Anyway, I was so jazzed by the reactions to the swingset one, it had been one of my faves to write, but today I wanted to change things up a little by introducing another character, related to the others, because this guy is so fucking fun to write. lol.
So, here goes... we'll get back to Viola Delaney's terrible secret soon enough, and things begin to overlap so keep an eye out..
I'm a bit tipsy right now so sorry If I am cornball or lame right now. I am posting this and then going to bed.
Grey Delaney was a Bastard. His mother and father had split up while she was still pregnant with him and he’d been born a bastard. He got the last name from his stepdad, who’d been around to pick up the pieces of his mother’s mistake of a marriage and put her back together again. But he wasn’t a Delaney. Not really.
He guessed he considered Jonah Delaney his Dad, but it couldn’t be clearer that the man wasn’t his father. He was a decent fellow, had married his Mom, had adopted him, given a boy a name and a roof and a good solid upbringing. But he couldn’t have been more of Grey’s opposite.
Plus, Grey looked so much like his father that he got the feeling sometimes that Jonah Delaney had a hard time looking at him. Especially now that Grey was grown. Jonah had been there when Grey’s son-of-a-bitch of a sire had wrecked his mom’s life, had had to fight the asshole for custody of Grey and had had to endure years of snide remarks, rumors, insinuations and outright hostility from Vaughan Grey. Jonah hated the man. No wonder he found it difficult to look at his adopted son and see an almost exact copy of that prick.
And Grey knew Jonah loved him, oh sure. And he really was a great Dad, there was just something missing. Something had never quite clicked between them to give them that man-and-his-boy bond that other fathers and sons had. Even though Jonah was a better dad than most others, even though he was the best man Grey’d ever known. But that’s life.
And Grey had given that man hell, too. He certainly hadn’t made it easy for him to be a model dad. Grey was and had always been a real pain-in-the-ass kind of son. From the time he could crawl he was already stubborn and disobedient. As soon as he could walk he was wreaking havoc, breaking tings, hiding things, throwing important things away in the toilet or the rubbish. When he learned to speak it seemed only to be so he could say fresh and inappropriate things to get a rise out of his parents. When his sister Avalon was born he got even worse. He’d pinch the baby when no one was looking, he’d steal her pacifiers and hide them, he’d take her bottles and fling them across the room and then blame ghosts when the infant wailed like a banshee.
He’d pushed Avalon when she was learning to crawl, tripped her when she was first teetering, he’d demand his mother take him in her lap instead of the baby and pitch such fits that he usually got his way. He also had the deceitful habit of pretending he’d had a nightmare just so he could go into bed with Mommy, much to Jonah’s consternation. It always seemed as though Jonah knew Grey had been faking. Perhaps it was the wicked grin Grey would flash him whenever his mother capitulated and allowed him to climb up between them in their bed. Sometimes now Grey marveled at how the two had ever found a way to produce three more children after Avalon! Even though Jonah was the only ‘dad’ Grey had ever know he acted from day one as though he knew the man was his stepfather.
And through it all Jonah had been patient. Infinitely patient. And understanding. Stern when necessary and unfailingly forgiving. And loving. No matter how often or how determinedly Grey pushed that love away, Jonah was always giving it.
Grey rolled his eyes thinking about it. “What a fucking sap” he said aloud to the empty room. Jonah Delaney was the most decent man Grey knew, but Christ, more often than not he’d let anyone walk all over him. He was too fucking nice.
And that’s exactly why Grey was here, at the family house, early on a Saturday morning, instead of sleeping off a hangover on campus where he should have been. He was in a bit of a bind and he needed a fucking sap. He knew his mother and sisters would be up at that resort upstate they’d been jabbering on about, so he figured it was a good time to catch Jonah alone, corner the poor guy before he could ‘think it over’ and go running to his wife for help.
The house was quiet. He’d let himself in and headed right for the parlor. Grey helped himself to some of the good scotch on the sideboard. His mother was a lady, a real rich-bitch, and she knew how to keep her liquor well stocked. As he poured he thought he heard his Dad’s voice somewhere deeper in the house, but when he stopped pouring to listen he figured he’d imagined it. The house was very quiet.
He took his scotch with him into the den and set it on the edge of the billiard table. Sans coaster. He smiled at his little misdemeanor. The thing was a fucking priceless antique.
Lazily he grabbed the rack and started gathering the billiard balls. It was odd that Jonah wasn’t up making breakfast. The man was nothing if not a stickler for routine. It was Saturday morning, 9am, where the fuck were the eggs and bacon? Grey shrugged as he lined the lead ball up and carefully lifted the rack. Maybe his Dad was enjoying the empty house by sleeping in. He supposed it didn’t seem necessary to make a full breakfast when one was alone in the house, and why not sleep in if he had the chance? He could wait. He had nothing better to do with his Saturday.
