Page 85 of Rough

TWENTY-SIX

Pee Bee

He bit into a piece of bacon and leaned back in his chair. “Good fuckin’ bacon this morning, Son.”

I finished typing a text to Tegan and pressed send. I responded without looking up. “Same bacon as every other day.”

“Cooked to perfection, today.”

I set my phone aside and looked at him. “It’s always cooked right when I cook it.”

“Not bad.” He nodded. “Not bad.”

“Why are you in such a good mood today?” I asked.

“I’m not.”

“Seem to be.”

He took another bite. “Just as grumpy as ever.”

“You’re eating slow. And talking. You never talk when you eat. The ‘dinner table’ is called the dinner table because it’s for eating dinner. It’s not called the ‘talking table’ for a reason. Sound familiar?”

He grinned. “Vaguely.”

I’d heard him say it for eighteen years, no less than once a day. As far as he was concerned, all meals were to be devoured quietly, without any verbal interruption short of requests to pass food one direction or the other.

“You seem happy.”

“I am happy. Is that a fuckin’ crime?”

“No. Just strange.”

“Fuck off, Brad.”

I laughed. “What’s that mean?”

He poked the remaining bacon in his mouth and shrugged. “Means I called you by your fuckin’ name.”

I couldn’t remember the last time he called me by my name. I had no idea what him doing so could mean, but I wondered. I nodded toward his plate. “Finish your breakfast, you’re making me nervous.”

He grabbed another piece of bacon. “So, how’d your date go, Romeo?”

“Good.”

“Just good? Wasn’t meant to be? Was she a boring little thing?”

“No, we had a pretty good time.”

“What’d you talk about?”

I shrugged. “Stuff.”

“You aggravate me, sometimes, Brad.”

I chuckled. “You aggravate me all the time.”

“Good to know.” He finished his bacon, then grabbed another piece. He cleared his throat. “What’d you talk about?”