Free Red Moon Rising by Peter Moore Page A

forgot about those thick strong hands and his wide, square fingernails. “And your mother? Everyone else?”
    â€œMom is fine. And Paige, I think you met her once, she’s good. And you know, everyone else. Everyone is fine.”
    â€œHow about Troy? He treating you all right?”
    â€œTroy’s just fine.” That might be hurtful to him, I realize too late. “I mean, we’re not close or anything. He’s just…kind of there. But he’s not a problem.”
    â€œGood. Good.”
    The rest of the conversation doesn’t get any less awkward. We talk about how I’m doing in school and about his business. Then we do the talk about sports and movies. The food arrives, and I think we’re both relieved to have something to do other than work so hard to make conversation.
    â€œWas that enough for you?” he asks when he puts his fork down on his empty plate.
    â€œOh, yeah. Plenty. And very good.”
    The waitress comes to the table to get our plates. “How about dessert?”
    Dad looks at me, the hint of a smile showing at the corner of his mouth. “You up for it?”
    This is from back when we spent time together. It should feel familiar and warm, but I still feel awkward. Maybe we just need to get back into it. “Of course.”
    â€œJeannie, do you have two nice big wedges of the banana cream for us?” he asks.
    â€œGood choice.” She smiles at him as she takes our plates away.
    He moves his napkin to the right, then back to the left. “Okay, let’s just get to it. Why did you need to see me?”
    I feel like a little kid who’s been rude to his parent all day, then asks for a present the same night. “Well. There’s something I need to talk to you about, if it’s okay.”
    â€œYou can’t possibly be asking for money. I mean, if you are, I’ll do what I can, but I thought that Troy guy was loaded.”
    â€œIt’s not money.” I look around. The place is mostly full, and the tables are close together. That old wulf at the counter hasn’t moved an inch since I came in. “But the thing is, it’s kind of personal. Maybe we could go somewhere else, so we can talk in private?”
    He nods and looks out the window. “We can go around the corner to my place, if you want.”
    â€œSure. After the pie?”
    â€œHell, yeah, after the pie. It’s already got our names on it.”
    Of course I know his apartment, but it looks a lot darker and more run-down than I remember. Books and magazines on all the surfaces, including the floor. He still has the couch he’s had since the divorce. And it looked worn out back then. The only nice thing in the place is the big-screen TV.
    â€œHave a seat,” he says. “Just push that crap over, or dump it on the floor.”
    He goes into the kitchen. I clear a spot on the couch and sit. I’m feeling all jangly and nervous. I don’t even know how I’m going to say it to him.
    He comes back in with some glasses and plastic bottles of Coke. “I was going to get you some SynHeme, but then I figured we wouldn’t end up coming here. Sorry.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I don’t need any right now anyhow.”
    â€œTwenty bucks for a sixteen-ounce bottle. Unbelievable.”
    â€œIt’s a little cheaper when you have it delivered by the case. That’s what we do.”
    â€œRight. Of course.” He puts the Cokes and glasses on the table and sits across from me in his easy chair. How am I going to do this?
    â€œOkay,” he says. “What’s the big personal thing you want to talk about? I’m figuring it’s about a girl.”
    â€œOh, no. It’s not that.”
    â€œNo girlfriend?”
    â€œKind of. There’s a girl I like. I’m pretty sure she likes me.”
    â€œVampyre girl?”
    â€œActually, no. She’s human, but she goes to my