“Idiocy.” His father slammed the phone down and scowled at Brees. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“Guess again.” Brees walked through the door and straight out of the office. Hell, he wanted to just go home and crash, but—he grabbed his phone and hit the speed dial plus speaker, and then climbed into the NSX. The phone rang as he backed out.
“Brees, dear, is that you?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You sound upset.”
She did have a lot of people skills. That’s why she was widely loved. Admittedly, he loved her, too, although she’d proved craptastic at standing up for him against his father. When he’d wanted to go to veterinary school, his father had laughed, and his mother hadn’t even intervened. And, of course, when he’d come out, she’d declared she loved him anyway. Anyway. Not his favorite choice of words. Of course, his father had freaked and threatened to disown Brees. Ultimately, he’d simply inserted clauses into his will that specified that he had to approve Brees’s choice of spouse or yada, yada.
He’d been wool-gathering too long, because his mother said, “What’s wrong?”
“My father wants me to marry Elizabeth Ricci.”
“What? What the hell?”
“You know who she is?”
“Yes, I’ve met her. Charming and smart, but obviously not for you.”
“Yeah. Tell him that. He’s back to his disowning crap.”
“Oh no, Brees.”
“Except this time he included you.”
There was a pause. “Oh.”
The light on Pacific Coast Highway was green, a total gift since it never was, and he turned left into Corona del Mar. Brees said, “You know him. He’s not going to do anything about it. And I’m really sorry. It’s gotta be crap to be married to someone who threatens to discard you if your son doesn’t do what he wants, but he’s really gone too far this time.”
Another pause. “Let me see what I can find out. Where will you be?”
“Home. I’m almost there.”
“I’ll call you.”
He sighed softly. “I just want some food and a few minutes peace.”
“This is important.”
“I suppose.”
She hung up.
Screaming was a definite possibility.
Still, as he made a left off PCH and drove up the tree-lined street toward his home, some of the stress fell away. He loved his house, even though no one he knew much understood why he did.
The little cottage was set back from the road, giving it a big front yard filled with trees. A narrow driveway down the side of the house took him to the detached garage. He’d had a glass portico built connecting the garage to the house so he didn’t have to get wet in their occasional rain, but he liked having the garage inconspicuous in the back, unlike most Southern California homes. As he navigated the NSX into the garage and parked, the muted sound of barking drifted into the space and he smiled. The music of his life.
Pushing the button to close the garage door so the monsters didn’t get out, he slid from the car and walked to the entrance into the portico. A cacophony of woofs came from behind it. Taking a prep breath, he keyed it open with his arms already in place to grab the flying Empress as she sailed through the air into his embrace. Djinn and Benten danced around his feet, but they knew Empress had pride of place. None of them stopped barking for a second until he said, “Enough. No barking.” They instantly quieted but kept dancing. Empress gave a swipe of the tongue toward his face.
“Yeah, man, they don’t like their daddy at all.” Jimbo, the surfer dude who Brees employed to stay with the menagerie during the day, leaned against the doorjamb that led into the kitchen from the portico, his sun-streaked hair falling around his chin. Jimbo’s total ambition in life was to surf and take care of dogs. He was a happy man.
Having lavished enough individual attention on Empress, Brees knelt, put her on the hardwood, and picked up the other two for a hug and a snuggle. Laughing as Benten gave him a wet willy straight into the ear, he asked, “How were they today?”
“Good. They barked a lot, because some survey dude was walking up and down the street. You know how they hate that.”
Brees nodded and set the other two down. “Home invasion. Attack of the bad guys!”
“Exactly. When the guy came to the door, they went ape. I swear, even more than usual, man. Weird.”
“What kind of survey was he doing?” Brees walked into the kitchen and Jimbo closed the portico door behind him. Benten and Djinn jumped into their favorite chair in the big bay window, while Empress reigned in her chair. Even when Rodolfo was there, he shared a chair with the other two. Nobody interfered with the Empress. She was a retired champion and she knew it.
“Something about TV, man. Wanted to know what you watched.” Jimbo shrugged. “I told him I didn’t think you had time to watch much TV since you were always at work or at dog shows, so I told him what I watch. I don’t think he was real interested in that.”
Brees smiled. “It’s payday.” He reached in his pocket for the cash he paid Jimbo every week. He tried to give it to him on Monday, so Jimbo didn’t blow it on the weekend and have nothing left.
“Cool, man.” He knelt down, and the dogs crowded around him. “Bye, my babies. Be good for your daddy, or he’ll think I spoil you.” Jimbo stood in his easy, laconic way. “’Preciate it, man. See you tomorrow, usual time.” He started for the front door, then turned and said, “By the way, that survey dude came back here three times, but I didn’t really see him talk to anybody else. Probably didn’t get much good data from this neighborhood.”
Brees scrunched his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I took the guys out for a walk to the park and I see the dude wandering over to some houses and going up the walkways, but never seems to get anybody to answer.” He shrugged. “I guess not so many people are around during the day. Seems like he should have been more interested in me. I was all he had.” He laughed at his own joke.
“What on earth did he ask on three visits?”
He did that shrug again. “Mostly about you. What time you’d be home and shit. Poor guy must have been striking out everywhere.” He walked out the front door, raised a hand in goodbye. “The babies have all had food, no matter what they tell you.” Chuckling, he walked toward his old van he sometimes lived in.
Brees closed the door and hurried to his bedroom to change. Whether he wanted his mother to call sooner or later, he couldn’t decide. Just a few minutes peace was all he asked.
A half hour later, dressed in sweats, he sat on the big sectional that dominated his living room and ate avocado and hearts of palm salad and pizza with a glass of merlot. His phone lay beside him. Just call, for fuck sake. He so wanted to get it over with, so he could settle down and watch a show. He didn’t much care what.
Raising the wineglass to his lips, he almost spilled it down his front as the dogs went apeshit, racing toward the door. “What the fuck?” This was Southern California. People didn’t just show up on your doorstep.
Frowning, he stood and walked toward the door. If it’s that survey guy again, I’m going to tell him to fuck off. This is stupid.