Riding Tall (12 page)

Joe was in charge of cleanup, and Mackenzie let himself be rolled around and then bundled under the covers, Joe’s long, strong body curled around him. “We can do anything you want,” Joe promised, kissing the back of Mackenzie’s neck.

“I just want more of that,” Mackenzie replied.

“Good,” Joe said, and his chuckle resonated through Mackenzie’s body, rocking him easily to sleep.

Chapter 9

T
HE
HOUSE
was almost exactly as Joe had pictured it in his mind: red brick, white pillars out in front, a house designed to make a statement of stability and solid upper-middle-class wealth. This was where Mackenzie had grown up, where his parents still lived. It was the place he only visited once a year, even though he lived just a few hours away.

“Karen’s already here,” Mackenzie said, nodding toward a BMW in the driveway. “Her husband is Lionel, their daughter is Peyton. Make sure you pronounce the T
properly; if it slides into any other consonant you
will
be corrected.”

Joe nodded. “Karen, Lionel, Pey-Ton. Karen’s a teacher because she loves kids, not because she couldn’t do better. Lionel’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Very good. And my brother?”

“Colin is in banking. He’s bringing a new girlfriend today. I’m hoping she’s black or blind or something, so the focus won’t be on me.”

“She’ll be blonde and able-bodied,” Mackenzie said with certainty. “You’re the designated freak of the day. Sorry.”

“At least I’m a sharp-dressed freak,” Joe said. He was wearing a pair of Will’s shoes, but the rest of him was brand new and Mackenzie-approved, so he assumed he was at least somewhat stylish. Not altogether comfortable, but it only made sense for his physical state to match his emotional one.

They stopped at the front door, and Joe said, “This isn’t going to be any fun at all, is it?”

“This is a festive family dinner, Joe. It’s not about fun—it’s about reestablishing and reinforcing the hierarchy. And you and I will be at the bottom of that, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering.”

Joe tried to let go of Mackenzie’s hand as they waited for their knock to be answered, but Mackenzie gripped his fingers tightly. “I might not have come out until university, but I
did
come out. I’m gay. They know it.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know
I’m
gay,” Joe said. “Maybe you and me are just friends….”

Then the door opened, and they were still holding hands, so that plan went out the window.

“Scott,” a silver-haired man said with a smile and an extended hand. “Good to see you, son.” Then he turned to Joe and waited.

“Dad, this is Joe Sutton,” Mackenzie said dutifully. “Joe, this is my father, Michael Mackenzie.”

“Sir,” Joe said, extracting his good hand from Mackenzie’s grip and extending it for shaking. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And you,” Michael said. “Come on in. Let me take your coats.”

It was a bit more formal than the mudroom entrances Joe was used to, but Mackenzie’s father seemed friendly enough. And when an older woman came bustling out from somewhere in the back of the house, wearing an apron over her ivory lace dress, she was smiling as well.

“Scott,” she said, reaching up to pull her son down for a kiss on the cheek. “And….”

“Mom, this is Joe Sutton,” Mackenzie said. He was sounding a bit bored, and Joe frowned at him. Maybe it was a stupid ritual, but it didn’t hurt to do it properly. “Joe, this is my mom, Carol Mackenzie.”

“Ma’am,” Joe said.

“Joe? Or Joseph?”

“Just Joe, actually. That’s what it says on my birth certificate. My brother’s Will, not William. I guess with surprise twins, my parents wanted to keep things as simple as they could.”

She laughed, a little too loud and a little too shrill, and Joe was startled to realize she was nervous. He smiled at her and glanced at her husband. If Michael Mackenzie had been a steer, he’d be the one Joe expected to bolt out of the herd, his eyes too wide and flickering around too much to be calm. This wasn’t the placid, self-satisfied family Mackenzie had led Joe to expect.

“Thank you for having me here today,” Joe said, trying to find the words that would make these people calm down. “I know it’s a time for family, and I’m really glad you’re letting me push in a little.”

