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"It's mine!" lead gangster whined.
Connor looked at the kid but he didn't claim the DS. Keeping a stubborn silence, he met the gangster's gaze and refused to back down.
Connor shook his head. "Tough. I'm claiming the DS. I've been dying to try out some games so it's now mine."
The boys looked at him as if he'd gone nuts, and Connor used their shock to smoothly snatch the DS from the bully's hand. "You can't do that!" the second gangster cried. "That's stealing."
"Guess I'll be sharing a jail cell with you one day, huh? Listen up. Next time you think you're gonna have a bit of fun at some younger kid's expense, remember this. I can find each of you alone and make you regret it. Got it?"
The leader stepped back. "Whatever. Come on, guys. Let's get out of here."
They trudged away in their ragtag group. Connor picked up the bike from the ground and thrust out the DS. "Here you go. No thanks necessary, kid."
"I didn't need your help," the boy hissed in fury. Connor jerked back at the frustration glinting from his brown eyes. "I had it handled. You screwed up everything, dude! Now they're gonna be looking for me cause they think I'm a wuss!"
Connor blinked. "Are you kidding me? You would've gotten beat up. I've seen those kids around and they don't play nice. Trust me, they won't mess with you anymore."
The boy yanked back the DS and his bike, shoving his backpack over his arm. "Whatever."
Connor rolled his eyes. "When did that word make a comeback? I mean, really?"
The kid didn't answer, just shook his head and dragged his bike toward the building next door. Huh. Guess he was a new neighbor. Connor hadn't seen any moving trucks, but he hoped the grumpy old man was finally gone. Anyone was better than a grizzled man who sat on the front stoop and bellowed at strangers on the street, drinking cheap whiskey from a brown paper bag. Even a surly kid.
Connor watched the red door shut and turned back to his own place. Maybe he should knock on the door this weekend and introduce himself. The neighborhood wasn't the best, but the location was prime for commuting to Manhattan and keeping rents low. Other than the band of bullies who haunted the streets, there weren't drugs or gangs. Just a bunch of older stone buildings with ancient plumbing, leaky windows, and pothole-ridden streets.
Still worked for him.
Connor trudged inside and reheated his dinner. The interior of his apartment didn't reflect the shabby exterior. He'd updated the original dull beige walls and carpet with a rich blue, and his brother's girlfriend, Kennedy, had transformed the bachelor pad into a home using a few feminine touches to brighten up the place. He'd moved from his old apartment he'd shared with Nate to save money, ignoring his brother's protests that he'd cover his expenses until Connor finished school.
Hell, no.
Connor had spent his life taking care of his little brother and raising him. Though Nate was now a fancy rocket scientist who used to work for NASA, Connor refused to take his charity. But he hadn't been able to afford the tuition so they'd struck a deal. Since Connor had worked three jobs to get Nate through college when he was young, Nate would front his tuition bill. Connor could live with that, knowing he'd pay back his brother every dime once he got into a management position. He'd quickly moved to this apartment to save on rent and was now able to live comfortably.
He may not have fancy granite counters or stainless steel appliances, but everything worked, including the big screen TV. The furniture was secondhand, but it was solid wood mahogany, with clean, masculine lines. The extra bedroom was a nice perk, so he used it for his workout equipment and skipped the gym membership. Photos of architectural buildings and bridges filled the walls, bringing a sense of wonder and creativity to the space. His textbooks stuffed the antique bookcase, and he'd created a small workspace in the corner of the living room, saving a spot for where he'd hang his degree.
He pulled out his sub, cracked open his beer, and ate at the sturdy pine table while he scrolled through his iPhone and updated social media. The radiator hummed and the pipes creaked in the background. The smell of sauce and meat drifted in the air. He embraced the quiet, settled in, and enjoyed the solitude. After dinner, he powered up his laptop and did a few hours of schoolwork, finally rubbing his tired eyes around nine o'clock.
