Archer
ARCHER
I head up Fletch’s stairs the next day around two in the afternoon and pause by his door when the sounds of cartoons echo through the thin walls.
Which means Mia’s here.
So I paste on my most convincing smile, twist the knob, and let myself into their apartment, only to stop again when Mia pops up from the couch, meerkat style, with wild hair and a messy face. Her eyes are large and a little too energetic, but she looks me up and down while Bluey plays over her shoulder. Something about a balloon. Parenting classes.
“Hey Moo.” I should have brought her a treat. A new toy. Probably nothing sugary, if her current appearance is anything to go by. But I came empty-handed, so I close the door and glance around the disorganized room. “How are you, cutie? Where’s Daddy?”
“In the bedroom,” Fletch calls out, easing the worry that was slowly, painfully sliding in to wrap around my heart. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
So I look at Mia again and make a face. “He’s in the bedroom. What’d you have for lunch?”
“Chicken nuggies.” She spins and plops back to the couch, so I wander around and lower to sit beside her. “And a chocolate ice-cream sundae.”
“That must explain the crud on your face, huh?” I throw my arms open in surprise when she bounds across the couch and kamikazes into my lap. Her hair tickles my face. But she smells fresh and sugary and pleasant, so despite her rough appearance right now, it’s not a Jada’s gone on a bender and neglected her child rough. It’s a simple case of Mom’s dead, Dad’s doing his best, and ice-cream was had . “What’d you get up to today, then? Lots of Bluey?”
“Little.” She makes herself comfortable, nuzzling in and tucking her head beneath my chin. “Me and Daddy went to the hospital this morning, ‘cause he had to sign papers. And then we went and saw Mommy.”
Curious, I cast my eyes to the hallway again. “You saw Mommy?” Busted and bruised. “You saw her?”
“We saw her in her new bed,” she explains, oh so innocently. “It’s so shiny and fancy, Uncle Arch. The man said we couldn’t open it, ‘cause she was already ready for the party. But he said I could leave a drawing on it if I wanted to.”
“That sounds awesome.” I bring my focus back to the TV. “Did he give you some paper to draw?”
She shakes her head and pulls forward so she can twist and look back up at me. “Even better. He gave me a marker, and I got to draw on the shiny bed. Like, on the outside! It was easy to draw, ‘cause the wood was smooth. And the man said it’s totally allowed. Because usually you’re not allowed to draw on the furniture and stuff. But he said this time it was okay, because Mommy and Daddy both said it was allowed.”
“Amazing.” I wrap her up extra close when she turns back to the television. “I think that’s really special that you got to do that. Not everyone gets to, so you must be really lucky, huh?”
“Yep. And it’s snowing.” She points toward the window and the ugly sledging downpour outside. “I think snowing means it’s good, like Mommy is saying she likes my drawing and stuff. ‘Cause she made it snow to let me know.” She turns to search my eyes. “Do you think it’ll snow tomorrow at the party?”
Fuck, I hope not.
“Because I think that would be good. Like it’s her goodbye and stuff, and snowing would mean she’s there in Heaven.”
“You’re probably exactly right.” I smooth her hair down and press a kiss to her temple. “I think it’ll probably snow, so you know she’s saying goodbye. And if it doesn’t snow, that might mean she didn’t want to get your hair messy and frizzy, but then she’ll make it snow later to let you know everything is okay.”
She considers for a moment, thinking out my words and nodding as she ponders them. Then she clicks her tongue and turns back to the TV. “I fink so too. Is Aunty Minka at work?”
“She is.” I glance across when Fletch heads through the hall and emerges. He looks normal. Fed. Reasonably rested. He wears a ball cap spun backwards, because I guess he probably didn’t take it off since their walk for ice-cream in the snow. Jeans. A shirt. Boots I know he’s fond of, because more often than we’d prefer, work has us running in the streets to track some asshole down. His eyes are clear-ish. Still a little red, but better than they were yesterday. And yesterday was better than the day before.
But when I don’t stop staring, he rolls his eyes and starts toward the kitchen.
“You’re not very subtle with your wellness checks, Malone.” He snags a soda from the fridge, then a second when he realizes he should probably offer one to his guest. “It’s getting kinda old.”
