Knight of Ocean Avenue (3 page)

Silence. He stared at his faded, baggy jeans.

“Where is Annie?”

“Home, I guess.”

“What do you mean, home?”

“We broke up. She broke up with me.”

More silence. Even Teresa and Clarice didn’t move.
Jesus.

But his mother didn’t yell. She just sighed, which was ten times worse. She shook her head and turned toward a dish of mashed potatoes. “I wish I knew what you wanted out of life, Billy. I just wish I knew.”

Shit, when he found out, he’d tell her second.

She handed him the potatoes and looked away. They weighed about five hundred pounds, buttered with guilt. He should have carried them on his back. Bumping the door with his shoulder, he lugged the dish and his cross into the dining room. Rhonda looked up and gave him a half smile.
Yeah, she knew
.

The swinging door opened, and Teresa came through carrying two dishes of steaming vegetables. She placed them carefully, stuck the potholders in her apron pocket, and walked over to Billy. Grasping his shoulders, she kissed his cheek even though she had to pull his head down to do it. Teresa looked more like their dad. She hadn’t gotten the height like he and Rhonda from their mother’s side. “Hey, baby, I’m so sorry. I know you really liked her.”

“Yeah.” He had liked Annie.

“Don’t let Mom beat you down. Annie just wasn’t the one.”

“Thanks, sis.” He loved Teresa so much. She’d always been closest to him even though they were farther apart in age. Rhonda was not quite two years older than him at twenty-seven, but Teresa was almost thirty-five and had been his second mom growing up. He shook his head. “But like Mom says, I wish I knew who was the one.”

She put a hand on his cheek and gazed up at him. He and Rhonda had gotten the blue eyes but Teresa’s were brown like his dad’s. She was great-looking, though nowhere near the beauty that Rhonda was. “I think you should look harder, little brother. Open your eyes wider. Stop listening to other people’s opinions.” She grinned. “Even mine.”

He snorted. “I’m so clueless, I don’t even know what you mean.”

“Don’t worry. Just think about it when you have a minute. What
do
you really want?”

“I want people to quit asking me that question.” He smiled so it didn’t seem like he was getting on her.

She laughed and smacked the cheek she’d been holding. “Smartass.”

“Now I get to spend all night watching Mom shoot me daggers.”

She grinned. “Not daggers. Long-suffering sighs.”

“Worse. Much worse.”

“It’s an art form I have yet to perfect, though I’m practicing on the kids.”

He lowered his voice. “Yeah, well, Rhonda seems good at it. She tries it out on Mitch quite a bit.”

Teresa glanced toward her sister, then looked back at Billy. “He doesn’t seem to mind. I think Mitch kind of likes a firm hand.”

Billy chuckled. “Naughty girl.”

The door to the kitchen burst open, and his mother emerged with a platter of ham already carved. Clarice followed with three roasted chickens surrounded by baked tomatoes and other vegetables.

Teresa patted his arm. “Mom’s feeding the multitudes again—with one crust of bread.” She walked over and took the platter from Clarice and placed it next to the ham on the table.

His dad and Austin followed their noses into the dining room while his mother started directing everyone where to sit. She ended with “Billy, you and Sissy sit over here.”

Him and Sissy? When in the hell did there become a “Billy and Sissy”? He knew the answer to that. When he showed up without Annie.

He held the chair for the beautiful blonde, which got an approving smirk from his mother and a big smile from the girl. His stomach clenched. He’d just leaped out of the damned frying pan and everyone wanted to push him into the fire. Could he just get up and leave? His eyes strayed to his mother’s face.

Okay, think about this.
They just sat him next to a pretty girl who seemed to like him and he was bitching. He shivered, picked up the mashed potatoes, and offered them to Sissy.

She shook her head. “No thanks. Too many carbs.”

He glanced at her body that was way too skinny for the size of her boobs. “Doesn’t look like you ever ate a carb in your life.”

She giggled. “Thanks.”

Was that a compliment?
“So, are you in the wedding?” He passed the ham, and she took a sliver. He loaded two slabs on his plate.

