Rene Gutteridge - Listen

“Fine.”

“Tell me something, anything.”

Hunter cast him a forlorn look. “It’s eighth grade. The highlight of my day was that we had a sub in calculus.”

“You have calculus in eighth grade?”

“Yes, if you’re an honor student.”

“Right.”

Inside the car it was mostly quiet. Outside, the high school was letting out for lunch. Kids yelled and hung out the windows of their cars, blaring their horns at one another. Damien headed for Mack’s Ribs. He reached between the console and pulled out a piece of paper. “Brought you my new puzzle. We’ll publish it next week, but I thought you’d like to take a crack at it.”

“Pretty Amazing is the theme?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Hunter studied it for a moment. “Twenty-two across is too obvious. It’s Pamela. As in Anderson.”

Damien smiled. “Yep.”

“Two down. Desirable Berry.” He scratched his head. “Halle?”

“Wow! You’re good.”

Hunter shook his head. “This is weird. You’re, like, doing all hot women?”

Damien swallowed. It was strange to hear his baby boy say “hot women,” but he kept the smile on his face. “Try some more.”

“Simpson, without googly eyes… seven letters.” Hunter laughed. “Jessica?”

“You’re good. I thought I’d made it more difficult.”

“So you sat around today and thought of nothing but hot women?”

Again, the “hot women” remark made him clench his jaw. “Well,” Damien said slowly, “I am a, um, man. And men do like… hot women.”

Hunter was in a full-fledged stare now. “Is Mom on here?”

“What?”

“Are you having an affair?”

“What? No! No! Why would you think that?”

“Because not once in my whole life have I heard you say ‘hot’ and ‘women’ in the same sentence. You don’t even use those words. You tell Mom she’s beautiful.”

“It’s just a… I thought-” Damien stopped himself. “Okay, look, I haven’t really ever had the birds-and-the-bees talk with you.”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Dad! Yes, you did. Wait… no, you didn’t. Mom did. She bought a picture book that explained it all. I was nine. It came with a coloring book.” He glued his gaze to the road.

Damien took a breath and tried to remain cool. This was much harder than he anticipated. Were the windows fogging up? “I know that you know ‘technically’ how it all works, but there are some other things you need to know, things that every father should teach his son.”

Damien noticed Hunter’s knuckles turning white as he gripped the denim on his jeans. Maybe he was going about this wrong. At the time, a crossword puzzle seemed like a good way to broach the subject of how women and hormones and all that could be, well, puzzling. But things seemed to be backfiring. Quickly.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about anything. Anything at all, even if it’s difficult or you think it’s wrong. Whatever it is, I’ll listen. Okay?”

Nothing. No reaction.

“What I mean is that you know right from wrong because we took you to church. That’s what I’m trying to say. Not that you’re doing anything wrong. Are you?”

Hunter finally looked at him. “We haven’t been to church in, like, two years.”

“Well, we’ve been busy and you’ve had soccer tournaments on the weekends and all that. Hunter, just hear what I’m saying. If there’s something you need to talk about, I’m here for you.”

“Maybe I could talk to Uncle Frank.”

That stung. But he trusted nobody more than Frank. “Sure, buddy.”

Hunter let go of his jeans. “Yeah, okay. I get it. Thanks.”

Damien turned into Mack’s. “Now, let’s dig into a big ole slab of meat!”

Hunter smiled. “Can I get double ribs?”

“Definitely.”

They walked in and sat down at a table near the window. Hunter gazed out for a little while, then apparently got bored with the view. “So what’s going on at work?”

“Just trying to get this investigative reporting down.”

“I heard a cat got hung.”

“The news is making its way around, is it?”

“Gossip travels fast.”

“You hear anything else?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Kids talk. We’re trying to figure out if the neighbors did it.”

“No, I didn’t hear anything.”

“What about this Web site I showed you the other day? Anyone talking about that?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard.”

Suddenly Damien got an idea. He leaned forward. “Edgar wants me to check this whole thing out. The Web site. Try to figure out where it’s coming from. You can do that, can’t you?”

“You mean hack into it and try to find the host and therefore find the person responsible?”

“Can you do that?”

“I can try. It’s not easy. Or, um, legal.”

“How about after work, I’ll join you upstairs, and we’ll see what we can dig up.”

Hunter pitched a thumbs-up.

The succulent smell of pork chops wafting into the dining room did nothing to add any ambience to the chilly atmosphere at the dinner table. Kay brought in scalloped potatoes and returned to the kitchen for the rest of the food. She wasn’t in the mood for the moods. Not today. But she faked a smile and returned to sit with her family. If she couldn’t have the happy family, the next best thing was the illusion of one.

“Pork?” Jenna moaned, leaning over the platter. “What is it with you and pork? Do you know how fattening this is? And then you have the carbs with the potatoes.”

“It’s a lean cut of pork,” Kay said, serving Damien and then Hunter. She tried not to focus on the paper-thin T-shirt Jenna wore. It barely covered her stomach. “It’s high in protein. It’s not like I’m serving up bacon here.” She stabbed the last chop and plopped it on Jenna’s plate. The sauce splattered onto her shirt.

“Mother!” Jenna barked, grabbing her napkin.

“It was an accident,” Damien said, handing Jenna another napkin. “Calm down. It washes.”

Jenna glared at Kay as she furiously scrubbed her shirt. “I’m not hungry,” she said and started to rise from the table.

“No ma’am,” Kay said sternly. “Sit your rear end back down right now.”

All movement froze, Damien holding the scalloped potatoes, Hunter with a big bite of pork bulging in his cheek. Jenna’s glare cut through the steam coming off the lima beans. But she finally sat, grabbed her knife, and started sawing at her pork as if she intended on murdering it had it not already been dead.

Kay cleared her throat and passed the bread basket. “Hunter, how was your day?”

“Good. Dad came to eat with me.”

Jenna looked up briefly, studied her brother for a moment, then went back to her food.

“Yeah, I’m going to need Hunter’s help for my first investigative piece. Edgar wants me to do some digging, see if we can figure out where that Web site about Marlo is coming from.”

“What Web site?” Kay asked.

“It’s called Listen to Yourself. Apparently it’s recording private conversations of the citizens of Marlo.”

“Are you reading it?” Jenna stared at Damien.

“Not for pleasure, no. But it’s a little eerie. And newsworthy. Not to mention illegal if the person doing it is indeed eavesdropping.”

“Or maybe it’s more like Robin Hood. You know, stealing from the rich, giving to the poor.” Hunter shrugged. “Except with words.”

“That’s stupid.” Jenna’s attention returned to Damien. “What kind of stuff’s on there?”

“Just weird, random conversations. Some are harmless and some are…”