Becoming Hank: A Trellis Family Novella (Building the Circle) Page 3

  "Pizza makes you smell like the ideal woman. It's something to brag about, not be ashamed of," Trip said, straight-faced.

  "Was that a joke? Almost! I'm so proud!"

  A pillow smack to the head woke Trip on Sunday morning.

  "You sleep like the damn dead! I let myself in when you didn't answer the buzzer. I thought you were bedded down with a lovely lady somewhere. But, nope, just snoring. How was dinner?" Tom flopped onto the foot of the bed.

  "Hmm... Which lovely lady would you have chosen for me?" Trip asked, looking around groggily.

  Tom snorted. "Cute waitress, of course. Tell me I lost five bucks last night!"

  "You lost five bucks last night."

  "That's my boy! When'd you get home?"

  "About twelve-thirty. Dinner went on forever. I didn't get to the restaurant until she was leaving for the night," Trip admitted. "I walked her home."

  "And then you went up to her apartment and got laid?" Tom's voice was hopeful.

  Trip glared.

  "C'mon, man. You've been single forever. The Amy thing's been over for more than a year. Time to find a new lady. Preferably the new girl doesn't have claws."

  "We're having dinner tonight," Trip murmured with a bit of a smile.

  "Wait, 'we' who? Darla? Or Claws?"

  "Darla," Trip replied, tone incredulous. "I'm not going to date Vanessa! Let that go! I can't believe you ratted me out to Darla."

  "I made you sound like Robin Hood. Drop the shit. I helped you. Say 'Thank you, Tom.' I've earned it!"

  "Thank you, Tom," Trip parroted, tone flat. "What else did you tell her? She likes to spring little bits of information on me. I need to prepare."

  "You're going to study for your date? Good grief. You really are a morose, sad sack."

  "Morose!" Trip laughed.

  "It's the best word, right?" Tom laughed with him. "What are you going to do on your date? Don't take her for pizza."

  Trip rolled his eyes, still laughing.

  4

  Darla's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she opened her apartment door on Sunday evening.

  "What's wrong?" Trip asked.

  "Did you actually bring me flowers? On our first date?"

  He tucked the flower bouquet behind his back. "Not if it makes you unhappy."

  She continued to glare.

  "I'm sorry?" he asked.

  "Are they really for me?"

  Trip blinked. "Darla, who else could they possibly be for?"

  "Oh boy," she replied. "Sorry, Hank. I think we have to get married."

  "But you're not smiling. I'd be happier about that if you sounded happy," he replied, starting to get concerned. "Should I not give you the flowers?"

  "Of course, I'm not happy. I'm going to end up married to a morose, cranky jackass!" she complained, throwing her arms up in mock frustration.

  "But they're flowers. Not a marriage proposal. Not really," he said, confused.

  "No, Hank. No."

  "No?"

  "No. No one's ever brought me flowers before, and I've always wanted someone to give me flowers."

  "He brought you flowers? Awww!" A voice called from inside the apartment.

  Darla looked over her shoulder. "He doesn't get this."

  "Maybe he's not smart?" the voice replied.

  Darla pursed her lips. "I think he might be book-smart but not world-smart. Say hello, Hank, and give me the flowers. Stop trying to hide them. I saw them. It's too late. We're getting married."

  "Hello Hank," Trip said, not cracking a smile as he handed her the bouquet.

  Without hesitation, Darla reached up to smack him upside the head.

  "Hi, Darla," he said, grinning.

  She grinned back. "There aren't even carnations in this bouquet!"

  "MARRIAGE!" the other voice yelled.

  "Come in," Darla invited. "I'll put these in water, and then we can go. This is my roommate, Sue Babyak. She's pleased to meet you and will keep you entertained for a moment."

  "I am pleased to meet you," Sue agreed, checking him out from the couch.

  "Uh, hi Sue. Bab-jak? Baby-ak? I missed the pronunciation."

  "Both wrong. It doesn't matter, Hank. Shut up," she replied. "Turn so I can see the whole package. It's nice that you still have hair. Could use a nicer ass, though."

