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Joe
The wind, a south-easterly, was beginning to numb his cheeks. Any warmth from the sun had been snuffed out, swamped by the murky grey clouds overhead yet still he sat, cross-legged, deep in thought. He pulled Luna nearer, the warmth of her body and softness of her fur gave him comfort as did her loyalty, always by his side. As if knowing he was thinking of her she lifted her head, doe eyes telling him it was okay, she understood and would stay close.
Joe loved animals, his dogs especially, even Bowie, the ginger feral cat that lived in the barn who eyed him imperiously whenever their paths crossed. It was impossible not to adore the two docile donkeys Eey and Ore, rescued and named by Ace when he was twelve, along with the ragtag band of brothers that his son had collected over the years. Two llamas, John and Ringo, Lucifer the angry goat whose glassy grey eyes scared the hell out of everyone, and Donna the pig.
Looking along the deserted beach, Joe took a deep breath and inhaled the salty air that was laced with a tang of seaweed essence. He preferred whisky. Closing his eyes, he tried one more time to clear his mind because walking miles and miles hadn’t helped. Nope, meditation wasn’t cutting it either, never had, no matter how much Jenny had tried to convince him. The thought of her managed to make him smile though, a special lady who drove him insane with her wild ways but always lifted his spirits. They should never have got together, that was a fact, but another fact was that if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have Ace and Joe loved his son more than life.
He would like to say he felt the same about Lance because he did love his eldest son but not in the same way. He’d tried and failed, he really had. There’d always been a gulf between them and always would. Be it the miles that separated father and son, or the LA lifestyle that had never suited Joe but had made Lance the man he was. Darlene, his other ex, hadn’t helped but there was no point looking back or fighting old battles because it wouldn’t suddenly morph Lance into a decent human being. He didn’t have it in him.
The row that morning had not only drained Joe, it had confirmed all the beliefs he had about his spoilt kid and a mard-arsed tantrum was the last thing he needed on top of his other woes. Joe was incredulous. Seriously, did Lance really think he was capable of becoming the next ‘Gus Chapman’?
Okay, so he had contacts in LA but that was in the acting world and none of them had come through where his son’s career was concerned so why the hell did he think they’d be of value to Joe? Shaking his head, he recalled the conversation that was basically Lance angling for something that just like always, he thought was his God-given right.
Joe had listened out of curiosity more than anything, intrigued and amused by his son’s pitch for world domination. It was obvious Lance was skint and yes, it would’ve been easy to bail him out again, but Joe wanted him to learn from his mistakes, not keep repeating them.
Or maybe Lance was worried about his inheritance and wanted to top it up. Send his old dad back out to work before he was really past it because the many millions in the bank weren’t enough. Whatever his motivation, Lance was up to no good.
‘Dad, this makes so much sense. You need a fresh outlook, someone younger with their finger on the pulse of the music scene who can revive your career. I was thinking of collaborations, hooking up with some big, relevant names in the pop world and it’s been years since you released an album. Your fans are desperate for some new material but you refuse to tour or reform the band, so something’s got to give.’
Joe didn’t care about being relevant, although it did make him chuckle, Lance’s slight. Instead of taking the huff, he put his arms behind his head and stretched in his battered leather armchair and allowed Luna to chew the laces of his tatty trainers.
‘Mate, don’t stress it. I’ve got plenty of new songs ready to go, and when I’m in the mood these old bones’ll get back on stage but in my own time. I’m not feelin’ it right now, okay? And Gus understands that.’
Lance tutted. ‘That’s because Gus has gotten complacent and it’s obvious he’s happy to let things slide so he doesn’t have to do a stroke. Hell, what do you actually pay him for?’
Joe was already losing patience and curbed his temper by focusing on the seascape beyond the windows, letting his son’s words wash away on the waves, the whine of his voice more irritating than ever. The slight on Gus had riled him though. ‘I pay him to look after my affairs, and I trust him. He’s been by my side from the beginning and never steered me wrong, and that’s where he’ll stay, so get used to it. He knows this business and me inside out and I value his friendship and loyalty… so back off.’
