they spent together, but
he still felt comfortable around her. Well, as comfortable as he felt around
anyone. This Griffin guy might hate him. After all, Nora was supposed to train
him this summer. Griffin might not like sharing her with somebody else,
especially not a teenage boy with no money, from nowhere. Michael still couldn’t
believe Father S would share Nora with any guy. But then again, Father S was an
unusual man. He had a very literal concept of ownership where Nora was
concerned. Since he owned her, he could lend her out and she’d still be his.
Michael wondered how Nora felt about being treated like a library book. Michael
kind of liked the idea himself. The thought of being owned by someone he was in
love with got him so turned on he could barely breathe. He felt disowned these
days. His mom didn’t really want him anymore. And God, his dad…his dad?
“Michael? What are you doing?”
Michael froze. Slowly he turned his head to the side and saw
his father in his usual blue business suit stalking toward him. So engrossed in
thoughts of Nora, Michael hadn’t even noticed his father had parked across the
street.
“Nothing,” Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Waiting on a ride.”
His dad stopped and looked down at him. Even if Michael hadn’t
been sitting and his rather tall, stocky father standing, his dad would still be
looking down at him.
“A ride to where?” his father demanded.
Michael decided to try a little deflection again.
“It’s Thursday morning.”
“I took the morning off. Your mother said you were going to be
gone the whole summer. I thought I should see what was going on with my
son.”
“I’m your son again?”
“Michael, I thought we put that behind us,” his father said in
his most ingratiating voice. Michael liked the yelling better than the sucking
up. At least the anger seemed genuine. His father’s friendly voice only meant he
wanted something. Answers obviously. And Michael wasn’t about to give him
any.
Yeah, I’m totally over that whole you
wailing on me and Mom thing. We’re best buds again, Dad, Michael
thought but didn’t say out loud. His father could turn anything against him, so
Michael wore his silence as a shield.
His father’s eyes turned cold and menacing.
“Young man, tell me what you’re doing this summer, or I’ll make
very sure whatever it is doesn’t happen.”
“I’m staying with some friends this summer. That’s all.”
Michael’s father stared at him without speaking. Bad sign. His
dad talked. Constantly talked. He spouted off about sports teams, about the
assholes at work, about the president, the job market, the world’s problems that
would go away if everyone were just more like him.
“Didn’t know you had any friends, Michael,” his father said
with cold suspicion.
Michael clenched his jaw and didn’t answer.
“What friends are these?” his father asked in a neutral tone
Michael didn’t trust for one second.
Pulling his knees even tighter to his chest, Michael
concentrated on the cold concrete underneath him. He always played this game
when his father was angry. Michael would disappear, pull into himself, let his
body become a hard outer shell that protected that part of him only Nora and
Father S understood.
“Answer me, Michael.”
At times like these Michael wished he could talk like Nora did,
wished he could say everything he thought. What he wanted to say right now was, You asshole.
“You as—” Michael began, but stopped when a shiny silver car, a
Rolls Royce maybe, turned the corner of his street.
“What the hell?” his father asked, his angry dark eyes
narrowing at the car.
Michael stood up, grabbed his duffel bag and head toward the
car.
“Michael, get back here,” his father yelled after him. Whoever
was driving the Rolls Royce slowed in front of Michael’s house, and the door
opened for him. Michael threw himself and his duffel bag into the backseat and
the car started
he still felt comfortable around her. Well, as comfortable as he felt around
anyone. This Griffin guy might hate him. After all, Nora was supposed to train
him this summer. Griffin might not like sharing her with somebody else,
especially not a teenage boy with no money, from nowhere. Michael still couldn’t
believe Father S would share Nora with any guy. But then again, Father S was an
unusual man. He had a very literal concept of ownership where Nora was
concerned. Since he owned her, he could lend her out and she’d still be his.
Michael wondered how Nora felt about being treated like a library book. Michael
kind of liked the idea himself. The thought of being owned by someone he was in
love with got him so turned on he could barely breathe. He felt disowned these
days. His mom didn’t really want him anymore. And God, his dad…his dad?
“Michael? What are you doing?”
Michael froze. Slowly he turned his head to the side and saw
his father in his usual blue business suit stalking toward him. So engrossed in
thoughts of Nora, Michael hadn’t even noticed his father had parked across the
street.
“Nothing,” Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Waiting on a ride.”
His dad stopped and looked down at him. Even if Michael hadn’t
been sitting and his rather tall, stocky father standing, his dad would still be
looking down at him.
“A ride to where?” his father demanded.
Michael decided to try a little deflection again.
“It’s Thursday morning.”
“I took the morning off. Your mother said you were going to be
gone the whole summer. I thought I should see what was going on with my
son.”
“I’m your son again?”
“Michael, I thought we put that behind us,” his father said in
his most ingratiating voice. Michael liked the yelling better than the sucking
up. At least the anger seemed genuine. His father’s friendly voice only meant he
wanted something. Answers obviously. And Michael wasn’t about to give him
any.
Yeah, I’m totally over that whole you
wailing on me and Mom thing. We’re best buds again, Dad, Michael
thought but didn’t say out loud. His father could turn anything against him, so
Michael wore his silence as a shield.
His father’s eyes turned cold and menacing.
“Young man, tell me what you’re doing this summer, or I’ll make
very sure whatever it is doesn’t happen.”
“I’m staying with some friends this summer. That’s all.”
Michael’s father stared at him without speaking. Bad sign. His
dad talked. Constantly talked. He spouted off about sports teams, about the
assholes at work, about the president, the job market, the world’s problems that
would go away if everyone were just more like him.
“Didn’t know you had any friends, Michael,” his father said
with cold suspicion.
Michael clenched his jaw and didn’t answer.
“What friends are these?” his father asked in a neutral tone
Michael didn’t trust for one second.
Pulling his knees even tighter to his chest, Michael
concentrated on the cold concrete underneath him. He always played this game
when his father was angry. Michael would disappear, pull into himself, let his
body become a hard outer shell that protected that part of him only Nora and
Father S understood.
“Answer me, Michael.”
At times like these Michael wished he could talk like Nora did,
wished he could say everything he thought. What he wanted to say right now was, You asshole.
“You as—” Michael began, but stopped when a shiny silver car, a
Rolls Royce maybe, turned the corner of his street.
“What the hell?” his father asked, his angry dark eyes
narrowing at the car.
Michael stood up, grabbed his duffel bag and head toward the
car.
“Michael, get back here,” his father yelled after him. Whoever
was driving the Rolls Royce slowed in front of Michael’s house, and the door
opened for him. Michael threw himself and his duffel bag into the backseat and
the car started
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