“Thanks.I’ll come with one of the guys and pick it up tomorrow.”She gives me a massive hug before adding, “Thanks so much for this.I needed another friend.I’m having a party in a couple of weeks, and inviting a few people like my old roommates, and Leah, and my dumb brother.Do you want to come and meet some other cool people?You can bring your guys.”
“I’d love to!”My face hurts from smiling so much as I wave goodbye and unlock my front door.Is this what it’s like having a friend?I even told her about my podcast idea, and she thought it was the best idea ever.She offered to help me with anything I might need, from researching gear, to promoting the podcast, to coming on as a newbie to the genre and sharing her reactions to different shows.
I step into my dark house.The alarm beeps, reminding me to disarm it, so I hurry to the control panel and punch in the code.
As soon as I do, though, I hear something else—the sound of footsteps in my kitchen.The microwave running.
I’m not alone.
12
SETH
The work day is finally winding down.Damiano and I should’ve left for Madison’s an hour ago, but she messaged to say she’s going out to dinner with Danica.
I’m glad she found a friend.
Madison’s new plans work out for the best, because Damiano and I are still onboarding new clients.Most of these are orphans from Point Ops’s implosion.Also, clients like Charles Dumond, who had been lured into using Point Ops, are busy kissing our asses and trying to come back to Nove.Dumond just sent me four passes for the next season of Surf Rats games.
I write him an effusive thank-you note.Grudges are impossible to hold where baseball is concerned.
There’s one more task for me to tackle before I leave the office.
My parents.They’ve been taking turns calling me every day.I never answer.I’m still too furious at what they pulled during Thanksgiving dinner.
It’s time to give them a conversation.Maybe it’ll be our last one ever, I don’t know.
I dial my mother’s cell phone number.
She picks up immediately.“Seth?Oh, thank you for calling me back?—”
“I’ll make this quick.”I don’t wait for her to respond.“If you want to be a part of my life, you will accept Madison.What happened at Thanksgiving canneverhappen again.You will respect her, and you will respect me.Otherwise, you’ll have lost two sons instead of one.Do you understand?”
“I—”
“Yes or no, Mother.Do you understand?”
In a small voice, she says, “Yes, I understand.”
“Good.I’ll call back when I’m ready.Don’t call me.”I hang up.Let her think about this for a while.
To her credit, she doesn’t immediately bombard me with calls or texts.Maybe I’ll get some peace while she thinks about what she did, what she could lose.
Damiano knocks on my door.“Are you ready to see our girl?”
I’m more than ready.“Let’s go.”
MADISON
I freeze in place.I can hear the drone of the microwave, the spinning of the plate inside.The intruder’s feet shuffle over the kitchen floor.
I bet I know who it is, damnit.I call out, “Ford?What the actual fuck?”
“Madison, you’re home early.”A man steps into the entryway, coming from the kitchen.He’s holding a dish towel and one of the beers from my fridge.
It isn’t Ford.I stare, slack-jawed, at his friend, that guy who was with him downtown a month ago.Dark, buzzed haircut.Uncanny, gray-eyed stare.I wrack my brain for his name.Caleb?Callum?
He sets the beer down on the little table in the entryway—no coaster, which should be the least of my worries at present—and wipes his hands with the dish towel.“I’ve been worried about you staying out so late.”
