“In fact, I’ve only got good news. I’m planning on staying in town for a few more weeks,” Dad declares.
“A few more weeks?” Max and I say in unison.
Dad shifts in his chair. “Nice to know you’re both happy to hear that glorious news,” he mutters.
“It’s not that, Dad. I agree with sis. You just seem… I don’t know, kinda laid back,” Max says. “Retirement suits you.”
“Well, I’m not a hundred percent retired,” he says. “In fact, I’ve been donating a lot of my time to some cold cases back home. Thought I’d help out while I’m here.”
I blink. “You’re not serious?”
“Deadly. Do you know how many unsolved cases there are in this city alone?”
“Dad, you don’t have to do that, really,” I start.
“Let him.” Max shrugs. I could kick him in the shin. In fact, that isn’t a bad idea. “Ow, what did you just kick me for?” My brother leans down to rub his shin like a baby.
Good going, asswipe.
“Jesus, Max,” I mutter.
“If you two are quite done,” Dad says. “It’s already arranged — first thing Monday.”
“With who?” I demand. I am the fucking captain and I had no heads up about this. Not that I can stop Tornado Cameron Sinclair when he’s on the warpath.
“The hierarchy, I thought you’d be happy. An extra pair of hands and a set of eyes. It’ll keep me busy.” The man is not deterred, and that infuriates me more. I don’t mind Dad being around for a little while, but poking around at work? It’s fishy. It’s like he’s keeping an eye on me, or expects me to fail.
“I’m not unhappy,” I say, “but I can do the job.”
“I know that,” Dad replies. “But like I said — another set of eyes on a cold case isn’t a bad thing.”
“Next thing you’re gonna say is you’re movin’ here,” Max chuckles. Great, let’s just go giving Dad some more weird ideas.
“Oh, I’m sure the two of you would love that.” Dad folds the napkin over his lap.
“I’ll be in Mississippi,” Max points out. “But it’s only a few hours. We should do this every Sunday. It’s kinda nice catchin’ up.”
No, it isn’t nice. Why does my brother insist on being Mr.Unobservant? Seriously. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
“Nice?” I sputter, unable to contain myself anymore.
He points a fork at me. “You’re more like Dad, and I’m more like Mom.”
“That’s debatable,” I mutter.
“It’s true. I’m the talker, charmer, better looking and we all know it. Tryin’ to get anythin’ out of the two of you is like squeezin’ blood from a stone.”
“Let’s not get dramatic,” Dad sighs. “Max, for Christ’s sake, get your elbows off the table, are you twelve?”
“Yeah, Max. Come to think of it, I believe the real question here is what have you been doing with yourself all this time?” I smile smugly. Nothing like turning the tables on him for a change.
If he’s annoyed with my tactic, he of course doesn’t show it.
“Well, you know about my little stint in the slammer.” Dad winces just a touch at his words. “Ever since then, I’m a changed man. Honestly, prison changed me. I got clean. Healthy. I work out. I’m feelin’ good. Got a decent job?—”
“Doing what?” I look from him to Dad back to him again as our father stays silent.
“Truck mechanic. I’m qualified.” He beams.