He set the cue ball down and crossed to the rack of wooden cues. As he was selecting a decent one he heard a shower upstairs come on. ‘Good’, he thought ‘it won’t be long now.’ He weighed the cue in his hands, and, deciding it was adequate he approached the table. For a moment he wondered how he should begin, what he should lead with, the request for money or the big news. Leaning on the cue he took a sip of the scotch. Fuck that was good scotch.
He leaned over the table, lined up his cue and struck. He’d figure it out when the time came, he decided, improvisation was a strong suit of his. The balls knocked and scattered satisfyingly and Grey had another sip.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Grey choked on the scotch. He sputtered and it burned like a son-of-a-bitch in his throat. His eyes welled up as he spun to face the voice. It was Jonah, obviously, but Grey was confused. The break had been loud, but not that loud, especially not over the sound of the shower—but then, Jonah wasn’t wet.
Jonah crossed to him, removed the sloshing scotch glass from Grey’s hand and placed it on the billiard table—without a coaster—before slapping Grey rigorously on the back.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Grey managed to choke out after several hard whacks left his back smarting painfully. Jonah ceased his assault and stood back while Grey cleared his throat several times and caught his breath. Fuck but he’d startled him.
“What are you doing here?” Jonah repeated, slightly more civil, but even more urgent.
“It’s my house too, isn’t it?” Grey shot back defensively, “I still have a goddamn key.”
“Watch your language.” Jonah scolded automatically, and reached for the scotch. A ring of spilled liquid clung to the teak. Grey expected him to tisk or grind his teeth at the mess, but he did neither, instead he lifted the glass to his lips and tossed its contents into the back of his throat.
What the fuck was going on here? It was one thing for Grey to swig hard liquor at unholy hours, but Jonah Delaney never drank before noon, not ever. He looked like death, too. He was pale and unshaven and he smelled like a bad night at the frat house.
And Grey remembered the shower.
His eyes narrowed. “Who’s here?”
Jonah blanched perceptibly. He stalled. “What?”
Oh shit. No fucking way. “I asked, who’s here,” Grey repeated, unable to keep the I-gotcha tone out of his voice. “The shower?” Jonah looked panicked. “Who’s in the shower Dad?”
Grey wasn’t sure if he wanted to grin or punch the man. ‘Well fuck my ass with a horse-cock’ he thought to himself, ‘I guess nobody’s perfect.’
His Dad was having an affair. He recognized the signs immediately. Grey’d snuck around on every girl he’d ever been with and he’d been caught a fair few times too, and Jonah Delaney looked caught. He’d always assumed the sap was so head-over-heels for his mother that he’d never cheat, but it only made sense. Jonah was human after all. And male.
With an ironic sort of half-smile Grey let out a knowing sigh. This would make things a lot easier.
“Look—“ Jonah started, but Grey cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“No, no, don’t explain.” He leaned over the billiard table and casually took another shot. This was brilliant. “Whatever. I won’t say anything.”
Jonah didn’t look as pleased to hear this as Grey would have imagined. Instead of looking relieved he looked all the more grave.
“It isn’t what you think.” He said, but it was hardly convincing.
“I’m sure it isn’t Dad.” Grey winked. He actually winked at the mother fucker. “Listen, if you just help me out with a little problem I’m having, let’s just say I was never here, ok?”
The sound of the shower stopped above them and they both looked up. Then their eyes met. Jonah was trapped. It was all over his face.
“How ‘bout I stop by tomorrow for breakfast, huh?” Grey offered, replacing his cue in the stand.
His Dad didn’t speak right away, only watched him warily. Grey crossed to take the tumbler from him, and when he was close he added: “And you should take a shower too- you stink like a whorehouse.”
Jonah looked distinctly as though he would like to punch his son, but he did not.
“Go.” He ground out. Grey wasn’t certain if he was more angry or afraid.
“No problem, I’ll let you finish up—“ Jonah sucked in a breath but Grey skipped over it “And I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” He sauntered toward the door of the den. “You may want to have your checkbook ready.” Then he gave his Dad an ironic little nod and bounded toward the front hall.
Behind him Jonah Delaney picked up a billiard ball and hurled it across the room with all the suppressed rage he had, and it shattered His wife’s favorite mirror.
Grey heard the crash as he stepped out the front door and grinned. ‘What a fucking sap’ he thought, ‘I’d have thrown it at my fucking head!’.
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