Tod Goldberg - The Bad Beat

“What do you think that will be?”

“My guess is that he wants you to go down a better road than he went on,” I said. “At least eventually. My sense is that he thinks he can train you a bit. And then send you to work for people who could use you for the good of our country. What you did to Yuri, what you came up with, InterMacron, that technology you just made up out of the ether? He thinks it could work, Brent. That’s the biggest thing. He thinks your theories are sound.”

“I was just doing what I could to help my dad,” he said. “I did what anyone would do.”

I looked across the table at my mother. She was sitting beside Brent attempting to be as motherly as possible, which wasn’t easy, since she was always better at being vaguely distant and demanding, and I could tell she wanted to say something. She kept opening her mouth and then closing it, like a fish.

“Go ahead, Ma,” I said, “say what you’re going to say.”

“Well, Michael,” she said, “I think Brent makes a very good point. Doing whatever he could do to take care of his parent. That’s a very kind, very wise, very sweet thing for a boy of just nineteen to do.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Princely.”

“At least he didn’t run off and become some… whatever you are.”

“A spy,” I said.

“Which is badass,” Sugar said.

“Totally,” Brent said.

Not the response my mother was looking for. “Anyway, Michael, I just think that maybe Brent needs a good, solid family surrounding him. What kind of life is he going to have doing whatever this Big Lucy wants him to do?”

“Lumpy,” I said. “Big Lumpy. And the truth is, Ma, that Brent can make his own choices of what he does. You want to work for the government, Brent?”

He shrugged. Of course. “I dunno. That sounds pretty cool.”

“Would he get to carry?” Sugar asked.

“Probably not,” I said.

“Whatever, bro,” Sugar said to Brent. “I could get you a piece.”

“He would need to get certain criminal elements away from him,” I said.

“What about my dad?” Brent asked.

I hadn’t told him yet about finding Henry. I wasn’t sure what might happen next, but I knew that if Yuri or perhaps Big Lumpy could use Henry as collateral, they would. It was best that Brent still be kept in the dark about his father’s whereabouts and mental condition, but I didn’t want him to be in constant fear about his possible death. I had to make a choice.

“He’s safe,” I said.

“You found him?” he said. “Where is he? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” I said. “And I can’t tell you where he is now, but understand that he’s in a place where no one can get to him.”

“When did you find him?”

“Yesterday,” I said.

“What?” Brent pushed back from the table and then stood up abruptly. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? I’m not a little kid, you know. I’m a full-grown man, you know. I’m, like, almost twenty.”

“Brent,” I said, “please sit down.”

“No,” he said. “No. I mean, like, I’m valuable and you’re just, like, pulling my strings and I’m not down with that.”

He stalked across the kitchen and into the living room and then back into the kitchen. His face was puffy and red and I realized he was near tears.

I don’t do well with tears. Especially not on men. Or boys. Or women. Crying animals aren’t my area of expertise, either.

“Uh, Ma,” I said, as quietly as possible, since I figured she might have more experience with this than I did.

“He’s right, Michael,” she said. “Nineteen is a full-grown man. I’ve heard that before.”

“Not helping,” I said.

Brent did another tour of the house, mumbling under his breath and stomping the entire time, before basically throwing himself down onto the sofa in the living room. “I need to go to school,” he said finally, as if we’d not spent the better part of an hour talking about the rest of his life. “I’ll be late if we don’t leave in, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Sam will take you as soon as he gets here,” I said.

“What about Fiona?” he said.

“That’s my boy,” Sugar said.

“Shut up, Sugar,” I said… at precisely the same moment my mother said it, too. There are things we agree on without condition.

“I’m just saying,” Sugar said, “Sam’s gonna stick out on campus like a narc. But Fiona, she can rock that grad student game. Put some horn-rimmed glasses on her, she’d make that shit work like 24-7.”

For once in Sugar’s life, he made a convincing argument. I didn’t think Fiona would go for the horn-rimmed glasses if she didn’t have to, but I suspected she would like the idea of being mistaken for being twenty-two. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long to find out, as she and Sam rang my mother’s doorbell just a few minutes later.

Sam looked like he hadn’t yet slept, his hair freshly slicked down with water and yesterday’s hair gel, his Tommy Bahama shirt open too far down his chest, not because of any fashion sense but because he’d just put it on in the car. Fiona, however, was radiant as ever in a white sundress accented by black sunglasses and a turquoise handbag. She looked like Jackie O, if Jackie O were still alive and packing a nine in her purse. Not exactly dressed for school, but I’m sure she’d make do.

“How’s your head?” I asked.

“Better,” Fiona said. “Nothing a hot stone massage and an evening spent reading US Magazine and cleaning my knife collection couldn’t soothe.”

“My head is killing me,” Sam said. “What’s that bright orb in the eastern sky?”

“They call that the sun,” I said.

“What’s it doing over there on that side of the heavenly firmament?”

“That’s where it starts every day,” I said.

“So every morning at eight thirty, I can expect to see this same phenomenon?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Reason enough to sleep in or drink early,” Sam said.

Brent popped up from the couch, grabbed his satchel and announced, “I’m going to be late. Can we go?”

“Fiona,” I said, “I need you to take Brent to school.”

“I already refused to do that yesterday,” she said.

“Besides, Sam was looking forward to meeting some coeds.”

“I need Sam with me today,” I said. “We’re going to have some Yuri business and he can’t see you again, at least not until his wrist heals. What we don’t need is another combustible situation before we have Brent safely taken care of.”

Fiona pursed her lips and exhaled hard through her nose. It was actually sort of cute when it didn’t portend violence. “What classes do you have today, Brent?”

“Um, history, which is totally lame. And then I’ve got a game design class, which is badass, you know. And then I’ve got a three-hour seminar on women’s studies.”

“Lovely,” Fiona said.

“I assume Western civ and women’s studies are held in big lecture halls?” I said.

“Yeah. Like two hundred people are in those classes. But game design is just twelve of us, so it would be weird if Fiona was with me, but also sort of cool.”

“Tell it,” Sugar said. He was still in the kitchen, wisely keeping his distance from Sam, but he couldn’t stop being Sugar, no matter where he was.

“Oh,” Fiona said, “you’re still alive?”

“I’m cold-kicking it live, doll,” Sugar said and then he began reciting lyrics to some rap song.

“Don’t speak to me,” Fiona said to Sugar, which got him to stop speaking/rapping immediately. “So I’m to wait outside this other classroom? Is that the idea?”

“Yes,” I said. “If someone is coming for him, I suspect they’d come for him there.”