Shattered (12 page)

"This place doesn't look like Dairy Queen to me."

"Matt and Austin were at Dairy Queen. We called the girls, then picked up Noah."

"Where'd Austin get the pot?"

Chase shrugged. Scott let it go. "Who got the beer?"

Chase shrugged again. Scott let it go again. He really didn't want to get into the business of busting half the high school kids in the county.

"How'd you know this house was empty?"

"Grandpa called Dad to come get him out of jail. He said you were a pissant bastard"--Chase reported this with relish--"who wouldn't do anything to help him. Dad was drunk off his ass, so he couldn't do anything, either. I don't think he would've anyway, but Grandpa was
mad.
"

"What 'd you do, listen on the extension?"

"I had to hold the phone to Dad's ear. I told you, he was drunk off his ass, and he kept dropping it."

Scott let out a sigh. The reason he didn't have kids was that he had no desire at all to be a parent. The very thought of it made him go cold all over. But here was his nephew, already dabbling in trouble, looking at him like he was public enemy number one while living with his near-alcoholic-if-he-wasn't-there-already dad with his grand-father's indisputably alcoholic genes predisposing him to more of the same.

Clearly some attempt at guidance was called for.

"The bottom line is, pot's illegal. Stay away from it, period. And you know alcoholism runs in the family, right?"

Chase snorted. "Duh."

"That means you could get it, and the way to get it is just start drinking. A few beers here and there. Doesn't sound like it could lead to anything bad, does it? But it does. It makes people like us crave more, until we wind up being a pathetic old drunk like my dad or passed out on the floor like yours."

"What, you never have a beer?"

"Nope." He and Ryan had followed the classic paths of an alcoholic's children. Scott, having seen the misery alcohol caused, never touched the stuff. Ryan was the opposite: He 'd started drinking as a kid even younger than his son was now, had been a hard-partying hell-raiser for years, and was well on his way, in his younger brother's humble opinion, to winding up just like their dad. Only maybe not as mean. Scott hoped. "Look, your dad's a good guy, but he's made some bad choices, as he 'd be the first to tell you, and nearly every one of them that I'm aware of happened because he was drinking."

"Like losing his job."

Until three years ago, Ryan had been a manager of a chain of local Jiffy Lubes. Decent pay, good benefits, nine to five, five days a week. Steady. When his marriage had started going south, he'd started drinking heavily, which had eventually led to his getting fired. Undoubtedly it had been traumatic for the kid.

"Yep."

"Like my mom's divorcing him."

Okay, Scott didn't want to go there. He didn't really know all the ins and outs of that, and he didn't want to. But he had little doubt that Ryan's drinking had something to do with it.

"I'd say it was a contributing factor."

"Like them having me."

Ah, shit.
He could see from Chase 's face that this was sensitive psychological stuff that he didn't have a clue how to deal with.

"I don't know about that." Okay, maybe that was a little bit of a cop-out. He tried again. "But I do know both your parents love you a whole lot."

Chase looked revolted. Scott didn't blame him. The uncle he barely knew talking about the parents who were pretty much missing in action loving him had to sound lame at the very least.

"Look, I promise I'll never drink another beer or smoke another joint as long as I live, okay? So, can I go now?"

Scott believed Chase's promise just about as much as he believed there would be snow on the ground in the morning, but there didn't seem to be much point in beating the subject to death. This was something he was going to have to take up with Ryan--when he was sober. Which brought up another problem. Actually, a slew of other problems. Starting with, where to take the kid?

"We've established your dad 's passed out on the floor, so I can't take you to his apartment. Where's your mother?"

"Oh, didn't you know? She got married last week. She 's off on her honeymoon." The way Chase said that last word was downright savage. "They're going to be moving to Cincinnati, where Don--that's her new husband--has a job. I already told her I'm staying with my dad."

Well, that explained Ryan's bender. He'd always hoped to get back with Gayle.
Way to go, brother.

"Hmm,"
Scott said, temporarily at a standstill.

Chase scowled at him. "Anyway, what do you mean 'take me'? I drove myself here. I can drive myself home."

