Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

“Hey, Dee?”

  Damn café was still five minutes away.

  She broke off in the middle of her rambling about how, when he got to high school, Nate was going to try out for the football team.

  “Hmm?” she asked.

  Steady, Chancey. You can do this. It sounded like someone else’s voice that came out of his mouth just then. “Are you having sex?”

  “Dad!” The shriek that came out of his daughter’s mouth was so high pitched he was surprised it didn’t crack the windshield. “I can’t believe you’re asking me that. Oh my god. No. No!”

  He breathed another small sigh of relief—though, if she were, would she have been straight with him about it?

  “Well, not that I want you to be doin’ that, you’re way too damn young. But if it happens, you gotta be safe, right, Dee? Not just the pill, but condoms.”

  “Daddy, please stop.”

  “I’m not gonna stop,” he said, turning the corner onto Main. “Because I love you, and this is something you gotta hear so you can be smart. And you know any boy who says you’ve gotta sleep with him to prove you love him, doesn’t really love you, right?”

  “Daddy, Nate hasn’t asked me to… It’s… What can I do to make you stop talking?”

  “Promise me—”

  “I promise!”

  “Let me finish, Deidra,” Chancey said calmly, surprised that he was able to handle himself and this awkward conversation as well as he was. “Promise me you’ll be safe and smart. And that you’ll be a kid for as long as you can.”

  “Fine, yes, I promise.” At his look, Dee flushed and turned away, saying a quieter, more genuine, “I promise.”

  <<< >>>

  Dee flung open the door when they pulled up at the Corner Pie, though whether it was because she was excited to see her mother, or because she couldn’t wait to get away from Chancey, he didn’t know. He let her run, hoping she’d take his words to heart, even if he had embarrassed the hell out of her. He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tapped one out, and stuck it in his mouth.

  No way was he facing his ex-wife and his daughter—their ninety-mile-a-minute back and forth exchange he’d have to watch like a tennis match on fast-forward—without a bit of nicotine.

  Chancey leaned against Layla with her fading paint, and put his heel up on the wheel, enjoying the peace for a minute. The first drag was heavy: the burn of the smoke in his throat, filling his lungs, calming his tense nerves. He exhaled, slowly—imagined the cloud that floated away on the breeze was taking all the bullshit of the day with it.

  These cigarettes were gonna kill him, Chancey knew that. But he wasn’t quite ready to quit. He used to dip when he was younger, and just giving up that delicious flavour of chew for the cigarettes had been hard enough. He supposed he could start drinking more. But without Seamus nearby to fall into bed with every time he tied one on, he wasn’t sure it was worth it.

  “Chancey?” Kaylee called, and he looked over his shoulder.

  Wardrobe change. She was in jeans and a sleeveless, bright-pink button-down top, tied about the midriff. She waved at him as if he might miss her standing twenty-some-odd feet away.

  “Get in here, silly. We’re waitin’ for you!”

  He held up his cigarette to her and then lowered it, sucking through the hand-rolled paper. Obviously annoyed, Kaylee marched towards him across the parking lot. Her heels clicked on the pavement.

  “Chancey, we’re waitin’.”

  “I heard you, Kaylee. Just let me enjoy my goddamn cigarette for one goddamn minute.”

  They might have still been married, screwing each other’s brains out, if not for things like this. The sound of her voice sometimes made Chancey crazy, and not in a good way—especially when she wanted something her way. She was about as charming as a toddler swinging a wet cat in those moments.

  “I told you six forty-five. I’m on a deadline here, Chance.”

  “Chancey.”

  Kaylee looked startled. The brown eyes she shared with their little girl widened.

  “I’ve always called you ‘Chance’. You too good for it now?”

  “No, it isn’t that,” he started, and then thought screw it. He wasn’t going to explain that ‘Chance’ was Seamus’s name for him and Seamus’s alone now. Chancey dropped the cigarette, and ground it out beneath his boot. “All right, let’s go.”

