“Looks like someone is ready to take on the day,” she says, a smile on her face.
I nod. “I feel a lot better. I’m gonna take it slow, but I can’t just lay around for another day. I need to get up and do something.”
“Wonderful. Well, then I’m gonna get back to being an old retired lady who hangs out with her friends all day.”
I laugh at her, and she gives me and Jones a kiss before leaving.
I’m setting a plate of toast and eggs in front of Jones when there’s a knock on the door. I head over and open it, then smile shyly when I see Cole standing on the other side of the security gate.
“Come on in,” I say, pushing the gate forward. Cole smiles back and steps inside, his physical presence overwhelming the room immediately.
I clear my throat and head back into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. “Do you want a cup? I have a plastic holder if you want to take it to-go.”
“That would be great,” he says, walking up to the kitchen table and taking a seat next to Jones. He ruffles his hair affectionately, and the kid just leans sideways and rests his face on Cole’s arm.
“He’s super pooped out after such an awesome few days, huh Jonesie?” I say, after I set a cup in front of Cole.
Jones just groans, and Cole laughs.
“Eat your food, mister.”
Jones lifts his head and eyes the toast and eggs, then grumbles something and takes a bite of the bread before setting his head back on the table.
I laugh and then take a sip of my coffee.
“Are you allowed to drink coffee?” Cole asks. Then he grimaces. “Sorry. I’m sure you know what you’re doing. It’s your body. I’m just curious. I feel like I see some pregnant women who do and others who don’t.”
I inwardly smile at his fluster.
“That’s okay. I’m actually allowed to have up to a cup of coffee a day. But I always drink decaf.” I take another sip. “So I hope you’re okay with grabbing a cup of espresso later today.”
He smiles, his eyes flicking over to Jones.
“I have a bike show this weekend. Would it be cool if I took the kid? I’d take him with me on the bike, show him other bikes, then bring him home. We’d probably stay 2 or 3 hours.”
I pause, thinking it over. I don’t know how I feel about Jones on the back of a motorcycle.
“If it’s a bike issue, I can get him a kid’s helmet, or I can drive him over in my truck instead.”
My brow furrows.
“You have a truck? How many cars do you have?”
He shrugs. “I’m a car guy. I have my project, Chloe. I have my bike. I have a truck that I keep at the shop. That’s about it.”
At the mention of the shop, I look away.
“Hey Annie.”
I look back at him.
“I’m sorry for not telling you I owned The Garage. I should have. No excuses.”
I let out a sigh and set my cup down, then lean up against the counter and cross my arms.
“I overreacted. I should be thankful you were willing to help, not throwing checks at you and yelling at you in front of your family. I’m so sorry about that.”
He laughs.
“Trust me, my parents were definitely on your side. How about this? I’ll always be honest with you, okay? If I want to help with something, and you don’t want my help, I’ll probably still try to push it, but I won’t try to keep you in the dark just because I think I know better.”
My heart swells. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this on a man before. Actual, honest-to-god, remorse. Cole isn’t just trying to keep me off his back, or placate me so I’ll spread my thighs later. He’s actually sorry.
“Thanks, Cole.”
We stare at each other for a second, the air heavy with… something. I don’t really know what. But I know I’m beginning to love looking into his eyes.
“So do I get to go to the bike show?”
Jones’ voice cutting into the moment just proves my earlier theory that my son has selective hearing.
“Well, I don’t know,” I say. “You look super tired. You might not have enough energy before this weekend gets…”
His head shoots up. “No I’m not. Tell him, mom. I’m fine. I can go!”
I look at his food, which remains practically untouched, minus the one bite of toast. “Eat your breakfast.”
Before I even finish the sentence, he has half the eggs in his mouth.
“Dude, slow your roll. If you choke, you won’t be able to come to the bike show,” Cole says.
“So I can go?” he asks, some of the food falling out of his mouth. “Please, mom. Pleeeeeeeease. I’ll never ask for anything ever again. Pleasepleasepleaseplease!”
I glare at him for about 15 seconds before smiling and saying “okay.”
He shoots out of his chair and runs in a circle around the table and then launches himself at Cole with a “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” I say.
Jones glances over at me. “What?”
“Just eat your breakfast,” I say.
Jones plops himself down and shovels down his eggs with a smile.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
COLE
On Sunday morning, instead of going about my normal routine of run, breakfast, work on Chloe, sports, I spend an hour cleaning my bike to get ready for the bike show. Then, at 7 in the morning, I knock on Annie’s door and grin when Jones answers it, wide-awake and ready to go.
“He can ride the bike with you,” Annie says. “I’d be happy to take him in my car and drop him off, but…” she trails off and then looks me in the eyes. “I trust you with him.”
Her statement knocks me in the gut. Never before have I thought what it must be like for a parent to trust someone else to pay attention to and protect their kid. I’m crazy about Jones, and I’d never let anything happen to him, and I’m not even his parent.
