Shameless (31 page)

Brian’s first thought upon seeing John’s house was, “Jee-sus, Mr. E lives in a friggin’ mansion.”

“Come on in,” John said after pulling the car into the garage.

“Really?” Brian asked, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped to the ground.

“What, you thought I’d make you stay outside all day?” Brian blushed and John waved him toward the door. “I thought we’d have lunch before getting to work. We men need our energy, right?”

We men
? Cool. Brian grinned as he followed John into the house.

Inside was even more amazing than outside. Earl’s whole pathetic house could fit inside Mr. E’s kitchen. “Cool house, Mr. E,” Brian said, trying to keep the awe out of his voice.

John pulled sandwich fixings out of the refrigerator. “You know, if you’d told my dad twenty years ago that I’d have a place like this, he’d have said the Devil was talkin’ through you.”

“Really?” Brian stood awkwardly in the corner of the kitchen, not knowing if John would want him to sit at the counter or what.

“He thought I’d never amount to anything. I think he expected me to live my glory days in a prison cell somewhere.”

Brian leaned against the counter and glanced at John out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t seem to mind that Brian was touching his stuff. “Your old man sounds like an asshole.” He immediately regretted the words. He couldn’t believe he’d just insulted Mr. E’s—

John’s deep chuckle cut off Brian’s internal chastisement. “That he was.”

Brian breathed an inward sigh of relief. “
Was
? He— he ain’t alive?”

John sliced two gigantic hoagie rolls and laid them flat on the cutting board. “He died a long time ago. But even if he were still alive, he’d probably find fault with what I’ve achieved. Think I came by it illegally or something.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” John glanced up at him. “You can sit down, you know.” He grinned.

Brian sat on the wooden stool at the center island where John was putting together the sandwiches. Brian’s stomach rumbled and he hoped John hadn’t heard. He hadn’t eaten since last night, and that had been a bowl of stale, dry Froot Loops eaten straight from the box.

“You want the works?” John asked, nodding at all the fixings.

Brian nodded. “Except no onions. Raw ones give me gas.”

John laughed. “No onions, it is.”

As Brian bit into the mouth-watering sandwich a few moments later and chugged an ice cold cola, he thought this was the best meal he’d ever had.

After spending all Saturday afternoon cutting out flower beds in both front and back yards, and then tearing up the sod, they’d worked up a huge appetite. John had pizza delivered and Brian got to choose whatever toppings he wanted and he wanted just about everything except those salty, lame-ass anchovy things. And then John had suggested Brian spend the night because he’d be working there Sunday anyway and he’d called his mom to ask. Even though she was too wasted to come to the phone and Earl called him “shithead” at least four times in the two-minute call, Brian didn’t care. He was spending the night at Mr. E’s. He didn’t have to go home.

After pizza, he and John drove to a nearby Redbox, then stayed up past midnight watching all the all the Terminator movies and scarfing Doritos, popcorn and anything else he wanted to eat. It was awesome. That night, he slept in John’s guest bed with clean sheets and a big, fluffy comforter, and the next morning, he had something other than Froot Loops for breakfast.

Could life possibly get any better?

Snapping the latex gloves in place, Sam grimaced as she slowly reached into Wayne’s cage. The pathetic creature backed into the corner of the aquarium, its body trembling.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you much either, rat-boy. Unfortunately, your cage is smelling mighty rank and I gotta clean it. Which means you need to come out for a while.” She inched her hand closer to the animal. “Which means I gotta,”
gulp
, “pick you up.” Wayne sniffed at her gloved fingers. “If you bite me, I swear I’ll deliver you straight to the snake house at the Woodland Park Zoo.”

With an expression on her face like she was picking up fresh doggie doo, she nabbed the rat with her thumb and forefinger and transferred it to a waiting box. It skittered to the nearest corner and trembled. Sam stared at it. “Okay, maybe I was kidding about the snake house, so you can stop shaking.” It didn’t. “Look,
you’re
the creepy one, not me.
I
don’t have a long, ugly tail and dark beady eyes.” Wayne’s little head cocked to one side as if to evaluate her statement.

“We got through this before, we’ll get through it again,” she muttered, turning to reach for the cage. As she finished dumping the old litter into a trash bag, the phone rang. Setting the cage down, she pulled off a glove and picked up the receiver with that hand. “Hello?”

“Sam, it’s John.”

John
. She closed her eyes. “John,” she said softly, pleased to hear his voice. She took off the other glove.

“It’s been a long time,” he said.

Four weeks and five days and, oh, about seven hours, but who’s counting
? “How are you?” she asked.

“I think the question is, how are
you
?”

God, she missed him. “Other than throwing up every morning and being so tired I can hardly think, I’m fine.”

He chuckled, and the deep sound bounced along her nerve endings like a sensuous massage. “Boy, ten weeks along already, right?” he asked.

“Ten and a half.”

He laughed again. “It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve been thinking about you.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” She closed her eyes and pressed the phone closer to her cheek, as if to bring him closer, too. “Did… did you want to talk to me about something?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. I wanted thank you for the Sharks tickets you sent. You should’ve seen the looks on those kids’ faces when Alex and I told them about the game and that they could meet some of the players afterward. They can’t wait.”