“We’re pleased to have you,” Carol said, and she sounded like she meant it. Then she turned her focus back to her son, and her voice was more formal, almost careful. “You’re looking well, Scott. I guess life in the country is agreeing with you?”

“Life with Joe is agreeing with me,” Mackenzie said, and it sounded like a dare. Kind of sad that no one in the room seemed interested in taking him up on it.

“That’s good, then,” Michael said, and he clapped Joe on the shoulder.

“Careful, Dad!” Mackenzie said. “He’s got a sore side!”

“My ribs are sore, Mack. My shoulder’s fine.” Jesus, Joe had no idea why Mackenzie was wound so tight. “Everything’s fine.”

“What happened?” Carol asked, her eyes wide as she looked at the cast on Joe’s wrist.

“Just a stupid accident. I fell down.”

“He fell off the roof of a tractor-trailer,” Mackenzie said as if it made Joe sound like
less
of a loser. “He’s a volunteer firefighter. He saves lives.”

“On a good day we save lives,” Joe said. “On a bad day I just contribute to the skyrocketing costs of health care in this country.” He held up his cast as evidence.

“Well, what’s the point of living in such a wealthy land if we can’t take care of our heroes?” Carol asked sweetly. “Now, come into the living room, both of you. Karen and Lionel are here, and Scott, you won’t
believe
how much Peyton has grown.”

The T
was
a bit overemphasized, but it wasn’t enough to earn the eye roll Mackenzie sent Joe’s way as they trailed behind his parents into the living room. “Be cool,” Joe whispered, but Mackenzie either couldn’t hear or pretended he couldn’t.

The well-dressed couple sitting on the sofa with glasses of wine looked up as Joe and Mackenzie came in, but only the man stood. The little girl playing on the floor at their feet didn’t even glance in the direction of the newcomers.

“Lionel Katz,” the man said, extending his hand to Joe while simultaneously nodding in Mackenzie’s direction. “Good to see you, Scott.”

“Nice of you to drop by,” the woman agreed icily. So there was the first hint of tension that wasn’t coming from Mackenzie, but really, it wasn’t too surprising that she might resent her brother’s long absence and prodigal reappearance.

Joe wished he were better at small talk. There was probably something light and easy he could say just then that would help everyone get past the initial tension, but he had no idea what it might be. Mackenzie could have thought of something good, but he was pretty obviously not interested in lessening the tension in the room. In fact, he seemed determined to wallow in it.

So they sat where they were directed, on opposite sides of the room, and Mackenzie’s dad brought them drinks while his mother bustled back to the kitchen. Joe earned a smile when he offered to help her, but she turned him down. Which was too damn bad, because that left him stuck in the living room with the squabbling siblings. Then he remembered some of the scenes Mackenzie had been part of between Joe and Nick, and he forced himself to relax a little. Families fought. It didn’t have to be a huge deal.

Lionel and Michael returned to a conversation that had apparently been interrupted when Joe and Mackenzie arrived, something about a big corporate merger that might or might not be happening after the holidays, and they tried to get Mackenzie involved in it. Joe sat on the sofa next to Karen, both of them carefully squished to their respective ends, and forced himself to sip his beer slowly instead of gulping it. When the little girl finally deigned to notice the new arrivals, he hoped she might be a source of entertainment, but as he watched her meticulously straighten the folds of her white dress, his hopes lessened.

Still, at least she was talking to him. “Who are you?” she demanded.

“Joe. I came with Mack—Scott.”

“MacScott?” she said. It could have been playful, but there was a sneer in her voice, an eagerness to find a weakness. It would have been unpleasant in an adult, but in a child it seemed especially ugly.

But Joe smiled anyway. “Scott. I usually call him Mackenzie, but that doesn’t make much sense here, with so many Mackenzies.”

“Why do you call him that? His name is
Scott
.”

