The Pick Up Page 9

  It had been Adam.

  “We look after our own.” Rebecca’s words had repeated themselves in his head. “You’ll need help.” And the reality of the whole situation had come crashing down around Kyle in one horrible moment. This wasn’t about planning a party. It wasn’t a job. It was Adam and Rebecca talking over a Sunday dinner. Poor Kyle. If only we could help him.

  Except it had appeared that Adam had been as confused as Kyle had. But by the time he’d realized that, it didn’t matter. Pride and humiliation had overwhelmed everything, and all he had been able to do was get out of the café.

  “Dad? After Mom left . . .” Kyle hesitated. They didn’t have these types of conversations very often. “How long after Mom left did people stop trying to help you?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How long before they stopped offering to bring over food, or pick me up after school?”

  “I’m not really sure.”

  “Was it months? Years? By the time I was eleven, you were letting me take the bus home from school, and I’d watch TV until you came home. So it must have stopped. But when?”

  “I really don’t remember.”

  Kyle sighed and sank back in his seat. “Never mind.”

  “Is this about last night?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I just . . .” Kyle made an annoyed sound. They pulled into the parking lot at Morrison’s, next to the van, but Kyle didn’t get out. “I left to go to school. And I came home in the summer and for Christmas and sometimes for a long weekend. And then there was Olivia, and Caroline.”

  “Okay.” His dad sounded unsure.

  “It was the three of us. In a city, you sink or swim on your own. You work hard for what you have, and the city doesn’t give you anything else.”

  “Kyle, if this is about money, you know I would have—”

  Kyle waved his father’s protest away. “I know. It’s not about you. It’s not really about money either.” He shook his head. “Anyway. My point is we had no net to catch us, and we built a life without it. And when I couldn’t do it anymore, I came here, because you said you’d help me. But I didn’t expect everyone else to try to help me too.”

  “It’s called community, Kyle.”

  “Right. Community. But, Dad, I didn’t have one of those for years. I know how to do things on my own. I had a family, and I was able to keep a roof over our heads. Here, everyone wants to help, but they don’t know me anymore. They don’t know what I need.”

  “They want to be helpful.”

  Kyle huffed out an exasperated breath. “You’re in too deep; you can’t see how Stepford it all is.”

  “Stepford?”

  Kyle sighed again. There was no way he could explain what had happened the previous night without coming off as ungrateful. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I overreacted to someone who was trying to offer me a spot in the community. I forgot that’s what you do here.”

  Laptop and van recovered, Kyle spent the afternoon at home answering emails, sending another batch of inquiries to Vegas, and getting details sorted. At two thirty, Shannon emailed to say that one of her friends wanted to stay somewhere with a saltwater pool, and Shannon wanted a daily private hot-yoga class, which set off another round of hotel searches and inquiries. He was so busy that he nearly didn’t hear his phone when it buzzed with a text message.

  Mr. Fenton, we’ve talked about the importance of picking your daughter up on time.

  Kyle checked the clock on the wall. Half past three.

  Damn it!

  coming!

  “Dad, why didn’t you tell me to go get Caroline?” he called. The house echoed, but there was no response. When he checked out the front window, his dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway.

  “Where the hell is that helpful community when I need it?”

  Adam and Caroline weren’t out front of the school, like the last time Kyle had been late, so he parked and hurried inside. The halls were empty, and he had to dig through his own ancient history to find his way through the school, until he reached his old first-grade classroom at the end of a hallway, beyond the gym.

  “Daddy!” Caroline hopped up from her desk as soon as she saw him. Kyle knelt down, and she ran into his arms.

  “Sorry, Bean,” he whispered. He owed Adam an apology as well. Kyle glanced across the room toward where he was sitting at his desk. Adam wore a red and blue checked shirt and black framed glasses, and Kyle suddenly understood Olivia’s fascination with the academic look.

