room toward a dresser. He was almost afraid to ask. “Why?”
“Well…she made meatloaf again. She knows I hate meatloaf.”
He didn’t blame the kid there. The Hennessy women were notorious for their shitty meatloaf. He opened the second dresser drawer and prompted, “And?”
“I said it tasted like shit. I said you thought so too.”
Mick paused in the act of pulling out a white T-shirt and glanced into his reflection above the dresser. “Did you use the real
“Uh-huh, and she said I can’t have fireworks, but you say the
That was true. He hung the shirt over one shoulder and leaned forward to look into his bloodshot eyes. “We talked about words I can say and words you can say.”
“I know, but it just slipped out.”
“You need to watch what slips out of your mouth.”
Travis sighed. “I know. I said I was sorry, even though I’m not really. Just like you said I should say to girls. Even the stupid ones. Even when I’m right and they’re wrong.”
That wasn’t quite what he’d said. “You didn’t tell Meg I said that, though.” He pulled a pair of Levi’s out of the dresser and added, “Right?”
“Right.”
He couldn’t countermand his sister, but at the same time, a boy shouldn’t be punished for speaking the truth. “I can’t buy you fireworks if your mom says no, but we’ll see if we can’t work something out.”
An hour later, Mick shoved a bag of fireworks behind the driver’s seat of his truck. He’d bought a small variety pack as well as a few sparklers and snakes from the Safe and Sane stand in the parking lot of Handy Man Hardware. He hadn’t bought them for Travis. He’d bought them to take to Louie Allegrezza’s Fourth of July barbeque. If anyone asked, that was the story, but he doubted anyone would believe him. Like all other residents of the pyrotechnically obsessed town,
he had a big box of illegals just waiting to be shot over the lake. Adults didn’t buy Safe and Sanes unless they had kids. Legal fireworks were kind of like training wheels.
Louie’s son Pete Allegrezza and Travis were buddies, and days ago, Meg had agreed that Travis could go to the barbeque with Mick if he stayed out of trouble. The barbeque was tomorrow, and Mick figured Travis should be able to control his behavior for one more day. Mick shut the door to his truck, and he and Travis headed across the parking lot toward the hardware store. “If you behave yourself, maybe you can hold a sparkler.”
“Man,” Travis whined. “Sparklers are for little kids.”
“With your track record, you’ll be lucky if you’re not in bed before dark.” Sunlight shone in his nephew’s short black hair and across the shoulders of his red Spider-Man T-shirt. “You’re having a hard time controlling yourself lately.” He opened the door and waved to the owner standing behind the counter. “Meg’s still pretty mad at us both, but I have a plan.” For several months, Meg had complained about a leaky pipe beneath her kitchen sink. If he and Travis fixed her S-trap so that she didn’t have to keep emptying a pan of water, maybe she’d be in a more forgiving mood. But with Meg, a person never knew. She wasn’t always the most forgiving person.
The soles of Travis’s sneakers scuffed alongside Mick’s boots as they walked to the plumbing section. The store was quiet except for a couple looking at garden hoses and Mrs. Vaughn, his first- grade teacher, rooting through a bin of assorted drawer handles. He was always amazed to see Laverne Vaughn still alive and walking around. She had to be older than dirt.
While Mick grabbed a PVC pipe and plastic washers, his nephew picked up a caulking gun and aimed it at a bird feeder at the end of the aisle as if it were a .45 Magnum.
“We don’t need that,” Mick told him as he reached for some plumber’s tape.
Travis popped off a few rounds, then tossed the gun back onto the shelf. “I’m gonna go look at the deer,” he said and disappeared around the corner of the aisle. Handy Man’s had a big selection of plastic animals that people could display in their yards. Although why you would want to do that when the real thing was likely to roam through was beyond Mick.
He stuck the pipe beneath one arm and went in search of his nephew, who didn’t usually go looking for trouble, but like most seven-year-old boys seemed to find it anyway. He moved through the store, glanced down each crammed row, and paused next to a display of mops.
A smile of pure male appreciation curved the corners of his mouth. Maddie Dupree stood in the middle of aisle six, a neon-yellow box in her hands. Her brown hair was in one of those claws and looked like someone had stuck a dark feather duster on the back of her head. His gaze moved down her smooth profile, past her throat and shoulder, and stopped dead on her black T-shirt. Last night, he hadn’t been able to get a good look at her. Today, the fluorescent lighting of Handy Man Hardware lit her up like a walking, talking, breathing centerfold. Like an old-school playmate before eating disorders and silicone. Desire stirred in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t even know her well enough to be feeling a thing. Didn’t know if she was married or single, had a man in her life and ten kids waiting at home. Apparently it didn’t matter, because she drew him down the aisle like a magnet.
“Looks like you got problems with some mice,” he said.
“What?” Her head snapped up and her gaze flew to his like he’d caught her doing something she shouldn’t. “Christ almighty.” Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath, drawing his attention to the mole at the corner of her mouth. “You startled me.”
“Sorry,” he said, but he really wasn’t. She looked good all wide-eyed and breathy and a little off balance. He glanced up and pointed with the PVC to the box in her hand. “Mice troubles?”
“One actually ran across my foot this morning while I was making coffee.” She crinkled her nose. “It slid under the pantry door and disappeared. It’s probably in there right now feasting on my granola bars.”
“Don’t worry.” Mick laughed. “He probably won’t eat much.”
“I don’t want him to eat anything at all. Except maybe some poison.” She turned her attention back to the box in her hand. Fine dark hairs clung to the side of her neck and Mick thought he smelled strawberries.
At the far end of the aisle, Travis turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. His mouth got a little slack as he stared at Maddie. Mick knew the feeling.
“It says here that odor problems can occur if rodents expire in inaccessible areas. I really don’t want to have to search for stinking mice.” She looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes. “I wonder if there isn’t something better I could use.”
“I wouldn’t recommend the tape.” He pointed to a box of glue boards. “Mice get stuck on it and squeak a lot.” There it was again. Strawberries, and he wondered if Handy’s had some scented feeders for hummingbirds. “You could use traps,” he suggested.
“Really? Aren’t traps kind of…violent?”
“They can snap a mouse in half,” Travis said as he came to stand beside Mick. He rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Sometimes their head pops off when they go for the cheese.”
“Good Lord, kid.” Maddie’s brows drew together as she lowered her gaze to Travis. “That’s gruesome.”
“Uh-huh.”
Mick stuck the pipe under his arm and placed his free hand on top of Travis’s head. “This gruesome guy is my nephew, Travis Hennessy. Travis, say hello to Maddie Dupree.”
Maddie stuck out her palm and shook Travis’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Travis.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“And thanks for telling me about the traps,” she continued and released him. “I’ll keep them in mind if I decide on decapitation.”