“Oh yeah. I’m a bridesmaid. I guess Rhonda and Mitch swapped. He got you and she got me.” She giggled. “So I think we’ll be walking down the aisle together.”

“Oh, got it.” He looked up and waited while his mom got settled.

She looked around the table. “Let’s bow our heads in prayer.”

Sissy glanced up, surprised, but then elaborately bowed her head.

His mother’s voice filled the space. “Thank you, Lord, for this bounty which we are about to receive and for the gift of family. May each of those present be blessed for their contributions to your fine world—and the children they bring to the next generation.”

Dear God, kill me now
.

Teresa’s voice cut in. “And may we each find our own way in accordance with your divine plan.”

You could feel everyone holding their breath. Teresa had always had the most guts. Interestingly, she also got the most respect from their mother.

Billy stared at the tablecloth. Finally his mother said, “Thank you, Teresa. Will you pass the chicken?”

The collective sigh was audible.

Billy passed some more dishes and grabbed a few bites in between. He was hungry, but his mom’s usually great food tasted like sand.

His mother gave Sissy a look like she was weighing her for market. “So Sissy, what do you do for a living?”

She smiled and patted her lips. “I’m in fashion.”

“Oh really? How interesting. What do you do in fashion exactly?”

“I work for a stylist in LA. Alexander Longstory. He’s very famous. We pick out all the latest styles for movie stars and singers and people like that. We help choose their hairstyles, and, you know, their overall look. When you see them on the red carpets?” She waved her fork. “That was me. Or at least, I had something to do with it.”

Rhonda chimed in. “Sissy told me about my wedding stylist and helped me pick him.”

His mom raised an eyebrow. “Wedding stylist?”

Sissy beamed. “Oh yes, she chose Shaz—Chase Phillips! There’s nobody better. And he was the perfect choice because the man is a total diva and won’t leave Laguna Beach. He makes all his clients come to him, which they do gladly, believe me! But anyway, he’s more convenient for Rhonda than going to LA, and I was thrilled when he agreed to work with her.”

“And what does this man do for you, Rhonda?” His mother’s lips compressed. Even though Mitch and his family were paying for most of the wedding, his mother never approved of what she perceived as waste.

Rhonda’s eyes sparkled. “He’s incredible. He chose all the bridesmaids’ dresses and managed to pick something that doesn’t look like every old dress. You know, you saw them. He chose the tuxes for the groomsmen, and he’s doing all the color themes. Plus he’ll be doing the hair and makeup for the wedding. Not him personally, you understand, but his staff. You’ll all be seeing him very soon. He’s going to do a big consultation for the whole wedding party. He’s a total love. You’ll adore him.”

Billy frowned. “Not the guys.”

His mother glanced at him. “What?”

“I was saying to Rhonda, this diva of hers isn’t styling the guys, right?”

Rhonda smiled. “Oh yes. He’ll be doing everyone.”

“That seems kind of weird.”

Sissy grabbed his arm. “Oh no, you’ll love it. Like totally pampering, you know? You’ll hardly know yourself when he gets finished with you.”

That’s what he was afraid of. He looked up and caught his mother and Rhonda having a silent conversation with their significant looks.
Shit. Never good
.

He tried to talk to Sissy and he tried to eat, but he felt too hot and the room kept closing in tighter. At least the focus returned to Rhonda and Mitch. Everyone talked. He pretended to listen and kept shifting in his seat until his mother gave him a sharp glance.

As soon as it looked like people had finished, he jumped up and started clearing dishes. When he got one armload to the sink, his dad and Austin came in with more, so Billy rinsed and filled the dishwasher, then started on the pots and pans. Standing at the sink, he finally caught a breath.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He just wanted to go home. This day was crap and he was done with it.

By the time the last dish went in the machine, he’d finished the pots. He stared into the sink and the stainless steel winked back at him. Why the hell couldn’t he go home if he wanted to?

Carefully he wiped his hands, then marched out of the kitchen. Most of the people had moved into the living room, but his mom and Rhonda were huddled in the archway between the rooms, clearly plotting and probably against him.

Be bold
. With a plastered-on smile, he marched up to the two women. “Hey guys, sorry to clean up and run. Uh, I have to be somewhere later, so I’ll say good night.”