Jones greedily takes his helmet from my hand when I pass it over. I bend down and make sure it fits him properly, and he gives me that big old shit-eating grin that I love seeing on his face.
When I lift him up on the bike and then climb on, Annie calls out my name.
I look over and see she has her phone out.
“Say cheese!” she says.
“Cheesies!” Jones screams out from where he sits in front of me, his little hands gripping onto the handlebars, and it makes me laugh.
Once Annie signals that she got her pictures, she gives us a wave, and I slowly back out of the driveway, rev my engine, and roll slowly down the road. I might be really confident on this bike, but the fact I have some truly precious cargo right now has hit me in a way I’ve never experienced before. So the drive over to San Dimas passes slowly as I choose to take back streets and stay to the side and under the speed limit.
“You okay back there?” I call to Jones after about fifteen minutes.
“This is so cooooooool!” he screams back to me.
When we finally pull into the massive parking lot at San Dimas high school, where the event is being held, I turn off the engine and drop the kickstand, pushing up and over so I can help Jones climb off without burning himself.
And then I can’t stop smiling.
The kid is shaking he’s so excited. The smile on his face is plastered on. His eyes are wide. And his fists are clenched.
“Did you have fun?” I ask, slipping my hands into his pits and lifting him off the bike.
“It was so cool,” he says. “Can we go bike riding every day?”
I tap him on the head and then unclick his helmet. “We’ll see.”
I clip the helmets to the handlebars, then Jones slips his hand into mine and we wander through the parking lot. He watches everything with huge eyes, and after about 30 minutes of him just walking silently at my side, I crouch down to look at him.
“Do you have any questions?” I ask.
Jones shrugs, and that’s when I notice he looks a little bit
worried.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to figure out what could have happened over the past half hour to make him go from sixty to zero.
“My dad took me to work once and I remembered he used to get really mad if I asked too many things.”
My heart clenches. “Well, I love being asked questions. Feel free to ask away, okay?”
His face lights up, and the next hour flies by. We go from bike to bike, some of them super tricked out and unique, others really classic with clean lines. And Jones does not disappoint. He asks me all of the questions. What is that part? Why did he do that? Why is the tire so big? Why is that lady almost naked?
I covered his eyes immediately and moved us a few rows over. In my excitement to share motorcycles with Jones, I forgot that there are people who think a bike show is a great place to have models show off their tits in leather and straps.
When we get to the end of the next row, I see Alex and his siblings and a few of our other friends all surrounding a bike.
“Hey guys!” I say with a smile.
I get the warm greetings from Alex and Rod, and a kiss on the cheek from Lucia, who introduces me to her boyfriend Jorge.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Jones says to me with a tug on my hand.
“I’ll take him,” Lucia says. “It’s just right there.”
“You cool, little man?” I ask.
Cole nods, takes Lucia’s hand, and they head off to the portable toilet at the edge of the parking lot.
“So, who’s the kid?”
I glance over at Rod, who has his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.
“My neighbor’s son. He’s been really digging on my motorcycle, so I thought I’d bring him along.”
Rod gives me a nod, seeming to accept my answer. But Alex scowls at me.
“What?” I ask, throwing my hands out. “I can’t take a friend’s kid out for a fun day?”
“You don’t even bring your girlfriend to these things,” Alex says, spitting his words at me with a venom I don’t quite understand. When I don’t answer he lifts an eyebrow. “Does Jess even know you’re doing this with Annie’s kid?”
I clench my fist. “Dude, Jess is at her mom’s this weekend, otherwise I would have brought her, too. You’re making this into more than it is.”
He steps up to me and presses his finger into my chest. “No, you’re making it into less than what it is.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been on both ends of this. I’ve been the kid getting taken out by mommy’s man friend, and I’ve been the guy taking out some chick’s kid. It never ends well. For anyone.”
I stay silent, believing in my heart it’s different, but knowing nothing I say to Alex will convince him.
“And say what you want about bringing Jess if she was in town, but that’s bullshit. You’ve never brought her to one of these. She always hangs out at your house while you go out.”
My mind races over the past few times I’ve gone to bike shows, and my stomach twists when I realize Alex is right. I don’t bring Jess. But that’s because she wouldn’t really be interested, right? She gets bored when I mention work or talk about the bike. So why would she want to come to a show?
But before I can respond to Alex, Lucia is back with Jones.
“That thing smelled really bad,” Jones says, and I choose to let the comments from Alex go and focus on enjoying my time with Jones.
We spend a little more time with my friends, although Alex keeps his distance, before heading over to the food trucks and grabbing some lunch.
Once we have our food and sodas, I lead Jones over to the picnic tables and we dive into our grub.
“You having fun?” I ask, biting into my burger.
Jones nods his head and gives me a big smile. “Oh yeah. This is the best day I’ve ever had.”
I laugh a little. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You excited to ride the motorcycle back to the house in a little bit?”
He’s taking a massive bite of his hot dog when I ask, and in the process of nodding, gets a huge glob of ketchup and mustard on his jeans.
“Sorry!” he says, looking at me with a little bit of fear.