  The café was warm and inviting, just how he remembered it from the last time they’d been there to eat. A waitress with a blue apron greeted them loudly, and Chancey tipped his hat at her. The walls of the Corner Pie were lined with memorabilia. Old movie posters, vintage advertisements for soda, pennants from the town’s football team, street signs, and other miscellaneous junk that made the place seem cluttered and cosy.

  Dee was sitting in the booth in the corner with her back to them. He could see her mass of curly black hair. She seemed to be chatting with a man he didn’t recognise.

  “Who’s that?” Chancey asked.

  “C’mon,” Kaylee said, pushing ahead.

  When they reached the booth, Dee slid over so that her mother could sit next to her. The mystery man also made space for Chancey, but Chancey grabbed a chair from nearby and brought it up to the end of the table instead.

  It was hard to keep the wanna tell me what the hell is goin’ on here? down, but somehow Chancey managed, instead looking from his ex-wife to the man across from her. Kaylee bounced a little in the booth and then, unable to contain her excitement, she held up her hands and said, “I’m gettin’ married!”

  “You’re…what?” Dee asked, her owl eyes almost popping out of her head.

  “Look, innit pretty?”

  That rock had not been on her finger earlier when she’d stopped by Tina’s. He’d have seen it—it was a glittering boulder set into platinum. It was nothing like the dinky little silver ring he’d proposed with—a third carat, and the best he could afford back then.

  Chancey looked over at the man on the other side of the booth. The whole time, he hadn’t said anything, just kept looking down into his phone, sending the occasional message. He was young—too young for Kaylee, but he wouldn’t tell her that—and weak-chinned, but he wouldn’t tell her that either. He watched Dee cautiously, wondering how she was taking all this.

  Finally, Chancey stuck out his hand to the man and said, “Congratulations. Sorry, I didn’t seem to catch your name?”

  The younger man startled and looked from Chancey to Kaylee.

  “Oh, honey, no. This isn’t my fiancé. This is a writer from Country Music Magazine. He’s doin’ a piece about my risin’ star and all that, and the engagement just happened—Pop!—this last weekend, and we thought it would be great if we got some real reactions from my friends and family for the article. So what do y’all think?”

  “Who the hell are you marryin’?”

  “You don’t know him, I don’t think. My producer.”

  “Kaylee, I’ve known your producer for fifteen years—you can’t tell me you’re marrying Wes?”

  “Oh, did I forget to say? I dropped Wes ages ago. Before My Thoughts. You can really hear the difference it’s made to my sound.”

  “Wes took out a second mortgage on his house for you, Kaylee.” Chancey barely kept his anger under control. Of course, he’d always thought it was a damn fool thing Wes had done—spending a dime on Kaylee—but she was very talented and could have made him a lot of money, had she not been as changeable as the wind.

  Kaylee waved Chancey off but offered no defence other than to say, “Well, Isaac’s much better. And he loves me. And we’re gettin’ married.” She turned towards their daughter. “You happy for me, honey?”

  Dee’s owl eyes were now full of tears. She wasn’t happy at all.

  “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”

  Soundlessly, and as quick as a mouse being chased by a cat, Dee slid down in her seat, onto the floor, and bolted out from under the table. It was a move she’d perfected when she
was a kid, but Chancey hadn’t seen her do it in years. He strode after her as she darted out of the restaurant.

  “Wait!” Kaylee came running up behind, grabbing Chancey by the arm as he neared the exit. “Chancey, honey, get back here or he’s gonna think y’all aren’t supporting me. That’s one of the deals I have with him—he can write anything he likes. I can’t stop him. And the kid’s a shark. How do you think something like this will look in print?”

  “I couldn’t give a flyin’ fuck less what he writes, Kaylee. And until you realise your daughter isn’t a doll you can pick up, use for publicity, and toss in the toy box when you’re done, you’re welcome to stay the hell out of our lives.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Murphy’s Law

  Somewhere, beyond the dog and only just in reach of wakefulness, Seamus’s phone was ringing. He extended an arm and patted around the top of the duvet until he found it, slid his thumb over what he hoped was the answer button, lifted Tess’s leg, and put the phone to his ear.

  “’lo?”

  “Shay?”

  “Chance, hey.”

  “Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “You did, but it’s all right. You OK?”