  “You should wear those glasses more; they suit you,” Kyle blurted. What he’d meant to say was I got held up with work. Adam squinted at him, and then pulled the glasses off. Kyle was sorry to see them go.

  “I only need them for reading,” Adam said.

  “Grandpa wears glasses,” Caroline said. “Mommy did too. But Daddy doesn’t need them, and neither do I!”

  Leave it to a six-year-old to dig him out of an awkward situation.

  “Nope,” he said, “because we eat our carrots, like rabbits. Right?”

  “Right!” Caroline said.

  “Go get your stuff, Bean. It’s time to go home.” He set her down. She ran back to her desk to pack up the crayons and coloring book she’d been playing with.

  “Sorry, Mr. Hathaway.” Kyle suppressed a smile. “It was a . . . slow morning. And work took me longer than I expected. But that’s no excuse. I know you warned me, and I was supposed to at least call if I was going to be late, but I didn’t see the clock until I got your text, and then I came—”

  “Kyle.” Adam flashed him a grin that would have incinerated weaker mortals. Mr. Hathaway definitely fell into the devilishly handsome category. “Stop. I knew how to reach you, and I had things to do before I left. No problem.”

  “Still, you did a lot.” Kyle dropped his voice so Caroline wouldn’t hear. “I appreciate you—”

  “It’s no problem,” Adam repeated. “Besides, I was hoping to talk to you in person anyway.”

  Kyle tensed, and followed Adam’s gaze as he glanced over to where Caroline zipped up her backpack.

  “Go put your coat on, Bean. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Caroline slung her backpack over one shoulder and trotted out of the room. Kyle turned back to Adam.

  “Rebecca is embarrassed about what happened yesterday,” Adam said. “She didn’t expect you to think that she was offering a handout.”

  “Adam, listen—” Kyle tried to interrupt, but Adam held up his hand.

  “She was serious about the party, and she knows a few people on the town council who would be interested in talking to you about some of the other things she mentioned, although I’m not totally clear on what those were. So if you wanted to, she’d be happy to sit down with you and try to get the ball rolling. Anytime that’s good for you. She’s at the café most days, but she said to give you her number and you can call her whenever it suits you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” Kyle wasn’t sure he would. He still felt uncomfortable about everything that had happened the night before.

  “She wants to make it up to you, even if you aren’t interested in the party job. She’s having a barbecue two Saturdays from now, and she would like you and Caroline to come. I’m going, and Ben and Kirsten will be there too, if that makes a difference? Ben works with my brother-in-law at the dealership.”

  “When?”

  “I just told you, two weeks from Saturday.”

  “No,” Kyle said, “when, between the time that you dropped me off at my house after eleven last night, and the time that you left for school this morning at, what, seven thirty?”

  “Six,” Adam said. “I went to the gym first.”

  “Of course you did,” Kyle said. “So when in the seven hours between eleven and six did your sister have time to relay all this conciliatory information to you, which—” he took a breath “—I’m still thinking about how to answer.”

  “Did you not learn anything about my
sister last night?” Adam said. “She sent it in about a million text messages.” He turned the phone toward Kyle, scrolling down. There were entire screens of messages from Rebecca. About midway through the stream, there were the few that Kyle had sent earlier in the morning, but then it flipped back to Rebecca going all the way to the night before.

  “Jesus,” Kyle said.

  “I know. You don’t have to commit to the work thing. But come to the barbecue. She does it every year. Ben and Kirsten bring the girls, there’s always too much food, usually the weather’s nice. It’s fun. Caroline will have a great time.”

  “Low blow, using my own kid against me, Mr. Hathaway.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Adam started, but Kyle broke into a smile.

  “Lighten up, Adam, jeez.” Kyle waved him off. “Okay, we’ll come.”

  “Daddy!” Caroline called from the doorway.

  “Gotta go,” he said. “The princess awaits!”

  On Friday night, Adam decided to figure out what was in Kyle’s patent-pending burgers. The result of his experiment was gray and unappetizing, and he was contemplating where he’d gone wrong when his phone chirped on the counter. There was a text message from Kyle.

  jail break! Need help!

