Chapter Seventeen: Strike Three
Harper
I hadn’t seen Bones in two days. The weekend was a bust time for both of us. His bar saw its best business on Friday and Saturday nights, which happened to be when the casino got an influx of out-of-towners who wanted to gamble their money away. Bones still sent members of Rebel Saints to keep an eye on the place, which was comforting when things were so crowded. We hadn’t had any more issues with drug dealing during those days, though.
Bones invited me to come over to his house for the first time, to have lunch. I had no idea what to expect of his house, but when I pulled up to the address he’d given me, I was looking at a perfectly normal, ranch-style home with a tall tree in the front yard. Checking my appearance in the visor mirror, I licked my fingers and used them to try to smooth out some frizzy hair on top of my head.
I walked up the brick steps, unaware of the surprise I would get when I knocked on the door.
I knew Bones had a teenage son, but I’d never given much thought as to if I’d ever meet him. Meeting the family was a serious relationship thing, wasn’t it? Since we weren’t in a relationship, I had no expectations.
But when I knocked on the door of Bones’ house on that Sunday afternoon, a young man answered. He looked so much like his dad that I was blown away for a moment. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a square jaw. He was boyish, of course, but I could see he’d grow into a handsome man.
“Are you Harper?” he asked. He wore a Miami Dolphins shirt and held a television remote in his hand.
“Uh, yeah.” I stuck out my hand, but he held out a fist. Clenching my hand, I fist-bumped him instead, earning me a smile that was small and sweet. It reminded me nothing of Bones, so I assumed he got aspects of his appearance from his mother as well.
“I’m Ryan. Come on in.”
I squeezed past him at the door and walked into a small foyer. A piano was to my left and a sideboard cabinet with pictures of Bones and Ryan ranging from when he was a newborn to now.
Ryan went through a doorway to the right, which led to the living room. A football game played on the flatscreen TV and one of the teams got a touchdown.
I jumped when Ryan let out a celebratory whoop of excitement.
Bones came hurrying into the living room. “What’s the score?” he asked, crossing to me and planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Eighteen-twelve. Dolphins.”
“Awesome,” Bones said, though his gaze became fixed on the TV as they replayed the last touchdown.
I looked around the living room, not at all surprised by the bachelor-pad feeling to the space. There were black leather furniture and abstract art on the walls. The television was the biggest one I’d ever seen and all the walls were painted white. I gazed down at the thick grey carpet under my feet and looked over to see that both men were in their socks.
The place was missing some warmth. Some accent pillows, maybe some color on the walls, that kind of thing. I mentally redecorated the living room, imagining small touches I would add if I were in charge of such a thing before I realized I was thinking like I was moving in. I needed to snap out of it.
I did feel pleasantly surprised by how clean it was though. The floor looked like it had been vacuumed recently and it smelled like a linen air freshener. There wasn’t even dust on the entertainment center.
A commercial break came on the TV and Bones took me by the arm, leading me back into the kitchen while his son stayed in the recliner.
As soon as we were out of earshot of Ryan, I hissed at Bones in a low voice, “Why didn’t you tell me your son would be here?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think it would matter. He’s a great kid.”
“I don’t doubt that,” I said, “It’s that I don’t have a lot of experience hanging around teenage boys. So, a heads-up would have been nice.”
“Are you nervous?” he asked with a teasing grin.
“What if he doesn’t like me? Won’t that make this lunch awkward?”
“I’m sure that it’ll be fine,” he said, not matching my concern in any way whatsoever. “Just cheer for the Dolphins and you’ll be golden.”
The kitchen was one big square with an island in the middle with a gas cooktop. The cabinets were a dark cherry wood and the granite counters were almost the exact color of the sand on the beach by the hotel.
“What’s for lunch?” I asked as he opened the oven door and peeked inside.
Grabbing two empty frozen pizza boxes off the counter, he held them up for me to see. “You know what they say, it’s not delivery it’s…”
I smiled. “Not much of a cook?”