Look How You Turned Out Read Free

he's trying to be…sorry. He looks at me and swallows a mouthful of lust. I think.
    "You…didn't ask me where I'm going," he says.
    I just keep staring. Well so does he. I might be a sexy sight or something. Hope so. He is, all showered and flannel shirt over white t-shirt and jeans perfectly worn and formed, not sagging like a rodeo clown, but relaxed and…just right.
    This not talking thing is working for me, so I just keep staring.
    "I wanted to explain…and when you didn't answer…I jumped the gun. I told you I've seen too much. I didn't mean…your privacy," sweep of his hand. "Hey, we're going fishing…pancakes."
    Stare. Stare.
    "Junior will be glad to see you, though, and Artie will be back soon. Get dressed, Artie's got your waders packed. Come on down."
    I move my legs over the side of the bed, and I'm sitting there. "What are you doing?"
    "What…are you doing?" He keeps his eyes on my face, and I let him wonder a minute…what I'm asking about. I'm not sure either…what I mean.
    "Leaving the force? You love that job."
    "I already told you," he says. But his face…he drops his eyes a second and swallows. I've got him now.
    "What would you do?" I say.
    "Billy's selling his place."
    "My old job?" I worked at Billy's all through high school, then summers during college. It kept me from being available to babysit Junior. Most of the time.
    "I'm buying it…with Artie. Artie is going to retire in a couple of years and help me run it. By then I'll be ready to take the bar…practice law I mean."
    Oh. "Who's going to have Dad's back?"
    "He's fine," Marcus scoffed. He's leaning his shoulder on the doorframe now, ankles and arms crossed. "Something happened. You're worried. You're…different. How you doing in the big city?"
    "Great," I say, chin up. "Yeah Capone and I have conquered that city." I hold those green cop eyes. I can do it…practiced on Artie. I'm uncrackable.
    But I feel some tears building.
    "You can tell me…right?" he says his arms uncrossing.
    "What?" I take a corner of the sheet and dab at my face. His chest…it's calling to me like a nice memory foam pillow…that talks and…snuggles you.
    "Well…I think of you like that…Artie's daughter. Artie, Bedilia."
    I keep wiping.
    "Here," he says taking a few steps in and grabbing a couple of Kleenexes from the box on my dresser. He brings them to me.
    It's like I'm designing my personal rom-com.
    "I know how hard change can be," he says. "You're upset. You need to get a pole in the water so things can get straightened out again. Get…dressed. Your pancakes are getting cold."
    I take the Kleenexes, and he turns a bright red, looking down at me with that fatherly smile and this not fatherly look in his eyes. It's perverted, him speaking about a pole and pancakes.
    He does that crackly swallow again. "Wait until you see Juney. All he's talked about for a week is seeing Miss Bedilia again."
    Oh, smooth. Bring up the kid. My eyes are really leaking now. He gets me more Kleenexes. I should ask how the little turd is doing, but I don't. Lord knows Artie keeps me informed of his every move. I've got sibling rivalry there. I'm conflicted between loving the little grunt and wanting to destroy him.
    He hands me the tissues, and I look up at him, and he gets this sappy look like he's found himself after teetering for a minute and thinking something less than stellar, but now he's back on track, and he's looking sympathetic and dad-like.
    He smiles encouragingly, but he's still here…in my freaking room.
    I wipe my eyes on my sleeve bringing my arm up for a minute and putting it down quick effectively knocking the stretched collar of the old shirt off my shoulder. Yeah, that shoulder has a match on the other side. Two of them. See what you're missing?
    He was a regular at Billy's. Lunch crowd. He used to watch me. Not all the time or even most of the time, but sometimes.
    I haven't got anything he hasn't considered…a lot. But the Artie thing…and he doesn't