Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits

by Felicia Watson

  “Then why don’t you pick up a six of Iron City and try that out on Mr. Appletini? Let me know how it goes.”

  “Nah,” Adam laughed. “I guess I should just do all my ‘hunting’ at Woody’s—after all, that’s where I found you.”

  Nick swung his feet over the edge of the bed, retorting with a grin, “You ain’t never gonna get that lucky again, boy.”

  “Tell me about it.” Adam’s tone took on the slightest shade of pique as he chided, “I wouldn’t even need as many of those freelance fucks if you weren’t so busy all the time.”

  While he was struggling into his jeans, Nick sighed. “I know. Sorry. Between work and my mom—”

  “Hey, I’m no chick—I’m not tryin’ to lay guilt on you. It’s just, if it would help, I really would come over to your place, you know. Your mom wouldn’t faze me.”

  Nick had considered the possibility more than once but always rejected it as risky. “I know. But the timing would have to be perfect. Somewhere in between her being so crazy she’d bother us or so coherent she’d figure out what we were up to.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her, Nick? I bet it wouldn’t be as big a deal as you think.”

  “Oh God,” Nick groaned. “You have no idea, do you?”

  Adam’s parents, a couple of divorced academics, practically tripped over each other striving to be the one more accepting of their son’s sexuality. As much as he liked Adam, Nick had come to accept that the younger man would never relate to Nick’s conservative, lower class roots.

  Nor had their three years together brought Adam any real appreciation of Nick’s other constraints—both professional and financial. Adam worked an undemanding schedule at the gym but still enjoyed a comfortable life, facilitated mainly by his generous parents. Unlike Nick, who was still paying off his graduate school loans, Adam had coasted through his five years at college with his dad footing the entire bill. Even now, his mom paid his monthly car lease and insurance, while his dad kicked in for both cell phone and cable bills.

  After Nick said an affectionate goodbye and drove away from Adam’s downtown condo, he brushed aside any vague yearnings for a deeper, more visceral connection in a relationship. He’d never had any illusions about romance or love, and this comfortable friendship with benefits was perfect as far as he was concerned.

  Nick thought of those posters they had hung up all over ACC stating Love doesn’t have to hurt. Maybe it didn’t have to, but as far as he had seen, it usually did.

  Chapter 3:

  ’Til We Have Lost the World

  Not ’til we have lost the world do we begin to find ourselves.

  —Henry David Thoreau

  OUT OF the corner of his eye, Logan watched his daughters carefully carry their trays to a sunny table near the window while he paid the tab. No big fan of McDonald’s “cuisine,” his own tray held only two double cheeseburgers and a cup of coffee. As he joined Krista and Meghan at the table they had chosen, he unsuccessfully tried to pretend his sister-in-law, Marie Stoats, wasn’t sitting right across the aisle, glaring at him occasionally while perusing a magazine.

  The sight of his pretty daughters’ shining faces cleared away most of Logan’s gloom even though an awkward silence descended as he sat down. To break it, he nodded at Meghan’s lunch, saying, “You didn’t want one of them Happy Meals, honey? Thought you loved ’em.”

  “Daddy,” came the outraged reply. “I’m not a little kid anymore. Those are for babies.”

  “Oh.” Logan had nothing to add, since he was certain telling Meghan that she was still his baby girl would be an unwelcome observation.

  Krista smiled at her dad sympathetically, saying, “Meghan tries to act like she’s a teenager or somethin’.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Meghan shot back. “You’ve been bugging Mom about wearing makeup. And who’s all dopey-mopey in love with Nick Jonas? Not me.” She turned to her father, saying, “He’s all she wants to talk about these days.”

  Logan guessed that Meghan was referring to the kid who occasionally came to do homework with Krista. “That the red-haired boy who lives in the building ’cross the way?”

  “Da-ad. She’s talking about one of the Jonas Brothers,” Krista corrected firmly.

  “Ya mean one of Sam Jones’s boys from back home? Them boys’re a little old for you to be botherin’ about.” Logan took a bite of his burger while wondering when Linda had taken the girls to Elco.

