hand across his mouth and bobbed his head up and down. “Right, I’m sorry—I should remember that. Sorry, dude. I’m real sorry. I should—”
“Can it, okay?” Ryan only remembered Smokey’s name when he was sober, and from the stench of booze on his breath and the way he was acting, Smokey knew he was drunk.
“Okay … yeah … okay.” Ryan fumbled with the zipper on his down jacket.
Smokey averted his gaze from his brother to their mother. She looked older and more bitter than she had the last time he’d seen her. It had been over a year since he’d laid eyes on her. Each time he’d gone over to the house he’d built for her and Ryan, she’d disappear into her bedroom and refuse to come out and talk with him.
“How’re you doing, Mom?” he asked.
Tonya Harty’s black eyes squinted. “Fine.” She tugged the sleeve of Ryan’s jacket. “We have to get a table. Come on.” The loose strands from her ponytail swept across the nape of her neck as she spun around and marched toward the front of the diner without a backward glance.
“She never fuckin’ changes, does she?” Smokey said.
Ryan shrugged. “You know how she is.”
He wiped the corners of his mouth with his fingers as he glanced at his mother’s retreating back. “Yeah, I do. She checked out on us when we were kids. Is she eating enough? She looks too skinny.”
“She eats.” Ryan turned his head toward the front of the diner. “I better get going—she can be a real bitch.”
Smokey nodded. “With everyone except Dad. She never raised her voice to him even when he was beating the shit outta us. Fuckin’ amazing.”
Ryan unzipped his jacket, then zipped it up again. “She still cries for him even though it’s been”—he looked up at the ceiling while pulling the zipper back down on his coat— “uh … five years?”
“Seven years since the old man croaked. If you keep drinking, you’re gonna be joining him in a few more years.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “I gotta go. Maybe we can go out for a drink sometime.” He pulled off his coat. “Or dinner,” he hastily added.
“Yeah,” Smokey said before picking up his fork again.
He watched as Ryan swayed down the aisle to join Tonya. Memories of his childhood that Smokey vigilantly sheltered in the darkest corners of his mind threatened to creep out, but he willed them to stay put. He shoved a bite of food into his mouth and chewed slowly, his appetite no longer there. Smokey wadded up the napkin and put it on his plate, then motioned Maddie for the check.
“No pie tonight? How ’bout a slice of coconut cake? One just came out of the oven,” Maddie said, a hand on her hip.
“No, thanks.”
She glanced down at the half-full plate. “You lost your appetite or something?” she said as she picked up the dish.
“Yeah—something like that.”
The waitress handed him the check. “I know I’ll be seeing you again real soon. Ruthie really appreciates you bringing in your crew during the week for lunch.”
Smokey nodded, then pulled out his wallet and took out a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks, Maddie,” he said, handing her the tip.
She shook her head. “That’s too much.”
“Take it—you work hard and deserve it.”
“You and the others spoil me,” she said, hesitating before shoving the bill into her pocket.
“Shit, Maddie, wages never match the cost of living.” Smokey slid off the stool.
“Isn’t that the truth.” She stacked his empty coffee cup and water glass on top of the plate. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Smokey nodded then headed toward the register. When he came up to the booth that his mother and brother were sitting in, his mom immediately looked down at the menu and Ryan bent over, pretending to look for something on the floor. Smokey walked by without a word, anger pricking his skin and disappointment clawing at his belly.
The cold wind wrapped around him, stinging his cheeks and nostrils. Still falling, the snow was now deeper and denser than when he’d first gone into Ruthie’s. It blanketed the diner’s parking lot and the rooftops of Pinewood Springs, making the town glow in its blinding whiteness.
Smokey cleaned off the car, then slipped inside and cranked up the defroster. He turned out of the lot and the streetlights, storefronts, and houses slowly began to disappear behind a white curtain as he made his way to the clubhouse—his refuge.
3
The minute Ashley stepped out of the shower, the ceiling tiles came thundering down and chips of white