“You can’t tell me what to do!” Cole snapped, walking backward, still glaring at him, stealing a glimpse of the others.
Jake let him have that one. He understood the kid’s pride, and he could strangle him in private just as easily as he could in public. He lowered his head, pointed at the path. “Don’t push it. Just walk,” he managed through the grit of his teeth.
“Screw you,” Cole shot back. But he turned and walked.
Jake looked back at the kids who were left, his gaze instantly falling on Frankie. Frankie’s mouth twisted into a sneer, and it burned like acid right through to Jake’s heart.
He turned away, striding forward, ignoring the laughter and calls after Cole.
He caught up to his nephew and clamped a hand down on his shoulder, squeezing so hard that Cole’s knees buckled. “Shit! Cut it out, Jake!”
“Watch your mouth,” Jake snapped. “You and I are going to have us an understanding.”
“Whatever,” Cole muttered, and Jake squeezed harder. “All right!” Cole shouted, and Jake let go. Cole rubbed his shoulder, then walked on as if Jake wasn’t there.
“First off, you’re grounded. And second, if I ever find you with the Capellini kid again, I’ll take a piece of hide off both of you.”
“You can’t touch Frankie,” Cole argued.
“Oh yeah? Try me.”
Cole rolled his eyes, marched on until they cleared the brush. Then he stopped, gaped at Jake’s Harley. “Where’s the truck? How am I supposed to ride that? I don’t have a helmet!”
The kid had the nerve to complain just now? “Well, hell, Cole, what could I have been thinking? I forgot the limo,” Jake said, and shoved Cole toward the bike. Muttering under his breath, Cole straddled the seat and folded his arms across his chest, refusing to look at his uncle. Jake got in front—hating it more than Cole, he was quite certain—and started the bike.
As he pulled out onto the dirt road, he told Cole that if he ever ran off again, he’d just hunt him down again, personally strangle him with his bare hands, then transport his carcass to juvenile hall. And if Cole was of a mind to upset his grandma again, or disobey her in any way, or cause her another single solitary moment of grief, he would crack his fat head wide open and scramble his brains for breakfast.
But even the threat of serious bodily injury didn’t seem to make any difference to the surly teen. It was amazing to Jake that Cole could be such a sweet kid in one moment, a veritable stranger the next. No wonder Mom was so tired all the time. Living with Cole had to be a little like living with Freddy Krueger, never knowing when the nightmare was going to show up again. Which was why Cole needed to come live with him. Jake knew it, but he just couldn’t seem to find the time to make that monumental commitment.
Mom was waiting for them on the porch of her modest three-bedroom house, her bony frame bundled in an old, snagged beige sweater she had worn as long as Jake could remember. She stood as Jake pulled into the drive, watched through hard brown eyes as Cole slammed up the steps and brushed past her.
“Get yourself inside to bed,” she said as he passed, but Cole didn’t bother to look at her—he slammed the screen door behind him.
“Hey!” Jake shouted after him.
Cole stopped, dropped his head back in insolent disgust, and slowly turned around. “Good night, Grandma,” he said icily, then looked at Jake. “Am I excused now?”
“Yes. I’ll be back to pick you up in the morning,” Jake said, even though Cole was already pounding up the stairs.
Mom sighed wearily, shaking her head as she stared at the screen door. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with him, swear I don’t.” She paused to fish a pack of smokes from her pocket, tapped it absently against the back of her hand. “Where are you taking him?”
“We’re going to throw a baseball around.”
Mom sighed again, lit a cigarette, and exhaled loudly. “Baseball ain’t the answer for everyone, Jacob.”
What is the answer, Mom? “It doesn’t hurt anything,” he said with a shrug and looked down the street at the line of identical green tract houses. “He likes it.”
Mom said nothing, just dragged off her smoke. “Well. I better go up and see about him.”
Jake nodded, stepped up, and kissed his mom on the cheek, taking in the familiar scent of stale smoke and soap. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”