  Voices laced with equal parts shock and exasperation, his daughters enlightened him in unison, “The Jonas Brothers are a band!” Meghan continued on alone. “Krista has a big poster up in our room. Don’t you remember?”

  “Meghan,” Krista said quietly, “I got that after… after Daddy left.”

  Logan desperately needed for this visit not to descend into quiet sadness like the last one, so he gamely suggested, “Well, ya gotta get me all caught up. What else is new at home?”

  Apparently happy to play along, Meghan piped up, “We’re getting a kitty!”

  “You are? When?”

  “Some lady Mom works with, her cat had kittens, and Mom said we can have one when it’s old enough to leave its mommy. We went over there last week and picked one out. He’s black with white paws, and we’re gonna call him Boots,” Meghan elaborated breathlessly.

  Staring earnestly at the French fry she was toying with, Krista added, “You’ll see him when you come home.” She peeped up at Logan, asking, “You’ll be coming home real soon—won’t you, Daddy?”

  That was the question Logan had been dreading, the one that could easily lead to taboo subjects. “Well… I don’t know…. Ya see, me an’ your mom… still got some stuff to work out….”

  Hesitantly, Krista said, “You mean about… about what happened—”

  Logan cut in with, “You girls don’t need to be worrying about that accident. It’s over an’ done with, okay?”

  Krista looked nervously at her aunt and then whispered, “Mom’s still mad at you, isn’t she?”

  Logan shoved his tray aside and leaned in toward his girls. “Honey, it’s nothin’ for you to bother about, I promise. I’ll be home by Christmas, at the latest.” Privately, that was the date Logan had always fixed on. With his probation and court-ordered counseling done, he’d always figured the whole episode would have blown over by year’s end.

  Inadvertently, rather than cheering his daughters, this news horrified them. With round-eyed surprise, they repeated, “Christmas!”

  He rushed again to reassure them. “It’s not that far away. Why, my boss is already orderin’ Christmas trees, and we’re movin’ stuff around to make room for decorations an’ that.” Logan reached over and gently tugged Meghan’s pigtail. Teasingly, he added, “You mean you ain’t got your letter to Santa written yet? Better get a move on.”

  Logan was gratified by the giggle he got for his trouble and distracted her further by saying with a wink, “Don’t know if we should get a tree this year though—heard cats like to climb ’em.”

  The tightness in his chest eased when Meghan picked up the cue and started assuring him that Boots would do no such thing. “He’s gonna be a real good kitty. He’s so cute, ain’t he, Krista?”

  Krista sipped her soda slowly before smiling a little too widely at her dad and sister and agreeing, “He sure is. You’ll love ’im, Dad.”

  “IT SOUNDS to me like you missed an opportunity.”

  Trudy had her lecturing voice on, Logan noticed. Head in hands and elbows balanced on his knees, he rubbed his temples, wondering how he was going to put up with this woman for four months more. “Like I told them, it ain’t for them to be worrying about.”

  “But they are worrying about it, Logan. Certainly Krista is. Things don’t go away just because you don’t talk about them.”

  “They don’t get better ’cause you do.” Logan glanced briefly at Dr. Gerard. She wore a raspberry-colored silk suit that he found to be a little jarring but fitting. It sure demanded a
ttention—just like Trudy.

  The brightly attired psychologist raised an eyebrow as she leaned back in her chair. “Then I’ve wasted my entire life.”

  Shifting in the squat, padded chair, Logan mumbled, “If you say so.”

  Trudy surprised the hell out of Logan by erupting with laughter before she answered, “Smart ass. Let’s see if you can prove me wrong. Tell me how the rest of the visit went.”

  Relieved that Trudy was willing to move on, Logan relaxed a bit. “It went okay. They’re getting a cat from some friend of Linda’s, and we talked ’bout me bein’ home by Christmas.”

  All trace of amusement gone from her voice, Trudy asked, “Is that what you expect?”