  “No.”

  Seamus shuffled and rolled to free himself, feeling Tess tumble unstirring into the spot he’d vacated. He glanced at the clock: three a.m. It had to be the first night in weeks he’d actually been asleep at this time.

  “It’s late, isn’t it?” Chancey asked. Seamus laughed.

  “Aye, you could say that. It’s late enough to be early, if you get me.”

  “Ah, shit. I…I’ll let you go.”

  “No, it’s fine. You obviously have something on your mind.”

  “Uh huh. I just spent two hours with my thirteen-year-old girl sobbin’ her pretty little heart out.”

  “Oh, Chance. What’s happened?”

  “Do you ever look at someone and wonder what the hell you saw in them in the first place?”

  “Taking a wild guess now, are we talking about Kaylee?”

  Chancey didn’t answer in words, but the silence was telling.

  “Why? What has she done this time?” Seamus asked.

  “This time?”

  “I remember one night you telling me how she was always promising to visit and buy Dee all kinds, but she never followed through.”

  “Ha. Yeah, well, she came through this time, all right.”

  Seamus heard a muted thud at the other end of the line, and it was a sound he recognised: a bare fist hitting a wall.

  “Talk to me, Chancey.”

  “I’m so fuckin’ mad, Shay.” Another thud. And another.

  “I know, but you’re goin’ to do yourself damage.”

  “Better me than her.”

  Seamus didn’t know what to say to that. In spite of all the times Kaylee had let him down, Chancey had never spoken ill of her. In fact, there were a good few occasions when Seamus had been more angry on Chancey’s behalf, because Kaylee Clearwater—or whatever name she went by these days—had quite a reputation, and not a good one. Tina, for one, had much to say about her, and none of it complimentary. For while Chancey was run ragged, working eighty-hour weeks to give his daughter the very best start, Kaylee seemed to be earning big bucks and frittering it away on five-star hotels, hiring limos and stocking her wardrobe with fancy outfits. Seamus thought she was out of order, but it was none of his business, and so he’d kept what Tina said to himself and made no comment whenever Chancey mentioned Kaylee in conversation.

  It was a good five minutes later before Chancey finally said, “She scheduled us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She’s got some little shit of a reporter shadowing her, and she came to tell us she’s getting married. Dee freaked out and ran off, and Kaylee—” Chancey barked out a spiteful laugh “—was more concerned with the fuckin’ magazine, and what they’d have to say, than her own daughter.”

  “Oh, right.” Seamus got up off the bed and went over to the window, scowling at the torrent of rainwater spewing down from the gutter. Another thing to fix, and now he needed to use the bathroom—desperately enough to not care about Chancey hearing him take a leak, such as Chancey was in any fit state to pay attention. “How’s Dee doing?” Seamus asked.

  “A little better. She’s watching some crappy Disney movie about pirates. Can you believe she’s got a boyfriend?”

  “Well,” Seamus said, standing in front of the toilet bowl and one-handedly freeing himself from his boxers, “she’s a teenager now.”

  “She’s only just thirteen.”

  “I had a girlfriend when I was thirteen, although she was nearly fifteen. She had a fine figure, she did. Big, round—”

  “Yeah, you know what? You’re not helping any.”

  “Sorry.” Seamus was still peeing. He knew he shouldn’t have had that second cup of tea, but it was so good to hear Paddy’s voice, he was reluctant to let him go, even when Aidan arrived home from night school. Still, they’d come up with some possible dates for the wedding that worked for the three of them, the idea being for Seamus to check them out with Chancey, see which suited him best. However, with this new development, Seamus didn’t think it wise to mention weddings or interstate rendezvous, particularly as his proposal would have involved asking if Dee could spend a few days with her mother.

  “Are you taking a piss?”

  “Yeah. It was a bit urgent.”

  “Ha. Well, I guess that says somethin’ about what we got goin’ on here.”

  “I s’pose it does, aye. Look, Chance, if we need to cool it a while, focus on Dee…”

  “No. I don’t want that at all. You’re pretty much the only thing keepin’ me sane right now, Shay.”

