Mollywood (26 page)

Mason looked back at me and grinned. “You’re just jealous that I look good in a hat.”

Mac laughed, and the tension I felt building inside me dissipated. I’d begun to fear that I had irreparably broken something between us. But it seemed like despite my reading the riot act to Granny, we were all still friends.

“I don’t think I have ever seen the old bird at a loss for words,” Mac said with a snort.

Mason shot beer out his nose and started coughing as he tried to laugh and swallow at the same time. Once he got his wind back he waved the waitress over and ordered a few pitchers. Over the next few hours we ate meat, drank beer and talked sports. In short, we forgot that any women existed in the world with the exception of our waitress. And her sole purpose was to bring us more beer. Things were going my way, which only means I should have been on my guard.

Through beer addled eyes I saw someone swaggering toward the table. The swagger should have been my first warning and had I not been so hammered I might have been able to avoid the trouble headed my way. Or not. Karma can be a real bitch and sometimes she comes in the form of an actual bitch.

Five and a half feet of over-made up woman came to a stop in front of our table. Mason flicked his eyes up and then ignored her. Mac looked and raised a glass in her direction. She nodded at him and then turned her attention on me.

“Well hello there, Joe. Out for a little fun?”

Part of my brain, that low level Neanderthal that warns you that fire is hot and a charging rhino is dangerous set an alarm ringing. But in my defense I was floating on a beautiful ocean of barley and hops and could not be bothered to answer some pesky warning bell.

“Sort of. Can we get another pitcher?” The smile on her face transformed before my eyes to the hellish grimace of a monstrous she bitch. Before I realized what was happening she had slapped me across the face. It was a pretty good hit. I almost felt it through the beer.

“I am not your waitress, you fucking pig! You don’t even remember my name do you? Am I so utterly forgettable?”

Ah. So that was what the little alarm bell had been for. I recognized her now. Julie Madison. The woman single handedly responsible for four of my rules. Don’t ever sleep with the same girl twice. Don't forget anything when you leave. Don't let them get ahold of your phone. Take the stairs. The last time I had seen her she was screaming obscenities at me, in the elevator I had just left, on the ground floor of a fairly nice hotel. Wrapped only in a bed sheet. Not my finest hour. It was the third time we slept together and she somehow got it into her head that we were in a relationship. Total psycho hosebeast. Fuck my life.

“What the hell is your problem, bitch?” Mac had leapt up from the table when she hit me and gave her a shove back.

“Don’t touch me you fucking prick or I will call a cop!” She glared at him with her fists bunched at her sides and I could see we were attracting attention.

“Mac, let’s just go. It isn't worth it.” I tried to rise and she darted around Mac and attempted to claw my eyes. I’m not sure what I would have done if Mason had not grabbed what was left of our pitcher of beer and thrown it in her face. She recoiled like he had doused her with acid and started making this high pitched keening.

Like they were following a sirens call a bunch of over cologned, muscled young punks rushed to her side. I didn’t like the odds. There were about ten of them and three of us.

“Come on guys. Let’s head out.” Mason nodded and Mac seemed to realize that we might be in trouble and started backing away as well.

“No!” Julie pushed her way out of the group of young men around her and pointed a finger at me. “You don’t just get to run away after how you treated me. These men know how to treat a lady.”

Damn. She’d played the lady card, as tattered as her’s might be. She’d appealed to the chivalrous nature of the inebriated men surrounding her and I could see they were buying into it. Disgust showed on their faces as they imagined what horrible things I had done to this woman. It never seemed to occur to them we were all in a crowded room and there wasn’t a lot I could have done. Only a few of them had seen her slap me and none of them were close enough to hear what she said. I saw the bartender on the phone, likely calling the cops and I nodded to the door behind me.

“Mac, Mason, let’s go.” Mason started toward the door and three of the guys moved to block his path.

“Damn it, Joe,” Mason said with exasperation. “How the fuck is it that I am a grown man with kids and your dick is still getting me into fistfights?”

