Page 23 of Stupid Dirty

I take a deep breath, in and out. Goading her into a fight would normally be a nice way to blow off some steam. But not while we have an audience. She can pass out in peace tonight.

Turning to Silas, there’s a set to his jaw that tells me he wants to say something, but he’s holding back. I imagine it’s somethingjudgy, which is fine, because there’s plenty to judge. Even beyond the inter-sibling curse-a-thon, there’s the trailer itself. Remnants of what looks like box mac ‘n cheese sit on the counter from the dinner that Maddi must have made for them. And the whole place is—I do my best—clean-ish, but not exactly tidy.

“Go ahead.” I make an over-the-top wincing face to break the tension. “You can say it, I can take it.” I close my eyes, but when he doesn’t say anything, I let myself squint one open to peer at him.

He looks more contemplative than anything, though. Not disgusted, which would be the worst-case scenario, or the awkward, shuffling pity that I get from most people and hate.

Eventually he speaks.

“You’re like, an actual dad. That’s pretty cool.” I must look confused, because he babbles a little as he backtracks. “I mean, I know you’re not actually their dad. But it’s like you are. And you’re taking care of them, not just yelling.” He shrugs, and a hint of a blush colors his cheeks. “It’s nice, is all I meant to say. That you take care of them like that.”

Well. I’m not exactly known for being quiet, but for once, someone’s rendered me speechless.

“Uh, thanks.” Very cool, Cade. “They deserve to have someone look out for them. Even if it’s a twenty-two-year-old fuck-up who teaches them to curse like grease monkeys.”

That makes him smile, and the awkwardness that had settled between us dissipates.

“Come on.” I tug at his sleeve. “Let’s grab a beer and go sit out back while the girls get ready for bed.” Moving towards the fridge, a thought occurs to me and I pause long enough to yell toward the bathroom one more time. “Mother, if you drank all of my beers, I swear to God, I will put arsenic in your smokes!”

There’s a click as the door unlocks and Mom wanders out, lit cigarette still dangling from her chapped lips. Her eyes areglazed, but she’s smiling at me, so she must be in the sweet spot of her buzz.

Lucky her.

“Go fuck yourself. I didn’t touch your pisswater. I got my own money.”

Shuffling the rest of the way down the hallway towards me and Silas, she pauses to look him up and down while he freezes under her gaze, looking more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. She gives him an up-nod, but he doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so she ignores him.

She removes her cigarette from her mouth long enough to kiss me on the cheek before going to the fridge and pulling out a mostly empty bottle of some acidic-looking wine. I can see past her that my off-brand Mexican lagers are untouched, thank fuck.

“I suppose you can remain unpoisoned another day then, woman. But I’m watching you.” That only makes her laugh as she turns around and goes back to her room, her mouth full of cold mac ‘n cheese from the foil container on the counter. “And next time, make the girls eat a vegetable!”

Silence.

Silas looks way more disturbed by my love-hate banter with my mom than the potty-mouthed nine-year-old, for whatever reason. Who hasn’t seen a middle-aged lush before? I ignore him, swipe two beers and then get us settled on some plastic lawn chairs I keep out back. They’re so sun-scorched and brittle they kind of look like lizards trying to shed their skin, but they’re still holding up. Even when I lean my weight back to push the whole thing onto two legs and stare up at the stars.

“So. Skills, other than dirt bikes. Whatcha got?”

Silas shakes his head, staring into his open beer bottle like a genie’s about to pop out and give him a lap dance.

“Nothing. I got nothing. I wake up, I eat my stupid, healthy food, I train, I work on my bike, I train on my bike, I race on mybike, I sleep. That’s it. That’s all I do. A monkey could do it, as long as it had proper pull-up technique and knew how to do an oil change.”

My mind spins, trying to come up with a solution to this problem. Realistically, I know he doesn’t need to decide right now. But I’m a fixer, and he feels like the ground is coming out from under him.

He needs something to hang on to. Anything. At least for a little while.

“Did you ever get your GED after you dropped out to go race?”

“Hm? I didn’t need to. I almost had enough credits. I was able to finish the rest on the road. Dad would sign me up for online classes, but I could usually test out of them and get the credits. Dad liked it. He said it made me look well-rounded, or whatever.” Silas shrugs, like giving yourself a high school education in a motel room is no big deal. Fuck, he really must be smart.

“What about getting a job with me? You can get certified as an EMT in a couple of months, if you do the course full-time. And the work is gross sometimes, but at least it’s interesting. The first time Tristan suggested it to me, I thought he was crazy, but he wouldn’t stop pushing. He ended up loaning me the money for school himself. I’ve almost paid him back, and once I have, me and the girls are gonna be, like, rolling in singles. Or at least dimes. Beats the hell out of working at Sonic for minimum wage.”

Eventually I cut myself off, realizing I’ve descended into the beginnings of a ramble, and see that Silas is making a face and shaking his head.

“I hate small talk at the best of times. I can’t see myself being able to talk to people about their medical problems. Sorry.” He looks a little sheepish about it.

“No problem.”Think, brain.“You work out all the time. What about becoming a personal trainer? I think you can get qualified for that shit online.”

Silas squints at me. “Are there are a lot of people paying for personal training around here, Cade?”

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