Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 710(@200wpm)___ 568(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Someone else, really.
“I’ll play the winner this round,” came the familiar voice, roughened with an exhale of smoke he almost coughed on.
As if Tanner could read Lucas’ mind, his hand clamped to his companion’s shoulder at the sound of Ronald Dalton’s voice. He pulled Lucas slightly closer with a friendly shake as they entered the den downstairs side by side, announcing his arrival to the room with an overly loud, “Look who I found!”
A dozen or more familiar faces turned Lucas’ way at Tanner’s introduction—something that wasn’t at all needed. A few hellos echoed from the men he would say hello to out in public but couldn’t care less if their phone numbers were in his contact list. Making nice with friends of his father never settled well with Lucas.
“Lucas, hey,” came the greeting of a man sitting on the stool under the neon light proclaiming the den a Man Cave.
“Hey, Ridge,” Lucas returned, offering his hand for a fist bump from one Alcott cousin he didn’t mind seeing around every once in a while.
Chatting with Ridge for a few minutes gave Lucas the chance to avoid jumping right into a conversation with his father—whom he hadn’t spoken to in a good while—waiting just a few paces away at the far end of a red-clothed billiards table. Pool stick already in hand and with his eyes on the table watching the last few plays of the current game out, Ronald didn’t seem interested or concerned with his son’s arrival.
Appearances, however, were deceiving.
Lucas tried to focus on the question Ridge had asked about the brewery’s shelf life on their barrels, but the smooth plunk-plunk-plunk of clean shots on the pool table one after the other kept him from answering.
Ronald looked his way, too, after the eight ball had dropped into a corner pocket after the final game call.
“Lucas and I will take Tanner and Matty,” Ronald declared between the celebratory shout from the last winner.
Fuck his whole life.
Lucas wasn’t even good at pool.
“Later,” Ridge told Lucas with a nod toward the table. “We can catch up, yeah?”
“Sure, man.”
Staying on his side of the den and pool table would have been preferred, but Lucas made his way over to his father’s side along the far wall under another neon light showing off the Alcott patriarch’s favorite beer.
Not theirs.
Lucas wasn’t offended.
He had other things to worry about.
“How late were you—twenty minutes?” Ronald asked the second Lucas was close enough to hear his father’s displeasure and complaints.
“Nothing’s served, right?” Lucas returned, keeping his tone light.
Walking on eggshells to keep the peace with Ronald Dalton became a carefully balanced circus act that Lucas had gotten tired of playing over the years. Or maybe he just no longer wanted to look like a clown for doing something that never actually worked.
Sometimes, like around others, keeping the peace couldn’t be avoided. No one wanted to get in between an infamous Dalton shouting match—God knew Lucas didn’t want to have one, either.
Ronald, it seemed, had moved to other things to bitch about. “I heard your mother is back in town—let’s hope I don’t have to see her face.”
Lucas remained expressionless at the comment Ronald made under his breath, so the two men at the other side of the pool table currently racking up the balls wouldn’t hear.
“Have you seen her?” Ronald asked.
“No.”
“Well, that’s not shocking. You’ve only been around to see me since I came back from the west when you absolutely have to, I suppose,” Ronald replied as if that said something about Lucas.
He refused to take the bait and ask what. The answer was obvious. Ronald expected Lucas to make his way downtown to Ronald’s private offices to kiss his ass and personally deliver company reports—because they sure as hell didn’t get together during personal time—but he refused to do even that for his father. In fact, Lucas found every excuse he could to avoid meeting up with Ronald since the man’s return to the city.
“Are you going to spend any hours in the brewery this winter, or just work from your office downtown?” Lucas asked, trying to prod the conversation in a direction that served him.
Mostly, so he knew how to plan for his upcoming months.
Ronald sucked his tongue along his teeth before muttering, on a completely unrelated level, “I also hope your brother isn’t going to show up tonight.”
That hurtful comment made Lucas flinch.
“He’s not, thanks,” Lucas replied, “and he had other plans this weekend.”
“What, playing with dogs or sitting in another meeting? Useless, all of it. And the only thing you do by paying his way and keeping him fed is enabling his nonsense on. Whatever,” Ronald said, carelessly, with a wave of one hand as if he could wipe his youngest son away with a gesture and a word. “It’s your mess. Otherwise, he’s just a waste of my damn breath.”