Page 33 of Saints & Sailors

“Really?” I sat cross-legged. “You were a jock?”

“Nah, I played bass in a band, smoked bud in the boys’ room, and barely made it by,” Scott confessed. “You must get your smarts from Maddie.”

He kept doing this, referring to my mother with these nicknames. Even Richard mainly stuck with Madeline.

Honking outside drew our attention toward the windows.

Scott went and set his groceries down and I stepped outside as he was on his way out to investigate.

Next door, at the curb, a man was leaning up against a brand-new black Ford Bronco, complete with a big red bow across the hood.

The man was wearing a dress shirt, slacks, and a tie, looking as though he’d just come home from the office. By the shiny watch on his wrist and the BMW in the driveway, I knew he was a man about his business.

I gathered that this was probably Dreux’s father by the sound of Scott’s “Oh,” beside me.

The car must’ve been a gift.

Dreux and his mother stepped out of the house and his father stood straight, gesturing toward the car.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed.

Dreux wasn’t the least bit excited about the gift.

He eyed his father impassively, while his mother looked caught in between them.

His father, even donned in sunglasses, was a rather handsome man. I could tell that he knew this too. The aura of arrogance around him as he smirked at his son and wife was impossible to miss. Mr. St. Julien held a lighter complexion than Dreux and his mother, and as he dipped his glasses down the bridge of his nose briefly, I spotted hazel eyes.

He was good-looking, and it left me peeking at Dreux, seeing how he was the perfect mix of his mother and father.

Mr. St. Julien remained at the curb in front of the car, while Dreux stood on the front walk with his mother, eyeing his father with disdain. Angela held onto Dreux’s forearm, as if to offer some sort of support or comfort.

Mr. St. Julien suddenly spotted where Scott and I were standing on our porch. That ego of his increased tenfold as he seemed to eye Scott specifically.

“Scott, come see what I bought my son.” The way he said this, and the tone of his voice, I gathered that he and Scott weren’t friends.

I touched Scott’s arm. Even if I barely knew the guy, I had his back. “This is a pissing contest.”

“Very aware,” he mumbled to me. With Mr. St. Julien, he put on a perky front. “Afternoon, René, what a nice gesture.”

“All the best for my boy,” René went on. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. When he looked toward his son, I could tell the smile on his face was forced. “Well, aren’t you going to come down here and thank me, and see your car, Druski?”

Dreux didn’t budge.

Guess someone has daddy issues.

“It’s a nice car,” Scott spoke up loudly, eliciting Dreux’s attention.

With this encouragement, Dreux finally approached the car.

René blocked Dreux’s route to the Bronco, demanding attention.

I watched as Dreux seemed to bite back a scowl as he slid his palm against his father’s before going in for a brief hug and pat on the back, that odd combo all guys kinda did.

Dreux went and examined the car and René’s eyes found Scott, like he’d won some battle or something.

Fuck this guy.

“Come on, let’s go inside and give them privacy,” I suggested.