Crap.My eyes stung. I felt stupid for lost cookies mattering so much, but I’d been sustaining myself on the drive home with the idea of bingeing. The empty package was another kick in the nuts, even though I didn’t really begrudge Jos. I could dig through the peanuts and dried fruit and other healthy options for a snack, but I didn’t want to. Slamming the trash can against the wall as the lid fell shut, I turned for the stairs.
And stopped.
Coming down the last step, with one ofmycookies in his hand, was the man who’d made growing up with Grandpa less than idyllic.
“Cal! How’ve you been, boy?” Uncle Wayne strolled towards me.
I backed into the kitchen without meaning to, and he grinned as he walked past me, ate the last bite of cookie, and then got one of my beers out of the fridge.
I bit back“those are mine,”as he popped the cap, and asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you were in prison.”
“There’s this thing called parole, kid. I did my time. Now I’m out, a reformed citizen.”
Anyone who believed that probably sent their bank codes to Nigerian princes. “Does Grandpa know?” I asked, before realizing that was a stupid question.
Uncle Wayne laughed. “Sure he does. Came to get me at the prison gate. Offered me a place to stay.” He gestured toward the upstairs bedrooms. “Place has gone downhill since I was here last. You could at least do a little home maintenance for Dad, pay him back for taking you in.”
I ground my teeth because I’d been doing that, and fuck him for sneering at that spot where the wallpaper was coming loose in the corner. “It won’t matter to you when you find a place of your own.”
“Sure, but that’s gonna take some time. I’ve got no savings for first and last month.”
“I’ll lend you some.” Uncle Wayne would never pay me back, but to get him out of Grandpa’s house, I’d pay almost anything.
Except, of course, he chuckled. “I never borrow money. It’s a bad idea. This house is plenty big enough for the three of us to rattle around in it.”
“Are you planning to work for your keep, then? Or pay Grandpa rent?”
“Of course. Soon as I get a job.” Uncle Wayne took a long pull on his beer. “Won’t be easy with the job market the way it is, but I’ll try.”
I might’ve suggested he could help around the store and give Grandpa a real break, but I didn’t want Uncle Wayne near Nina’s. I was pretty sure that the last time, before he got arrested, Uncle Wayne was helping himself from the till. That summer, my cash-register drawer was a hundred dollars off more than once when Uncle Wayne had been around, and when I told Grandpa, he just sighed and said not to worry about it, and looked older.
Well, I wasn’t seventeen now. I was taller than Uncle Wayne, if only by a couple of inches, and fitter, although he looked like he’d worked out while in prison. And I could stand up to him where Grandpa wouldn’t. I took a step closer, instead of away. “If you’re staying here, you’ll follow Grandpa’s rules. No getting drunk, no stealing, no gambling, no guests over.” That wasn’t an actual rule, but for Uncle Wayne with his deadbeat friends, I was making it one. “You break any of those rules, and I will throw you out.”
He laughed in my face. “You think Dad’s going to let you do that, when I’ve been gone so long and had it so rough?” He injected false pathos into his voice. “Prison was terrible, but I’ve seen the error of my ways. All I need is a helping hand, to turn my life around.”
“Bullshit!” I replied, not giving way. “Grandpa paid for a therapist for you last time. And how long did that last? Or the time before that?” The first time I knew of, I was twelve, and accidentally heard one of their conversations. The second time, I was sixteen.
“It’s a hard thing, kid.” Something flashed through his eyes that almost looked like regret, but then his sly grin wiped it away. “You’re a pro athlete now, huh? You could help me out. A little inside info. Who’s injured or playing like crap? Give me a tip now and then.”
“I thought you just said you weren’t gambling anymore.”
“Only on a sure thing. That’s not gambling. It’s raking in the money.”
“I’m only in the PHL,” I said. “No one bets on us.”
Uncle Wayne laughed. “Sure they do, kid. Online, you can bet on anything. I can point you the right way, if you want a cut.”
Fury flooded me, heat like liquid fire in my veins. Nothing would end my career faster than being caught betting on my games. “You stay away from me and shut your face.” I raised a trembling fist. “Treat Grandpa right, and if I catch you so much as betting on which raindrop gets to the windowsill first?—”
“You’ll what?” Uncle Wayne stared into my face, his faded blue eyes so like Grandpa’s, and yet so unlike. “What do you imagine you’ll do?”
Before I could answer, I heard steps on the uncarpeted stairs, and then Grandpa appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Callum, you’re home. Did you have a good game?”
“Not really,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Grandpa smiled at me, soft and kind, but only half-wattage. “Look who’s back with us at last, though.” He gestured at Uncle Wayne. “Wayne’s going to be staying for a bit, till he gets back on his feet. You can give him that chore list you’re working through. More hands make faster work. I know he’ll be happy to help.”
“Sure thing,” Uncle Wayne said. “Looking forward to it. Thanks, Dad.”
