“Cool!” Tripp shouted, “And since you and Dad are gonna be an item, can I tell my friends I call you Rocky when I’m not in a building with lockers in it?”
“Tripp,” Layne used a warning tone.
“Dude, you don’t have to tell them shit,” Jasper advised, standing at the stove and dumping pasta in water. “They ask questions, you just say, ‘Dad says I’m not allowed to talk about that,’ or, ‘we had a family meeting and we decided not to talk about home time’. That way, they have no clue what’s goin’ on and they make everything up in their head. That’s way better.”
Seriously, if it ever was in question, Layne knew for certain in that moment Jasper was definitely his son.
Rocky laughed before she agreed with Jasper. “You’re right, Jasper, imagination is a powerful thing.”
Jasper threw Rocky an arrogant grin and then ordered, “Tripp, dude, get me a package of hamburger.”
“Gotcha,” Tripp said and rushed to the fridge.
Tripp got Jasper the hamburger meat while Jas pulled out another pan and Rocky and Layne sipped at their beers. Then Tripp returned to the island while Jasper opened the meat and dumped it in the pan, turning on the burner.
Then Tripp looked at Raquel, he grinned, then looked over his shoulder at his brother.
“So, Jas,” he called, “since we got a hot chick here, you should ask for advice on how to get Keira Winters to go out on a date with you.”
Oh fuck.
Jasper turned slowly from the stove, ice cold badass gone, he was pissed.
Layne moved quickly which was good since Jasper lunged, shouting, “You dick!”
Layne got in between them, lifting up a hand which caught Jasper dead in the chest.
“Stand down, Jas,” Layne warned.
Jasper strained against Layne’s hand, his eyes locked on his brother, his arms reaching for him and he repeated, “You dick!”
“Bud, cool it,” Layne ordered.
“I’m just sayin’!” Tripp shouted back, sounding upset and confused, his comment was innocent and Layne decided that lessons on being cool in a variety of ways were at the top of the agenda for their breakfast conversation the next morning. “Mrs. As… I mean, Rocky’s pretty, she should know how pretty girls think.”
“Shut… up, Tripp!” Jasper shouted, still straining.
“Jasper,” Rocky called softly in a way that all three Layne Men turned their attention to her and Layne felt Jasper’s body go still. “Keira Winters stands outside my door with her friend Heather between second and third period every day.”
She stopped talking but her eyes stayed on Jasper.
“I know,” Jasper grunted, those two words forced.
“Do you know why?” Rocky asked and Layne didn’t look away from her but Jasper must have shaken his head because she kept talking and she did it even more softly. “Because you walk by my classroom every day between second and third period.”
The power of Jasper’s body left Layne’s hand when he moved back an inch.
Rocky carried on. “They talk, I’ve heard them and… well, we girls don’t tell each other’s secrets but…” she hesitated and Layne watched her face change, it was almost the look she used to give him, without her eyes going half-mast, but they got warm and her mouth got soft and she whispered, “I think the best way to get Keira Winters to go out with you is just ask.”
Then she smiled at his son, giving him her dimple, her eyes warm and it took effort but Layne forced his gaze from her and he looked at Jasper.
Jasper was staring at Raquel with a version of the expression he’d given his old man twice that day. It wasn’t the same but it was nearly as golden. Then Layne watched Jasper smile back at her.
And Layne knew Jasper loved him, once, he knew when Jasper was a little kid that he and his son had a bond that Layne broke when he divorced Jasper’s Mom and took off, only seeing his kids a couple of times a year when he’d come home or they’d come to wherever he was to visit. And he knew Jasper felt abandoned and betrayed. He just didn’t know how to heal that or if he ever would.
So he knew Jasper didn’t want much to do with his old man but seeing him standing there with that golden look of hope in his eyes about a girl he liked, Layne didn’t care.
His hand was already in the air so he moved it slightly and curled his fingers around Jasper’s neck, giving him a firm squeeze. Jasper’s eyes moved to him, that golden hope shone on Layne in that moment and Layne didn’t want to lose it and he knew it would be lost when Jasper came back to himself. So Layne quickly gave him another squeeze then a gentle shove, released him and turned away.
Therefore, he missed the fact that the golden hope had changed, gone deeper as Jasper’s eyes stayed on his Dad’s back as his father walked away.
And since he was watching his feet hit the floor, he missed Rocky’s eyes go half-mast and her mouth staying soft as she watched him walk away from his son.
He felt her mouth touch his then slide to his jaw, up his jaw and to his ear.
Then Rocky whispered, “Wake up, baby.”
Layne heard those words in his head at the same time he heard dog tags in the room and his eyes opened.
He was at an angle on the couch, slouched, his feet on the coffee table. The TV was on but low, some sports talk show. There were lamps lit, not many of them.
He looked to the left to see Rocky, her sandals on the floor, curled barefoot in the armchair, knees up and lying on the armrest, head twisted and resting on the pillowed back of the reclined chair. She was asleep.
“Dad,” Jasper called quietly and Layne looked up to see his son standing beside him looking down. “Tripp’s already upstairs. You cool?”
“Yeah, Jas,” Layne replied, straightening in the couch. “You goin’ up?”
“Yeah.”
“Turn out the lights, yeah?”
Jasper looked across the room at Rocky then back at Layne. “All right, Dad.”
“’Night, Bud.”
“’Night.”
Jasper walked away, Blondie came forward and butted his knee with her nose so Layne bent to her, giving her head and neck a rubdown while the lights went out one by one. When they were in darkness outside of a light coming down the stairs, he pushed her off and she got the hint, jogging after Jasper up the stairs.
Layne put his elbows to his knees and turned his head to Rocky.
Pasta bake had been a hit. It was just hamburger meat, spaghetti sauce and penne mixed together, dumped into a dish, smothered in mozzarella and baked but it was still good. This was mainly because it was smothered in a ton of mozzarella about which Jasper had stated confidently, “Cheese makes everything awesome.”
They’d eaten in front of the TV watching sitcoms which Rocky had laughed through, once so hard she had to curl her arms around her stomach and lean forward, tears streaming from her eyes. They’d graduated to a gritty cop drama during which Rocky fell asleep, probably having had as much sleep as he did last night. Both Tripp and Jasper had noticed and Layne had given them looks to ignore it and keep quiet.
Then Layne had fallen asleep.
He looked at the time on the DVD player, just after eleven o’clock.
Then he looked back at Rocky.
Then he made a decision.
He walked to her and slid an arm behind her knees, one at her waist and he lifted her up. He figured she’d wake but her head fell heavy on his shoulder then slid forward so her forehead was pressed to his neck and he remembered then that he should have known she wouldn’t wake. If she was out, as in out out, Rocky slept like the dead.
And she didn’t wake until he bent to put her in his bed.
“Layne?” Her voice was groggy, her head came up and she glanced around.