Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Where do you ride them?”
He crunched, chewed, swallowed, and said, “’Round my land. I managed to nab ninety acres, though it took me ten years of buying neighbors out.”
“Oh,” I mumbled.
“Most of that butts the National Forest, so we got plenty of space to ride,” he shared.
“That’s great,” I muttered.
And I shouldn’t ask.
I shouldn’t want to know.
It shouldn’t mean anything to me.
But I asked anyway.
Because it meant something to me.
“Your boys are at school?”
He nodded, took a sip of beer, set it aside and reached for another chicharron.
But he didn’t take a bite.
He answered, “Sully’s at Purdue. He’s gonna save the world in ways his old man can’t. He’s studying to be an environmental engineer.”
“Impressive,” I said. And it was. “And Gage?”
“He’s at University of Arizona, and I should have known things were going south when he majored in communications. Mostly, I think he needs to get the wild out of his system before he comes to work for me. They both had jobs at the store throughout high school. But Sully did it because his dad told him he had to. Gage did it because he liked to score chicks who were into hiking, climbing and trail running. But that’s because Gage likes hiking, climbing and trail running. Sully does too, but he’d stop to dig in the dirt. Gage wouldn’t stop until he reached the peak. But after Gage fails out of college, gets sick of being a river rafting guide or some shit like that, and gets serious, he’ll come work for me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
He shrugged, ate his chicharron, and answered, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is, whatever he chooses, he’s happy.”
So…
Duncan was not his father’s son.
Duncan’s dad was a plumber.
And I never sat a meal at their house—and I sat many meals at their house, both as a little kid hanging with her buddies, then as his girlfriend, times two—when Burt Holloway didn’t mention in some form how someday Duncan was going to join him as a member of his union.
It was never fun, but the older Duncan got, the nastier the conversations became.
What, you too good to be a plumber, boy?
I like to be outside, Dad, and there isn’t a lot of plumbing done outside.
Smart mouth. Always got a smart mouth. So…what? You’re gonna be a park ranger, pussy shit like that? Glorified mall cop, hanging around feelin’ like a big shot with nothin’ to do.
Remembering this one particular conversation, which happened around the time Duncan was looking into what it would take to become a park ranger, and he’d made the mistake of mentioning that to his father, our conversation from lunch that day morphed over it and I wondered.
Because I got to LA, and what happened to me did not happen to hardly anybody.
I got an agent quickly.
A few commercial jobs.
I worked as a substitute teacher and had two roommates.
And I was cast in Rita’s Way after only two other acting gigs, both as one-line, glorified extras, one on a sitcom, one on a gritty nighttime cop drama.
But then, I was off.
What would Duncan have done if he’d come with me?
I’d never heard of a River Rain store until Rita’s Way signed off for good and I was starring in feature films.
A chain of stores didn’t happen overnight.
And it didn’t.
“Hey,” Duncan called softly, and I focused on him. “You were a million miles away.”
“I was remembering that dinner when your dad confronted you about being a park ranger.”
He shook his head, took a sip of beer, but I stared at him with some surprise because his mouth didn’t get tight, the skin around his eyes, nothing.
Nothing at all, when before, just the mention of his father could put him in a bad mood that it would take certain talents I’d honed to work out.
“He passed. Heart disease,” he told me. “Five years ago. Mom’s down in Goodyear. She should be up here, where I can keep a closer eye on her. But she has her women and her bowling club and whatever else she does, and she won’t even discuss it. Not lost on me fifty years of marriage to Burt Holloway wasn’t easy. It’s like she’s on perpetual vacation and I worry about her, but I can’t find it in me to take it away from her.”
I’d always liked his mom.
Ruthy Holloway was quiet, sweet, a great cook, a mom who loved her only son (and I had suspicions she kept it at one child deliberately, so Burt couldn’t dig into another one) and a woman who was totally dominated by her husband.
“Goodyear isn’t too far from me. I always liked your mom. I should go visit,” I murmured.
“Baby,” Duncan murmured back.
I snapped to, staring at him.
What was I thinking, telling Duncan I should go see his mom?
The expression on his face now was speaking volumes, and his mouth was opening to make them audible, and I was terrified what I’d do if he did.