I didn't have a chance to answer as the nearest guy charged and threw a wild right at my head. The thing about bar fighting is that things are a lot different than they are in the movies. There is no order, no beer bottles over the head or chairs broken over backs. They’re brutal, bloody and don’t take long. By the time the cops arrived, half the guys had lost their taste for the fight and Julie had disappeared.

When the officers entered the joint, my stomach sank. They were two of my all-time favorites, which I’d nicknamed Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. The fact that I’d done this aloud in the back of their squad car might be why they took one look at the place and cuffed me. Mac and Mason got cuffed as well. I could only imagine the hell I was going to catch from their mother for this.

Luckily, the bartender caught up to the cops before they got us into the car and explained that we were actually the victims. After some posturing, the cops let us go. They insisted we get in a cab and head home, which we were more than ready to do.

Once we were underway Mac pulled out his phone and started fiddling with it. Mason glanced at the screen and pulled it out of his hand and tossed it to me.

“Hey! Give that back,” Mac grabbed for the phone and I held it out of reach. Kelly’s picture was on the screen and it looked like he had just started a text to her.

“Oh hell no,” I shook my head and tossed the phone in my pocket. “You are not drunk texting her and ruining what little chance you have left. You can have you phone back tomorrow when you are sober.”

Mac grunted in annoyance and then pretended he didn't care. Glancing at his brother I noticed Mason’s left eye was red and puffy.

“Your wife is going to ground you when she sees that eye.” I razzed Mason, who grinned and then winced. “She’ll never let you out of the house with me again.”

“She’s picking her battles a lot more carefully these days.” He replied, and I saw Mac cock a confused eyebrow at his brother.

“You two have been pretty antisocial lately. Is everything alright?” All trace of the grin evaporated from Mason’s face, and I felt my ears perk up.

“We had a recent scare. She found a lump.” I felt instantly sick and turned to him in horror. “It scared the shit out of us, but it turned out to be nothing. I guess it made us prioritize things.”

“What the hell? Why didn’t you say something?” I asked when I was able to gather my wits.

“I was too freaked out that I was going to lose her and have to raise three kids alone.” I saw his eyes misting, and for a moment, I thought I might start bawling. He was my best friend and I’d had no clue he’d been suffering through something like this. As if he read my mind, he turned to me with the gravest expression set on his face. “I couldn’t tell you, Joe. I think you can understand why. Plus Robin made me promise not to. She was afraid of stressing Molly out. We decided to wait until we were sure we had something to worry about.”

I still felt nauseous thinking about Mason and what he’d been going through alone. I realized what a shitty friend I’d been to him and how self-absorbed I was.

“Why didn’t you tell me, asshole?” Mac demanded.

“Cause you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.” Mason shot back. Mac glanced at me in outrage and I cocked my head at him then nodded in agreement.

They dropped me at my place and I carefully made my way upstairs. I took a hot shower and drank a ton of water before I went to bed. When the cruel spears of sunlight pierced my eyes in the morning, I realized I had drank far too much beer. My flimsy back end measures, namely the shower and water guzzling the night before, did nothing to counteract the consequences. Perhaps they saved my head from exploding. My hangover made me feel like I was twenty years older.

The trip down the block to the bakery was brutal. The wind whipped at me, and it felt like winter was truly upon us. I ordered a box of assorted crap and two giant to go coffee containers. Mac was in the shop with his head on the counter when I came in. He looked up at me with bleary eyes.

“I didn’t see your bike outside. Did you cab it?” Mac nodded then winced in pain. I could relate. My head felt like it was going to split in half.

“Yes. Quit shouting. I still can’t focus my eyes. Is that coffee? Tell me that you brought coffee and I will forgive the yelling.”

“Yes, Mac, it’s coffee and I’m not yelling. Get the sand out of your vagina.” He flipped me off half-heartedly and carefully poured a large cup of coffee.

We sat in blissful silence nursing our java until Nick came in, trudging loudly in his unlaced boots that looked like they’d been purchased from a military surplus store. I had the urge to grab him and drop him in the dumpster outside. Seeing the expression on my face, Mac immediately banished him down the street to gather hang over cure supplies from Whole Foods. We’d finished the second container of coffee and I felt less homicidal by the time he returned.

