.’ That’s what you’ll have to do.”
Luke stepped forward and put out his arm. And although Ginger moved to insert himself between Beau and her brother, he was too late.
Thankfully, all Luke did was take her hand. Still, Ginger remained wary, primed to throw him across the room if the mood changed.
“See, Beau? Did you hear how they are against us? It’s not fair!” Luke petted her arm. “And I know you’re aware of things I’m not. But there’s something else we don’t know that they do! They’re trying to keep it from us. We have a right to know everything!”
The tightness in Beau’s eyes relaxed.
“Luke, I do know everything.”
“What?” The disclosure brought Jackie to her feet. For the first time, astonishment marred her face as she realized she wasn’t holding all the cards.
The unwinding of layers. The demolition of the inner sanctum.
“I’ve known for a while.” Beau looked from Luke to her mother. “Before Meecie went into the coma, she was hallucinating. There was a night when you were away, and she came into my room. She thought I was—so Dad had to tell me. I—”
“But, we were a team,” Luke interrupted. “You knew, and you kept it from me for years? For years, Beau? How could you…”
Boy Page 11