His mother frowned. “Where do you have to be later? You just broke up with your girlfriend.”

Count to ten.
“I need to get home. I’ve been working since 6:00 a.m. and came straight here after. Well, after I had coffee and ‘thanks but no thanks’ from Annie. I’m going.”

“If you lived at home instead of paying for that expensive apartment, you could afford to dress better.”

His eyes widened.
What the fuck?
She was really going to go there when he gave half of what he made to his parents?
Well, damn
. He couldn’t say that. He couldn’t. He just stared at her and saw the recognition in her eyes.

She looked away. “Besides, your sister and I want to talk to you. We have some thoughts.”

Rhonda smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yeah, sweetie. We want to talk to you for a minute, then you can go home.”

His eyes met his sister’s. He’d been working since he was sixteen to help put her through college.
No
. He shook his head. “Sorry, I have to go now. Call me tomorrow.” He turned and started walking toward the door.

Rhonda called, “But Billy, wait—”

No, damn it
. As he opened the front door, he heard his mother say, “He must be more upset about Annie than we realized.”

S
HIT
!
H
E
felt like shit. Billy pulled the key from the ignition in the parking lot of his apartment and dropped his head on the steering wheel. Why had he been so mean to his mother and sister? He’d never done one thing for them he didn’t want to do. He should call and see what they wanted to talk about.

Just the thought made his stomach turn.
Later
.

He stepped out of the truck, stopped at the mailboxes, then climbed the stairs to his third-floor walkup in south Laguna and opened up. The place was old and had been rundown when he rented it, but he got the landlord, Mr. Kersey, to lower the rent if he did some fixing up. He’d spruced up the old plumbing, painted the walls, built a bunch of bookshelves, and refinished the floors. Haunting the secondhand shops, he’d even found a great old midcentury desk and two chairs that he’d figured out how to reupholster. It wasn’t much, but he loved the place. It felt like the only thing that was his.

“Merwaor.”

“Mewr.”

“Hi, guys.” He squatted down to greet the boys. Clancy slipped under his legs in his favorite game of Unbalance Billy. Sure enough, the big orange tabby butting against his knees had him wobbling and flopping on his butt and scattering the mail, at which point both guys climbed into his lap and gave him a sniff. Slim black Yerby, always the most curious, balanced his front paws on Billy’s knees and reached up to sniff his breath.

“Sorry. I know I had ham and didn’t bring you any.” He’d been so damned edgy he forgot the guys.

“Merwowr.”

“Okay, I’ll get you something in a minute.” He gathered up the mail, dislodged the furry bodies, and got to his feet. He glanced through the paper pile. Bills, a catalog for tools, and the beach city advertising flyer. Staring at it, he dropped the rest of the stuff on the entry table and flipped open the pages. Ads for massage parlors ruled, along with real estate. Monster truck rally and—he turned the page fast and then flipped back.
Anthony’s
. Just one little word. He’d only been there once. Once. That didn’t mean—shit. That didn’t mean shit.
Wonder if the redheaded guy from the coffee shop goes there?

Tossing the little pamphlet on the rest of the pile, he walked into his bedroom to change from jeans to sweats. Some upscale life he lived. He glanced in the Walmart mirror he’d hung on the closet door. Everybody got on him about the way he dressed. Damn, a lot of guys didn’t care about clothes. Why was he so different? Did he look that fucking bad? Clothes for a size forty-six long with a thirty-three-inch waist were tough to find, and they were expensive. Besides, when he dressed up he couldn’t keep women off him.

He stopped.
Really?
He wanted to keep women off him? Well, yeah, the wrong women.

He needed a beer.

“Merwaor.” Clancy sat at the door to the bedroom. That cat was clearly clicking his claws on the hardwood floors.

“Okay, okay. Turkey and noodles coming up.” He walked to the kitchen with both cats behind him, grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge along with the thawed cat food, and served it up into two dishes. After setting the bowls on the designated placemats on the floor beside the refrigerator, he sat at the kitchen table and stared at his laptop while he drank his beer. His leg bounced.
Calm down
.