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"Yep, all day."
"I've got to visit the old man today. He called me last Friday to set up a time to meet."
Jack shook his head. "What a charming relationship you two have. He actually has to pencil you in for an appointment, his only son. His only family member, for that matter. How's he doing?"
"He's got one foot in the grave, but he'll still be trying to control me even after he's dead and gone."
"You never told me how he reacted to the news of your firing."
"It's none of his damn business."
The pillow beauty came out from the bedroom wearing the yellow dress I'd noticed piled in a silky puddle in the hallway. She returned the pillows to the couch and walked into the kitchen for coffee. My friend, Mr. 'I found the one', surveyed her from head to toe as she leaned over to the coffee pot.
"I'm Jack and what is your name 'lovely wearer of pillows'?"
She laughed. "I'm Serena." She sipped the coffee. "Hmm, that hits the spot. Well, thanks for a wonderful night"—she hesitated and squinted an eye at me—"Nate, right?"
"Sure. And thank you too. I don't remember much of it, but I'm sure it was great."
She looked a little put off by my comment as she finished up the coffee. She put the cup in the sink and headed out the door without another word.
Jack's mouth creased. It seemed he was holding back another opinion. Probably a good call. He hopped off the stool. "I've got to head out. So you never told your dad about getting fired? Do you think he found out and that's why he's called a meeting?"
I followed him to the door. "Could be. Guess your free time will be scarce, what with your new serious relationship and all."
"Look who's the damn comedian now." Jack stepped outside and looked back at me. "Seriously, man, get your shit together. I'm worried about you."
"I've gone through my whole life without anyone worrying about me. I certainly don't need you to start. I'll catch you later. I've got to clear my house of naked women before I head over to Hell House."
6
The house I grew up in was by most standards a mansion. When I was young, if I planned things well, it was big enough for me to stay out of my dad's way and line of sight for an entire weekend. Something I did often. He was always far too preoccupied with business, even on Sundays, to pay me any attention. My schoolmates would brag about a weekend trip to a ski lodge or a cruise on a lake, but for me, the weekend was a roaring success if I managed to keep clear of my dad. Occasionally, I could get from Friday night to Monday morning with no more than a glimpse of Dad's plaster cast face. He rarely showed any emotion in his expression and when he did it was usually a scowl to show that he was yet again disappointed in me.
I rode up the long stretch of cement to the circular driveway in front of the pale, ivory house. The hedges had been neatly trimmed into straight lines. While every other house on the private road had lush, colorful landscaping that could rival the finest botanical gardens in the world, Archer Manor or Hell House as I had secretly called it, had only the smallest amount of greenery and not one splash of color. If some rogue flower seed had blown over from a neighboring house and had dared to bloom in our yard, my dad would have walked right out and stepped on it. Dad thought trees and flowers were a messy nuisance. The neighbors, of course, avoided talking and even making eye contact with my dad. He preferred it that way.
I parked my motorcycle at the top of the driveway and climbed off. I glanced up just as the corner of a curtain lifted in the window above the balcony. Dad's bedroom. I was sure he was working up a scowl and grunt of dissatisfaction about the noise my motorcycle caused in the neighborhood.
The front door opened as I pulled out my key. Mr. Pruitt was Dad's sixth full-time nurse. The others had all walked off the job within two weeks of starting, but Pruitt, who'd spent a good chunk of his adult life in the marines, had powered through four months. And he was still around. He was even wearing a smile as I walked up, and it wasn't easy to produce a smile after spending any extended amount of time with my dad. Even in his very weak state, Dad was nothing short of miserable.
"You're still here," I mentioned as I placed my helmet on the entryway table. "I guess marines really are made of stronger stuff."
Pruitt had one of those deep laughs that rolled out and drummed the walls. "I have to admit, your dad is about as challenging as boot camp. He had a rough day yesterday, but today he's sitting in his room doing paperwork. I think he heard you ride up."
"I'm sure of it. Thanks, I'll head up right now."
