“Stopped by the job you’ve been going on about this morning,” said Stan. “Thought you would have been there. Had to get Andre to let me in, show me around.”
Joe finished chewing what was in his mouth before answering. “Sorry. We had a late start.”
A grunt from Stan.
“What’d you think?”
Lip curled, his dad shook his head. “No good. Job’s too big. Plus I promised the Rosentons we’d get started on their gazebo. Told Andre to call someone else, Peters, maybe. Pick up your tools when you go into the bar next time.”
Then, as if the matter had been decided, the man picked up his knife and fork and chased the last of his peas around the plate. Both Audrey and Eric acted distracted, eyes elsewhere. Staring at the family pictures on the wall, the old shots of Joe on his high school football field, a teenage Eric playing the drums. There was even a shot of Audrey with big hair in a white debutante dress.
Obviously, this sort of scene was nothing new for the family. For a long silent moment, Joe just stared at his father. His thigh had turned rock hard against mine, tension radiating. I grabbed his hand as he’d done mine. Solidarity.
“We’ll be starting early Monday, Joe.” Stan gave me side-eyes. “On time. No excuses.”
Joe took a deep breath. “No.”
“What the hell do you mean no?”
“This job’s important to me,” said Joe. “I’ve made commitments to Pat and Andre. No, I’m not walking away from it.”
“You shouldn’t have given them any definites until I’d been to the site.” His father never even looked up from his plate. “You know better.”
“I’m not a child, Dad. I can make decisions about jobs.”
“Apparently you can’t, because the renovation is too damn big.” Stan set his cutlery down with great zest. “All of those rooms needing work. What the hell were you thinking? With my arthritis playing up I can barely even get up the damn stairs.”
“Then you need to think about taking a backseat. Let me take over and manage things for a change.”
Audrey gasped.
Meanwhile, Eric seemed to have frozen in his chair.
“Christ, Dad, I’m doing the bulk of the work as it is,” said Joe. “It’s time.”
Blood suffused Stan’s face. “That’s my business you’re talking about. The business that I built.”
“Yeah. The one that I was meant to be a partner in, that’s what you said. Collins and Son.” Joe sat tall. “You haven’t been able to work full-time for nearly three years now. I’m not trying to kick you out, but I’m done building birdhouses and fixing squeaky doors because that’s the most you can manage. I’m sorry. But I want more.”
“You want.” Stan’s voice seemed to almost rattle up from his chest.
“Come on, Dad. Be reasonable.” Joe pushed his hair back from his face. “It’s time to loosen up on the reins a little. Let me take on more. You taught me well, I won’t disappoint you or tarnish the family name or something. Trust me.”
Nothing from his father.
“I can go out on my own, if you’d prefer.” Joe’s grip on my fingers tightened to the point of being painful, but I held on. This was what we’d talked about, losing our bad habits, fixing our lives. Finally, he was done doing whatever was easiest, what pleased other people even if it left him with little.
Stan’s hands curled into fists. “You’d abandon me, boy, after everything I’ve done for you?”
“Christ. You can’t have it both ways, Dad,” said Eric with a sigh. “He’s done everything he can to make you happy. To make you proud.”
“I don’t want to hear a goddamn thing from you.” The man glowered at one and all. “Of course you’d be on his side. Too damn lazy and stupid for real work, weren’t you?”
“Yes. So you can growl at me all you like,” said Eric, jaw set in a harsh line. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Joe. Hell, it’s about Mom too, though she’d never say it. How do you think she feels, watching you struggle, watching you work yourself into an early grave?”
Their father turned to stare at her, seemingly out of words for once.
“You’ve been promising her Hawaii since before I was born,” added Joe. “Can’t count all the times you two have talked about it.”
That seemed to stop him.
“Audrey?” asked Stan, voice hesitant.
With a sigh, she watched him with sad eyes. “I’ll be sixty-two next year and you’re sixty-six. We’re getting old, honey. It’s not an insult, it’s a fact. And yes, I worry about you. Of course I do.”
Eyelids blinking repetitively, Stan stepped back from the table. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room.
The house sat in silence. It could have been the calm after the storm, or we might have been in the eye of it. Hard to tell.
“I think that went pretty well.” Eric sank back in his seat, hands behind his head. “Could have done without hearing about my brother’s supposed super-penis but, other than that, not the worst Collins family gathering ever.”
Joe snorted.
His mother huffed out a breath, then took a long sip of beer. A healthy mouthful of the good stuff, actually. Fair enough, seemed justified.
“Mom?” asked Eric. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said calmly. “But none of you deserve cake.”
* * *
Lunch wound up rather quickly after Stan stormed out. I think Audrey was ready for a little peace and quiet.
Joe had to work at the Dive Bar that night. I set myself up in a corner and caught up on some work on my laptop. Spinach and ricotta cannelloni and a beer were brought to my table first, followed by a five-layer chocolate cake. With my stomach so full, I had to fight off the need to nap, face flat on the table. Luckily, Eric decided they could do without Joe after ten-thirty so we returned to the hotel.
Nothing further had been mentioned about his super-penis or my speech vaguely referring to the same.
Surely, this was why people didn’t generally take me home to meet Mom. Not that I generally wanted anyone to. Joe Collins may or may not have been an exception; my feelings regarding him were still a big hot mess. I told Valerie about it, seeing as she was the official keeper of my secrets. The woman laughed until she cried. So much for loyalty.
I unlocked the hotel room door and stopped cold.
“The room is flickering,” I said, looking back over my shoulder at Joe.
“Is it?” His smile was secretive, sneaky, even.
“Yeah. Must have been all of those drugs I took in the sixties.”
The bearded wonder chuckled, following me into the wonderfully mood-lit room. Tiny little fake candles sat in frosted glasses all around the place, including in the bathroom.
“Pretty,” I said, checking out the shadows dancing across the ceiling. “You have anything to do with this?”
“Nah.”
I nodded, not believing him an inch.
Bubbles filled the spa bath and a couple of beers sat in a bucket of ice at its side. On the counter sat a vase packed full of roses.
“I really wish my other boyfriend hadn’t done this,” I said. “Makes it a bit awkward with you being here and everything.”