“Miss Sue, next door, isn’t an adult?” I ask lightly, and he scowls at me. “I have a real job, pal, what do you think I’m doing all day?”
“I don’t know!” He tosses his hands up. “Grandma says you don’t have a real job, and that you shouldn’t have sold Dad’s house.”
I clench my jaw so hard, it’s a miracle I don’t crack a tooth. Of course she says that. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should ignore the legal advice I’ve been given, and stop letting Parker visit my parents’ house. It’s one thing for her to say that sort of thing to me, but what the fuck is she thinking, mentioning it to a ten-year-old?
Mum is such a bitch, Victoria whispers helpfully.
“I have a real job,” I repeat slowly, working to keep my voice calm. “And I wouldn’t have sold your dad’s house if it wasn’t necessary. I’m sorry about that, but I couldn’t make it work. And no, we aren’t poor, Parks. I have enough money to take care of you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Kids are expensive,” he informs me. “Like,reallyexpensive. That’s what Grandma says. And Dad said that a Ferrari was more affordable than me. That’s what he said,” he repeats, eyeing me warily as though expecting me to clutch my chest in shock at the news that children cost money.
“Kids are expensive,” I agree. “But I’d rather have you than a Ferrari, anyway.”
“Okay,” he says, still watching me through mistrustful eyes. “So…can I have a snack?”
“Sure can.” Reaching back, I pop open the pantry doorand watch as he peruses the contents. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Two snacks?” he asks, as though this might be the thing that tips us into bankruptcy.
“Only if you grab two for me, too.”
He smiles, a swift, relieved sort of smile, and shoves his hand into the box of single-serving chip bags. We end up sitting on the couch—chips opened and spread between us—as we watch a television show marked as appropriate for children, but has far more sexual inuendo in it than I’d prefer. I glance over at Parker when one of the main characters kisses someone, but he’s paying more attention to the Doritos than the romance. I pray to any deity that cares to listen—please give me a few solid years before that changes.
“Want to come to the game tonight?” I ask a little later, as I scroll through the streaming options in search of something more suitable for a kid.
“Do I have to sit alone?” he grouses, still annoyed that the last time I made him come, he was seated between two strangers. It was the only seat available directly behind the players’ bench, though, and I needed to keep him in my line of sight. Every time I glanced over at him through the game, he was hunched down, skinny arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.
“Probably,” I say on a sigh.
“I don’t want to sit with anyone unless they’re Jack or that cool guy,” he says stoutly, crunching down on a chip and scattering crumbs down his chest. Vacuum couch slots into place on my to-do list as I watch him brush them off.
“Cool guy? You mean Anthony?”
“Yeah, him,” Parker agrees. “Or Jack.”
“All right, well, it’s pretty last minute and I don’t knowwhat Jack or Anthony are up to. They might be busy, so Miss Sue’s it is.” Resting back, I resume my search for something age-appropriate to watch. Maybe I’ll put on a nature documentary and call it a day.
I’m not,by nature, an angry person. I’ve got a long fuse—it takes a lot to get me mad, and I’m pretty quick to cool off once I do. Today is the exception to that rule.
I pound my fist against the door again. The fucking garage door is wide open—my mum’s cherry-red Volvo practically on display. I know she’s here, which means she’s simply been ignoring the door to make a point. I knock again, fully prepared to start yelling andreallymake a scene, when the door opens.
“Desmond, really,” she says crossly, somehow managing to look down her nose at me, even though I’m several inches taller than her. “What is the matter with you, knocking like that? I thought it was the police.”
“Did you?” I ask through clenched teeth, not waiting for an invitation before walking inside. “And what? Thought you’d make them wait?”
“Always with the dramatics,” she comments, closing the door. “You know, it’s not good etiquette to arrive unannounced these days. You have a cellphone, do you not?”
“I just came from the lawyer’s.” I press my hands to my legs in an effort to get them to stop shaking. I’ve gone way beyond angry, at this point. I’m livid. “Curious as to what the interview was about?”
“I imagine they simply wanted to know?—”
“—about all the men I’m apparently fucking in the apartmentI share with Parker? About the ‘strangers’ that I’ve invited into his life? Maybe about a mental health issue I had when I was fuckingfifteen years old? Any of that ringing a bell?”
She purses her lips into a severe line. “I imagine all of those things would be pertinent to a custody battle. Particularly when someone lives the sort of…lifestyle that you do.”
“I haven’t had sex in four years, Mum!” I explode. “Bloody hell, you can’t just make things up! This is people’sliveswe’re talking about here. Mylife.Parker’slife. What is wrong with you?”
“Don’t be crass, Desmond, I don’t need to hear about my adult son’s sexual escapades.”
