Page 65 of Rigid

“My turn.” She bowed her head.

Smokey looked at me, clasped his hands together, and then lowered his head.

I did the same.

“Heavenly Father. We thank you for our health, for this food we are so fortunate to have before us, and for the addition of Dad’s friend, Sandy to our table. I ask that you look over P-Nut, and take a special look at Ramone Sanchez, as he wrecked his bicycle yesterday, and broke his leg. Please bless this food, Lord, so it may make us stronger, and with that strength, make us more able to serve you. As always, in your name, Amen.”

Smokey lifted his head and looked at Eddie. “Pass me the cannelloni, please.”

She picked up the dish and shot him a glare. “Guests first.”

That evening at dinner, I realized that falling in love with Smokey wasn’t going to be difficult at all.

Because it was already happening.

TWENTY

Smokey

I’d postponed the inevitable for as long as I could, and it was time for me to come clean with Eddie. I wasn’t sure what would be more difficult for her to accept; the news of the pregnancy, or that Sandy was going to move in.

I guessed in a matter of minutes, I’d know the answer. I peeked into her bedroom. “You got a minute, Ed?”

In the middle of hanging up laundry, she looked up. “What’s up?”

“When you get done.”

“When I get done what?”

“When you get done, do you have a minute?”

“I’ve got a minute, now. What’s up?”

“I’ll wait ‘till you’re done.”

“Then you should have stuck your head in my door and said, hey Ed, I’m too busy to talk now, but I’ll have a minute when you’re done, wanna talk later?”

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you’re my child.”

She threaded the hanger she held through the neck of a shirt, and then glared at me. “I’m a seventeen-year-old female version of you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It’s true,” she said. “You’re a smart ass, I’m a smart ass. You like music, I like music. You’re a bad ass, I’m a bad ass--”

“Watch your mouth,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “You cuss all the time, and I get in trouble for saying anything. Maybe we’re not so much alike. No, wait. We are alike, we just play by different rules. Yeah, that’s it.”

“When you’re eighteen, you can cuss all you want.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Outside.”

I laughed. “That’s you’re rule, not mine.”

She hung up her last shirt. “It’s a good rule. If I let you and P-Nut cuss as much as you wanted, I’d be tripping over cusswords all the time. You two are awful.”

“We’re bikers. What do you expect?”