Page 6 of Father Figure

“No, he's going… eventually. But first, he'd like to come work with us over the summer.”

“On the boat?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “On the boat. He knows his way around, and he takes direction well. I don't think it would be a problem.”

“Would it be a problem with his father?”

“I don't think so, as long as he's back in the fall for school.”

Sam shrugged. “If you want him there, then why would I care?”

“Just checking with my partner.”

“You know,” he said in an offhand voice, chucking six bags of jerky into our basket, “they're going to eat him up at the clubs. He'll be very popular on the islands.”

“What do you mean by popular?” I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.

“Popular,” he said to me, stressing the word like that alone would make it sink in. “He's tiny, with a pretty face, lashes for miles, and pillowy lips. The kind of hair a man wants to run his fingers through and tug. Popular.”

I could feel my face heat with anger. A mild sense of panic clawed at my chest, and I placed my hand over my heart, struggling to keep my cool. “I asked him if he's interested in guys, in a roundabout way, and he said he wasn't interested in anyone.”

“Why would that matter?” Sam argued. “He doesn't have to return their attention to receive it. He's going to draw many eyes, especially when you put him out in the sun in a bathing suit.”

Suddenly, the idea of spending the summer with Nicky seemed a lot less appealing.

“Are you prepared to beat his suitors off with a stick?” Sam asked.

“If I have to, I will.”

“Who knows, maybe he'll enjoy the attention and you won't have to.”

That really made the indigestion hit hard. Heartburn seared my esophagus, climbing into the back of my throat and making my tongue taste bitter. “Let's just drop this for now,” I said tersely.

When we made our way up to the register, I spotted someone I recognized and got in their line. Tapping Sam on the shoulder, I pointed out, “Look who it is. Your nephew.”

“Step-nephew,” he corrected.

“Damn, tell me how you really feel. What makes you say it like that?”

“He's a total brat.”

“Oh, just like you were at that age. Still are, actually. You two should have a lot in common.”

“You're hilarious. Fucking hilarious.” He began emptying the contents of our basket onto the conveyor belt, drawing his nephew’s attention.

“Hey.” The kid smiled and brushed his hair from his eyes.

“Hey yourself,” Sam replied without a smile.

Matteo inspected the six bags of jerky, canned chicken, sardines, and the variety of soups with minimal enthusiasm. He scrunched his face like he found it gross.

“This is the shit you eat?”

“Hey, watch your mouth; you're on the job,” Sam warned.

“Don't you eat any fruits and vegetables?” he asked.

“We're getting ready to head out on the boat for a trip, and this is just to stock our pantry. The fresh foods and vegetables we’ll pick up in the local markets when we hit the islands. They have a better selection at better prices than you can find here. Customs also get nitpicky about bringing fruits and vegetables into their countries.”

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