  “Sure.” Logan shrugged his right shoulder against his ear. “It’ll all be done by then. Us,” he waved a hand between them before adding, “and my probation.”

  “Have you talked to Linda about this?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re willing to?”

  “Sure… if she’s willing to….”

  “To what?”

  Resolution straightened his spine and deepened his voice as Logan answered, “To let all of this go. I know she’s probably still a little sore about what happened, but… hell, I done the right thing. I manned up and pled guilty, and I come here every week like I’m s’posed to. She should be willin’ to forget what happened and go back to the way we were before.”

  Of all the topics out of his little speech that she could have chosen to explore, Logan was surprised when Trudy asked, “So you and Linda were happy before the abuse incident?”

  Logan swallowed a sigh at Trudy’s use of the term “abuse” but managed to calmly say, “Happy enough. Better when we were in Elco, though.”

  “I thought it was both of your decision to move?”

  A bitter laugh preceded Logan’s reply. “More like Marie’s idea.”

  “Your sister-in-law?” When Logan nodded, Trudy confirmed, “It was her idea that you move to North Braddock?”

  “Yeah. It was her fault. Her and her new car and split-level house. Her filling Linda’s head with all that talk of how much better things would be if we’d move up here and I could make more money—like her Bob does.”

  “But you did say that your business in Elco had fallen off, right?” It was more statement than question.

  “I was almost as busy as ever, folks just weren’t payin’ their bills on time. You know how it is; times ’re tough.”

  “Yet you still blame Marie for suggesting you take the job in the mill?”

  Logan stared at the bookcase without really seeing the dozens of somber-colored book spines filling it. “Yeah. We could’a rode out that rough patch. She didn’t have to stick her nose in. But I guess she’s had it in for me ever since I knocked up her little sister.” When that tidbit slipped out, he swung his head guiltily back towards Trudy.

  Like a cat on a wounded mouse, Trudy pounced on the new information. “Oh… so that’s how it was. Is that why you got married?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How old were you two?”

  “Just a couple’a years outta high school. But I would’ve ’ventually asked Linda, no matter what,” he added defensively.

  “Because you were in love with her?”

  “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

  “More than any other girl you ever dated?”

  “Never really dated much.”

  “Really?” Trudy’s question was half surprise, half skepticism. “Why not?”

  “Too busy workin’. Started fixin’ cars for money when I was ’bout fourteen. Trying to help Daisy and Jim make ends meet.”

  “I see.”

  Logan prayed to a God in whom he didn’t always believe that Trudy wouldn’t ask about his relationship with his brother and sister, one that was nonexistent with the former and strained with the latter.

  However, she pulled one of her patented abrupt changes in subject. He always wondered if she did this to keep him slightly off-balance. If so, it was working. “So how was your meeting with Nick Zales?”

  Feeling like Trudy had tipped him from her frying pan into the gas flame under it, Logan said, “Went fine.”

  “Care to elaborate on that?”

  “What do you wanta hear? I’m gonna do that class, every week on Thursdays. Okay?”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it. Didn’t you like Nick?”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I said I was gonna do it! I’ve done everything you ask, but you keep poking into my business lookin’ for… for God knows what. You ever gonna sign that paper? You ever gonna let me see my daughters the right way? Do you get some kinda charge outta rippin’ me apart every week?” Suddenly Logan realized he was standing, practically shouting at a stern-faced Trudy; abruptly he closed his mouth and dropped back into the chair.

  Trudy took a deep breath before asking, “Okay, then. Want to let me in on what that was all about?”

  “I don’t know. You know I got a bad temper. Never tried to hide that.”

  “And it just flares up like that without warning? Without provocation?”

  Logan wasn’t about to let that pass; he snapped, “You’re plenty provoking.”

  “Maybe,” Trudy allowed dryly, “but that’s my job.” She leaned forward, asking, “Are you completely under control now?”

  “Yeah, it was nothin’. Just got a little worked up, is all.”

  “And what that I said got you so worked up?”