  What the hell did that mean? Had something gotten loose? Kyle didn’t have a dog.

  What?

  Adam carried the phone and the burger over to the couch and turned on the TV. The phone chirped again.

  My kid is gone!

  “Shit!” Adam thumbed through the screens and dialed Kyle’s number. He counted the rings as he waited.

  “Hello?” Kyle’s voice sounded calm.

  “Kyle, are you okay? Where’s Caroline?”

  There was a laugh at the other end of the line. “Oh wow, I didn’t think you’d actually call.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m a free man!”

  Adam ground his teeth and shifted on the couch.

  “My dinner's getting cold,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what you’re talking about, or should I ignore your cryptic text messages for the rest of the evening?”

  “Okay, okay,” Kyle said, “jeez, you have no sense of humor.”

  “Kyle, you text to say your daughter is gone, but unless you’re killing time while you wait for the police to arrive, there needs to be a good explanation happening right now.”

  “She is gone! With my dad. For the weekend!” Kyle sounded gleeful. Adam wished for technology that would allow him to reach through the phone and shake the story out of Kyle.

  “Where did your dad and Caroline go?” he said.

  “To see my aunt and uncle! They won’t be back until Sunday afternoon!”

  “You didn’t go with them?”

  “No!” Kyle said it like the idea was ridiculous. “My uncle would only bug me about when I’m going to get a real job, and my aunt’s really only interested in seeing Caroline. Cute kid factor, you know how it goes.”

  Adam didn’t. His life already had enough cute kids in it. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “You called me?”

  “Well, technically, I texted you. I was totally happy to do this all by text. You’re the one who called me.”

  “Kyle!” Adam should have brought a beer from the kitchen.

  Kyle laughed again. It was practically a cackle. “Are we friends?”

  “Friends?”

  “I mean, you kicked my ass in basketball, I fed you dinner, you drove my drunk ass home and helped me keep it a secret from my dad. If we were sixteen I think that would be grounds for us to be BFFs, but since we’re, you know, grown-ups, I figure we’ll be plain old friends.”

  Plain old friends. That shouldn’t have irritated Adam as much as it did.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’re friends. What do you want? My dinner really is cold now.”

  “Don’t you get it? She’s gone! My kid is gone. My dad is gone! I’m free! All by myself for forty-eight hours!”

  Oh no. Kyle had cabin fever.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I had an entire weekend to myself?” Kyle asked.

  Probably not since your wife died.

  That idea sunk into his stomach like a lead weight.

  “A while?” he said.

  “You got it. So what are we doing this weekend? Because I already called Ben, but Kirsten and Lily are both down with the flu, and Ben’s gotta take Haley to a dance recital tomorrow.”

  Adam hissed. “Second place, ouch. Way to make a friend feel special.”

  “Whatever,” Kyle said. “What are you doing?”

  “When?”

  “Now! This very moment! I’m down to forty-seven and a half hours of childless freedom. What are you doing at this exact instant?”

  “I was going to eat dinner and watch some TV?”

  “Hmmm . . . Not quite what I had in mind,” Kyle said, “but I can work with it. Have you seen the latest season of Sherlock?”

  “I haven’t seen any season of Sherlock.”

  On the other end of the phone, Kyle made an anguished noise. “Unacceptable! I’m coming over. We’ll start from the beginning.”

  “Now?” Adam was struggling to keep up.

  “Forty-seven and a half hours, Adam! Text me your address. I’ll bring snacks. Hang tight!” The phone went silent.

  Adam sighed and shook his head, before he set the phone down on the coffee table next to his cold burger. An oily brown liquid had oozed through the bun and onto the plate. Adam took it to the kitchen and threw it away, then went back to the living room to wait for his guest.

