“You’d have found out if you stuck around.”
“No, thank you. I bet he’s a bookie.” Uncle Wayne didn’t flinch, but his expression went flat. “That’s probably against the terms of your parole, huh? Hanging out with other ex-cons?”
“He’s not an ex-con. And go ahead and try to snitch. You won’t like what happens.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Would I do that to mydear departed brother’schild?” He smirked.
I’d never liked the way Uncle Wayne talked about my dad. They hadn’t gotten along, not since they were teens. “I think you’d threaten a nun if it made you money.”
“Sure I would. Fuck the nuns. Religion’s all a big scam.”
I wasn’t going to stand up for the Catholic Church, and we’d gotten off track. “So who is Mr. Smith?”
Uncle Wayne shrugged and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “Looked like you had the Cardinals’ number tonight. What was different from last night?”
Our forwards got the puck into their net?I didn’t bother to answer.
“Think you’ll be moving up to the NAPH soon? Any rumors of a trade?”
“You really think I’m going to give you insider tips?”
He smirked. “You might want to be nice to me. If you do get traded, I’ll be the only one home with Dad. Give me a month, and I can probably get you cut out of his will and own it all. He’s such a soft touch.”
“Motherfucker!” I strode over and grabbed him by the shirtfront, slamming him up against the pantry cupboard. “Listen up.”
He clamped down on my wrists and dug his fingers into the tendons. He was probably leaving bruises, but I didn’t let go.
“You wanna fight me?” he gritted between his teeth. “Go ahead. Bust me up, make me bleed. I’ll call the cops, see how your team likes you with an assault charge.” He changed to a high-pitched tone. “Ooh, that Callum, he’s such a hothead, all those penalties. Be just like him to punch an older man.”
I gave him a shake but opened my fists and stepped back. “Sure, like the cops would believe you.”
He tugged his shirt straight and glared at me. “Don’t get on my bad side, little boy. I’m ten steps ahead of you already. I havelotsof ways to make your life hell and don’t you forget it.”
Fuck you!My fists balled up of their own accord. I breathed through my nose and tried to convince myself I couldn’t punch his sneering face,must not punch him. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
“Aw, little orphan Annie. Always with the big eyes and the pity-me, getting away with everything. Maybe you did something, maybe you didn’t, but life ain’t fair, Cal. The question is, what can you do for me now? Might give that one some thought.”
He turned and strode out, then I heard him taking the stairs much faster than Grandpa had. I froze, straining my ears, but as far as I could tell, he didn’t stop at Grandpa’s level, just continued on up to the attic.
Sonofabitch!I pulled my punch at the last moment so I didn’t break a finger on the pantry door. My knuckle still left a smear of blood on the wood, and I stuck it in my mouth.
Maybe it would be good to get traded. At least, if that put me in the NAPH. Minimum salary was close to a million. I could pay someone to manage Nina’s, fly Grandpa out to live with me wherever, ditch Uncle Wayne.
Except Grandpa would never leave the store his father founded and the house Great-grandpa bought for his wife unless he had to.
“Fuck my life.”
I decided to just pack the stuff I had at Zeke’s for this roadie. There was still time for a late-night laundry load. I didn’t want to go upstairs. I tidied the kitchen and headed out, making sure the alarm was set. I had a moment of temptation to delete Uncle Wayne’s code, since I had the master. But odds were, if it went off, he’d just wake Grandpa, forcing him out of bed to shut it down. Petty satisfaction, but not worth it.
Zeke’s house was dark and quiet when I opened the front door. I coded through his alarm and reset it, then wandered the downstairs. Last night, I’d come home to find Jos zonked out on the couch. He’d muttered at me when I woke him, then vanished upstairs. Tonight, he must already be in his room. Hopefully in bed, since he had school again in the morning.
On the way to my room to put together my laundry, I paused outside Jos’s door. Nothing reached my ears and no light came from underneath. With luck, he was sleeping.
I headed down to the unfinished basement where the washer and dryer sat amid a jumble of boxes and shelves full of oddments. A big towel sat crumpled on top of the washer, and when I lifted it, the faint scent made me grin. “Naughty, naughty, Zeke, putting off the laundry for four days.” Although he was probably too responsible to run the machine for just one item.
Zeke on his hands and knees had been so fucking hot. He was gorgeous and hungry, yielding and eager. I would fuck him any time we had the leisure. We’d got in a hand job yesterday while Jos was in school, the heat as we kissed flaring so high we hadn’t bothered to do more than stick a frantic hand down each other’s pants, but there were any number of surfaces in this house I’d like to bend Zeke Evans over when I got the chance.
