Chapter 2 – CASH #3
“You’re twenty-four years old.”
I wait for the point and try to appear chagrined.
“Act like it.” Finally, she’s done, and she leaves me in peace.
I hunt down a mop and bucket, and then I make quick work of it. A little poop is nothing compared to the mess you swab off the deck of a crabbing boat. I’m wringing out the mop in the laundry room when I sense a rugrat watching me. Since they’re quiet, it’s gotta be Kellum’s.
“Hey, Miss Mia.” She sidles closer to see what I’m doing.
Mia doesn’t talk much. She’s on the autism spectrum like Dina. Dina didn’t talk either when she was young. Sometimes I think that’s why I run my mouth so much. Gotta fill the silence.
Mia raises up on tiptoes and tries to see in the utility sink. The mop is kinda cool. It’s the type with a sliding handle to squeeze the sponge.
“Want up?” I ask.
She nods.
I set her on top of the washing machine.
She watches a while, sober as a judge. She’s the spitting image of Dina. Straight, dark hair with a little doll face.
“Wanna try?” I hold the mop out for her. She takes it, careful as if she’s afraid it might bite, and she tries to work it, but she doesn’t have the strength or wingspan to make it work. I help, but she gets frustrated and starts rocking.
Mom mostly stopped Dina from stimming around other people by Mia’s age, but Shay’s got a lighter touch. Mia’s quirkier than Dina was, but she’s a lot less stressed out, too.
“Here. I got it.” I finish rinsing and put everything back in the closet.
Mia’s still rocking, and now she’s drumming her heels against the washing machine.
Mom would disapprove. ‘Course she wouldn’t say anything.
She treads lightly around Mia and Shay. She knows how badly the family fucked up when Dad corralled Uncle Van and Del to confront the girl spreading rumors about her precious Kell.
I wish I’d kept that story to myself. I honestly thought it was bullshit. Everyone knew Elizabeth Hardt carried Kell’s balls in her purse. They were on a break, but Kell’s a boy scout. He wouldn’t be banging some high school chick at a bonfire.
If I could go back, I’d tell Kell straight to his face. I wasn’t even thinking when I told. I was just running my mouth like usual.
Still, I feel guilty. Kell, Shay, and Mia missed out on a lot, and they didn’t have to.
I fish out Brice’s carving of my “oh, shit” face and hand it to her. She’s into animal figurines, but this is about the right size. She frowns at it a while before she takes it and slips it into her pocket. Peace offering accepted.
“Put that with your other critters, and don’t lose it. When you’re grown, you can sell it and pay for college.”
She wrinkles her forehead, giving me a look of great indignation. She’s extremely fastidious about her critters. She does not take kindly to the suggestion that she’d misplace one.
“Apologies, Miss Mia. I mean no disrespect. Can I help you down?”
She blinks a few times, giving me one last assessing stare, and then holds out her arms. I’m forgiven. I lift her down.
“Where’s Granger?” she asks as we head to the dining room.
“Backyard.”
“Why?”
“He needs a bath.”
I let him be wherever he wants inside, and he’s smart, so he understands that different places have different rules.
However, he just does not care to abide by Mom’s “no dogs on the furniture” rule.
Can’t blame him. Sofas and beds are comfortable.
I don’t want to hear it if he gets hair all over Dad’s recliner, though.
Mia wanders over to the back door and peers out, trying to see him in the dark. No doubt he’s curled up on one of the lounge chairs by the pool.
She looks sad as hell, her little fingers pressed against the glass.
I sigh. “Go on in to dinner. I’ll get him.”
She gives me a nod, like yeah, obviously I need to do that. She’s right. It’s not too cold out at night yet, but Granger doesn’t like hanging out by the pool all alone. It’s not like up at the cabin where he keeps himself busy patrolling his territory.
When I open the door and whistle, he sails past me snout in the air so I know I’m a complete asshole in his opinion.
He ain’t alone.
After I wash up and join the family, Mona’s the only one I get a smile and hello from. John’s mouth is stuffed full.
“We started without you,” Mom says. “The food was getting cold.”
“No problem.” I sit and tuck in. We’re having a roast with mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet corn and creamed corn, drop biscuits, and green beans in deference to Dad’s cholesterol.
Like I said, Mom can cook.
“You up at the cabin today?” Dad asks.
“Yup.”
“Get the roof fixed?”
“I did.”
“What’s up next? Finishing the electric?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t want to do that yourself. You gotta call Bob Longo up in Anvil. He’ll set you up.” Dad wipes the gravy from his plate with a biscuit and nudges Kell to pass him the roast. His green beans are still untouched.