  Seamus was far from done, but Chancey’s words stopped him mid-flow. With a great deal of effort, he managed to relax his muscles enough to finish the job, shook, adjusted his boxers, flushed the toilet and gave his free hand a quick rinse under the tap. He headed back for the bedroom, but one glance at Tess—upended in the middle of the bed and snoring like a human—and he decided to go downstairs instead.

  “So,” he said, flipping the laptop open and hitting the power button, “I got me computer.”

  “You did?”

  “Yep. I’m booting it up now.”

  “You should go back to bed.”

  “Nah. I’ll grab a couple of hours when we’re done chattin’ and I’ll be grand.” The laptop finished its start-up routine and Skype opened, but apart from that all was silent. “You still there?”

  “Yeah.” Chancey sounded subdued now. “And thanks.”

  “No problem. Shall I call you back?”

  “If you’re sure it’s not—”

  “I like talking to you, Chance. Honestly, I’m up, you’re up. And besides, the dog’s nicked the bed, so.”

  “If you put it like that…”

  “Right. Give me a minute.”

  They both hung up, and Seamus grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa, making himself comfortable before returning the call, which Chancey didn’t answer straight away. In fact, it reached the point where Seamus was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t gone and pressured Chancey into continuing a conversation when he didn’t want to. But then, just as Seamus was about to hang up, the computer beeped, and the screen was suddenly taken over by the close-up visage of the rugged, handsome cowboy.

  “Jeez, Chance, I could count your nose hairs from here.”

  Chancey moved back again and grinned. It was real enough, but he looked dead beat, his eyes not quite so sparkling with life as usual. The worry carved lines across his forehead. That was the extent of Seamus’s observation though, drawn as he was to the sultry slow-blink, heavy-lidded gaze locked on his, and the way Chancey wiped his mouth as if he had just gorged on…

  Steady, Williams. Dee’s home. But it was…hard…to ignore the way Chancey was eyeing him over, the sexual undertones in the thumb chewing, the
circling tongue—there was no mistaking what was on Chancey’s mind at that moment. Seamus made some spatial adjustments under the blanket and cleared his throat.

  “I called our Paddy earlier…well, later, well, no. Last night, is what I mean. The connection’s blisterin’.” And I am blusterin’. “Clear line, no lag…so, yeah…” What the feck am I talkin’ about?

  Chancey nodded very slowly, his eyes still on Seamus, mouth widening into a smile at what was surely undisguised lust coming back at him. Seamus shook his head and laughed at himself. There was little point trying to hide it; the feelings were too strong. Rather than risk saying it aloud, in the event that Dee was in hearing distance, Seamus typed: you’re mentally undressing me, aren’t you? Chancey leaned forward, read the screen, and smirked as he replied: no. I’m mentally fucking you. Chancey sat back again and thumbed over his shoulder. In the distance, Seamus heard the score of Pirates of the Caribbean and nodded his understanding.

  “How’s your brother?” Chancey asked.

  “He’s smashin’. He’s getting married.”

  “Great. When’s the big day?”

  “Not sure yet, but sooner rather than later. Before Christmas, definitely.”

  “That’s good news. Congratulate him for me, will ya?”

  “I will. So, looks like I’ll be coming back over.”

  “You’re coming back…” For a moment Chancey’s face lit up, but then he seemed to sag. “Ah. For the wedding, right?”

  “Right. So…” He knew he shouldn’t say anything; it was selfish, but he wanted to see Chancey face-to-face. No, it was more than a want. It was a need so desperate he was tempted—and not for the first time—to head straight for the airport and catch the next plane back to Kansas. To hell with it. “I was wonderin’ if, when I come over, we could meet halfway. Indianapolis maybe? Or—”

  The dog started barking, and Seamus stopped and glanced in the direction of the stairs. Tess tore down, at speed, and barked at the front door.

  Seamus frowned and got up. “Won’t be a sec,” he said. It was four a.m., probably the milkman, or someone heading out to work. Just to make sure, Seamus opened the front door a crack and peered through the gap, jumping out of his skin when he saw that it wasn’t the milkman at all.