"Yeah. No. No more driving without a driver's license, you hear me? Number one, you get caught and you'll be in a whole heap of trouble you'd rather not be in. Plus, you won't be able to get your license until you're eighteen. Wait a few months, and you can drive as legally as anyone else." Scott didn't bother to try to determine if that was making a dent. "You can spend the night with me tonight, and I'll take you home in the morning."

"I have to get the truck home before my dad wakes up."

The look that accompanied that said volumes. First, Ryan had no idea that his son drove his truck--good to know--and second, Chase, under certain conditions, was afraid of his father.

Something else to take up with Ryan.

Christ in heaven, why didn't I just keep driving?

"Here 's the situation: We 've got two vehicles here and only one of us has a driver's license. That would be me."

He supposed he could drive Chase, in the truck, to his apartment, where the kid could spend the night, then take him, again in the truck, over to Ryan's early in the morning. Which meant he'd have to get a taxi or some other ride to work--problematic but doable. Which also left his car here at his father's house, which left him without wheels until he could get back out here to pick it up. Scott thought of his upcoming day again. Not so doable.

"I can't go home without that truck." For the first time, panic was there in Chase's voice.

Scott frowned. This was something he wasn't going to be able to avoid, he could see. "You afraid of your dad?"

"If he finds out I took his truck? Hell, yeah."

"What will he do to you?"

Chase folded his arms over his chest. "Kick my ass. What do you think?"

Another conversation he needed to have with Ryan. At this rate, he and his brother were going to be talking more in the next twenty-four hours than they had in years.

Something to look forward to.

"How about if I come in with you and explain the situation to him?" Scott asked.

Chase looked at him in undisguised horror. "You're not going to tell him about this, are you? You said you weren't going to tell any parents."

Yeah, but your parent is my brother,
he thought, but didn't say it.

A workable solution to the transportation difficulty had just presented itself to Scott. Lisa was without a car. He and Chase could spend the night in the farmhouse, and Lisa, driving his car, could follow them into town in the morning. He could drop Chase and the truck off at Ryan's and then drive Lisa on to work. It involved more contact with her than was probably good for him, but it solved everybody's immediate problem. Of course, if Ryan happened to wake up before morning and realized that his truck and son were missing, Chase was basically toast. But Scott wasn't too worried about that. From long experience with their dad, he figured that Ryan, drunk, would sleep like the dead for hours.

"Okay, I've got it figured out. You and I are going to spend the night here. In the morning, a friend of mine who lives nearby will follow us into town, driving my car. I drop you and the truck off at your apartment, then go on to work in my car." A glance at his watch told him that it was almost eleven-thirty, too late to call Lisa and apprise her of this change in plans. Well, he'd tell her when he drove the car down in the morning. He couldn't see any reason she 'd object to it. Not even to piss him off.

"And you won't tell my dad about any of this, right?" Chase gave him a hard stare. Only if Scott looked closely could he see the anxiety beneath it.

Scott sighed.

"I'm thinking about it," he said. He was dog-tired and hungry enough to eat just about anything the old man had in the refrigerator. He headed toward the kitchen, which was dark except for the faint light from the rising moon that poured in through the window over the sink. One of the kids must have turned the light off after disposing of the beer. Scott flipped it on again, and the overhead fluorescent fixture gave a buzz like an angry wasp as it blinked its way toward full illumination.

"You hungry?" he asked over his shoulder.

"You got to promise me you won't tell my dad." Chase followed him.

The small room was still as ugly as ever. The same scarred green Formica countertops above mustard-yellow cabinets that matched the walls, an old gas stove, a chipped white sink, and the folding card table that had always served as a kitchen table standing in the middle of the floor. Only the stainless-steel refrigerator with ice and water dispensers was new. It had been Scott 's gift to the old man to replace the one that had died, which had stood in the kitchen since Scott had been a boy. He only hoped there was something edible in it.

