8. Chapter 8
“Is it on?”
“It’s on.”
“How do you know?” Jason Sr. asked from his high-backed chair.
He was in the simple gray sweatshirt, rolled up at the sleeves, that he’d worn almost every day for the last few months of his life.
He’d ordered enough sets of the same sweatsuit that Mrs. Aldridge didn’t have to do laundry more than once every two weeks.
She, of course, had maintained her Tuesday/Friday wash schedule regardless.
Jase didn’t know why the detail struck him now. His nose was probably stinging from the smell coming off of him, not the memory. He pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.
For a moment, Whitlock’s wrinkly frown appeared at the edge of the TV screen. “Don’t you see the red light? Or are you going blind too?”
“I see the red light, you son of a bitch,” Jason barked. “I just don’t want to do this more than once.”
Whitlock disappeared, presumably behind the camera, leaving the old man alone in center frame. “It’s ready. Get going, I don’t have all day.”
“What? You have somewhere better to be?”
Graham cut through the video banter. “Are they serious?”
“Give them a break,” Jase said. He was actually enjoying listening to his old man and Whitlock go at it the way they used to do.
“All right, all right,” Jason said, sighing on screen. He smiled, toothy and mischievous, as he addressed his audience. “Surprise! I bet you thought you were done. Think again. We’re just getting started, kids.”
A hearty fuck rumbled from Graham.
“Go pour yourselves something strong. You’re going to need it.” Jason looked behind the camera at Whitlock. “Shut it off so they can get a drink.”
“I don’t have to shut it off,” Whitlock said. “They can pause it.”
“Oh, right.” To the four wide-eyed kids in the den, he said, “Check the cupboard to the left of the fireplace. I left something special for this occasion. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”
Helen paused the TV and Graham went to the cupboard. He was silent, staring inside.
“I didn’t even know he had this,” Graham said after a few beats.
“If you did, you would’ve drunk it,” Jase said. “What is it?”
Graham stood, cradling a bottle in his hands. “Dalmore 40.”
Jase’s balls jumped into his belly and his jaw hit the floor.
“That’s ten, twelve grand,” he rasped.
“Makes the six-thousand-dollar bottle of Pappy he sent to Helen look cheap,” Graham murmured. “Maybe we should sell it instead of drinking it.”
Helen returned from the kitchen with four glasses of ice.
“The only way to drink this is neat,” Graham said, sending her back.
Jase chanced a look at Lindsey. She was anchored near the alcove, watching his dad’s frozen face on the TV screen. There were a dozen questions in her eyes and sadness and…something else. Fear?
Made sense that she’d be afraid. The last time Lindsey got roped into his dad’s plans, she got dumped by one brother, jerked around by the other, and lied to by everyone.
A few weeks ago, in the two days when touching her hadn’t just been allowed but she’d literally shaken in his hands, Jase would’ve set his arm around her, put his mouth to her ear, and reminded her to breathe. He’d take care of her—this time out of the bedroom.
Their eyes met when she caught him staring. His mouth was hanging open, but as usual when he needed to say something important, not a goddamn thing came out.
“Careful,” Graham was telling Helen, visibly nervous to hand her the Dalmore. She poured a few fingers into fresh, empty glasses. “If you spill that’s hundreds of dollars wasted.”
“Just relax,” Helen sighed.
“Speaking of money, when you got back…what?” Jase asked. “There was just no check?”
“No. There wasn’t. Whitlock, the stubborn bastard, wouldn’t tell us anything until you got here,” Graham said.
Helen—slowly—walked glasses to Jase and Lindsey, and rejoined Graham on the couch to start the video again.
“What do you think of the whisky?” Jason Sr. asked. “I’m not normally a Scotch man, but it’s not often you come across a bottle this special. I’ve been saving it for the right occasion. Savor it. That could’ve paid for a semester of college.”
Graham choked on his first sip and swore.
“How many hundreds of dollars was that?” Helen chided.
“I hope the beverage takes away some of the sting of what I’m about to tell you.
I’m sure you have millions of questions.
” Jason Sr. winked. “Is any of this reversible? Is there a way to cut corners? Am I senile?” He paused, shaking his head.
“The answer is no. I’m not crazy. In fact, I’ve never been more sure of what I want to do with my money and with you.
You, of course, can opt out at any time.
I figured you’d gripe every step of the way, hence the brilliant contingency.
The wild dogs of the Outback are nipping at your heels now, boys, hoping for more money than they—or you—have ever seen. ”
“Wild dogs of the Outback?” Lindsey asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Graham said.
Jase had forgotten about the mutts in queue to inherit six million bucks if he and Graham didn’t follow the rules. His old man sat up straighter.
“Christ, this chair is getting old,” Jason muttered.
“So am I, waiting for you to get on with it,” Whitlock said from off camera.
Jason Sr. waved him away with a grunt, and continued, “Here’s the rub—the house belongs to Lindsey.”
Jase’s head shot to her. She sipped her Dalmore without looking at him. This wasn’t new news to her or anyone else.
“She doesn’t have to do a damn thing to get it either.
If she chooses, she can turn your asses out effective immediately without so much as collecting your old baseball cards or the skin mags you’ve squirreled away under your beds.
They’re not yours anymore. Hopefully by now she’s changed the locks and gotten the grand tour from Mrs. Aldridge,” the old man said.
“I do hope, for your sakes, you’ve been good to her.
Knowing you boys—both of you boys—you haven’t.
In that case, you’ll get a small percentage of my fortune, and the rest will literally go to the dogs. ”
Three heads turned to Lindsey now, who shrank into the shadows of the alcove.
“But,” Jason boomed, “if she decides to take pity on you, or things did not go down the way I suspect and you’re all still hunky-dory, you have two weeks, starting today, to live within these walls for the last time.
Together. All four of you. While you’re here, clean out your rooms. At the end of two weeks, your checks will be waiting and you’re free to go on your way. ”
His point made, he relaxed a little.
“The cameras by every entry and in the yard will track you,” he added. “And Whitlock will be watching.”
“You bet your ass I will,” Whitlock cursed offscreen.
“Come and go as you please, but you go to bed here, you wake up here, every day for fourteen days,” the old man said.
“It’s been years since you boys lived under this roof.
Sleep—and do whatever else—in your beds.
Walk barefoot down the hall. Reacquaint yourselves with the liquor cabinet.
Better yet, drive on down to the Haunt for a drink, on me.
They’re expecting you. Do this and keep the dogs at bay.
Don’t and…well…the pooches will be well-fed. ”
“Shit,” Jase breathed.
“Oh, and Graham?” His dad lifted his chin to his youngest son. “Stay out of my goddamn study!”