To think he once had nothing to do but hang at the pub with his friends was now laughable. Most of the time, he fell asleep with his textbooks open on the table, drooling over the pages. Other than an occasional Saturday night out or hanging with his brother, his social life had dried up to an embarrassing level. He rarely saw his old friends, who were mainly into getting drunk at the bars every Friday and Saturday night, refusing to acknowledge that forty loomed dangerously close. Hell, the saddest part of all was he didn't even miss his old life.
Not even the women.
How had that happened? Not that he didn't have steady offers, but lately his sexual drive had been humming at a low level. Something seemed lacking in all of his encounters, and he couldn't seem to figure out the problem. He'd never been like his brother, craving some type of mythical connection with a woman that didn't exist. No, he believed hard in the three B's when it came to dating. They were part of his own personal Bible he'd created to keep things uncomplicated.
Beauty.
Body.
Boobs.
Marriage didn't interest him, and neither did getting tied up with all the daily routine and messiness of a long-term relationship. He'd seen firsthand how the feeling of love could turn bad and sweep everyone in its wake into a tsunami of casualties.
No, thanks. Keep it clean and everyone remained happy. He just needed to get his groove back.
He got up from the table and cleaned up. Maybe he'd spend a few minutes spacing out in front of the television. Yeah, he had to be at the job site at five a.m. for his construction job, but he needed to clear his mind from the array of numbers flashing in his head.
Dropping into the comfortable sectional, he channel surfed for a bit before he hit pay dirt. The Fast and Furious number--well, whatever. Nothing like some good car crashes and skimpily dressed women to soothe him. He put his feet on the coffee table and settled in.
"How was school, honey?"
Her son dragged his fork across the chipped plate. "Fine."
Ella raised a brow. Luke slumped at the table, staring at his meatloaf with pure suffering. She didn't blame him. Lately, dinners were thrown together with little thought to gourmet taste and more to sustenance on a faster timetable. "Did you just utter the most boring, inane word on the planet that should be struck from Webster's Dictionary? The word I absolutely refuse to acknowledge in this house because I believe we have brains larger than an amoeba? Did you say the word--fine?"
He tried to look annoyed but his lip twitched. "Sorry. It was uneventful."
She grinned. "Mu
ch better." They smiled at each other and for a little while, life was just about perfect. Ella knew well about grabbing those moments in time that defined her daily routine. Her son was growing up. Every day, she felt as if he tugged another inch away from her toward the big bad world that was waiting to gobble him whole. Her gaze swept over his beloved face, with his charming pug nose, full lips, and graceful brows. His brown hair was thick and messy, with a terrible cowlick she'd never been able to tame with gel or scissors, but was such a part of who he was she hoped he'd never get rid of it. His round black glasses made him look like a young Harry Potter. Of course, he hated them and was already begging for contacts.
But his eyes were truly the window to his truth. A deep, rich chocolate brown, they reminded her so much of his father. Luke's were full of warmth, kindness, curiosity, and zeal.
His father's had been full of unfulfilled longing and too many secrets.
Ella tamped down a sigh. The last time she'd convinced Luke to sit on her lap for just a moment, his lanky legs had hung over her and hit the floor at an awkward angle. She'd spent her entire life engulfed in the magic of words and poetry, and in that moment, finally got what it felt like to grieve the passing of time. Just another one of those things you could read about or watch but didn't truly understand the flood of emotion until you experienced it. Kind of like childbirth.
"Besides uneventful, have you made any friends yet?" she asked.
His head dropped again. "Nope."
"No boys in the neighborhood? Maybe to ride bikes with or something?"
He snorted. "Let's just say there's been no welcoming committee. I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry about it."
And that's exactly why she worried. Luke was extremely independent, and usually had no problem making friends. His wicked sense of humor won over his toughest critics, but the past months had stolen his smile.
He needed more time, and she knew he'd make friends. Pushing wasn't going to help. Attending a new school simply sucked. She'd tried everything possible not to move, but the job offer at Verily College was a gift she couldn't pass up. She hated not being home after school for Luke, but for now she had no choice. Next semester she'd have a better schedule and more flexibility, but for now, she needed to prove herself and take the unwelcome time slots leftover from the other long-term professors.
