Page 8 of True Honey
She raised her hand to her forehead in a childish salute, “yes Doc.”
“Get out of my office,” I said with a small huff and watched her slink out, closing the door behind her and giving me a moment of silence. I went back to my computer, making a few more notes before I started on the next pile of paperwork.
There was a knock at the door that barely pulled my focus.
“You eat today?” Arlo leaned against the door frame in a Hornets shirt, a hat and two food containers in his hand. He didn’t wait for my answer to move through the office and handing me one with a fork.
“Thanks,” I said, popping it open to find a pile of Greek food from the cafeteria on campus. It was the only day of the week when that place turned out edible food. I survived university on the salty back of the lemon, rosemary potatoes alone.
I shoved one in my mouth as Arlo ate in the chair across from me.
“Are you sleeping?” He asked, waiting until I had gotten through half of my meal before being nosy. I nodded and he scowled. “Don’t bullshit me.”
“It hasn’t been great, but it’s sleep, a few hours here and there gets me through the day,” I said, setting down my fork. I shuffled around some papers with my clean hand and showed him the updates on his pitchers. “I’d give Logan a break until Lorette, he’s sore but hiding it, and you need him more then. Reyes can handle the rest of the North Dakota games.”
“We’re still doing that whole,Logan, thing?” He said, looking over the papers and setting them aside. I knew he’d listen so there was no point in arguing about staying on topic. He’d retained the information and would be cautious going forward. That was just Arlo.
“He doesn’t want to change his last name, and I’m not going to force him. The Shore name’s been a stain lately.” I shoved more food in my mouth. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was until the first bite and now my stomach was begging for more.
“Are you two getting along?” He asked me, and for some reason the question made me laugh.
“For the most part,” I said, setting the fork down. “He has his moments, therapy is helping. All I can do is show up and hope that’s enough—because it’s the only thing he’ll let me give him.”
“At least he’s asking for the one thing you’re actually good at,” Arlo teased. “God forbid he asked you to become emotionally available for conversation.”
“You’re one to judge,” I said with a groan.
“I’m not the one trying to repair my relationship with my very volatile younger brother,” Arlo said, his jaw stirring as he chewed. “And for the record, your father’s the stain, not the Shore name,” Arlo said.
“It doesn’t feel like that, not right now.” I cleared my throat and closed the lid to the food. “I unplugged my landline. The press won’t stop calling, and I don’t even know what the hell to say anymore. For years our family has been the golden goose of Harbor, we support sports, the arts. We funnel money into the University, back into the town. And now no one wants our money because my dad decided that he also wanted to funnel it into drugs, secret children and gambling.”
Arlo gave me one of those looks that screamed,well…
“Look at me, a rich idiot complaining about being rich. What the hell is wrong with me?” I rubbed my face with my hands and leaned over on the desk.
“Do you want the truth or do you want me to go find Cael to give you a back rub and a few forehead kisses?” Arlo teased.
“Fuck off,” I groaned.
“You aren’t invincible, Si.” He shifted forward and set down his food. “You like to believe you are. And sure you clean up more messes than you make but this isn’t as simple as a dog getting into the garbage. This is…” Arlo stopped to think about it. “An oil spill.”
“Thank you for the perspective,” I said, annoyed with everything and less with Arlo.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” was his next question.
“Win this fucking season,” I said, “show Harbor that we aren’t falling apart from the inside out.”
“You couldn’t have picked something easier?” Arlo grumbled.
“You asked,” I said, and then a thought crossed my mind. “There is something else though…”
“World peace, feed the homeless, adopt all the kids?” He smiled.
“We’ll get back to those,” I said. “Just advice this time,” I said, and Arlo’s lips pressed into a thin line as he pulled back to focus. “Seymour is dying.”
“Shit,” Arlo swore.
“Cancer,” I added and he nodded. We both knew it was coming. He had been smoking three packs a day since I was born and had a nasty addiction to cigars over evening scotch. I exhaled roughly. “If he dies, all of the company shares transfer to my father.”