“And yet,” I accept the can when he carries it over. “I won’t stop.” I look him up and down again as he comes around the couch and sits on the coffee table. “You look good.”
“Feeling decent.” He cracks the seal on his soda, but his broad form blocks Mia’s view of the television, so she climbs off my lap and scoots to the other end of the couch. “Delicious caught a case?”
“No.” But I guess we’re going for normalcy, so I open my drink and settle back for comfort. “But one of her team had an incident during night shift. HIV positive D.B. Doctor got cut by accident, so now they’re all dealing with the fallout of that.”
He grits his teeth that way people do when they sympathize while also glad it’s not them. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. And Minka worries, so while she said she’d only be at the office for an hour or two, we’re going on five, and she’s still not done.”
“Is it gonna be an issue for…” He frowns. “Ya know.”
“Tomorrow? No. I imagine she’s dealing with a backlog of work that’s built up while she’s been away. Usually, she’d let her night shift manager pick up the slack, but the night shift manager needs support after last night, so it’s all hands in. She’ll finish up today and be home for dinner, and tomorrow, she’ll give her entire focus to what needs doing.”
“She doesn’t have to, though.” Fidgeting, he turns the can in his palms. “Life goes on, and work keeps people busy. She doesn’t have to not be at the office tomorrow when they so clearly need?—”
“She’ll be with us tomorrow,” I cut in. “She’s managing her time and knows there’s not much else for her to do right now. So she’s using the day productively. Tomorrow, her focus will be here, and her office will run just fine without her. But I’m here now.” I drop my legs open and feign relaxation. “What needs to be done? What can I help with?”
“My fucking tie.” He shoves up so fast, even Mia’s concentration on the TV breaks and her eyes swing to her dad. But he circles the couch and storms into the hall, only to emerge a moment later with a black tie twisted and knotted in every direction except the one he needs. “I got my suit and shoes and all that stuff sorted. And Mia’s outfit is done.”
“Fifi took me shopping!” Thrilled, Mia abandons Bluey and jumps to her knees to explain. “We went out, Uncle Arch! And we had so much fun.”
“I bet you did.” I take the tie before Fletch can make the knot worse, and start work unraveling the silky material. “You missed Fifi, huh? And I know she missed you. And now you got to go shopping, which means everything is all better again.”
“We had dinner together, Uncle Arch. We snuck in and had noodles at a place down there.” She points at the floor, though I imagine she means down the street. “And I practiced using chopsticks. I wasn’t very good,” she giggles. “But Fifi was, and she taught me. I had meat in my noodles, and she doesn’t like meat, remember? But she wasn’t mad I got meat in mine.”
“Very kind of her.” I work one knot undone, only to discover another. “I don’t think she’s the type to make someone else eat something different just because she is.”
“Nope! And then she got me ice-cream.” She leans forward to whisper, “It was fried! So it was hot but cold. Both ! At the same time. It was so yummy, I want another right now.” She pats her belly and licks her lips. “I asked Daddy to ask Fifi to come get me so we could go to the hot-cold ice-cream store. But he said she’s probably working, and I have to wait.”
“I mean…” Another knot down. More to go. “He’s probably right. She has to work during the day, because that’s how grown-ups can pay for their ice-cream. But I get the feeling she’ll take tomorrow off so she can spend time with you. Don’t you think?”
“If that scoundrel mayor lets her,” she grumbles seriously. “He’s mean, huh? He never lets her do anything she wants.”
I look at Fletch and bite my lips closed before I laugh. Because that scoundrel mayor has an enemy now, and I’m not sure he’s ready for the smoke Mia Fletcher will blow.
“He can be such a scoundrel,” I agree solemnly. “You should tell him what a scoundrel he is when you see him.”
“Arch,” Fletch chuckles, though he rubs his lips as though to hide the sound. “Stop it.”
“I liked it better when Fifi worked for Aunty Minka. She was a much better boss, don’t you fink ?”
“I definitely fink so.” Finally, I unravel the tie and tsk at the wrinkles left behind. “Minka is a way cooler boss. And she doesn’t like the mayor either. So I guess you have that in common.”
“You’re about to start a war,” Fletch growls. “Stop it.”
“What’s he gonna do? Have her arrested for kicking him in the shins?”