  “I don’t know. Just get sick of all these questions, I guess.”

  When Logan saw Trudy lean back with her arms folded and her mouth slightly twisted, he knew she wasn’t buying his evasion. He waited for more probing on the subject of his recent outburst and was puzzled when she said, “What I want you to do is think back to a time when you really lost your temper, even worse than you just did. Something we haven’t already discussed. And tell me what happened right before—what you were feeling, especially.”

  Logan felt too worn out to even try. There were only ten minutes left in his session; maybe he could stall her. “I can’t think of nothin’ right now.”

  “There was an incident in your file about you getting into a bar fight back in Elco. You beat the guy up pretty badly, it seems. He even tried to sue you for lost wages while he was laid up, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” Logan laughed. “His lawyer dropped that idea like a hot rock when he found out we didn’t have any money.”

  “Okay. Tell me about that fight.”

  “Not much to tell. The guy tried to jump ahead’a me for the pool table. I wouldn’t let ’im.”

  “So you hit him?”

  “Not right off. I told him we’d put our marker down before his and he should wait his turn. He kinda backed down, and his friends pulled him over to the bar.”

  “And?”

  “When Red Thompson and me finished playin’, Red called over and said they could have the table. I was puttin’ the cue back, and that asshole comes over, puts his arm ’round my shoulders, and says, ‘No hard feelin’s, huh, pretty boy?’ And then… then I hit ’im.”

  “That’s what set you off?”

  “Yeah.” There was a long silence where Logan could feel Trudy’s eyes boring into him. Almost nervously, he added, “You let a guy get away with treatin’ you that way at a place like Carney’s, and soon everyone’ll think… think they can talk down to you.”

  “So that’s what really made you lose your temper—that he was talking down to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you think that’s a common thread when you lose control? Did you feel like I was patronizing you when I asked about the course?”

  It seemed safest to agree. “Maybe. Yeah, maybe, that’s it.”

  “Hmmm, we could be getting somewhere. This week I want you to think if there was ever a time when you felt like someone was putting you down and you didn’t lose your temper. Next week we’ll talk about it. Can you do t
hat?”

  “Sure.” Got a whole string of ’em—from today goin’ back to March. Prob’ly more to come.

  NICK WAS glad to see Cheryl smiling at Tish’s wisecracks as they rode to their first Basic Automotive class. Sometimes Tish’s motormouth wore on him, but if her wild tales of what she was going to do when she moved in with her sister were bringing his newest client out of her shell, he was all for it. Nick glanced at Tish in the rearview mirror. “Well, thanks a lot, sounds like you can’t wait to get away from us.”

  Tish pushed her short, curly black hair out of her dark eyes, teasing back, “Not you, honey, all them fuckin’ rules I’ve been under for the last four months. ‘Make your bed, clean up the kitchen, wipe down the shower, no yellin’ at your kids,’ and a curfew! Shit, I ain’t had one of them since I was twelve.” She leaned forward, saying, “You been there a few weeks now, right? Bet you know what I mean, don’t you, girlfriend?”

  Cheryl tipped her head forward shyly, bringing a curtain of long, straight brown hair around her freckled face. “It was awful nice of them to take me and the kids in—no notice or anything.”

  “A little more freedom would be even nicer,” answered Tish. “Can’t wait for September,” she added, referring to her imminent move.

  Since he’d said it a dozen times previously, Nick refrained from telling her again that with an average population of sixty women and nearly as many children, ACC would quickly descend into chaos if it weren’t for the tight set of rules. With Nick mostly silent, Tish held court all the way to Dave’s repair shop.

  When they got there, Nick was disappointed not to see Norah and her Cavalier waiting. It was a few minutes after three p.m., and she had promised to be on time. As he led his charges up the long flight of steps, Nick strained for any sound of Norah’s arrival, knowing that her junker was audible from many blocks away.

  They found Logan leaning against the front of the shop, taking long drags on a newly lit cigarette; several butts strewn at his feet attested to the fact that he’d been waiting a while.