Rogue C56
“Mmhmm.” There’s a wealth of insinuation in the sound. “Right.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I trust you to make your own decisions.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, like I’m sixteen again. “I know, I know. Be careful with her.”
“Nah, you’re a grown man now. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I know you can handle it.”
The wind smells strongly of salt and seaweed as it blows past me, ruffling my hair. I blink a few times to get the full meaning of his words. Is he really saying what I think he’s saying?
“You were warning me to be careful for my own sake?”
“Of course.” He looks at me like it’s obvious. “It wasn’t hard to see how you looked at her growing up, kid. But people like the Marchands? They’re heartbreakers.”
My mouth feels dry. “They’ve always been good to us.”
“Yes, and don’t I know it.” For the first time, I hear the rancor in his voice. I recognize the feeling. It’s shame, and guilt, and the loss of pride that comes with having to accept charity. “Eloise and Michael are good people. But they’re not easy people, and they’re not our people.”
It’s not a comfortable thought-not with my hopes for Lily. “Did you think dinner was awkward on Friday night?”
“You mean apart from the looks you and Lily sent each other?”
I’m quiet for a beat, just looking at him.
He smiles. “Come on now, don’t scowl at me. I’m just pointing out the obvious. I don’t think it was clear to anyone else. And besides, her brothers are oblivious, which you’re damn lucky about.”
“I know that.”
“If you want my advice-”
“I don’t.”
“-then do what makes you happy. Life’s too damn short, and you and I both know it can turn on a dime.”
“Really? You’re not warning me to avoid screwing up a good situation for us? That’s a change.”
He shoots me a wry smile. “You’re not a child anymore. You have work, you have a future. I’m getting closer to retirement every day, and I have my savings. I say you go a bit wild again, kid.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile on my face. He’s right about that. We’re in a very different situation than we were ten years ago-not to mention twenty. We’d gone from town to town, barely surviving on the meager paychecks Gary had made from working in garages and on farms.
Things are different now.
“About that,” I say, leaning forward. “I have something I want to tell you.”
“You really are running for president.”
“No.”
Gary throws his hands heavenward. “What a waste.”Content rights by NôvelDr//ama.Org.
I take a deep breath, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. “The house on Elm Street? I’m not renting it. I sort of… well, I bought it.”
“You bought it.”
“Yes. Remember what I’ve told you about the security business I have set up with my old buddy from the Navy?”
“Yes. Security consulting.”
“Well, it’s taken off.”
I’m expecting congratulations, amazement-not the widened eyes of disapproval. “How much in debt are you? Your mortgage?”
“I paid half in cash,” I say. “The interest rate is set over ten years. It’s a financially sound decision, Uncle.”
“Quit playing. I’ve seen what houses here go for, Hay. There’s no way you could afford that. Hell, if you add up everything I’ve made in life, I couldn’t afford a place in Paradise Shores. How did you get the money? I won’t have you caught up with loan sharks just to impress Lily Marchand…”
“I’m not caught up with loan sharks. The security business is going great. We’re making a lot of money. A lot of money, Uncle. You don’t need to worry about me. And for the record, the house was expensive, but it’s not exactly an oceanside villa.”
He leans back, the red color slowly draining from his face as he processes my words. I can see when it finally sinks in.
“So what you’re telling me, boy, is that you’re rich now.”
“I’m comfortable.”
“No, don’t pull that middle-class bullshit with me. Tell me like it is. Are you rich, Hayden?”
I know what he means. I know what he’s referring to-the kind of stability people like us could spend their entire lives chasing and never get. The kind of safety net we’d lacked for decades.
He means security.
“Yes,” I tell him.
Gary closes his eyes momentarily, and then he’s out of his chair and his arms are around me. I can count the hugs my uncle has given me on one hand. He let me eat when he didn’t have enough food for the both of us, but physical affection has never been for us.
I wrap an arm around him. Only then do I realize that his shoulders are shaking, shaking hard with laughter. He wipes a tear of mirth from his eyes.
“Holy hell, Hay. You made it. You fucking made it.”
I swallow. “It’s not… well. Yes.”
“Yes you did, kid. God, there was a time when I didn’t think you’d make it to your eighteenth damn birthday…” He reaches for a cigarette, and I can see that his hand is slightly unsteady. “If your good-for-nothing father could see you now… Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
“No, if only Alice could see you now,” he says, and when he looks at me, I see that his eyes are glazed. I know he has the same eyes as my mother, the same hazel color. It’s the only real resemblance between them. “She’d be over the moon.”
“That her son got rich?”