Page 76 of Bobby Green
“Mm,” she said, as though coming to a conclusion that had nothing to do with Veronica. “Are you going to bring him up sometime?”
“Yeah—I was thinking maybe in a couple of weeks, if the snow isn’t too bad.” The weather really was a factor. Bobby didn’t have chains.
“So early February? I can do that.” His mom’s voice dropped. “The money you’re sending me actually lets me afford heat. I hate that you took that responsibility on, son, but I’m really grateful for heat.”
Bobby swallowed. “Someday we’ll get you moved out of there,” he said softly. “I… I don’t like you there alone.”
“Well, your, uh, friend Keith comes by a lot,” his mom said, sinking a stone in his stomach. “But not in the good way.”
Bobby sat up in bed, trying hard to remind himself that the sky had just dumped a frickin’ ton of snow in the Sierras and people couldn’t get home from Tahoe for work the next day.
“Explain that.”
“He’s just… odd about it. I mean, he came by, like you said, after you broke up with Jessica, and he was real cordial and all. But he kept saying things like how we needed to get you back up here again, and how you needed to come to your senses and come back. I tried to tell him you liked it down there—that you were trying to move me down there, actually—and he got… he got mean, Bobby. Said all sorts of stuff about me being a shitty mother—”
“I’ll kill him,” Bobby growled, halfway out the door.
“You’ll do no such thing, and you’ll sit your ass down and stop posturing like a kid.”
Bobby sank into one of the kitchen chairs and winced when it creaked under his weight. He’d been eating a ton of chicken and veggies and bulking up like he’d never believed. It was a good thing he liked to keep busy, or this working-out thing might end up in a very fat Bobby.
“How dare he!” Bobby snapped. “Mom—you’ve got to tell someone. He’s not right, you know—”
“Vern, he’s your best friend.”
Bobby grunted. “Not really. He was a friend. And then he was an asshole who… never mind. Just don’t trust him. Don’t let him in. And don’t tell him I’m bringing anybody by.”
“Don’t you want him to meet your new—”
“No. Just… no. I want him to not know I’m there, even when I’m there.” Bobby took a breath. “And since I’m not going to be hanging out with Keith or Jessica this time, have a to-do list for me. I can tighten up the house and make it more snug, okay?”
“You did that last year,” she said softly, but he remembered.
“Yeah, but I have money for materials this year. I can add more insulation to the roof and add some wedges to the doors to keep the drafts from seeping out. Trust me—we can squeeze some money out of your heating bill. I’ve been wanting to fix that place up for years.”
His mom chuckled fondly. “You never did say why the construction job didn’t work out, but I’m glad you seem to have found your niche waiting tables.”
“The guy was sort of a criminal, Mom. Just, you know—I’ll find another job like that.”
He hadn’t wanted to look, actually. The foreman’s words about blacklisting him still rang in Bobby’s stomach. They may have been lies, but the idea of applying to a decent construction place and finding out he could never get work like that again would do a number on Bobby he didn’t think he could survive.
He loved working with his hands so much.
He’d been biding his time, waiting for the spring, when most outfits got desperate. If he could buy a computer—and one was coming, it was in the budget—he’d be able to look some more.
“A better one,” his mom said optimistically, and he agreed with her for form.
They rang off then, and Bobby moved from the kitchen to the bedroom in three steps and threw himself across the bed. His first instinct was to call Reg and tell him his fears about Keith Gilmore, but then he realized Reg didn’t know who Keith Gilmore was really, and certainly not who he was to Bobby. And definitely not about where this sudden sense of danger would come from.
He sighed and settled for texting Trey.
I need a favor—I’ll do anything to pay you back.
Will you come over RIGHT NOW and unplug the sink? Rick tried shaving his chest instead of waxing this time. Bad things happened.
Oh my God. Sure—but you’d better do the favor.
Whatever. Get your ass here and ask us then.
