Brenda Novak - Shooting the Moon

“God, Tank, I thought you liked her!”

“I do. I’m desperate, so the relationship works for me. But that’s hardly the kind of woman I see you with.” He gave up hanging on the lintel and started down the hall, the floor creaking in protest. “Gotta run. The whole crew’ll be waiting for me. Are you comin’ back tonight?”

“Yeah. That okay?” Harley called after him.

“Sure. Stay as long as you like.” The creaking stopped as Tank paused in the hall. “What are you gonna do before your dinner with Lauren and Brandon? You want to make a few extra bucks and come out on the job with me?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to get my hair cut and buy some new clothes.”

“What’s wrong with the haircut and clothes you got now?”

“Nothing. I just need to look…I don’t know, more fatherly, I guess.”

There was a pause and for a moment, Harley thought Tank had disappeared silently into his room. But then he spoke. “Can I give you a piece of advice, Harley?”

Advice? From Tank? “Shoot.”

“Clothes and hair don’t matter to kids, man. Just be yourself.”

The floor started creaking again, a door closed and the shower went on.

Harley laced his fingers behind his head and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. Just be yourself. Sounded easy. Made sense. But his “self” hadn’t been good enough for Audra, and he was afraid he’d run into the same problem again, this time with Brandon. Especially if Quentin Worthington had poisoned his son against him.

He doesn’t need you.

“Maybe not,” Harley conceded, “but I need him.”

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