'Safe bet,' Frank muttered.
Once he'd gotten things under control Joseph stepped away from the grill, closer to his son. 'Your grandfather worked for forty years in a mill.'
'I've heard the story.'
'Then there's certainly no harm in sitting through it again, is there?' Joseph offered a stiff smile. 'He worked for forty years in a mill. I don't ever remember him doing anything else. From the time I was a small boy my father always seemed old to me; always look so tired. All the man knew was work and family. There was nothing else in life for him – no hobbies or other interests particularly – only getting up at the crack of dawn each day and going to work in that hellhole. To him, a man wasn't really a man if he didn't properly support his family. Even as a child it seemed unfair to me that we didn't have more. Someone who worked so hard should've had more. Of course, my father wasn't an educated man – never made it beyond the third grade and spoke broken English until the day he died. Still, he was far from stupid. There's often great wisdom in simplicity, Frank.'
'Just ask me, I'll tell you.'
Joseph ignored the wisecrack. 'It's a shame he died before you were born. I think you'd have gotten along famously with him.'
'I wish I'd known him.'
'When I was growing up in the neighborhood the opportunity to become involved with certain unsavory people was always an option. A lot of kids I grew up with went that route.'
'What's your point?'
'That the decisions we make often determine the course the remainder of our lives take,' Joseph said through a heavy sigh. 'I was never a tough kid, couldn't fight a lick. I used to get the hell beat out of me on a regular basis. I was one of those kids who read the Charles Atlas stories on the back cover of comic books and dreamed about transforming myself from a ninety-pound weakling into a muscle man who could easily overpower his attackers and leave with the beautiful girl on his arm. But I knew the real answer couldn't be found in some comic book fantasy. Across the street and down the block were all those men with the expensive suits and big cars. Their girlfriends and wives wore mink coats, fancy gowns and all sorts of flashy jewelry that in those days you generally only saw in the movies. Those people never looked tired or old, yet they had all the things my father was killing himself to attain. I wanted to be like those men, and wondered for a time if my father was nothing but a fool.'
Frank sat in one of the chairs on the patio. 'Dad, look – '
'Please,' he insisted. 'Here me out.' Joseph sipped his wine cooler and then continued. 'When I was twelve or thirteen – somewhere in there – my father caught me associating with some boys he felt were a bad influence. He sat me down, and in his own way explained that there was only one thing in this life no one could take away from you. What you've got up here.' He pointed to his temple, watched for a reaction from Frank. 'Knowledge, intellect. Unless you give them away, only time can steal them from you.
'Even after all his years of hard work,' he continued after a moment, 'my father still couldn't afford to send me to college. I had to rely on scholarships and grants. I could have done a lot of things with my life, Frank, but I chose to teach. I chose to spend my life trying to instill in young people how important the pursuit of education can be. Maybe that makes me a mark as far as your friends are concerned, but I believe it makes me more of a man than any of those goons can ever hope to be. I'm certainly neither rich nor famous, but I am at peace with myself, son. I'm able to look myself in the eye without being ashamed of who or what I am.'
'Believe it or not, I'm familiar with the concept.'
'I didn't mean to imply – '
'No, of course not.'
'You're impossible to talk to.' Joseph returned to the grill and flipped the burgers. 'If I didn't care, I'd say nothing. I wouldn't even bother to – '
'Have a little faith in me, Dad. That's all I ask.'
Joseph turned and faced him. 'I think that's all either of us are asking.'
The slider opened suddenly and Connie poked her head out. 'Is it safe?' she asked in an ominous voice.
Frank stood up as Joseph grunted something unintelligible. 'We're through, Mom. Come on out.'
Connie and Sandy joined the men on the patio, and like a storm cloud passing overhead Joseph's demeanor reverted back to its usual neutral mode.
Another conversation began, but Frank's thoughts could not have been further away.
CHAPTER 7
The hotel room was on the first floor and offered a view of a vast parking lot and a truck-stop diner beyond. Unaware or just careless, Vincent opened the heavy drapes halfway, catching himself in the warming, early morning light. The abundance of black hair that stretched from his chest down to his thighs all but obscured his very white, flaccid penis. Vincent scratched himself, momentarily startled to remember that he was not alone.
'Morning,' the woman said through a yawn.
Vincent nodded at her but said nothing. He vaguely recalled picking her up at a bar after the show the night before. She'd been one of the locals hoping to meet the wrestlers and get a brief glimpse at their world from the inside. It never seemed to matter what town they were in, how long they planned to stay, or even how good the show was – groupies were a constant.
'What time is it?' the woman asked, pushing a thick strand of teased blonde hair from her face. 'Feels early. Is there any aspirin in the room? My head's gonna friggin' explode if I don't do something about this headache. I get 'em something awful when I drink like I did last night.'
'You must get them a lot.'
The woman's false eyelashes batted at him like sticky black wings. 'Huh?'
'Nothing.'
A sudden knocking on the door broke the silence. The woman gathered the sheets around her and quickly smoothed her hair. Vincent opened the door to reveal Frank holding his briefcase in one hand and a cardboard tray with two cups of coffee in the other.
'Jesus, put some fucking clothes on, will ya?'
Vincent puckered his lips and kissed the air between them. 'Don't act like you don't like it.'
Frank put the coffee on a table near the foot of the bed and smiled at the woman. 'Hiya doing?'
'Hi.'
'We're going to need a little privacy, okay, honey?'
Vincent nodded at the woman. 'She was just leaving.'
'I was hoping to take a shower first.'
'What's the matter, no running water at home?' Vincent jerked his thumb toward the door. 'Take off.'
The woman crawled out of bed, let the sheet fall to the floor, and began staggering about the room in search of her clothes. 'I should've known you were an asshole.'
'You're right, you should've.' Vincent told her. She soon located her things, gathered them into her arms, and stomped angrily into the bathroom.
Frank looked at Vincent and rolled his eyes. 'I can't imagine what you saw in her,' he said, sipping his coffee. 'Could it be the fact that her tits are roughly the size of my head?'
Vincent pulled the lid off the other cup of coffee and emptied a bag of sugar into it. 'They're fake.'
'They look it.'
'They feel it.' He chuckled. 'Like sucking on a broad in a raincoat.'
'I'll pass.'
'How about you? You snag that little redhead that was following you around last night?'
Frank lit a cigarette. 'Remember Sandy?'
'It's so free and easy. I don't know how you can pass the shit up, Frank.'
