“Fine,” she said. With a last dour glance, she picked up the cuff link, draped the cloth back over her eyes, and rolled onto her side. Away from him.
For a full ten seconds, he stared at her back, that solid wall of leave-me-alone, while a jumble of emotions roiled around inside him. Then he got up from the bed and did what she wanted.
He left her the hell alone.
Paige
Her father had this thing he did with his jaw that clearly signaled his mood to anybody with a functioning brain. She should know; she had the same habit. It was a little freaky, the way their body language was so similar. Clear evidence of nature trumping nurture. When Dear Old Dad came back downstairs, he was doing the clenched jaw thing, and Paige wasn’t sure whether to run or offer sympathy.
She opted for somewhere in the middle. Neutral territory, like Switzerland, or Rhode Island. Clearing her throat, she said, “Casey okay?”
His brows drew together in a thunderous expression, and for an instant, she regretted saying anything. Then he relaxed, shrugged his shoulders. “She says she is, but you couldn’t prove it by me. Listen, I’m not in the mood to cook. What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand and find something to eat in town?”
“In town” meant one of three options: the Jackson Diner, the pizza and sandwich shop inside the bowling alley, or Lola’s, which specialized in thick and juicy steaks, a fully-stocked bar, and karaoke on Friday and Saturday nights. Slim pickings by anyone’s standards. No dim sum, no plump and cheesy burritos, no handmade gelato. On the other hand, food was food, and she knew her father well enough by now to recognize that he wasn’t quite as nutrition-conscious as his wife. Whatever she chose, he’d be amenable, and he wouldn’t remind her that she hadn’t yet eaten her daily allotment of leafy green vegetables. There were advantages to having an old man who, when he wasn’t being a flaming ass, was laid back and flexible.
“Sounds good to me,” she said.
They took the Porsche, which was okay with her, as there was a certain coolness factor attached to riding in a snazzy black sports car, in spite of that ridiculous and egotistical license plate. When his wife wasn’t around, Rob MacKenzie didn’t drive like a sedate, responsible adult. He drove that powerful car a little too fast, a little too aggressively. As if he, and he alone, owned the road. A Boston driver to the hilt. And for some crazy reason, that felt right. He did insist on seat belts, which was a little dorky, but the truth was that she felt safer wearing the thing, so she only rolled her eyes a little as she locked it around her, then forgot it was supposed to be uncool. Dead was pretty uncool, too.
He fiddled with the radio, found an oldies station, blasted something ancient at a death-defying volume. Something about a chick named Sloopy. Or maybe it was a dog named Snoopy. Either way, it was pretty lame.
He lowered the volume a few hundred decibels. “We used to play this,” he said, “back in the day.”
“Hunh.”
“Your mom always came to our gigs wearing this cute little miniskirt thingy. Black leather. With knee-high boots. Legs up to—” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Cleared his throat. “Let’s just say she was pretty hot.”
“Really.”
“And—” He reached for the radio dial, ratcheted it back up a notch. “I used to sneak her into the clubs through the back door, because she didn’t have an I.D. and couldn’t get in the front.”
She raised her eyebrows. “My mom?” she said. “My mom snuck into bars because she wasn’t old enough to drink?” She tried to picture her staid, respectable mother doing anything even remotely illegal, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
“Oh, she was old enough. The drinking age was eighteen then. But she didn’t have a driver’s license, and her folks wouldn’t allow her to get a state I.D.”
“But if she was of age, why did they have any say in what she did?”
“Trust me, nobody dared to cross her mother. So where do you want to eat?” He stopped for the town’s lone traffic light, revved the engine impatiently, probably not even aware of what he was doing.
“Anything but bowling-alley pizza. Please God.”
He turned his head, studied her. “If you could have anything you wanted, anything at all, the hell with geography, money no object…what would it be?”
“McDonald’s French fries.” She sighed dramatically. “I would kill for McDonald’s French fries.”
Still revving the engine, he nodded slowly and said, “Best fries on the planet.”
She turned her head, and they studied each other for a long moment. “Good to know we agree on something.”
The light turned green. He clicked his blinker and cut a hard left. “Well, then, sugar plum,” he said, “we are getting us some of those McDonald’s fries.”
Rob
The kid had a certain charm about her, he thought as he watched her eat the last of her fries. It was an edgy, Boston-street-kid kind of charm, but charm nevertheless. “So,” he said, taking a sip of Coke, “I really don’t know that much about you. What makes Paige MacKenzie tick?”
She cocked her head to one side, that mop of blond curls, so like his own, falling all around her. “Why would you want to know?”
In his best, deeply resonant Darth Vader voice, he said, “Paige, I am your father.” When she just looked at him blankly, he said, “Tell me you’ve seen the Star Wars movies.”
“Um…no.”
“A travesty. One we’ll be rectifying as quickly as possible.”
She shrugged. “They’re guy flicks.”
He clutched at his chest as if in terrible pain. “Tell me you didn’t just say that. They are, collectively, the greatest movies of all time.”
“Yeah? Have you talked to your wife about that? Because she seems to believe that honor should be evenly split between Gone With the Wind and The King and I.”