“It’s how he introduced himself to me. I guess people get to call themselves what they want.”

“People should call themselves their real names.”

“Even if they don’t like their real names?”

“They should just
like
their real names.”

“Okay. Interesting perspective. You want to play with your doll some more?”
Or do anything else, really.
Joe had never met a kid he couldn’t get along with, but he had a feeling this one might be his Waterloo.

“No. I want to talk to you. Do you know my name?” There was a light in her eye, a quick glance toward her mother that made Joe feel as if he was being invited into a trap.

“I do,” he said.

“What is it, then?”

Joe knew the mature response. Say her name, overpronounce the ‘T,’ carry on with his life. But there was just something irritating about the little brat. “Play Town,” he said.

“What? No, that’s not even a name. Do you know my name or not?”

“Play dough?”

“
Play dough
? No! That’s not a real name either!”

“Wait. I almost have it. Is it PoTaTo?” he asked, emphasizing the Ts for all he was worth.

“Mommy!” she screamed. Joe winced. He’d taken it a bit too far, apparently.

“Peyton, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“He said my name is Potato!”

The men looked over at the commotion, and Mackenzie twitched his lips in amusement. He was clearly pleased Joe was joining him in subversion, but Joe wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I was joking,” he said to the girl’s mother.

“Oh, really? You don’t
actually
think my daughter’s name is Potato?” Another line that could have been delivered with humor but was instead dripping with acid.

The girl’s head was buried in her mother’s lap, and her shoulders were shaking with sobs, but when she glanced in Joe’s direction, her face was dry. Joe just smiled at her. Fuck it—they weren’t
his
family. “Nope. Just thought she might find it amusing.”

“I don’t think she did,” Karen said archly.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” But Joe was done with that, and if Karen was waiting for an apology, she’d better get comfortable. So he smiled again and said, “Mackenzie says you’re a teacher? What grade?”

But Peyton increased the volume of her wails to a level that made conversation impossible. Carol came in from the kitchen, looking not exactly alarmed, but certainly not pleased by the commotion. “Karen, Peyton,” she said, loudly enough to be heard. “Would you like to come make the table beautiful? Peyton, you’re so good at that!”

“Let’s go help Grandma,” Karen said, shooting a dirty look in Joe’s direction. “She needs you to use your designer’s eye! Can you show her how to make the table pretty?”

Peyton was obviously torn between the chance to show off and the opportunity to milk the potato incident for a little more sympathy. Joe focused on his beer bottle and resisted the urge to make a face at the little girl. He was there to help Mackenzie, not to make things worse by taunting a child.

There was noise from the front of the house then, and two new faces appeared in the living room door, their cheeks rosy from the cold as they shed outdoor clothing.

“Uncle Colin! Aunt Moira!” Peyton screamed, and she launched herself toward them. “The mean man said I look like a potato!”

“What?” The new woman said, lifting the girl into her arms. “Who would say such a horrible thing?”

Peyton was all too ready to point out the transgressor, of course, and that was how Joe was introduced to Mackenzie’s brother and his girlfriend, who was, indeed, blonde and fit. He didn’t even try to defend himself, just shook hands as required and retreated back to his seat and his rapidly warming beer.

The rest of the afternoon went about the same way. Only Karen and Peyton were actively unpleasant, but they had a way of dominating the conversation to make it feel as if everyone was being negative and unfriendly. Peyton seemed to make it her mission to torment Joe. He knew how long that behavior would have lasted if it had been coming from one of the kids under his authority, but Karen either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and no one else dared to challenge her.

After dinner, Mackenzie’s mom finally took pity on Joe and let him help her in the kitchen. They filled the dishwasher together and put the leftover food away, then started on the pots and pans too big for the dishwasher. “You’re doing pretty well with that broken wrist,” Carol said. “And you obviously know your way around the kitchen. Do you do a lot of cooking?”