little startled, Elise answered. “Yes, you do. I think tickets to the show would be a great gift, don’t you?”
Joe stared at his feet. “Pretty expensive, Mom.”
“You only turn eighteen once,” Brenda persisted.
A few minutes later, Brenda and Brad were alone in the living room. Mother and son were in the kitchen. Brenda sat in the sofa directly across from the recliner where Brad took his place.
“So hot out there,” she said.
“A scorcher,” he said.
“I thought you guys had air-conditioning,” Brenda said.
“We do.”
“Feels hot in here.”
“Set at a constant seventy-four,” Brad answered. “Could be cooler, but we don’t want the power company to get every last dime we have.”
She sipped her Pepsi and moved her legs under her on the sofa. In doing so, she allowed a flash of her vagina to show. She wore no underwear. The fabric that held her cutoffs together was like a twist of yarn.
“That’s better,” she said. “More comfortable now.”
Her eyes locked on his.
You did that on purpose, Brad thought.
* * *
“You think she flashed you intentionally?” Kendall asked.
“No women does so unintentionally,” Brad said. “I’m not saying that a woman wearing sexy clothes is an open invitation for some guy to stare at her. Say something to her. But, Detective, you have to know what I mean. There was something about the way she moved her legs, splitting them slightly apart and holding that pose just long enough to make sure I got a good look. It wasn’t anything I’d never seen before. I’ve had my share. But here’s the real deal, she was showing me what she had—not because she wanted me to get all jacked about her hotness—but because she wanted me to see what my son was getting.”
Kendall was unsure how to respond to that. She’d never pegged Brenda’s former father-in-law as a narcissist, but here he was making it all about him.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“Because of what she did next.”
Kendall narrowed her gaze. “Which was?”
“She told me.”
“What did she say?”
“I’ll never forget it.”
* * *
After dinner, after Elise had given an early birthday check to Joe, Brad found himself alone with Brenda in the kitchen cleaning up while mother and son sat in the living room talking.
“I saw the way you looked at me,” Brenda said. Her voice was low, only loud enough for Brad to hear.
Brad bristled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You want my pussy,” she said. “Well, you can’t have it. It’s for your son. If you look at me that way one more time, I’ll tell him. I swear that I will. I won’t be victimized by a lecherous old man.”
Brad tried to keep his cool. It wasn’t easy.
“You’ve got it all wrong, and you’re really pissing me off,” he said.
She looked at him like he was nothing.
“You get pissed off when you don’t get what you want, right? I get that. Boy, do I. My dad’s like that too. But I will tell you one thing for sure. I will never let anyone stop me from what I want. I want your Joe, and if you judge me, push me, tell me anything I don’t want to hear, I’ll make sure you never see him again.”
Brad could feel his face warm, but he didn’t want to make a scene.
“Where is this coming from? What happened to you to make you such a paranoid mess?”
Brenda’s eyes sparkled. She loved the confrontation. It was like having sex in a public place. She had to be quiet. She didn’t want anyone but Brad to hear.
“I saw the way you looked at me,” she said one more time.
“I didn’t look,” he said.
“Right now you’re thinking about my pussy,” she said.
She’s nuts.
“I’m not.”
Joe appeared in the kitchen.
“What are you two talking about? Looks intense.” He smiled, his disarming Joe-smile.
Brenda wrapped her arms around her boyfriend. “Your dad was just telling me that he hopes we have fun at the concert.”
“It’ll be awesome,” Joe said, smiling happily.
“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom. I’m going to take Bren home now.”
“So nice to finally meet you, Brenda,” Elise said.
“Yeah, real nice,” Brad said.
* * *
For the next hour Brad Nevins seethed. He drank a couple of beers and let the TV flicker some sports coverage in his face, though he really didn’t—couldn’t—pay attention and would have been at a loss to tell anyone the sport he was watching, let alone the score.
“Joey,” he said, when his son returned, “I need to talk to you about Brenda.”
“Dad,” Joe said, “let’s not.”
“We need to.”
Joe pushed back. “No, we don’t.”
“You’re getting into something here that’s not quite right. I’m not sure how to say it.”
“Look, Dad, I know what you did. She told me. It’s OK. I understand. I’m not mad at you.”
“At me? What for?”
“You know. For taking a look. She’s beautiful. It happens all the time. Whenever we go out, some guy comes up to her, comes on to her. Tries to get a peek. She’s hot. But I don’t care. She’s mine.”
Brad was dumbfounded. His son was mesmerized by the girl. To fight him would only push him closer to her. Even so, he just couldn’t let it go.
“I never took a look,” he said. “She practically did the splits in front of me with no panties on.”
Joe gave his dad a look.
“Don’t
