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  Fuck James.

  Even if there is some truth to what he says. I am the new guy, after all. I don’t know a whole lot about them or what their story is. For all I know, this has all happened before and I’m some distraction for Iris to get her through a tough time.

  That’s not Iris though.

  She’s great mom; protective of her daughter. Straightforward and more of the heart-on-her-sleeve type as opposed to a one-night-stand kind of woman.

  “That guy’s a dick,” Paul says after he turns his radio down, some.

  Like I don’t know that. “Yeah.”

  “Always has been.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Iris deserves better,” he says.

  “That she does.”

  The street lights pass by.

  “Maybe something along the lines of a sexy home renovator with bulging biceps and an ass to die for.”

  I look over at him, a little taken aback by his description. All I can think of to say is, “You hitting on me, Paul?”

  He laughs and waves. “God no, I have a bro-friend. But don’t think I haven’t noticed you noticing me, big guy.” He winks at me and then watches the road.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I say after a few minutes of silence. We’re almost home now.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Iris ever see anyone before . . . you know.”

  Paul laughs hysterically. So much so that he has to pull the car over so he doesn’t hit a light pole.

  “When those two moved in, he was the only man for Iris. And when he moved out, he was still the only man for her. I’ve never seen another of the male species go in or out of there other than James – until you.”

  His answer makes me breathe easier, I won’t lie but I don’t know what the point is anyway. James is right. I’ll be gone by the month’s end. