Page 18 of Notorious Man on Campus

“Wouldn’t miss opening day. It’s our family tradition going way back to when Jimmy started here.” I nod. I hate when we talk about Jimmy, not because I’m a self-absorbed asshole, but because he left SPU under a cloud and without graduating and it can’t be good for him to be reminded of it. I turn to him.

“Thanks for coming up, Jimmy.” He smirks.

“Why wouldn’t I?” It’s his way of telling me to quit being a sap about it. So I do, steeling myself back up again like this isn’t my family and we don’t care about each other deep down.

“How your magic cook?” Dad says. “Anything special come out of her kitchen yet?” He has no idea how loaded his question is, but I smile at him, avoiding looking at Jimmy even in my periphery.

“The chocolate soufflé was pretty special.” Fuck. It’s the first dish I think of in spite of the fact that Majik had nothing to do with cooking it and I never tasted a bite of it. But I did smell it and that alone was memorable.

“Soufflé?” Jimmy laughs. “Fancy.” His face loses some of its shine and he adds. “Haven’t had one of those since Nyla—”

“How are classes, Brick?” Dad is quick at changing the subject, owing to many years of practice. If it’s not Nyla that’s the forbidden subject, then it’s Mom. Hell, we have more taboo subjects than a Baptist minister.

“Piece of cake.” I tease him by staying on the topic of baked goods. Jimmy laughs and punches my shoulder. Dad shakes his head. “Majik is good too. Helps me out.”

“It would be nice to meet her again.” Dad says. “Is she at the game?” He looks around as if he’s going to spot her in the crowd of thousands.

“I’d love to eat one of her cakes.” Jimmy’s grin returns full tilt. “I can still taste the one she sent home last Christmas.”

They met her after one of the games last season. No way can I tell them she’s here. I asked Majik not to see us after the game. She gave me a shrug and asked no questions as usual. I know she still cares even if she seems to care about Nyla more. She said she’d keep Nyla away from my brother, as if she knows there’s a problem. I didn’t have time to ask her what the fuck, but I will as soon as I get back to BMOC House. As soon as I finish dinner with my dad and brother.

At dinner we do the replay of nearly everything I did during the game. This is the best part of the conversation. As soon as we get to end, the silence falls and we have nowhere to go.

“How’s the store?” I ask. I should care more. I do care that it keeps Dad and Jimmy in sneakers and biscuits. I care that it keeps them useful and keeps their minds off all the shit in their lives. But I don’t care about tires or any of the thousands of details associated with running the business. Never did.

“We’re running a special this month so it’s really hopping,” Dad says. His eyes crinkle at the corners, but his voice is far less animated than his words. “Jimmy here is salesman of the month again.” His eyes light up at that and Jimmy grins, taking a mock half-bow at the table.

“Of course he is,” I say. “Always was the charmer of the family.” It’s true. He’s outgoing and gregarious with strangers, in stark contrast to my close reserve.

“Ah, but you were always the bold one,” he says, pointing at me. “The one who never gives a fuck what anyone thinks.”

“Let’s not—” Dad starts to say, but I cut in.

“He’s right,” I say. “When it comes to most people, I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

“Hey, I saw they’re putting up a new building in the south part of campus,” Dad says, demonstrating his expertise at avoiding uncomfortable subjects yet again. I nod.

“It’s still the same place I remember fondly.” Jimmy says. “No matter how they try and change it.”

“You’ve only been gone four years,” I say. “Hell, you could probably come back if you wanted to.”

“Let’s not start that discussion,” Dad says, a slight frown blurring his passive expression with frustration, all finesse at conversation-changing gone. Probably worn out. Jimmy rolls his eyes.

“Nah, little bro. My time here was great, but I’m done. Though I do miss the excitement of game day. It always gets to me. That pump of adrenaline you get from the roaring crowd. The stadium is louder than I remember.”

“Nothing beats game day,” I agree, a pinch of sympathy and guilt hitting me. He had his day. He could have had more. If I wasn’t such a weak and needy bastard and didn’t all but ruin his life.

“You have the season kickoff blowout at BMOC House tonight, right?” he asks.

I nod. My guilt chokes off my voice. Not that I have anything to say. How can I tell him I’m sorry when he doesn’t even know the truth of what happened? How can I tell him the truth if I want to keep my family, such as it is, intact?

“Maybe I should drop in on the party. Get a real dose of nostalgia.” He grins. Panic rifles through me before I calm myself, tell myself he’s only talking, not serious. He came with Dad and has to drive him home.

“Go ahead if you want,” Dad says, displaying his usual half-hearted smile. “I’ll go back to the hotel and get to bed early.”

“Hotel?” Everything in me is frozen.

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. “We decided not to drive back tonight. It’s a pain in the ass driving all those hours in one day.”