Uh-oh. Batshit in what he called change-of-venue mode could be noisy. She’d sit for hours without a peep, but the minute she intuited you were ready to move on, she got raucous and took Killer with her.
Fortunately, Timmy knew it. He rushed to the table waving the check and carrying a paper bag likely holding the scones. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re on it. No worries.”
Jericho glanced at the amount, pulled out about double in cash from his pocket, slapped it on the check, grabbed the bag, and kissed Timmy on the cheek as he rose. “Thank you, dear. You almost made this god-awful experience bearable, and that’s saying a lot. See you soon.”
Woof!”
“Yip, yip.”
“Woof, woof, woof, woof.” Batshit pulled on her leash toward the exit, and people who had barely known she was there stared. Jericho laughed with embarrassment. “Sorry, she just wants to get moving.”
Fortunately, she was about the cutest thing on four legs so people laughed back.
One lady said, “We sure know who the boss is.”
Jericho smiled, but sadly that statement could be a commentary on his whole life. As he walked down the sidewalk toward home, he cringed at the thought that he hadn’t dared to make it clear to Malcolm that the house in which he took care of his mother belonged to her, not to him.
Was there something bigger than a loser supreme?
Chapter Two
“Hi, Mama,” Jericho called out as he walked the two dogs into the entry, closed the front door after himself, and unfastened their leashes. Killer took off like a bat. Jericho grinned. Does Bat take off like a killer?
Killer loved Mama. In fact, he’d been her dog, purchased because she loved The Wizard of Oz, and even though Jericho took care of him, Killer still preferred her. She doled out treats.
Bat stayed by Jericho, dancing on two feet like she was asking, What’s next? Can we go home now? He gave her a quick pat. “We’ll go home soon, okay?”
She got it and stopped dancing.
With her beside him, he carried the bag of scones to the family room—Mama’s domain. He held his breath. If she was in one of her chairs, it meant it was a good day and they might have a fun evening watching a movie or playing cards. If she was in her hospital bed, it meant demons were attacking, some array of symptoms would be in evidence, and he’d be up all night bringing her “medicine,” the various over-the-counter remedies he told her were prescription. The truth was, Mama had been given every test by every doctor. No matter how many times Jericho asked, the answer was the same. She’s healthy. Her doctor said he’d like her to get some fresh air, exercise, and stop eating so much sugar. People in hell want ice water.
When he peeked in the big room—largest in the house—she looked up from a jigsaw puzzle she was working on with Milly, the caregiver, who stayed with her all day so Jericho could work and have stupid blind dates. Jericho released his breath and smiled, then shook the bag. “I brought you a treat.”
She didn’t smile back. “Oh, what is it?”
“Lemon scones.”
Her bottom lip slid out just a fraction, but the effect got her point across. “Those are your favorites, not mine.” She raised her carefully tended brows and her eyes got avid. “Did you go to Mrs. See’s?” She loved all candy, but the famous California chocolates were her favorites.
“No, Mama. I didn’t take the car. I walked the dogs to Café Z.”
She looked back at her puzzle. “Enjoy your scones.”
Sitting beside her, Milly, a college girl, who made extra money by subtly convincing Mama she was a healthcare professional without full-on lying, looked at him sadly. She was a smart girl and knew how much he’d give for one genuine smile from his mother. But that wasn’t their dynamic. In their script, Mama was never happy or healthy, and he kept trying to please her and make her well.
Mama glanced over, her gaze dropping. “Why do you have that dog?”
“I took her for the day to keep Killer company.” That was partly true. “You know how he loves her.”
Mama sniffed and tried to force a puzzle piece into a spot it clearly didn’t fit.
“I’m going to take her to Finn and Em and then I’ll be back.”
Her head snapped up. “You’re going out again?”
“Yes, Mama. But Milly will be here.” He glanced at the girl for confirmation, and she nodded. She’d just gotten out of class for the summer break, so she’d have more time. He’d also just gotten out of school, which, with Milly’s help, meant he might have more time. That didn’t mean Mama would like it.
When Mama stared at the puzzle with a stony face, Jericho sighed and walked to the kitchen to put his scones in the refrigerator. She behaved worse when Milly or anyone else was there, as if she were trying to convince them how badly Jericho treated her. When she was alone with him, she was warmer and more appreciative. Well, some.
He climbed the stairs to his room with Batshit beside him. He’d worn a sport coat to his supposed date and the early summer weather had heated up. Besides, he didn’t need to dress up for Finn and Em. Bat jumped on his bed and supervised as he pulled off the jacket, rolled up the sleeves on his long-sleeved shirt, and retucked it into his jeans.
“Woof.”
“Yep. We’re going to take you home to your daddies.”
“Woof, woof.”
“Shh. You know Mama doesn’t like the barking.”
Bat cocked her head, lay down, and put her furry chin on her paws. Right, no one properly appreciated her barking. He chuckled. He wanted to grab for his camera, but if he took a picture every time Batshit was cute, he’d be out of phone memory in a week.
“Okay, girl, let’s go.”
“Woof!”
“Shh. No barking.”
She gave him a resigned look and hopped off the bed.
At the bottom of the steps, he decided to be kind to himself. He called, “See you later,” and walked out the front door, hooking Bat to her leash on the porch. The gloom of the house weighed on him. The sad thing—one of them anyway— was that Mama wasn’t even fifty yet, but she might as well have been eighty. Hell, with Jane Fonda as a model, Mama was a hundred and eighty. It didn’t take Oprah to figure out that Mama had decided if she were ever happy, ever well, he’d leave her like his father had done.
Batshit hopped, and he started walking, then remembered he didn’t know where Finn and Em were. He grabbed his phone and dialed.
Finn said, “Has she driven you crazy yet?” He laughed.
For a second, he didn’t know if Finn meant his mother or Batshit, but then he got it. “Never, but she’s lonely for her daddies. Where are you guys? Is this a good time to bring her back.”
“Oh yeah.” He had a lot of laughter in his voice. “This is perfect, because I have this big idea and I need to share it.”
“Oh? Tell me, tell me.”
“Nope. I’m at the apartment. Come on over, bring our girl, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“No fair. I need a big idea now.”
Finn laughed. “Not even bribery will convince me. How soon can you be here?”
“I just need to pull out the car. See you in about ten.”