“Hey dude, no worries. We’re men. We can totally be messy.”
But he looks nervous and tries to get the sauce off his jeans, making it messier as he goes.
Then suddenly, he starts crying.
I’ve never had to deal with a crying kid before, so I don’t know what to do. I look around and see eyes on us, and I flush with embarrassment. I don’t know how parents do this all the time. Your kid starts crying for no reason, and you worry that everyone thinks you’re abusing them.
I get up and round the table, straddling the bench and leaning in close to him as he cries.
“Hey Jones? What’s wrong, man? What happened?” My voice is soft and gentle. The last thing I want to do is freak him out even worse than whatever is going on in his mind.
“I’m sorry I made a mess,” he says, between hiccupping sobs.
“But I said it wasn’t a big deal. It doesn’t matter if you’re messy. That’s just normal life.”
He looks up at me, his eyes watery and red. I grab a napkin and wipe his face off a bit.
“My dad used to get really mad if I made a mess. He said I ruined everything.”
My body flushes with blood and I feel like my soul shatters. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? He has a gem like Annie and an absolutely amazing son like Jones, and he just shits on them, and cheats on them, and makes them feel like insignificant pieces of trash?
I’ve never been a particularly vengeful guy, but today I’m feeling like Andrew deserved to die, that he didn’t deserve this life he was given a chance at, and the world was smoothing out some karmic justice against him.
I pick Jones up and hold him close, rubbing his back until his cries subside. Then I pull him back a bit and look him in the face.
“Jones, you are usually the best part of my day. I love having you around, whether you’re super clean and playing in my pool, or whether you get mustard and ketchup all over my motorcycle.”
His eyes get wide when I say that.
“But your motorcycle is your favorite thing,” he says.
And I shake my head.
“You’re way more important than my motorcycle, Jones. And if I had to pick between you and the bike, I’d definitely pick you.”
Jones just stares at me for a minute, then he wraps his little arms around my shoulders and squeezes me as tight as I think he’s capable of doing.
I rub his back when I feel him crying again.
“I love you Cole,” he whispers.
And I swear, it takes everything inside of me to not break down and cry right there alongside him.
“Love you too, bud.”
«««« »»»»
When we pull into the driveway after getting back from the bike show, Annie greets us before I’ve even turned off the engine. She gives Jones a big smile and a kiss, digging her hands in and lifting him off the back of the bike, smothering him in a hug.
“Careful, girl. You don’t want to mess up that back again.” I say it more as a tease than serious, but there is a hint of truth behind my words. Seeing Annie in pain was something I never want to see again.
She just laughs and puts Jones down on the ground. “Well, I’ve got at least 5 more years of lifting up kids in my future. I may just need to hoard some of those pain pills and let come what may.”
Jones tugs on Annie’s hand, going into full story mode about everything that happened at the bike show. Annie’s eyes fly to mine when he mentions the woman in boots and nearly nothing else, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m so sorry, Annie. I turned him away as quick as I could. But some of these guys don’t think about making these events kid friendly.”
She squints her eyes and gives me a playfully angry face, and then goes back to listening to Jones, who is busy talking about meeting Alex, Rod and L
ucia.
“And Cole told me he loves me more than his motorcycle!” Jones’ proclamation, shouted out so loud I’d be surprised if our neighbors hadn’t heard, has me wondering how Annie will react.
I can either make it awkward – blush, stammer, try to explain to Annie what happened – or I can stand firm and make sure this fucking kid knows he’s fucking important.
I squat down in front of Jones, not even sparing Annie a glance. “Jones, you’re more important than anything. Definitely to your mom, and to your Mimi. And to me too.”
Jones gives me a smile, then turns to look at his mom, then back at me. “Will I be more important than Diana?”
I catch Annie’s eyes then and give her a smile. “I’m gonna leave answering that question to your mom.”
Annie laughs. “Oh, thanks.” She turns to Jones whispers something in his ear, sending him into the house. She watches him as he goes, then looks back at me, her eyes soft and brimming with emotion. “You’ve been making my boy feel like he’s worth something,” she says, her tone gentle. “I can never repay you for that. And, for the first time, I don’t want to. Because he deserves that, and I feel lucky that I get to see it.”
I give her a nod, feeling at a loss for anything to say in response. Seeing her finally, finally, accept something kind and caring from someone else is pretty amazing. But being the person giving it to her? It rattles the soul.
We say our ‘see you laters’ and go back to our respective homes. I wander around the house, picking up the junk I’ve left lying around and doing the dishes. I pull the meat out of the fridge to sit on the counter.
And before I know it, it’s 6pm and the guys are over for Second Sunday.
“How’d the rest of the show go?” I ask Rod as I flip a burger on the grill. Rod, Alex and I go to a show every few months, and normally meet up to spend the full day together. But I didn’t want to keep Jones there too long and risk him getting bored. Plus, after that little emotional moment on the picnic table, I think we were both ready to wrap up the day.
Like You Mean It Page 19