16.
I’m not sure what profession Jewel will choose, but whatever it is, she’s gonna be the boss. Most people are passive-aggressive. She’s not. She’s straight-up aggressive. Nothing fancy about it.
As horrible as it sounds, she’d probably do well in sales.
Tink Martin
JEWEL
“Tell us about this friend of yours,” Robby said, sitting down on the stool across the counter from me. “You usually gnaw off the leg of anyone who darkens the door of your lair.”
“I don’t do that!” I argued. “Ursula took over that duty in exchange for room and board.”
Hearing her name, my dog lifted her head and stared at me expectantly. I tossed a strawberry top. She caught it easily, spat it out like I’d tried to poison her, and growled low in her throat.
“Don’t give me that attitude, Ursey. Leia said you’re getting chunky, and that’ll be hard on your joints.
” This time Ursula’s growl was louder, and she even bared her tiny canines.
When I showed her my own teeth and growled back, she whimpered and dropped her head onto her paws. “That’s what I thought.”
“I don’t understand your relationship with that dog,” Robby said. “Did mutual hate morph into a sort of grudging respect, or do you detest each other?”
“You’ve seen how I treat people I don’t like. It’s obvious I love Ursula so much she might as well be my own child.”
“True, although there have been times when you didn’t really like us,” Max said as he walked into the room.
“Honey, I love you all the time, but that doesn’t mean I have to like you all the time. Especially when you’ve done something less than intelligent.”
“She called you stupid,” Robby teased.
“Says the child . . .”
“I’m not a child, Mom!”
“. . . who thought it was a good idea to sneak out of the house, steal my car, and attend a party that the police busted.”
“I know you called them,” Max pouted.
“And how would I know where to send them?”
“Your app tracks the location of your Jeep!”
“And yet you still stole it.” I smiled. “You just made my point for me.”
“I knew the second Brawley and the others showed up that you were the one who called,” Max pointed out. “And you didn’t even have enough shame to lie about it.”
“Why should I be ashamed? I didn’t steal anything.”
“You’ve never denied calling them either,” Max mumbled.
“Let’s get back on track. Tell us about your boyfriend.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he added, “And don’t try to lie and say he isn’t, Mom. We’re not children.”
My brain knew my sons were almost adults–not that men in our family ever fully grew up–but my heart broke a little when he pointed out how close they were to leaving home.
“You know she gets twitchy when you remind her of that,” Robby told Max.
Max’s smile looked just like mine when he asked, “As twitchy as a house full of high-schoolers when the cops show up?”
“I brought you into this world, and I can take you out whenever I want,” I reminded him. “Make yourself useful and pass me the container of pineapple.”
As Max did what I asked, Robby said, “So this guy is Stan’s uncle, which means he’s part of the mob from New York.”
“He’s from New York, but he’s not part of the mafia. Well, not anymore. I don’t think he is, anyway–I’ve never directly asked him that question.”
“I thought once you were in, you could never get out,” Max said as he set the container on the counter and pulled off the lid. He walked around to sit next to Robby. “Unless he’s in witness protection.”
“If he were in witness protection, do you think he’d be using his real name?” Robby asked incredulously.
“I’m the good-looking brother. I don’t have to be smart at the same time.”
I frowned at Max. “Looks fade, but stupidity lasts forever. Do better.”
“I aced my calculus test,” Max said with a big grin. “Summer school isn’t nearly as bad as I thought.”
“And it will get you ahead of the other students so you can start racking up college credit before graduation,” I reminded him. “What classes are you taking in the next summer session?”
“We can talk about that later, but I’ll admit that was a good effort to change the subject,” Robby said. “Tell us about your boyfriend.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable calling him that.”
“He spends a lot of time here, you talk to him every day, and you make out on our front porch in front of the entire neighborhood.”
“He kissed me goodbye!”
“Like a boyfriend would,” Max pointed out. “Why do you have such a problem putting a label on it? It’s not like we’re gonna pin our hopes and dreams on this guy becoming the father we always wanted.”
“Although that would be great, since the father we’ve got has lost his mind.” I frowned at Robby, and he shrugged. “Tell me you haven’t thought the same thing.”
“I think your father might be going through some personal issues right now, and even though that’s not an excuse for his behavior, it’s a good reason to give him some grace and support him through this tough time.”