Mac set about mixing up a noxious concoction of liquids that he tried to convince me to drink. When he ran to the bathroom ten minutes later, I was glad that I had declined. I wanted no part of the sounds coming out of that bathroom. Nick flopped down at the workstation across from me and I waved him off.

“No building today, Nick. We’re taking a hangover holiday. If you want to, help Francis around the shop. I think Mac and I need to take off early.” Nick nodded sagely.

“Hey, that’s cool, boss man. What good is being the man in the big seat if you can’t take off when you want? Look, I don’t want to add to your stress, man, and it’s probably none of my business, but I told Pops I’d pass along that he has a house for sale. It was my Gran’s, but she broke her hip a few months ago and decided to move into assisted living. He had to redo it before he could put it on the market. I guess Graham told him you were having trouble finding a place. If you want to stop by and take a look, here’s the address. It isn’t listed yet. Maybe he will cut you a deal. He has a lot of crap going on right now and I don’t think he wants to fool with it.”

It was the longest conversation I had with the boy since I hired him. If it wasn’t for the hammers banging on the inside of my head, I would have thanked him. Instead he got a grunt of acknowledgement. It seemed to be enough because he headed to the other side of the shop. I cracked the door to the bathroom long enough to tell Mac to go home and went back upstairs to bed.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky by the time I woke up. My stomach woke me up, complaining about its cavernous empty state. Once I rinsed the kitty litter out of my mouth, I jumped in the shower and turned it up as hot as I could stand. The business card with the address Nick had given me was sitting on the table with my keys. It wasn't far and there were a few restaurants between it and me that sounded good. Ten minutes later, I was on the road.

I took my time eating, figuring the house would be another lemon. The food was alright, but after Molly’s cooking, most food tasted substandard. My girl had spoiled me for other chefs. I left a decent tip and jumped in the truck. The house was in a great neighborhood smack dab in the middle of an area Molly called ‘charming’. My plan had been a quick drive by, but that went out the window when I spotted Graham standing in front of the place talking to someone.

Parking the truck, I walked up the sidewalk and recognized Jeff, Nick’s father, standing with Graham. He shot me a surprised grin and stuck his hand out and I shook it.

“Well Joe, were your ears burning?” Jeff said with a laugh. “Graham and I were just talking about you.” I turned to Graham, who nodded.

“I told him you and your lady are looking for a house but just hadn't been able to find anything worth buying. This place might just be the thing for you.”

“Well, Nick mentioned that you were getting it ready for sale. Molly’s out of town but I figured I would stop and take a look.”

Jeff laughed and chided, “Trying to see if it is worth showing the little lady?” I winced.

He chuckled at my reaction. “We have all been there. A happy wife makes a happy life.”

“We aren’t married,” I said, sliding a glance sideways at Graham. We had yet to have an in depth conversation about Molly’s pregnancy, but I’d given him the broad strokes. I grated on my nerves to have to correct Jeff on our marital status.

Graham waved his hand dismissively. “It’s the sentiment that matters. In your case it might be better to say if mama’s not happy then no one is happy.”

One of my favorite things about Graham: no judgment. He was willing to take people as they were. That didn’t stop him from trying to get me to come to church, but he never pushed it.

The two of them ushered me inside and gave me the grand tour. The place was amazing. Jeff explained that they had gutted the whole house, setting aside what they could for reuse. There had been asbestos and lead in the house, so they had an abatement company sanitize the structure before building it back up. They’d been able to save a ton of the stuff that made these older homes cool: architectural features like the subway tile backsplash, lead glass windows with arts and crafts frames, arched doorways and vintage cupboards and built-ins.

It had a five hundred square foot basement which made it unusual for the area. The kitchen had been demo’d but hadn’t been remodeled yet. It was a blank canvas just ready for a chef to design, and the backyard looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. A huge tree had a tire swing hanging from it and a meticulously laid out garden ringed thick green grass. Privacy fencing made it seem like a secret oasis.