“I should kick him in the shins!” Mia hollers. “Yes! That would teach him for not being nice to Miss Fifi. Maybe he’ll let her go back to work for Aunty Minka.”
“Aunty Minka would celebrate this plan.” I wrap the tie around my own neck and start the Windsor knot my brother taught me forever ago. Micah is our more polished Malone. The one who would take the time to learn these things, while the rest of us were busier fucking shit up. “The mayor may or may not come to your mommy’s party tomorrow. I’m not sure. But if he does, maybe don’t kick him there. Unless Aunty Minka says so,” I amend with a smile. “If she says so, then it’s game on and you become her tool.”
“You’re a terrible influence.” Fletch grabs the tail of the tie and gives it a tug. He could choke me, and I would have walked right into his trap. “Stop telling her this shit. I’m trying to keep her out of jail.”
I drag the tie back and work on fixing what he ruined, but then I peek Mia’s way and wrinkle my nose. “Don’t kick the mayor, Moo. That would be bad.”
“Unless Aunty Minka says so.” She plops back to her butt and giggles when Bluey does something funny. “Then it’s game on.”
“You’re a pain in my ass.”
As soon as I’m done with the tie, I loosen and drag it over my head so he can have it, ready to go. But he snatches—no gentle hands here—and snarls. “You came here just to annoy me?”
“I came to help with your tie, obviously.” But I snag my soda and sit back on the couch, settling my ankle on my knee and reaching across to curl Mia’s hair around my finger. “What else needs to be planned?”
“Everything is done, I think. Except the pallbearers, on the off chance your brothers bail.”
“They won’t. They’re flying in tonight.” And Felix insists on sleeping in my apartment. Though I’m not sure he realizes there’s no chance Tim is setting up camp on my living room floor. And he sure as shit won’t allow Aubree to do so either. “They’ll stay tonight and tomorrow night. And head back to New York Saturday sometime. Is the wake and all the food and stuff finalized?”
“Tim’s taking care of it.” He walks his tie back into the hall. “He said he was closing the place for the day, and he’ll feed us till we’re done. It’ll only be us.” His voice changes as he deposits his tie in the room and heads back this way. “Your brothers, Minka, Aubree. Us. Maybe Sera, if she decides to come. It’s not like we’re hosting something for a hundred strangers.”
“Tim will do it up good. Music was given to the party director?”
He steps back into the living room, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Yeah. And I wrote the eulogy.” He stops at the counter and picks up a sheet of folded paper, waving it so it flaps in the air. “I couldn’t ask anyone else to do it. And I couldn’t let the day pass without saying something . So I just…” he sets it down again. “Wrote a few things down. The director said he would do the things he’s supposed to and recite the prayers and play the music. Then I read my thing. Then we let Mia speak, if she wants to. Then it’s done.”
“Do you think she should?” I angle my head and study the girl whose entire focus is on a little blue cartoon dog. “Could she even truly process what she’s doing or saying?”
“She will someday. And I figure giving her the option to speak is the right thing to do. Knowing, when it’s done, that I did everything to ensure her mental space was safe is all that matters to me.”
“And you’re doing it.” I push up to stand since I’m sick of twisting to keep him in my vision, then I take my soda and set it down just a few inches from the eulogy. “From the moment this all got messy, you’ve put her first, every single time. Every single heartbreak, every time you could have been selfish, you chose her happiness. You’ve done the right thing, Fletch.” I search his eyes and hate how they shimmer with fatigue. With a bone-deep ache I’m not sure will ever truly go away. “I’m proud of how you’ve handled all this. A weaker man would have broken a long time ago.”
“I feel like I didn’t have a choice.” He sets his elbows on the counter and hunches to let his head dangle. “I never had the chance to choose differently. Because Mia deserved to know I was always her safe space. Even when I was bleeding.”
“And you bled a lot.” I grab his hair and drag him up until his eyes stop on mine. “You bled more than any other could stand. And not once did you let your baby down. I’m proud to call you my best friend.”
His cheeks warm, but he pulls back until my hand drops away. Then he lets his head dangle again. “Thanks.”
“You’re close to the finish line. I’m not saying everything will be better once it’s done, but I’m saying that after this, things will get easier. Wounds will begin to heal.”
“Life will go on,” he rumbles. “I can get back to work, and Mia can go back to school. Then we just…” he sighs. “We move on.”