  He flushed red.

  "Oh, yeah. Marriage for sure," Sue said, dismissing him as she went back to her magazine. "All my roommates get married within six months of moving in with me. Darla said she'd be different. Doubtful. She teases, and you embarrass easily. Don't screw this up. She'll be gone before New Year's Eve."

  Trip held the door for Darla as they walked out of her apartment building.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, grinning over her shoulder at him. "I think most men would have run away if I told them we had to get married. You're going to be tough to scare off, aren't you?"

  He pointed in a direction and started walking, smiling at his shoes. "Well, I have to stick around long enough to get your number."

  "Are you dragging your feet on purpose? What are you doing? Why are you looking at the ground?" Darla laughed. "I don't know how to read this body language. Did I bully you into a date you don't want?"

  Startled, Trip met her eyes. "No!"

  "What are you doing?"

  "Walking?"

  "Do you always look at your feet when you're walking?"

  "Um." Trip paused, actually thinking about it. "No. No, I don't. I don't know why I was looking down. I don't want to walk too fast."

  Darla grinned. "We were fine walking back here last night. Perfectly in step."

  "I guess we were." He smiled. "I wasn't thinking about it, but you're right."

  "Why think about it now?" she asked, curious.

  His lips tipped up. "Eager to please."

  "I'm already pleased, Hank. Give it up. I'll tell you if we're walking too fast. I'm not shy. Surely, you've figured that out by now. Why are you looking at the ground, for real? This is not a good outfit to sneak a peek at my chest."

  Trip's face turned pensive. "My dad always walks a couple steps in front of my mom. It bothers me. When you're walking with someone, you walk with them. And, you may not be shy, but I am."

  Darla fell quiet, touched by the sentiment. She cleared her throat. "Where are we going?"

  "I made reservations for dinner," he said, tone light again.

  "Rich people food?"

  "Um—"

  "It is. You had to make reservations. No. We're not doing that. I want Italian beef sandwiches and bowling, Hank. Look at me. I'd be adorable in bowling shoes." Darla pirouetted in her knee-length dress, her loose hair blowing around her.

  "Bowling?" Trip asked.

  "Bowling, Hank."

  "Uh, Darla?"

  "You've never been bowling, right?"

  "Are you going to laugh at me if I say yes?"

  "I'm already laughing at you, Hank."

  Trip grinned. "You know, no one calls me 'Hank.' No one. It's either Trip or Henry."

  "Nope, you're Hank. You'll always be Hank in my brain. Let me know when you become Hank in your brain." Darla turned, walking in the other direction. "Beefs and bowling are this way."

  "You really want to go bowling?"

  "You need bowling and laughter. Yes. We're going bowling, you sad sack."

  Trip threw back his head, laughing. "Is it too soon to say I love you?"

  "I get that a lot," Darla replied, shrugging. She stopped, waiting for him. "Are you coming or what?"

  "What are you doing?" Trip asked, confused.

  "Huh?" Darla replied, looking up from her beef sandwich.

  "You're eating your Italian beef sandwich with a knife and fork. Even I know that's wrong." He picked up his sandwich, dripping au jus, and took a giant bite.

  "I don't want to eat it like that. I eat it like this."

  "If I ate my beef sandwiches like that, I would have gotten beaten up more often in high school," Trip note
d. "Are you afraid you'll drip it on yourself? You chose this for dinner!"

  "Not at all," Darla said primly, almost glaring at him for suggesting such a thing. "I like to eat the beef and then eat the bread. I'm quirky like that. It's part of my charm."

  Trip smiled.

  "I'm surprised you know what a proper Italian beef sandwich is, Hank."

  The smile didn't fade. "Italian beef is a universal truth. It crosses income brackets."

  Darla smiled back, eyes shining with joy. "I like the smile on you. You seem like someone who should have more smiling and laughter in life."

  "I'm working on it," Trip replied, his smile fading as he went back to eating.

  "Tom said your parents are assholes."

  Startled laughter made Trip almost choke on his bite of sandwich. "Tom has no room to talk. His parents are also assholes."'

