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“And who is this guy?” I asked, nodding to the kid.
“This is Timothy,” Ellen said. “My son.”
I offered my right hand. “Nice to meet you, Tim.”
“Wow,” the kid whispered. His right hand shook as he reached for mine. “You’re… huge…”
“Timothy, that’s not polite,” Ellen said.
“No, it’s fine. I am huge. I was well over six feet tall when I was in middle school. Everyone thought I’d be a basketball player. Want to know why that didn’t happen, Tim?”
“Why?”
I grabbed his hand. My hand swallowed his up.
Then I crouched down and curled my lip. “Because I liked to fight people. I liked to beat them up. I liked to rough them up. You can’t do that in basketball. They would kick me out. But in hockey…”
I smiled.
Timothy’s eyes lit up and he smiled too. “Cool.”
“Do you play hockey?” I asked.
“No,” Ellen said. “He refuses. He likes his goofy skateboard.”
“I have a skateboard park in my backyard!” Timothy yelled at me.
Of course you do, you spoiled little shit. Please don’t grow up to be some entitled punk, or kids who grew up like me will kick your ass.
“And he liked to surf,” Ellen said. “That scares me to death. I can’t build him an ocean in the backyard.”
I looked at Ellen. “Why not? Does that costtrillions?”
“Atlas!” Tucker roared. “Show some respect!”
Ellen smiled back at me. “You’re a nasty one, aren’t you? I heard about you. Big. Mean. Forgive my language here… but you’re an asshole.”
Timothy gasped. “Mom! You said theA-word!”
“Oh, kid, that’s nothing compared to the words I know,” I said to Timothy. “Maybe we can catch some waves and I’ll teach you how to properly curse.”
Tucker let out a gasp.
He lunged forward and smacked his left hip off his desk.
The entire desk jumped, knocking over picture frames.
He let out a yelp and looked ready to fall over in pain.
He reached for the wall and forced a smile.
“He’s just kidding, Mrs. Verwert,” Tucker said. “Atlas likes to run his mouth. That’s just part of his charm.”
“I have charm?” I asked Tucker.
“Atlas, please,” Tucker whispered.
“Oh, relax, Tucker,” Ellen said. She started to stand. “He’s just being himself. Can’t blame a man for that.”
