Page 53 of Due South

“I’m not going to be very good at it and I’m going to need a lot of help, but…I’m tired of being a fuck-up and being babied. I want to have my own life and start taking some control over what I’m doing. I know Mom means well, and after the accident, it was easier to let her go into family fortress mode and take over. Also, I was angry and I felt pretty sorry for myself. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to move out, and I know I can’t do it on my own, and I hoped you might help me? Not, like, today obviously, but Mom said you were sending some papers?”

He trails off with a hopeful look on his face.Some papers that might help me? That might let me feel independent again?

“Yeah, I did. Lucy put them together.”

“The redhead?”

“Yeah.”

I wait for him to say something crass or make some kind of crude gesture, but all he does is smile, that charmingly boyish one that helped get him laid all the time. “She did?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s got a thing for you, man. No one does that shit unless they’re related to you, they’re getting paid for it, or they want in your pants.”

And there it is. Well, she didn’t even have to do that to get in my pants. “If that’s true, I’m in luck because I’ve got a thing for her.”

Darren nods, and I wait for him to say something wildly inappropriate, but he’s taking his vow of maturity pretty seriously at the moment and keeps all the gross thoughts I’m sure he’s having in the gutter that functions as his brain. “Good. You should be happy.”

It shouldn’t matter, those small words. They shouldn’t make my throat narrow and my sinuses burn, but they do. I’ve been waiting for some generosity or acknowledgement all these years, and never did I expect it to come from Darren.

“Thanks. You should be too. We’ll figure this stuff out together, okay? I’m not abandoning you guys, I just—”

He waves me off. “I know. Mom doesn’t see it that way, but I do. You deserve your own life. You work hard for it.”

“Thank you for saying so. It means a lot.”

It’s been a long time since I celebrated Hanukkah with the candles and the stories, but it comes back to me now. Darren acknowledging I’m a person with my own wants and needs is no one-day-of-oil-lasting-for-eight, but this is my own Hanukkah miracle. I’ll take it.

“Cool. Then I, uh, guess I’ll get going. Got some planning to do. Maybe when you’re done with this project, we could sit down and go over that stuff your—Lucy put together?”

“Definitely. Let me get this project more under control and I’ll call you.”

“Any chance we can do it at the Hen House? Their wings are fucking amazing.”

I have to laugh, because heck yeah they are. “Yeah, sure. My treat.”

Darren laughs and levers himself out of the seat with some difficulty, then heads for the door, stopping when he’s on the threshold. “Thanks, bro.”

I wad up a piece of paper and throw it at his head, missing by an embarrassing margin. “Get out of here. I’ve gotta make some overtime to pay for those six dozen wings I know you’re going to hoark down.”

He snickers and throws a wave over his shoulder as he heads out. I pick up the ball after he’s gone and throw it against the wall again, only to realize I’ve already figured out how to structure the compliance responsibilities. Excellent. More time to put my plan into action.

Chapter Nineteen

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December 24th

Lucy

Why could India’sfavorite takeout place not deliver? At the rate she orders food from there, she probably keeps the place in business. But no. I have to go get it. On a day when I don’t have five minutes to spare because we’re getting down to the wire on this damn report and I’d like to have at least some downtime tomorrow because it’ll be freakingChristmas, she sends me on an hour-long errand. What the hell? India can be completely cracked, but not usually in a way that’s so…inefficient. At least the Guptas are friendly and they always remember to put in extra tamarind sauce. They wished me a Merry Christmas when I left and I almost cried.

My heels click on the cement of the parking garage deck as I walk through the practically deserted space. Evans’s roller skate masquerading as a car is still here, so I guess I’m not entirely alone. But still.

This is not what I should be doing on Christmas Eve. I should be at home, baking cookies with my mom. Or wrapping presents for my horde of nephews and nieces. Singing carols by the fireplace. Not picking up takeout for my bitchy boss in San Diego where it doesn’t even look like Christmas. Tears gather in my eyes and I blink them away. Maybe I should take that job in Phoenix. It wouldn’t be an improvement in terms of actually having seasons, but I’d never have to work through Christmas. I had thought India was getting better, but after tonight, maybe I’m wrong.

Not to mention I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up with Evans. Yes, the sex is hot. But that’s part of the problem. It’s not just sex. I like him, and if he doesn’t like me—or even if he does and we’ll never be able to do anything about it because of some stupid rule in the stupid employee handbook—well… I shake my head as I push through the office door and head to India’s office. When I get there, there’s a note on the door, and as I read it, anger boils in the pit of my stomach.

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