Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (find a book to read TXT) 📗

“Good night, Wyatt.”

“See you next week,” he said.

13

Wyatt found his father asleep in the battered leather recliner in the tiny living room, the remote control still clutched in his hand, the television turned to the Cooking Channel.

“Pop.” He shook the older man gently. “Hey, Pop. C’mon. Why don’t you go on to bed now?”

Nelson yawned and stretched. “I’m waitin’ for Rachel Ray to come on. I like those quickie recipes of hers.”

“You like that cute ass of hers,” Wyatt retorted. “Anyway, her show just went off. Go on to bed, okay?”

Nelson pulled himself out of the chair with effort. He was only seventy-four, but a lifetime of physical labor around the park had left him feeling every ache and pain this time of night. “I gotta make Bo’s lunch and put a load of clothes in the dryer.”

“I’ll do it,” Wyatt said, giving his father a gentle push in the direction of his room. “Everything go okay around here tonight?”

“Sure thing,” Nelson said. “Bo and me, we had some hot dogs and coleslaw for dinner. He ate up every scrap I fed him. That kid’s got a hollow leg for sure.”

“Don’t I know it,” Wyatt said ruefully. “He’s already outgrown the pants I bought him at Easter. And his toes are coming out of the top of his sneakers.”

“How’s Cookie?” Nelson asked. “The vet fix her up?”

“The damned vet tech closed up before I got there,” Wyatt said. “Anyway, I think she’ll be all right. I just put her up for the night. Anything else going on in the park?”

“Slow,” Nelson said. “Like all week. No sense in staying open when there’s nobody around. I locked up the gates around seven thirty.” He brightened. “We got that Brownie troop coming tomorrow. Fourteen little girls, and the troop leaders and some mamas. I put some sodas in the snack-bar fridge, and I thought I’d go pick up some candy to sell in the morning.”

“Skip the candy,” Wyatt advised. “Just get some fruit—maybe some grapes and apples and stuff. These scout leaders don’t let the kids eat the kind of junk we used to eat.”

“It never killed you,” Nelson pointed out. He started toward his room, then turned around.

“Callie called.”

Wyatt sighed. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” Nelson admitted. “She wouldn’t talk to me. Just ordered me to put Bo on the phone. I did, and when he hung up the phone from talking to her, he burst out crying. I should’ve told her he was outside playing and couldn’t come to the phone. That’s what I get for being honest. And stupid.”

“Did he say why he was so upset?” Wyatt asked, his heart sinking. Callie knew damned well he’d be out of the house tonight, at his so-called divorce recovery group. She’d been sitting right there in the courtroom when the judge ordered him to attend.

“Oh yeah,” Nelson said. “Callie told Bo she and the asshole are picking him up right after school on Friday, because they’re going to Birmingham this weekend, to look for a new place to live.”

“Dammit,” Wyatt said. “I told her it’s Scout’s birthday party Friday. Anna’s taking all the kids to that new water park, and then they’re going out for pizza afterwards. Bo’s been talking about it for two weeks now, ever since he got the invitation in the mail.”

“Remind me who Scout is?”

“She’s Bo’s best friend, and she’s our shortstop on the T-ball team. Anna is her mom.”

“That’s right,” Nelson said. “Bo’s had his bathing suit laid out on his dresser since Saturday. Poor kid. Now he’ll have to miss it. All because Callie can’t stand to see him have a good time unless it’s something she engineered. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“I doubt it,” Wyatt said, his jaw tensing. “It’s her weekend. Technically, it starts as soon as he gets out of school on Friday. Never mind that most Fridays she calls me at the last minute and has me pick him up because ‘something’s come up’—like she wants to get her nails done, or she and the asshole are slugging down margaritas at The Salty Dog.”

“Damned shame,” Nelson muttered.

“And I can’t call her anyway,” Wyatt said. “Since she got the judge to forbid me to contact her, unless it’s in writing.”

“I know she’s a woman, but she oughtta be horsewhipped,” Nelson said angrily. “And that’s my opinion on the subject.”

*   *   *

Wyatt opened the bedroom door and undressed in the dark. He heard the soft rustle of sheets.

“Dad?”

He went over to the narrow twin bed and sat on the edge. He ruffled his son’s light brown hair. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “What are you doing awake?”

“I tried to wait up for you, but I fell asleep,” Bo said.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Wyatt chided. “You’re a little kid. You need a lot of sleep so’s you can grow another six inches before tomorrow morning.”

“I’m really mad at Mom,” Bo said. “She says we have to go to dumb old Birmingham this weekend, and I have to miss Scout’s birthday party.”

“I know,” Wyatt said. “Granddad told me, and I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted to go to that water park.”

The little boy sniffed. “Cory went there for his cousin’s birthday. He says they have a killer wave machine that’ll make you pee your pants just looking at it. And water cannons. They have water cannons so strong you could knock a kid down with ’em. I told Mom I didn’t want to go to Birmingham. I told her I don’t want to move there, and I don’t want to live with you know who.”

“Oh, Bo-Bo,” Wyatt said. He rubbed his son’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his Lightning McQueen pajama top.

“Dad?”

“What, buddy?”

“I got so mad at Mom, I called her a bad name. Did Granddad tell you that?”

Wyatt had to stifle a laugh. “He didn’t mention it. What kind of bad name did you call your mom?”

The child hesitated. “Granddad told me if