He snorted and said, “Chick flicks. As God is my witness—” He met her eyes, saw the humor there. And they finished the line together: “I’ll never be hungry again.”
That pulled an actual grin from her. A brief one, but a grin nevertheless. “Look,” he said, “I’m your father. Don’t you think it’s time we got acquainted with each other?”
“I think you’re late by about fifteen years, but, hey, who’s counting? So, should I start with my astrological sign? I’m a Sagittarius. Of course, you being my father and all, you ought to know that.” Her smile was tight, and a little grim. “And yours?”
“Gemini.”
“That figures. Don’t you find this a little creepy? Like we’re on a date or something?”
“Cut me a little slack, kid. I missed all the junior high school father/daughter dances. This is my way of making up for it. Talk to me. Tell me what matters to Paige MacKenzie.”
Suddenly serious, she said, “Music. What else is there?”
Thinking back to when he was fifteen, he nodded his understanding. At fifteen, his music was all that had mattered to him. Hell, at thirty, it had been all he truly cared about. That and Casey. Always, Casey had been there, the center of his universe. Friend, business partner, collaborator. The one person on the planet he’d call if it was three in the morning and he needed bail money. The one person on the planet he’d take a bullet for. It had taken him years to realize he was in love with her. That knowledge had slammed into him with the force of a locomotive one night as they stood knee-deep in the frothing surf on a moonlit Bahamian beach. And without a thought, without a care, he’d hauled Danny’s estranged wife into his arms, and he’d kissed her like a drowning man taking his last gulp of oxygen.
Then she’d gone back to Danny, taking all his oxygen with her.
“It’s probably just PMS, you know.”
He glanced up, disoriented, and it took him an instant to bring himself back. “What are you babbling about?”
“Your wife? Look, I don’t have a clue where you just went, but I know exactly who you went there with.”
“Ah, shit.” Rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand, he said, “Am I that transparent?”
“Like Saran Wrap. What was all that with the cufflink?”
He shook his head. “When I went upstairs,” he said, “she was on the bed. Holding it in her hand. And crying.”
“Ouch.”
“I don’t handle that kind of thing very well. Every time I think we’re on an even keel, he pops up.”
“The late Mister Fiore.”
“And I go ballistic. He’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
“She talked to me about him. A little.”
“Yeah?” He set his jaw. “What’d she say?”
“Nothing bad. In reference to you, I mean. Just the opposite. She told me her relationship with Danny wasn’t a healthy one, but her relationship with you is built on mutual trust and respect.”
“You didn’t happen to hear love in there, did you?”
“If you think she doesn’t love you, you’re full of it.”
“You don’t understand. You’re fifteen years old. You’re too young to understand.”
“I call bullshit on that. You guys have this weird connection thing going on between you. I can’t explain it, but I witness it every time the two of you are in the same room. I mean, look at you. You’re the crazy couple that waltzes around the kitchen while Kermit the Frog sings about rainbows. It’s romantic. Sick and twisted, but romantic. Once you get past the whole frog thing.”
“There’s more to love than romance.”
“And you’ve got it. Dude, you two are solid as a brick wall.”
“Please,” he said. “For the love of God, don’t call me dude.”
“I don’t know what else to call you.”
“Dad might be a good place to start!”
He realized his mistake the instant he saw the uncertainty on her face, she who’d made assertive, in-your-face certainty a way of life. He’d blurted it out without thinking, had simply opened his mouth, and there the words were, and it was too late to take them back. “Look,” she said, “I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
Which one of them was the adult in this little scenario? Right now, the way his stomach felt, he wasn’t sure. “I won’t push you,” he said. “I’m sorry if it felt that way. It wasn’t intentional.”
“You know—” She combed her hair away from her face with the fingers of both hands and studied him. “You’re not quite the evil S.O.B. I always thought you were. It pains me to say this, but you’re actually sort of okay. I mean, you drove twenty miles so I could have McDonald’s fries.” Her voice softened. “But we’re not there yet. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
“It’ll happen, or it won’t. That’s the best I can give you.”
“You may not understand this,” he said. “But I am so damn proud of you right now. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re talented, and you don’t take any guff from anyone. I’m not sure you realize how far we’ve come. We may not be there yet, but we’re a hell of a lot closer than we were when we started.”
“What can I say? I grow on people after a while.”
“Then there’s that wise-ass sense of humor. Wonder where that came from?”
They studied each other, green MacKenzie eyes gazing into green MacKenzie eyes. And then his daughter grinned. A real, live, genuine grin. “Gee,” she said. “I can’t imagine.”
***
“Ease up on the clutch with your left foot and press on the accelerator with your right. Try to use the same amount of pressure on each pedal. If it starts to flutter, give it a little more gas. But not too much.”
Her face taut with concentration, his daughter followed his instructions. The engine revved, a little too loud. Startled, she released the clutch, and the Porsche jumped so hard he almost lost his eyeteeth. “Shit,” she said.
“Language,” he warned.
“Um, right. Whatever you say. So what am I doing wrong?”