  "He said that, too." Darla grinned before her face became serious again. "But you agree with him? About your parents?"

  "Holy God, yes."

  "Wow," Darla said, staring. "Why?"

  "Do you like your parents?" Trip asked, trying to sidestep the question. "Your family's probably great."

  "I left on my seventeenth birthday and never looked back. No. My family is horrible. But they don't control me, so they can go fly a kite. We're not talking about that, though. We're talking about your family."

  Trip's mouth hung open in shock. "Darla, I'm sorry. I had no idea—"

  "Of course, you didn't. Don't apologize. It's old news. I landed squarely on my feet and did fine on my own. We're talking about you. I'm not the sad-sack at this table. Tell me about your horrible parents and why you interact with them."

  Trip frowned. "They're my parents."

  "From the way Tom tells it, your dad has no scruples, and your mom is a gorgon."

  Trip's laughter exploded out of him again. "Holy cow, I really do love you."

  "Great! Do you love me enough to tell me about your family?" she asked, not missing a beat.

  Trip sighed, taking a sip of his soda. "I can't believe our first date is beefs and bowling."

  "So, that's a no?" Darla lifted her eyebrows.

  "No, it's not a no. I'm trying to think about how to explain."

  "Ah." Darla nodded, obviously waiting.

  "My grandfather, my dad's dad, was a bootstraps kind of guy. He started from nothing and made himself wealthy trading stocks and bonds. He died young. I was only four or five at the time. I don't remember him. But my dad inherited the brokerage and has spent his entire adult life trying to live up to my grandfather's legacy. I don't know if he'd admit it or if he realizes it, but it's true.

  "By all accounts, my grandfather was a stand-up guy. He invested wisely and treated people with respect. He was a man of principles and integrity. People adored him, and he did everything he could to make his corner of the world a better place.

  "My father doesn't have that touch. He's not charming. He doesn't ooze integrity. His investment choices are often questionable at best. Realizing that he didn't inherit his father's grace, most of my grandfather's investors cut bait when J.R. took over. There are still some big dollars invested in the firm, but for the most part, we get smaller investors that don't know much about investing now."

  "Like the cop and the widow?" Darla asked, watching him.

  Trip nodded. "Exactly like that. They didn't fully understand the annuity they bought through my father. Then, when the cop died and the widow had nothing, my dad refused to take that phone call."

  "So, you took the call?"

  He nodded again. "I'm sorry I didn't show up for pizza and beer last night. I wanted the widow to get her money back. It wasn't required based on the type of investment, but it was a bad investment to begin with and the right thing to do overall."

  "I'm not upset about last night, Hank."

  His lips twitched at her continued use of her own little nickname.

  "I promise I'm not," Darla said, misunderstanding his little smile.

  "Thank you."

  "So, you're more like your grandfather than your father?" Darla asked, back on topic.

  Trip smiled for real. "I don't know. I thought so, but I outright blackmailed my father yesterday."

  "Maybe more street-smart than I gave you credit for initially." She grinned.

  Grinning back, he shrugged. "Anyway, that's my father—constantly trying to live up to the image of someone long gone and failing miserably because he's utterly devoid of a conscience. My mother came from money and married my father before she, or her family, realized he wasn't like my grandfather. She's made no secret of the fact that she's regretted the decision and regretted having children with him."

  "Ouch." Darla grimaced.

  Trip shrugged again. "It is what it is. As a kid, I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandmother. My sister spent a lot of time with my mom and my maternal grandparents.

  "As a result, my sister has followed in my mother's footsteps, marrying for social standing. But, instead of staying in a loveless marriage for thirty years, my former brother-in-law took off for a Vegas weekend and never came home. Last I heard, he was working in a casino and expecting a baby with his girlfriend."

  "So, assholes all around." Darla's words were a statement instead of a question now.

  "Well, I'm doing my best to avoid it." Trip forced a smile.

  "Why not walk away?" she asked. "They make you unhappy. You looked like you were waiting for your turn to die when I walked over to your booth on Friday."

