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“Kid’s a keeper,” Rob says, glancing behind him for a minute. “Anyway.” He turns back to face me. “If you don’t want to get laid, that’s your business. I’ll help you out with whatever else I can. As for the rest, you’ll get it figured out. Things will start to make sense again.”
I grasp my condensing pint glass in my hand, letting the cold beads of moisture run all over my palm. Under the glass, a circle of water gets bigger and bigger. I pretend to be totally absorbed in it.
“I just want to go back to doing construction. I made good money. I had a decent place and a nice enough car. I liked the work. It was hard and whatever, but it was satisfying. The guys working with me on our crew always did a good job. They worked hard, which is rare.”
“It’s even rarer to find someone satisfied with what they have.” Rob raises his glass a few inches in a toast to me. “You’re a good man, Wade. It’s probably why your grandpa left you all that money when he bit it.”
“Stop,” I hiss, but there isn’t any real annoyance behind it. The pub is so loud that I know no one will overhear what we’re saying. “My grandfather didn’t even know who I was. He met me once when I was five. I barely even remember, and I’m sure I left even less of an impression on him.”
“You don’t know that.” Rob drains half his glass but holds onto it. “Maybe he had someone report back to him. Hired someone to spy on you or something. You never know with rich people.”
“Christ. In that case, I feel even more pressure to do something with the money. Something good.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You never liked anyone to know it, but you’re smart. And you’re a good guy. Just for the record, Julia was a bitch. She didn’t deserve you. You were way too nice. So, don’t be afraid to go rescuing damsels in distress from monstrous sized spiders. It might work out one of these times.”
“Or it might blow up in my face, and my exile to suburbia will be for nothing.”
“You’re renovating an already nice house,” Rob says casually, but he gives me a direct look. His dark eyes fix on my face. “You could always give it to a friend in need if you want to bail and become a hermit in the most remote region of the world.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I hear the Arctic is nice this time of year.”
“You want a house? Pick one out. The suburbs aren’t for you.”
“No? Maybe I’ll find a wife who wants the white picket fence deal and a couple of kids.”
“Rob. You’re thirty-two.”
“So?”
“You haven’t had a serious girlfriend in your entire life.”
“There’s lots of time for that,” he scoffs. He drains the rest of his beer and looks like he’s going to go for mine, but I snatch it out of the way. “I could really use some chicken wings.”
“Right. Next time the kid comes around, ask if we can get some. And order six beers at a time so you won’t run out.”
“Wade, this is my one night out a month until you decide to come around again. We’re both cabbing it, and I have a thousand sick days I haven’t used. I think I’m entitled to work on the hangover from hell. Anyway, two more beers and a couple of baskets of wings, and I’m good. I can’t keep up the pace. You know me. I’ve been your sober wingman for the better part of a decade and a half. I have to put you in a cab and make sure you get back to your parent’s house tonight so your mom can ask you if you have enough clean socks and underwear up there in suburbia.”
I know I’m probably red, but at least I can hide behind my beer. Rob just tips his head back and laughs until I reluctantly join him. It feels good. It feels good to laugh and be here amongst the living again. To be out of the house and enjoying life.
Rob’s right. I will get my shit figured out. I can’t remain in exile forever.
He’s also right about my mom. A few hours later, when I slip through the backyard and in through the back door, my parents greet me with big hugs. The first thing my mom asks about is, of course, my underwear situation.
CHAPTER 7
Lu-Anne
I step back a few feet on the deck, studying just one of my newly installed cameras. I take another step back and nearly crash right into the barbeque. Thankfully, I catch myself before I get a grill in the butt. I let out a satisfied sigh when I look at the cameras.
