Free Mean Season by Heather Cochran Page B

His closet door was open, too, and a huge pile of clothes and books and sporting equipment spilled out onto his floor. “Momma’s making pancakes,” I said. “You don’t want to miss pancakes.”
    Beau Ray turned over. “Pancakes?” he asked and started to sit up.
    â€œBlueberry. Come soon,” I said.
    Beau Ray followed me into the dining room. He took a seat across from Joshua and smiled at him. Joshua looked up from the paper.
    â€œMorning, Beau Ray,” he said.
    â€œMorning, cool man Joshua Reed,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me.”
    â€œBeau Ray!” I snapped.
    Joshua seemed surprised, then amused.
    â€œBeau Ray, you know we don’t say that,” I said.
    â€œFuck me! Fuck me!” Beau Ray said. Joshua started laughing.
    â€œIt’s not funny,” I told him, but Beau Ray looked so pleased with himself and with Joshua that I found myself fighting a grin.
    â€œShh,” Joshua said to Beau Ray. “We don’t want your mother to hear.”
    â€œShh,” Beau Ray said back, nodding and winking.
    Momma brought a plate of pancakes to the table. “Who’s ready for the first round?” she asked. “Morning, angel,” she said to Beau Ray. She kissed him on the head.
    Beau Ray was already poking at the pancakes with a fork. “Yum. Pancakes,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me!”
    Joshua and I went silent.
    Momma turned to me. “Leanne,” she said, frowning.
    I shrugged and turned to Joshua, who started to laugh.
    Momma looked pissed. “It’s not funny,” she said to him. “I don’t know how you live your life out there in California, but here, in this house, we don’t use bad language.”
    â€œFuck me,” Beau Ray said. “Cool man don’t use bads.” He giggled.
    â€œSee what I mean?” I told Joshua, who was still laughing.
    â€œIt’s not funny,” Momma said again, even angrier.
    â€œI know,” Joshua said. But he wasn’t doing a very good job of looking sorry. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. It won’t happen again.”
    â€œJoshua Reed say sorry,” Beau Ray said.
    â€œI am sorry,” Joshua said to my mother.
    He had found his focus and was wearing his apologetic look. I guess Joshua Reed always played guys who messed up, because I swear I’d seen that same look in every one of his movies. His eyes were wide open and sad, and his chin was tilted down, so that he was looking up at Momma through his lashes. After he spoke, his lips stayed slightly open, and the effect was a much younger, more innocent Joshua Reed. I couldn’t look away. It was a complete transformation. I don’t know whether Momma bought it, but she shook her head and left the room. Once she was gone, Joshua’s face returned to normal—or to the sour version of normal he’d worn from the moment he’d walked into our house. He took a bite of pancakes and turned back to the paper.
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    â€œI want to ask you,” Joshua said. Breakfast was over. Beau Ray had gone to take a shower, and Momma had left for work. “What’s the deal with the TV?”
    I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Is there something wrong?”
    â€œWell, I couldn’t figure it out. Where’s the cable box? How does it work?”
    I cringed. I’d forgotten to mention it, because it had never been a big deal before. But I had a feeling that it was about to become one.
    â€œWe don’t have cable,” I told him. “It hasn’t come up the road yet.”
    Joshua blinked at me. “You’re kidding,” he finally said. “You’re not kidding?”
    I shook my head. “There’s cable in Charles Town—but that doesn’t help you,” I said.
    â€œYou can’t get cable? Who can’t get cable?” Joshua seemed confused. “Then what about