Chasing a Blond Moon(15)
“Hey,” del Olmo said, “do I issue a congrats to the new daddy?”
Obviously word was making its way through the force. “The jury’s still out. He’s sixteen.”
The younger officer clucked in sympathy. “You can handle it, jeffe.”
“Knock off that jeffe shit.”
“Yes, Detective Dad,” del Olmo said.
Service clicked his cell phone closed and stared out the window.
“How’s Simon?” Nantz asked.
“Cute,” Service said.
“He can’t help that,” she said, smiling, “though I’d call him drop-dead buff.”
“Is everything a joke these days?” he said.
“What joke?” she responded.
They met Walter in front of his dorm. When he slid in beside Nantz, Service said, “You want to go to school here?”
“No problem,” Walter said.
“What does no problem mean?” Service asked. “You want to or you don’t?”
The boy rolled his eyes and glanced at Nantz. “No problem means no problem. Yes, I want to go to school here.”
His father said, “Good. I’ll call Blanck tonight and tell him you’ll redshirt for the year.”
“Don’t you think I should have a say in this?”
Service glared over his shoulder at his son. “Today I asked you point blank and you said you didn’t like the idea of redshirting, but it made sense and you like Blanck.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with it.”
“Well, you asked me to make the decision and I have, and there it is.”
Walter Commando rolled his eyes. “I wanted us to sit down and talk about it.”
“When? I had a call to handle.”
“No problem. But what about today—like now?”
“Okay, let’s talk.”
“Forget it,” Walter said, “You already made the decision.”
“But I haven’t told Blanck.”
“Your mind is made up. I have better things to do than argue with somebody whose mind is set and who doesn’t have any time to talk.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” Service growled.
“Boys,” Maridly Nantz said gently.
“I don’t need to go back to Gladstone,” Walter announced.
“Why, because you’re pissed at me?”
“It has nothing to do with you. Classes start tomorrow and I have enough clothes for the week. Let’s just grab some dinner. I’ll come back to the house next weekend.”
“Are you sure you have enough for the week?” Nantz asked.
Walter grinned. “Shorts, T-shirts, flip-flops and socks, light jacket, baseball hat—the off-ice hockey uniform. Can we eat? Please?”
Being a father was a lot more difficult than Service had ever imagined. How had Gus raised three sons by himself?
They ate dinner at a cafe called the Steelhead Grille. Walter didn’t have much to say and ate fast. Nantz tried to engage him, but was unsuccessful. After dinner they drove him back to the dorm.
“Do we get to see where you live?” Nantz asked.
“No problem,” the boy said, leading the way up to his third-floor room.
The dorm was old, the brick face covered with ivy that wasn’t quite making it. The room was small, recently painted, fumes lingering. Walter flopped in a chair under the two-by-four loft, his bedspring above him.
“Looks like home,” Nantz said.
Walter shrugged and slouched in his chair.
A short boy with wide shoulders and long black hair came into the room carrying a McDonald’s bag. He wore a new Tech cap backward.
“S’up, Waterbug?” Walter said. To Nantz, “He’s a centericeman.”
The boy had a thick mustache that curled down to his jawline. “Halifax DeRoches,” the boy said, offering his hand. A gentle grip, nothing to prove. Service liked that. “Hi,” the boy added.
A young woman hung back in the doorway, looking awkward.
“Karylanne Pengelly,” Waterbug announced, nodding for her to come in.
“Hi,” the girl said. She was thin with long, straight black hair. She wore a loose T-shirt, no bra, denim cutoffs with holes, no makeup.
Service saw that she had eyes only for his son.
“Where are you from?” Nantz asked.
“Thunder Bay,” the girl said. “Other side of the lake, eh?”
“Engineering?” Nantz asked.
“Zoology.” Her eyes were definitely on Walter, not his roommate.
“Well,” Service said. “Guess we ought to be going. You sure you’ve got everything you need?”
“Not a problem,” the boy said, glanced at the girl and added, “Yeah.”
“Hug,” Nantz said, reaching out her arms.