  "Well, that's not dramatic," Trip said, chuckling.

  She smiled, but it was short-lived. "Why let them make you miserable?"

  "They're family. Isn't that what family does?" Trip asked, teasing.

  "I'm the wrong person to ask, but I hope not. I hope family is better than that," Darla said, words soft with meaning.

  "You pick up the gravy-soaked bread to eat it now that the beef is gone?" Trip asked, laughing at her sandwich eating process again.

  "It's better this way," Darla replied, smiling at his unrestrained laughter.

  Darla's giggles rang through the bowling alley, causing most of the men to look her way. "They're shoes, Hank. Just put them on!"

  "Somebody else wore these shoes, though. They're nasty. I just paid to wear shoes somebody else's feet sweat in!"

  "It protects the alley."

  "Can I just wear my socks?" he asked.

  Her laughter burst forth like a siren's call again. "You'll fall and break open your rich head!"

  "When you call my head rich, are you talking about my thick locks of hair or my net worth?" Trip asked, laughing with her.

  Darla's laughter continued as Trip looked around.

  "If you keep laughing like that, I'm going to get beat up for being here with a woman way out of my league," he jokingly admonished.

  Darla's face fell as she looked around. "Relax, Hank. I won't let them beat you up."

  "Yeah, you're five feet of fighting prowess," Trip said, smiling again so she'd know he wasn't serious.

  "Five foot, two inches! Five-Two! Give me credit for the two inches. Put the shoes on, Hank. Or you will get beaten up for being snooty."

  "Snooty?" he asked.

  "I figured you were a snooty kind of guy, not a snotty kind of guy."

  "I can't say I've ever properly considered it."

  "Put the shoes on, Hank! Time to bowl."

  Frowning in distaste, he did as he was told. "We talked about my horrible family. Are we going to talk about your horrible family?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "No. My family is more like a fifteenth-date topic, not a first date topic," she said, not missing a beat as she picked out a ball.

  "Um," he hesitated, eyeing the ball rack warily.

  "Pick a ball that feels heavy, but not so heavy you can't control it when you try to throw it."

  "Bowling is about throwing around heavy balls?" Trip asked innocently.

  "We're not ma
king those jokes, Hank. Not on the first date. I didn't threaten to forget two inches that are important to you, even though you knocked two inches off my height. You're not making heavy ball jokes."

  Startled by his own laughter again, he picked up a ball to test the weight.

  "Oh, come on. The ball almost touched the pin things by the end!" Trip argued, holding Darla's hand as they walked back toward her apartment.

  "Worst. Bowler. Ever." Darla's laughter was quieter now, more subdued since picking out shoes.

  He gently squeezed her fingers. "Are you moderating the sound of your laughter? I was only teasing." He took off his coat, offering it without words.

  "No, not really," she murmured, not looking at him.

  "Darla, I was teasing," Trip squeezed her fingers again. "Your laughter is beautiful. Take the coat. Your hands are freezing."

  "I try to keep my silliness to a lesser decibel," she said softly, pulling his coat on while still walking. "I don't always appreciate the extra attention. I was caught up laughing with you earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause problems. I’ll be more careful."

  Trip paused in their walk, opening his mouth to say something.

  "Where are we going on our next date? I chose this one. We can do snooty things the next time around," she cut him off, tugging his arm so he'd walk with her again.

  "Hmm... I'm not sure I can come up with anything as disgusting as rented shoes," he replied after a second, letting his questions go unasked.

  "You hated it, didn't you?" Darla asked, giggling quietly again.

  "Absolutely." Trip grinned. "Do you work tomorrow?"

  "I don't, but you do."

  "I do," he agreed. "But I can pick you up by six or so."

  She nodded. "Snooty dinner?"

  "Snooty dinner," he agreed, pausing in front of her apartment building. "Can I finally have your phone number?"

  "No," she said, grinning up at him as she shook her head.

  "Why?"

  "Because you'd only need to call me to cancel. There will be no canceling."

  "I'm not going to cancel!" Trip laughed, enjoying her grin and the happiness dancing in her eyes.