“Already did.”
“I suppose you called Fanetti for the HVAC?”
I grunt. My mouth’s full of corn.
Mom purses her lips.
“Yes, sir.” I flash Mom a smile. There’s corn all in my teeth. She grimaces. Mom and Dad are sticklers for manners. Some stuck. Most didn’t.
I figure I’m doing the nieces and nephews a favor, diverting attention from their elbows on the table and boardinghouse reaches. And little Mia slipping Granger bits of roast under the table. I wouldn’t know except for the long pink tongue that darts up every time her finger reaches for her plate.
“If you don’t want to use Fanetti, I can recommend a guy,” John offers.
He rides with the Steel Bones MC, and works for their construction company, one of the biggest in the tri-state area.
His guy is gonna be out of my price range.
My crabbing money is finite. The hunting guide gig is paying out, but it’s seasonal, and I’m not exactly making bank yet.
You gotta build a reputation, and that takes time.
“I’d make sure they cut you a deal,” John says, reading my mind.
“Fanetti’s fine. He’s knocking ten percent off if I take him and his boys up the mountain for the middle one’s first buck.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am.”
Mom raises an eyebrow at me.
“Thanks,” I tack on.
I ain’t the youngest in this family—Jesse is—but I guess because he’s so shy, I get treated like I’m still a kid.
Or ‘cause I’m not exactly the most mature.
Either way, it can grate. My family means well.
We love each other even though we don’t understand one another worth a shit.
My Uncle Van’s death knocked us sideways, but we’re not down. We’re getting through it.
“How’s business going?” Dad asks John, thankfully taking attention off of me.
I clean my plate and quickly fill it again before the serving dishes get nipped away for leftovers.
John tells him about a project at Lake Patonquin that they’re just put the finishing touches on.
Mom asks about Dina, and Mona fills her in.
Dina married the president of John’s MC, and she lives in Petty’s Mill now in a sweet mountain cabin.
Mine’ll be bigger and better. Eventually.
The dining room is lively with conversations. Mom doles out advice to Mona about the kids. Dad lectures John. The young’uns squabble. Kell whispers to Shay, making her blush. Granger’s nails tap on the wood floor under the table, but no one notices. It feels good, like always, but I’m restless.
I accidentally knock an elbow into Jesse as I stretch. He doesn’t say anything.
“Hey, man.” I give him a nod.
He smiles. He’s done eating. He’s patiently waiting for folks to stand so he can duck off down to the barn. He’d live there if he could.
“What’ve you been up to?” I ask.
“Same old, same old.”
“Thought you’d be out of town.” Jesse’s been spending fall weekends at the Westsylvania Renaissance Festival for the past few years.
He jousts. It’s weird as shit. Not the jousting—I’d do it too for shits and giggles—but the fact that he’s doing it.
He’s got to wear a costume and everything, and he’s the type who doesn’t say shit if he has a mouthful. I’ve seen the getup. It’s got tights.
“Got back about an hour ago.” He sips his water.
“You win?”
“One out of four.” He smiles. The jousts are rigged. Choreographed, too. There are four “knights” and each gets to win once per weekend.
“What would they do if you just went for it? Threw the script out the window? Went balls to the wall.” That’s what I’d do. I’d get so bored catching hoops on a lance, I’d go medieval. Give the people what they want.
“Cashel!” Mom barks from the foot of the table.
What did I do? I look at Jesse. He mouths “balls to the wall.” I look across the table. Tripp and Maddox are grinning at me, ears perked.
I clear my throat and try really hard to think of something that rhymes with “balls to the wall” that makes sense. My brain is totally blank.
Jesse’s lip twitches, and it’s worth it. The guy’s too serious by half.
I point at Tripp. “Don’t repeat that.” Maddox will have already done forgot what I said. He’s got my attention span. “And I still think you should do it.”
Jesse shakes his head. “You can’t go off script. A horse could get hurt.”
And my little brother would never allow that in a million years.
I’m grateful he’s so into horses, even though it makes him boring as hell. He’ll be the one to take Stonecut Farms over when the time comes. None of the rest of us have the slightest interest.
Kell would probably do it if he had to. He has that Wall sense of responsibility that somehow skipped the rest of us. Shit, I guess if it came down to it, I would, too. Good thing it won’t. I don’t want to inseminate horses for a living. It’s weird.
Jesse’s got a little weird in him. He looks normal except for his curly-ass hair, but I’ve been to the Renn Fest. They aren’t normal folk.
I will say they have an admirable dedication to hiked-up titties, but some of ‘em wear tails, and they call you “m’lord,” and it’s freakin’ awkward in this day and age.