“Was that painful?” Robby asked. I nodded quickly, and he laughed. “The look on your face was like you swallowed a handful of nails with lemon juice.”
“I’m not going to military school or whatever it is he wants to ship me off to, and he’s not gonna sell my car either.”
I looked at Max in alarm. “He wants to sell your car?” When Max nodded, I asked, “How is he going to do that without his name on the title?”
“He said since he’s my parent, that overrides my ownership or something.”
“That car was a gift from Pop, and no one is going to sell it!”
“That’s what I said!” Max assured me.
I set the knife aside and rested my hands on the counter as I stared down at the fruit in front of me. Since I was young, I’d had the habit of taking myself to a quiet place in my mind and letting my thoughts run–or sprint–until they formed an answer to whatever question I was wrestling with.
Emerald had a name for my habit, some kind of self-hypnosis mumbo jumbo, but I knew it was the best way for me to gather the information I had and turn it into a cohesive thought.
Somehow, I blocked out surrounding noise and distractions as facts flowed through my mind, sorting what I knew for a fact, what I’d been told, and what I assumed.
Ziggy asked if Robert was ever a gambler.
Robert’s behavior had turned erratic, as if he were on drugs or experiencing a mental crisis.
Robert had always been a control freak, but lately that behavior had turned extreme.
Max said Robert wanted to sell his car, even though Robert knew he couldn’t legally do that.
Robert wants to send Max away and has spent the last few months pushing Robby away–a move I initially thought deliberate, and now I understood why.
Just like drugs, gambling gave some people a high that they chased straight to homelessness and the loss of everything they loved. Some addicts tried to protect their loved ones from their addiction, hiding it out of shame or protective instinct.
Ziggy mentioned a bookie–and even though I didn’t believe almost anything I saw on television, I knew bookies weren’t the kind of people you invited over for tea and scones.
Especially when you owed them a fortune.
In that situation, anyone would fear the repercussions of failing to repay their debt.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
I looked up when I heard Robby say, “She’s doing her Matrix Rain Man thing.”
Ziggy stood between my sons, staring at me expectantly, so I asked, “Is my ex-husband into something nefarious that’s going to put my sons in danger?” When Ziggy shrugged and then shook his head, I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a yes or a no, Nip?”
“Neither.”
“Then what kind of answer is that?”
“Maybe we should talk about this later, when we’re alone.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t the kind of mafia where you keep the women and children in the dark for their own safety. In this instance, we . . .” I pointed to myself, then to Robby, then to Max before pointing out the nearby window. “. . . and the people we call family are the mafia.”
“I’m telling Pop you said that,” Max tattled.
When Ziggy looked from one young man to the other in question, I said, “These two would be the junior guys who fetch coffee and donuts while the big guys are on a stakeout.”
“I think you’re confusing my family business with the feds and the cops.”
“Don’t they go hand in hand?”
“Burn,” Robby whispered.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to give you details I found while investigating . . .”
“Stalking!” I interrupted.
Ziggy ignored me. “ . . . who I assume is going to become my enemy number one?”
“Wouldn’t that be the feds?” Robby asked. “Hypothetically, of course.”
“Please answer my question, Nip.”
Ziggy ignored me again and stuck his hand out toward Robby. “Hello, my name is Azeglio Romano, and I’m here at your mother’s invitation to have dinner with your family.”
“So you can tell us your intentions and ask for her hand in marriage?” Max asked.
Ziggy sucked in a shocked breath and sputtered. “I’m not exactly prepared to do that quite yet, but . . .”
“Yet?” the three of us asked at the same time.
“I feel like this conversation has gone completely off the rails, and I’m not even sure when it left the station.”
“That’s generally how discussions in our family go, so you’ll have to get used to it, my friend,” Max said, extending his hand to shake Ziggy’s. “I’m Max.”
“I didn’t think anyone would be home yet, so I came to start preparing dinner, but if you’re . . .”
“Still waiting for an answer to my question?” I prompted.
“I’d like to make a good impression on your kids, and telling you what I know might put me in a harsh light. I’d rather avoid that.”
“Wow. You really are in this for the long haul,” Robby said.
“We can milk this situation,” Max whispered under his breath. “Stop being nice to him.”
I had to hand it to Robby; he caught Max’s vibe instantly. “I’m not sure we’re okay with you dating our mother. I think we should discuss this further.”
“I agree,” Max said, nodding thoughtfully. “We should talk about this.”