“You’re not doing anything wrong. It’s a body memory kind of thing. Do it enough times, eventually it’ll feel natural. Once you’ve learned it, you won’t ever forget. It’s like riding a bike.”
“With a little more horsepower.”
“With a lot more horsepower. Go ahead. Try again.”
This time, the car moved ahead a fraction of an inch before stalling. “Not bad,” he said.
“Not good, either.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You know my friend Lissa? Well, former friend.”
“That would be the one you got arrested with.”
“I did not get arrested. They didn’t handcuff me. They didn’t book me. They didn’t charge me. They just took me down to the police station and—”
“Semantics,” he said. “What about Lissa?”
“She wanted to know if, since you’re famous and all, you could introduce her to Scott Baio.”
He just looked at her, noted the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. And said, “Scott Baio?”
“You know. Happy Days. Joani Loves Chachi. Charles in—”
“I know who Scott Baio is. Regrettably, we don’t run in the same circles.”
“No shit. And the guy’s got to be like, thirty or something by now. Really old. I don’t know what she’s thinking.”
“Language,” he said again, more distractedly this time. “So what’d you tell her?”
“I asked her if she was stupid enough to think all famous people knew each other. Then I asked her if she liked me for me or because my father was a big rock and roll star. Then I told her to stop being a dick.”
“Jesus, Paige. Language! Did your mother allow you to talk like that?”
“Leave my mother out of it. Can we try again?”
“You’re in the driver’s seat. Go for it.”
She wet her lips, cranked the ignition, and hunched over the wheel. Slowly eased up on the clutch. It caught, and the car lurched forward. Started to lug. “Feather it,” he said. “Feather the gas. Don’t let up on the clutch yet! Give her a little more. That’s it. Now bring that clutch up slowly. Slowly. Good girl!”
The car shuddered, then smoothed out. “I did it! Holy crap, I did it!”
“You did it. Keep giving it the gas. Steer it nice and straight. Whatever you do, don’t put us in the ditch. I don’t want to have to explain to Cousin Teddy why I couldn’t steer the car on a straight stretch of road in broad daylight.”
“Cousin Teddy is a turkey.”
“I’m with you there. Get a little speed going. Okay, now put your clutch in. All the way to the floor.” When she depressed the clutch, he shifted the car into second gear. She let it back up, a little jerky, but managed to keep the engine running and the car aimed straight down the road. “Good job,” he said. “You know, my dad taught me to drive, back when dinosaurs walked the earth.”
“In one of those Fred Flintstone cars, with your feet for brakes?”
“Something like that.”
“What am I supposed to do next?”
“Third gear wouldn’t be unheard of.” He tried not to think about the damage she might be causing to his drive train. “Clutch down again. All the way to the floor.” He shifted them into third. This time, the car didn’t jerk as much when she released the clutch. “See?” he said. “You’re starting to get the feel of it.”
“Good thing this is a back road. Where does it go?”
“Damned if I know.”
“You’ve lived here longer than me. You should know this stuff. What if we get lost?”
“Not that much longer. And we won’t get lost. I may be a city boy, but I’m not a complete rube. Casey could tell you where it goes. She knows every back road in the county. And probably most of the snowmobile trails.”
“Yee haw.”
“It’s not such a bad place to live. It grows on you.”
“Says you. Don’t tell me you actually like living here?”
“Doesn’t matter. Casey likes living here. I like living wherever Casey lives.”
“That is just so damn cute. Young love.”
“Your day will come, little girl. One of these days, you’ll open your eyes and it’ll be time for your twentieth high school reunion. And you’ll be looking around you, scratching your head and wondering where those two decades went.”
“Um, Gramps? I think I’m ready to quit now. How do you stop this thing?”
“Clutch in. Okay, now shift her down into second.”
“Me?”
“You won’t always have somebody to shift gears for you, so learn to do it yourself. Remember the H pattern I taught you? Slide over, through neutral, then pull back. Good! Nice and smooth. Now brake just a little—a little! And ease it over to the side of the road.”
They came to a shuddering halt on the shoulder. His daughter’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “Jesus,” she said. “I’m sweating like a pig.”
“You think you’re sweating, imagine how I feel. Do you have any idea how much I paid for this car?”
“That was pretty cool. To celebrate, I think we should go out for a couple of cold ones.”
“Nice try, Sunshine. Ready to swap places, or are you still shaking in your shoes?”
“I wasn’t shaking in my shoes! I was just sweating a little. This is a very expensive car. You could’ve taught me in the Explorer. Automatic’s a lot easier.”
“Automatic’s boring. You just sit there and steer. Anybody worth their salt learns to drive a stick. Turn off the ignition, leave it in gear, and set the parking brake.”
When she’d followed his instructions without incident, he opened the door and got out. That was when he saw the FOR SALE sign on the side of the road. The gravel driveway next to it led nowhere, but the towering maples, some of them still clinging to a brilliant orange leaf or two, told him there must have been a house here at one time. The property was mostly flat, riddled with winter-yellow untamed grass that grew waist high in places. He studied it, took it all in, listened to the wheels turning inside his head. Thought about taking down the phone number on the sign. Then shrugged, turned to walk around the car.
Days Like This Page 27