I—just want you to be careful.”
“Geez, man…” The lanky arms twisted more tightly across his chest. But there were no further comments. Blake wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not.
“So…” Fool that he was, Blake refused to let the silence gain a foothold. “Next lame question…” That got a sideways glance and a cocked eyebrow. “Any girls in your life?”
“You mean, like a girlfriend?” Shaun gave a sharp, short laugh. “Uh, no. Chicks are way too expensive. Besides, with no wheels, it’s like, pointless. I mean, whuttami s’posed to do? Ask Mom to drive me on a date?”
He decided not to go anywhere near the “wheels” topic. “Whoa. Chicks?”
Bam! Up went the wall again. “Hey. Lighten up. It’s not like they care or anything.”
“Well, I care. And your mother would probably boot you clear into next week if she heard you say that. Let me fill you in, if you expect to get anywhere with the female sex, ever. ‘Girls’ is okay until they reach about seventeen. After that, they’re ‘women.” ’
Silence. Then, “You going to criticize everything I say?”
Damn.
“That wasn’t my intention, Shaun. Look, I didn’t come down here to argue with you—”
“Why did you come down, anyway?”
Puzzled, Blake flicked his son a glance. “Because I thought you wanted me to.”
“Oh, right. Like that made any difference before.”
Careful…
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…” The kid hit the automatic window button, lowering the tinted glass. Raised it again. Lowered it. Slouched even farther down in his seat. “Meaning how many times did I ask you to come down this past year, and you were too busy? Now, suddenly, Alan’s dead, and look who’s here.” The boy punched his knee with his fist. “Oh, hell, man…this really, really sucks.”
His own stomach churning, Blake spoke without thinking. “Shaun. Language.”
“Oh, come on, man. This is way kids talk nowadays. Get with the program, geez.”
“I’m not naive, Shaun,” Blake snapped, angry that they were skirting the issue. Angrier because he wasn’t sure what the issue was. “This is the way kids have always talked. Around each other. Not around their parents.” He leveled his gaze at his son. “Got it?”
A sullen glare was his only response.
Several seconds passed before Blake spoke. “I apologize. I didn’t come all this way to hassle you about your language. But I guess…I’m not very good at this.”
He caught Shaun’s frown. “Good at what?”
One hand on the steering wheel, Blake gestured ineffectually with the other. “Knowing what to say when someone dies. To make them feel better.” At the boy’s blank stare, Blake pushed on, “About Alan’s death. I imagine you’re upset about it—”
Shaun’s harsh laugh startled him. “Why would I be upset about that? I mean, yeah, it was a shock and all, but upset?” He shook his head.
Now it was Blake’s turn to look blank.
The kid blew a disdainful “pffh” of air between his lips. “The man didn’t care Jack about me. Oh, he made noises at first like he was going to, I don’t know, fill some gap in my life or something…” Shaun propped one foot up on the dashboard, banging his fist against his knee. “Give me a break.”
Blake didn’t know what to say to that, although a vague anger suffused his thought. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
Shaun rubbed his hand over his thigh, then picked at a loose thread from a hole in the denim. “It had nothing to do with you. No big deal.”
“But it does have something to do with you, which makes it a very big deal.”
The boy’s sad shrug made him feel like slime. But his confession sparked more than a few other questions in his brain, all of which centered on Cass’s relationship with her second husband, none of which were any of Blake’s business.
He told himself.
“I really am sorry I wasn’t able to come down before,” Blake said quietly, needing to justify himself somehow while still skirting the truth. “But it wasn’t as if we didn’t see each other. Besides, I thought you enjoyed coming up to Denver. Getting way from the house.” He glanced over. “Going to Broncos games.”
The boy went through his hat-off, shove-fingers-through-hair, hat-back-on routine. “Yeah, I guess. It was okay.” Since that’s what you want to hear, Dad, his expression said, that’s what I’ll give you.
“But it wasn’t what you wanted.”
That merited a grunt.
“I told you,” Blake persisted, “I was busy. Getting away this past year wasn’t easy. The business—”
“You own it, for crying out loud. You can do anything you want.”
“It doesn’t work that way, buddy.” At Shaun’s not-buying-it glare, Blake added, “Just because I don’t punch a time clock doesn’t mean I have more free time. If anything, I have less. And this year was a killer in terms of expansion—”
“Dad, please. You make ice cream.”
Blake’s hand squeezed the steering wheel, hard. Anger hissed through his veins, at Shaun for his insolence, at himself for creating the situation that created the insolence to begin with. “Yeah. I make ice cream. By myself, in my kitchen, one gallon at a time.”
Again, no response.
“Maybe this doesn’t seem like a big deal to you, but in ten years Troy and I have set up three processing plants around the country and sold more than a 150 franchises in thirty-seven states. That didn’t happen by working nine-to-five.”
He could feel duplicates of his own deep-brown eyes scrutinizing the side of his face. “And was it worth it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re rich, right?”
Wondering where this was heading, Blake carefully replied, “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I’ve worried about meeting the monthly bills.”
“And, like, what has all that gotten you, exactly?”
Ah. They’d pulled into the wide driveway fronting the three-car garage at the side of Cass’s house. Blake cut the engine, then leaned back, one hand on the steering wheel. Typically for this time of year, the wind had picked up, hazing the air with dust and pollen. But the clog in his throat, he guessed, had little to do with the