"Your dad's my brother. I don't feel right about keeping this from him." Scott opened the refrigerator door as Chase, obviously appalled, went off on a rant that boiled down to the universal teenage lament of
That's not fair,
to which he half listened. As he would have expected, the shelves were stocked with beer, with a couple of wine coolers and a bottle each of vodka and gin thrown in. Food consisted of some leftover pizza--no telling how old it was--some tuna or chicken salad in a Saran Wrap-covered bowl that looked old, too, maybe half a package of sliced bacon, and some eggs.

Hey, he could make that work.

Grabbing the bacon and eggs, he turned toward the stove, shutting the refrigerator door with a nudge of his arm.

"You like bacon and eggs?" Setting the food down on the counter beside the stove, he fished a frying pan out of the cabinet where they were kept, set it on the stove, and started making breakfast.

"You can't tell my dad! Especially about the truck."

"Oh, that's the part that's going to make him mad, is it?" If that was true, Ryan needed to rethink some things. "Not the beer or the pot? How about taking your friends to your grandpa's empty house to party? And let's not forget breaking in."

"We didn't break in. There's a key on the truck's key ring."

"So, you beat one count. Good for you." The smell of the frying bacon made Scott's mouth water. Come to think of it, he'd missed lunch.

"What do you want from me?"

Turning the sizzling bacon with a fork, Scott glanced at Chase over his shoulder. Perched on the counter by the sink, the kid looked tense and pale.

"I want you to wise up." Scott was surprised to find that this was true. "I want you to take a good, hard look at the path you're heading down and see where it leads. I want you to stay out of trouble, get yourself through school, and make something of yourself. Be a healthy, happy, successful adult."

"Like you?" Chase sneered. "My dad says you're a sanctimonious prick."

Scott succumbed to a half-smile. "Yeah, well, I won't bother to tell you all the things I've called him over the years."

Grabbing two paper plates from the cabinet, he split the bacon between them, then cracked four eggs--there were only four left in the carton--into the hot grease. A little salt, a little pepper, four slices of bread into the toaster, and the meal was well on its way to being done.

"Could you
please
not tell him about this?" That was the humblest Chase had sounded since they'd first locked eyes in the living room.

"He beat you up?" Keeping his tone carefully casual and busying himself with scooping eggs onto the plates along with the toast that had just popped up, Scott probed for information. He didn't really want to know this about his brother if the answer was yes, but for the kid's sake he needed to.

"N-no." Chase sounded doubtful. "Last time I made him mad, he backhanded me across the face. Course, I called him a son of a bitch and a hillbilly loser and spit at him first."

"Definitely a mitigating factor." Relieved to know that his brother hadn't quite sunk to their father's depths, Scott plopped the plates and a couple of forks down on the table, then grabbed two glasses and filled them at the sink. "Sit down and eat."

"I told you, I'm not hungry." Chase slid off the counter and approached the table. Scott, already seated, forked egg into his mouth.

"Eat anyway."

"Look, I'll make you a deal." Chase sat across from him, looking at him earnestly from beneath his blond fringe of hair. "If you don't tell my dad about this, I'll make sure my friends all show up in your office tomorrow morning like you want, and we'll all do whatever it is you want us to do."

"You think they won't show up otherwise?" Scott kept eating. Absently, Chase picked up a piece of bacon and started munching.

"I don't know. Probably not Austin. Maybe not Matt. You should've threatened to call his coach if you wanted to make sure he came. And Noah gave you the wrong phone number."

Scott smiled. "Did he? Well, I don't imagine finding the right one will be that hard."

"I'll get them all there and promise not to drink or smoke pot or whatever--"

"Steal your dad's truck." Scott was on his second egg. Having polished off the first piece of bacon, Chase was tackling an egg, too. "Or drive any vehicle before you get your license."

"Okay, that, too. All of it. But I got to get me and the truck back before my dad misses us, and you got to not tell him about this."

"Your word good?"

Chase flushed. "Yes."

"Then we got a deal. Eat up. I need to get some sleep. And we're getting up early." He wondered how Lisa would react to a six a.m. wake-up call. Seeing as it was him making it, probably not well. On the other hand, she was getting a reliable vehicle to drive to work in.