“Tease.” Noah kept stirring. “I guess cooking would be okay. This doesn’t completely suck.”
“There is truly nothing you’d like to do? No aspirations at all?”
“I guess…” Noah paused. “I didn’t think it mattered before.”
Alistair’s thumb lightly rubbed Noah’s spine. “Why not?”
“Because I’m rich. Kind of. And I guess I didn’t care.”
“You had… other priorities?”
“Yeah. Getting fucked up was the main one. Trying to not feel anything or feel, like, something real. Both, maybe.” Noah began stirring the eggs and flour again. “You ever miss your parents?”
“Sometimes. They’ve been gone for a very long time, but still. Usually around the holidays. You?”
“I tried not to. I mean, when it first happened, it was all I could think about. And I felt bad for those other people that got killed.” Noah set down the fork to start kneading the dough he’d created by hand like Crybaby had shown him. “But then as I got older and like, figured it all out, I was angry. I didn’t wanna miss them.”
“But you do, don’t you?”
Noah sighed. “I guess. I look around the house, sometimes I remember nice stuff. But then I also remember all the bullshit. Like them never being home. Yelling at me or whatever. Then that angry feeling comes back.”
“And it may for some time.”
“You got a lot of experience with anger? Oh! Are you an angry old man?”
“I have a lot of experience with angry boys, at least.”
“Do you yell at kids to get off your lawn? Is that how it starts?”
Alistair smirked, playfully smacking Noah’s ass. “It’s why I’m so interested in finding a vocation for you. You need somewhere to put your energy other than partying, dear Noah.”
Noah poked at the dough in front of him. “Like cooking, huh?”
“Culinary school is definitely something you could look into.”
“Shit. Who needs cooking school when I got all of you guys?” Noah laughed. “Crybaby taught me to make pasta, Frida half-ass showed me how to make sauce, and even Junior was gonna tell me about some bologna sauce!”
“Bolognese?” Alistair chuckled fondly.
“Yeah, that too.”
“My employees all have many talents.”
“They’re more than just employees, right?” Noah raised his brow. “I mean, isn’t it like a mafia family thing?”
“In a way.”
Noah took a break from kneading the dough. “Well, it is or it isn’t, right?”
“Family means different things to different people, Noah. Yes, I consider a lot of the people who work for me to be family. But I do not hold dominion over them. I do not dictate every waking moment of their lives.”
“Says the guy who has them literally watching me in my every waking moment.”
“Ah, and that is because they choose to. Keep in mind that this situation… is very unusual.”
“Why?”
“Because of Jason Carbone. It’s very personal for all of us.”