‘Jeez, thanks Dad. Pity you don’t value your eldest son the same way. It’s like my opinions don’t count and they should. I’m only looking out for you.’
Joe rolled his eyes and swallowed down the words he really wanted to say. Thing was, if he set free the disappointed thoughts he’d kept prisoner in his head for years no good would come of it. And once they were out, well, he’d only have Darlene to deal with and she was the last thing he needed.
Regardless, Joe had to put an end to Lance’s current fantasy so when he did finally let rip, the twang of his northern roots was loud and clear, the gravel in his voice sounded rough. ‘I don’t value you! Seriously, mate, get a fucking grip. You’ve been given the best of everything, all your life, and you bloody well know it, so stop feeling sorry for yourself because it won’t wash with me. And neither will emotional blackmail so give it a rest. You sound like your mam.’
Before Lance even opened his mouth, Joe was expecting what came next. A well-rehearsed sob story straight from the set of an afternoon soap.
‘Don’t start on Mom. It’s you who’s in the wrong. I needed a father in my life. A proper one who gave a shit about me, enough to stick around and live in the same country at least. You were never there when I needed you and we all know you prefer to be here, in this godforsaken backwater with your precious Ace. He came first, always has done, always will!’
Joe stood, startling the dogs who did the same, following their master when he flung open the doors that led to the balcony, desperate for a smoke and to be away from whining boy. ‘Grow the fuck up, Lance. You’re not a teenager anymore. I’ve heard all this before and I can’t be arsed listening to it again so do us all a favour and change the sodding record.’
Stepping onto the wraparound wooden deck, he dragged his cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket, wishing at the same time he had a ladder, or a rope, anything so he could go over the edge and escape his son who was seriously doing his head in.
Lance pulled at Joe’s sleeve. ‘Don’t walk away from me, Dad. You owe me.’
Joe spun, shrugging from Lance’s grasp, barely keeping hold of his temper now. ‘I owe you. What the fuck for?’
‘Let’s start with neglect.’
When Joe threw his head back and started to laugh, a proper belly laugh, like he’d been told the funniest joke ever, Lance became hysterical. ‘How dare you laugh at me? You did neglect me. If it wasn’t Ace you were pandering after, you were off with one of your women. Christ, you couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? No wonder I only saw you in the holidays and I could tell it was a chore. I’m surprised you even bothered to get out of bed to spend time with me and that hurts like hell! It’s because of you I’ve been seeing a therapist all these years and she agrees that all my problems stem from you, your neglect of our relationship.’
It was the rev of an engine that distracted Joe who was about to tear into Lance because if there was one thing he seriously hated it was psychobabble and Darlene and Lance could write a book on it. He was about to suggest just that, or a memoir called Poor Me but instead, he watched as the Triumph motorbike roared past and out of the gate.
Concern for his youngest outweighed his eldest’s cry for help, or a handout, or sympathy, Christ only knew what. Instead, Joe seethed as Ace drove away, dust billowing along the lane that led to the road, not tearing his eyes away until he was out of sight. Then Joe turned.
‘I suggest you piss off, right now, before either of us say something we’ll really regret.’ He was handing Lance a free pass, and hoped he’d take it because otherwise he would blow. Maybe it was the look in Joe’s eye, or the set of his jaw, or the long drag that he took on his cigarette that said he meant every word. Lance took the hint.
Without speaking, the son glared at the father, only for a second or two but in that moment Joe saw a rare glimmer of himself in Lance and it made him sad, that things had turned out this way, again. They’d had similar conversations before, made up, promised to try harder but it never came to anything. He was about to say they’d talk later, when they’d both calmed down but instead the phone in Lance’s pocket began to ring and without another word he turned and walked away.
Spinning around Joe once again looked out to sea, his mind full of so many things, the need to walk and think welling inside. Calling his dogs who immediately followed, Joe heeded the lure of the beach and solitude and maybe on the way, he’d find his boy, Ace.