She smiled, her gaze going to the terrified rodent in the box. It still hadn’t moved from the corner. “Pretty excited, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. Even Brian was excited.”

“How is he doing, by the way? You making any progress with him?”

“Actually, I think I am. I hired him to do some landscaping for me and he’s come over the last couple of weekends. I’ll tell you, that kid is a hard worker.”

“Landscaping?” she repeated, her brow furrowing. And it hit her. Her smile broadened. “You big softie.” She dangled her ungloved fingers in the middle of the box. Wayne’s nose twitched, but he didn’t move from the corner.

“What?”

“Your yard is perfectly fine as is, John, and you know it. You’re inventing things for him to do, aren’t you?”

His answering chuckle sounded sheepish. “Well, I had to figure out some way to keep him occupied. They’ve done studies that kids who have hobbies are much less likely to join gangs—”

“Like I said,” she interrupted. “You’re a big softie.” She pictured John’s self-deprecating grin. “So, you guys are becoming buddies, eh?” She scratched a fingernail against the cardboard. Wayne took a tentative step toward her hand.

“I wouldn’t go
that
far, but we’re definitely getting to know each other. He feels like my little brother.”

She grinned, happy he was making progress with Brian, knowing how much it meant to him.

After more catching up, he asked, “Are you coming to the game with us?”

She closed her eyes. She wanted to see him, but she didn’t think she could face him and not feel all warm and fuzzy inside. With the way her hormones had been acting up, she’d probably blubber all over him and make a fool out of herself. Until she was sure she could maintain her composure around him, she needed to keep her distance. “I don’t think that would be too smart.”

“You’re probably right.” They were both silent. “This really sucks, Sam.”

She sighed. “Yeah. I know.” But they both knew there was no other way.

“I miss you.”

His words twisted deep into her soul. “I miss you, too.”

She hung up the phone, feeling empty and alone. Something soft brushed her fingers. Glancing down, she saw Wayne had moved from his corner. He stared at her, his nose twitching double time.

Tears stung her eyes. “You know you’re pathetic when the only male in your life is a rat.” Wayne licked her finger.

Chapter 17

She was going to see John tonight.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought. She hadn’t seen his face since she’d told him she was pregnant.

She was attending a fundraiser for the youth center this evening. A Black and White Ball, according to the invitation John sent. She hadn’t actually planned to go and had told him just that when she’d RSVP’d. It was the whole “playing with fire” thing again. But as the event drew near, she realized she
wanted
to see him. She was an adult and could handle it.

She glanced at the clock on her night stand. The cab would be here in ten minutes. Her mother better not be late. Although Evelyn Rossi drove her nuts more often than not, an elegant night on the town would be good for both of them.

Checking her appearance in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she hoped the low neckline of her dress and the thigh-high slit would distract from the slight protrusion of her belly. She turned to the side. Fourteen weeks along and she was already showing.

Evelyn didn’t bother knocking when she arrived. She swept her eyes over Sam and
tsked, tsked
under her breath. “A little over-dressed aren’t we?”

“It’s a ball, Mom.” At least
she
wasn’t wearing a crocheted shawl that had gone out of style when— heck, when had crochet ever been in style except on blue-haired, eighty-year-old grandmothers?

“A black and white ball.” Evelyn pointed at Sam’s dress. “That’s red.”

Sam glanced at herself as if she’d forgotten the color of her gown. “I don’t have a black or white dress that fits. And I didn’t want to shell out good money for something I’d wear only once.”

Evelyn frowned and tugged on Sam’s low neckline. “It’s improper for a pregnant woman to dress so provocatively.”

Sam glanced at the dress again. It wasn’t so provocative. Still, it showed her cleavage, something her mother had never and would never approve of.

“Mom, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I have to dress like a frump.”

“Your breasts are practically falling out.”

“Oh, they are not.” Well, maybe they were. Pregnancy had increased her bust size significantly since buying the dress.

“As you’ve told me many times, you’re not looking for a man.” Evelyn tugged upward on the neckline again. “That’s why you went through a sperm bank to get pregnant, which by the way, I
still
do not understand.” She stepped away, sizing up her daughter like a painter would her canvas. “I’ve stopped trying to understand why you dress the way you do, but you’re a pregnant woman now, honey. You should act like one.”

Sam rolled her eyes and kept quiet. Thankfully, the cab arrived, honking from the parking lot. But the change of venue didn’t deter Evelyn. The lectures continued all the way into downtown Seattle. Sam was admonished about her clothing, her career, her condo, whatever came to mind. She periodically caught the sympathetic glance of the driver in the rearview mirror.

The Yellow Cab dropped them off at the entrance to the enormous Columbia Tower. Sam tilted her head back and looked up. She couldn’t see the top of the tower as it disappeared into the darkening gray skies of this mild June evening.

John was up there somewhere.

A funny tingle flittered through her belly. She told herself it was just the baby, although she knew it was probably too early to feel it kick.

They rode the elevator to the top floor along with two other couples. The men wore the standard black and white tuxedos and the women were dressed in like colors. One was in a sequined black dress too snug for the matronly figure beneath, and the other wore similarly fitted white. Evelyn nudged Sam in the side with her elbow then directed her remarks to the other women. “My daughter’s pregnant,” she said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. “None of her black or white dresses fit.”