Cradle.”
Chapter 18
Patrick felt Amy straddling him but refused to open his eyes. He knew he’d be looking up at a devious grin that was more than ready to talk loud and jar the hell out of the bed that was his hangover crypt.
“I know you’re awake,” she said.
One eye creaked open. “Please let me die in peace.”
She yelled: “What’s wrong, baby?!”
The one eye snapped shut. He grimaced and moaned.
She bounced on his chest. “Wake up, sleepy head!”
Both eyes creaked open this time. “Why do you hate me?”
Her grin was out of a cartoon. “Good morning, my love. How do you feel?”
“You know how I feel. What time is it?”
“Almost ten. I let you sleep in.”
“Thank you. Any chance I could go to eleven?”
“My dad’s been up since six.”
“ What? He was hammered last night. How the hell was he up so early?”
“Up and playing with Carrie and Caleb by seven.”
“The guy’s a freak. He had twice as much to drink as I did, and I feel like crap.”
“Yeah, well, even though I take no pride in saying this, my father is what you’d call a functioning alcoholic.”
“He wasn’t functioning too well last night. He wanted to drive home, you know.”
Amy hung her head for a second. “Yeah … he’s like that. Taking his keys is like taking his machismo.”
“It’s dangerous. He was really drunk, Amy. I mean, I’ll admit, I had a buzz going, so I’m not trying to act all high and mighty here, but to think of him behind the wheel, in the state he was in …”
Amy rolled off Patrick’s chest and took the other side of the bed. She seemed to have no other answer but: “I know.” After a brief silence that Patrick wished would last an eternity, she asked, “How did you get his keys?”
Patrick rolled onto his side and faced her. “I sang to him.”
“Oh God . No wonder he gave them up. Poor Daddy.”
“It worked didn’t it?”
“Did you have fun?”
“I did. It turned out to be a really good time. Things got a little serious towards the end though.”
“I thought the Bears won?”
“No, I mean between me and your dad.”
Amy made a curious face and propped herself up on one elbow. “What do you mean?”
Patrick had no intention of telling Amy he had divulged the taboo specifics about Crescent Lake to her father. Sure, he had to worry about Bob getting loose lips after a few too many somewhere down the road, but that was a bet he had no interest in handicapping right now, especially when it felt like his head was in a vice.
“He started getting pretty emotional about what happened to us. He thanked me for saving your life. I told him you saved mine just as much as I saved yours. He liked that. He even cried.”
“My father cried ?”
“Yup. He even called me ‘son.’ Twice. I got a little choked up myself.”
“Aww, baby …” She snuggled in close and kissed him on the nose. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave you alone until eleven, then we have to get going. Caleb has an early appointment with Dr. Bogan tomorrow.”
“I fucking love you.”
She laughed, kissed him on the nose again, and left. Patrick was snoring a minute later.
Chapter 19
John Brooks sat on the edge of the motel bed, cell in one hand, Hershey Bears game schedule in the other. He dialed his daughter’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. We’re good. You’ll need to be here no later than seven tonight.”
“You sound eager.”
“I am eager,” he said.
She laughed. “See? I told you we’d have fun.”
He conceded with his usual grunt.
She laughed again. “Seven tonight.”
John hung up and checked the bandage on his right hand. The wound on his palm was still raw from last night. The rage suddenly flickered. He made a fist, squeezing until blood leaked through his massive knuckles. He opened his hand, looked at the Bears’ schedule again, wiped blood on it. His rage finally simmered when he entertained feeding the bloodied paper to Bob Corcoran
Chapter 18
Patrick felt Amy straddling him but refused to open his eyes. He knew he’d be looking up at a devious grin that was more than ready to talk loud and jar the hell out of the bed that was his hangover crypt.
“I know you’re awake,” she said.
One eye creaked open. “Please let me die in peace.”
She yelled: “What’s wrong, baby?!”
The one eye snapped shut. He grimaced and moaned.
She bounced on his chest. “Wake up, sleepy head!”
Both eyes creaked open this time. “Why do you hate me?”
Her grin was out of a cartoon. “Good morning, my love. How do you feel?”
“You know how I feel. What time is it?”
“Almost ten. I let you sleep in.”
“Thank you. Any chance I could go to eleven?”
“My dad’s been up since six.”
“ What? He was hammered last night. How the hell was he up so early?”
“Up and playing with Carrie and Caleb by seven.”
“The guy’s a freak. He had twice as much to drink as I did, and I feel like crap.”
“Yeah, well, even though I take no pride in saying this, my father is what you’d call a functioning alcoholic.”
“He wasn’t functioning too well last night. He wanted to drive home, you know.”
Amy hung her head for a second. “Yeah … he’s like that. Taking his keys is like taking his machismo.”
“It’s dangerous. He was really drunk, Amy. I mean, I’ll admit, I had a buzz going, so I’m not trying to act all high and mighty here, but to think of him behind the wheel, in the state he was in …”
Amy rolled off Patrick’s chest and took the other side of the bed. She seemed to have no other answer but: “I know.” After a brief silence that Patrick wished would last an eternity, she asked, “How did you get his keys?”
Patrick rolled onto his side and faced her. “I sang to him.”
“Oh God . No wonder he gave them up. Poor Daddy.”
“It worked didn’t it?”
“Did you have fun?”
“I did. It turned out to be a really good time. Things got a little serious towards the end though.”
“I thought the Bears won?”
“No, I mean between me and your dad.”
Amy made a curious face and propped herself up on one elbow. “What do you mean?”
Patrick had no intention of telling Amy he had divulged the taboo specifics about Crescent Lake to her father. Sure, he had to worry about Bob getting loose lips after a few too many somewhere down the road, but that was a bet he had no interest in handicapping right now, especially when it felt like his head was in a vice.
“He started getting pretty emotional about what happened to us. He thanked me for saving your life. I told him you saved mine just as much as I saved yours. He liked that. He even cried.”
“My father cried ?”
“Yup. He even called me ‘son.’ Twice. I got a little choked up myself.”
“Aww, baby …” She snuggled in close and kissed him on the nose. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave you alone until eleven, then we have to get going. Caleb has an early appointment with Dr. Bogan tomorrow.”
“I fucking love you.”
She laughed, kissed him on the nose again, and left. Patrick was snoring a minute later.
Chapter 19
John Brooks sat on the edge of the motel bed, cell in one hand, Hershey Bears game schedule in the other. He dialed his daughter’s number.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. We’re good. You’ll need to be here no later than seven tonight.”
“You sound eager.”
“I am eager,” he said.
She laughed. “See? I told you we’d have fun.”
He conceded with his usual grunt.
She laughed again. “Seven tonight.”
John hung up and checked the bandage on his right hand. The wound on his palm was still raw from last night. The rage suddenly flickered. He made a fist, squeezing until blood leaked through his massive knuckles. He opened his hand, looked at the Bears’ schedule again, wiped blood on it. His rage finally simmered when he entertained feeding the bloodied paper to Bob Corcoran
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