Page 209 of American Hellhound
Thirty-Two
Now
“Aidan, you got a minute?”
Aidan glanced up from the FXR he was restoring on the lift and found his dad leaning into the garage, an uncharacteristic uncertainty to his expression. It was a look that had always made Aidan worry.
“Sure.” He set his tools down. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. Just wanted to talk.” Ghost attempted to give him a reassuring smile, but the expression was so seldom used it fell flat.
Crap. Aidan tugged his gloves off with a frown. This had all the earmarks of a Serious Discussion, and he could count the number of those they’d had in his lifetime on one hand. These weren’t lectures, or the forceful edicts Ghost handed down as president, but the kind of man-to-man talks that always happened between fathers and sons in sitcoms, and which Ghost had never figured out how to deliver properly.
The first one they’d ever had, he remembered, had been when Ghost told him that Maggie was pregnant, and that he was going to have a little brother or sister –
Aidan chuckled to himself as he realized. That was right: Maggie had gone to the doctor today to find out the gender. And Ghost, the dork, didn’t know how to be cool and just come out and say it.
He followed his dad into the office and eased the door shut, dulling the clang of garage work to low background noise. “What’s up?”
Ghost went around to the desk – no one ever sat there, so he had to move aside a stack of parts catalogues – and sat down with a sigh, rolling over to the mini fridge to grab two Cokes. One he slid across to Aidan, who had the good chair, the swivel number with the duct tape over the tear in the seat. “Mags went to the doc today.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sipped his Coke and hid a smile. “How’d it go?”
Ghost looked caught between joyous and scared to death, rolling the cold can between his hands and staring at it. “It’s, uh, she’s having a boy.” He glanced up then, trying to see how the news would hit Aidan.
Back in the day, when Maggie was expecting Ava, Aidan had wanted a little brother. He’d been, as shallow as it sounded, looking forward to having someone look up to him. But at this point, married and with a kid of his own, he didn’t need that validation.
He cared, though. He worried about Ghost being able to raise a son well.
It must have shown on his face, because Ghost said, “Yeah. Me too.”
“Things are different now, though,” Aidan said, shrugging, playing disinterested. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, and all that.” He offered a smile. “What does Mags think?”
“That she can’t use any of Ava’s old baby clothes,” Ghost said with a snort. “And that it might be overkill to use another A name.”
“Yeah?”
“Nah. He’s totally gotta have an A name.”
Aidan felt his grin get a little truer.
“Look,” Ghost said, setting his Coke aside on the desk. “With the baby coming, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about back then. That makes me a shithead because I haven’t done enough to rectify that until now, but I’m doing it now, so…” He sighed. “I always hated Duane for the way he treated me, and I know I’ve been doing the same thing to you. I haven’t prepared you for taking over this club one day.”
“Dad–” Aidan started.
“Maybe you don’t wanna run this thing. And that’s fine. But I ought to do my job and get you ready for it. In case.” He flicked a tired smile. “I won’t be around forever, and you’ll have to look after your little brother, yeah? Be the man in his life.”
Aidan wanted to groan – Ghost had to get off this “I’m old and gonna die soon” kick he’d been on. But he understood where he was coming from. When he looked at Lainie, he went weak-kneed with fear.
So he nodded. “Of course.”
~*~
Maggie looked up at her childhood home – unchanged save for the rust-red front door – and took a deep breath before she pressed the doorbell. At her own home, Ava let herself in with a distracted “hey” as she dragged in kids and diaper bags. But here at her own mother’s house, Maggie rang the bell like a stranger.
As she waited, listening to the clip of her mother’s heels across the foyer floor, she smiled to herself, hand going to her belly. Seventeen all over again, baby bump and all.
Denise’s face appeared in the window, checking the caller, though Maggie had let her know in advance she was coming. Maggie thought she saw a frown cross her mother’s face – but maybe that was just her imagination. Then the door opened and she was greeted by the old smells: furniture polish, fresh-cut florist flowers, and Chanel No. 5.
