Chapter Nine
It was abeautiful fall morning. The trees lining Gaylord Street glinted with gold and red. Shafts of sunlight shifted and danced through branches and leaves. The air was crisp and carried a sweet aroma from the apple trees Chains passed as he rode to his parents’ house. He’d debated about going to the brunch when he’d woken up and saw what a perfect day it was for a long ride around the countryside. Picturing the look of disappointment on his mother’s face was theonlyreason he was showing up. Chains couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his brother or his upcoming wedding. The only thing that surprised him was that Bret had found a woman stupid enough to put up with his phoniness and bullshit.
Both sides of the street in front of his parents’ house were filled with cars. He gritted his teeth and circled around the block a few times as he debated about going inside, but guilt niggled at the back of his mind, so he parked his bike several houses up from his parents’. Chains figured he’d give thirty minutes of his time, then cut out and hit the backroads. For the most part, he hated engaging in pointless small talk and answering inane questions about his life.
Chains’s engineer boots thumped on the pavement, his muscular build casting a long, reed-like shadow. He slipped his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a joint. Stopping for a moment, Chains dipped his head and cupped his hand around the lighter as he lit the spliff. He inhaled deeply, held his breath for a few seconds, and then blew out a column of thick smoke.
He watched as a tall blonde with long legs in a short skirt rushed up the porch steps. The door opened, and his mother flashed a big smile, then stepped aside as the woman walked into the house. Chains finished the joint through a myriad of successive drags before tossing the roach to the ground; he stepped on it and let out a final stream of smoke. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he sauntered across the lawn.
The door opened just as Chains reached the porch. When he saw his father, he stepped back, his jaw tightening. Meeting his dad’s eyes, he lifted his chin.
“Your mother didn’t think you were going to come,” his father spoke in a scratchy smoker’s mumble.
“I told her I would,” Chains replied.
“You’ve said a lot of things you didn’t do.” He reached into his dress shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of Winston. He tapped one out and lit it. “You should’ve dressed better—you look like a hoodlum.”
“I am a hoodlum.” Chains took the steps two at a time, brushed by his father, and entered the foyer.
The tantalizing aroma of bacon and cinnamon curled around him as he went down the hall and into the kitchen, avoiding the crowd in the living room. His mother stood by the stove, an apron dotted with pumpkins and topsy-turvy leaves wrapped tightly around her waist; she pulled out two quiches from the oven.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
Regina looked up and a large smile graced her face. “You made it.” She put the quiches down on the counter and took off her oven mitts.
“I said I’d be here. How’re you holding up?”
She blew a stray wisp of hair away from her face. “Okay. Can you bring the platter of potatoes and the basket of croissants into the dining room? Set them on the buffet table.”
“Sure.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it gingerly on the back of a chair in the corner of the kitchen, then picked up the items.
People mingled in the dining and living rooms, and Chains set the two dishes on the table before he snagged a slice of bacon from a serving dish and gobbled it down.
“Chet,” his sister Amelia said. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I told Mom I’d be here.” One corner of his mouth hitched up. “When did you get in?”
“Yesterday. I’ll be here for a few days, then it’s back to Denver. Let’s get together and grab some lunch.” Her bluish-gray eyes twinkled.
“I’ll check my schedule.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. You missed Mother’s Day and the Fourth of July”—she tapped a finger against her chin—“and the family barbecue… and Dad’s birthday.”
“Sounds about right,” he replied.
“Emily said she hasn’t seen you since last Christmas, and sheliveshere.” Amelia reached over the table and picked up a cherry tomato, then popped it into her mouth.
“I’ve been busy.” Chains glanced at the time on his phone.I’ve only got twenty more minutes to go, then I’m fuckin’ outta here.He could feel the crisp air rushing around him already.
“Are you dating anyone?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“You should think about settling down.” Amelia snatched another tomato.
“So should you.”
A large clap on his back had Chains turning around.