  Kyle arrived twenty minutes later. He had a six-pack of beer under one arm and two grocery bags of junk food.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said, setting the bags on the counter. “There’s salt and vinegar chips, kettle corn, cheesies, lime nachos, and sour peaches.”

  “Sour peaches?” Adam peeked into the bags.

  Kyle pulled out a small orange pouch of candies. “Those are for me.” He winked, then moved through the kitchen, opening and closing drawers as he went.

  “Can I help you find something?” Adam asked, as Hurricane Kyle blew through his apartment.

  “Bottle opener.” Kyle opened another drawer. “I could use my key ring but since— Oh here it is.” He held the opener up. He flipped the tops off two beer bottles and passed one to Adam. He clinked their bottles together.

  “Cheers?” Adam said.

  Kyle took a long drink, but he kept his eyes open as he did. “This is not at all what I thought your place was going to be like.”

  Adam tried to imagine what Kyle was seeing. The apartment wasn’t big. The walls were a brown color that Rebecca liked to call mocha, but that had been called Havana Tan on the swatch when Adam had painted after moving in. The furniture wasn’t anything special, a brown leather couch, gray armchair, and a battered coffee table that had been rescued from Rebecca’s basement rec room. “What did you expect?”

  Kyle ventured farther into the space, taking another sip of his beer. “I don’t know. Brighter? I thought maybe it would be all post-industrial architect, less Father Knows Best? If there’s a pipe and slippers over by that armchair, I’m out of here.”

  “I’m not much of a slippers guy.” Adam scrunched his bare toes on the worn hardwood floor.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I’d ask if you were hungry but . . .” Adam gestured to the pile of snack food on the counter.

  “I’m sorry,” Kyle said. “This is too much, isn’t it? I’m used to feeding people and maybe I got a little excited and—”

  “It’s okay.” Adam held up a hand. Kyle didn’t look convinced. “Okay, maybe a little much, but it’s fine. You’re here, there are snacks and beer. It’s good.”

  Kyle watched him for a few seconds longer, and then seemed to break out of his funk almost as quickly as he’d fallen into it.

  “Okay, awesome,” he said. “So let’s get th
e Sherlock education started!” He snatched the pack of candy peaches off the counter and went to the living room. He sprawled on the couch. Adam grabbed a bag of chips and settled himself in an armchair.

  “Get ready!” Kyle laughed again as he picked up Adam’s remote and navigated through screens. Kyle had made himself so at ease in Adam’s apartment, and it should have annoyed him. The space wasn’t very big, and he generally preferred to keep his place to himself. Kyle had bulldozed through the usual formalities and now, as he selected the first Sherlock episode on the menu, Adam found he didn’t mind much at all.

  In fact, Adam spent more time than was strictly appropriate watching Kyle’s face as the reflected light from the screen played across it. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he missed most of the episode they were supposed to be watching.

  “Well?” Kyle straightened as the first episode wound down. He turned to Adam, who was still staring. “What?”

  “Nothing!” Adam’s breath stuttered as he realized he’d been caught. “How do you eat all those?” He gestured at the empty candy bag on the coffee table. It crinkled as Kyle smoothed a hand over it.

  “Not part of a balanced diet, Mr. Hathaway?” Kyle laughed at his own joke. “I don’t know. I’ve always liked them. You can ask my dad. I was never big into salty things like chips, but give me a bag of candy and watch out for your fingers as you step away!”

  “Is that why you call Caroline Jelly Bean?”

  “No. Not exactly.” Kyle’s smile dimmed. Adam was immediately sorry he’d asked. “It’s not much of a story. When Olivia was pregnant, the first time she went to the doctor’s they did the ultrasound. She brought a copy home to show me, and she made me point out where the baby was, because at that point, it’s really small and the picture’s all smudgy and black and white.”

  “Okay,” Adam said, although he wasn’t sure. When Rebecca had been pregnant the first time, she’d sent out a picture by email with It’s a Boy! in the subject line. The tiny person in the image had taken up the majority of the frame, and had been very clearly baby shaped.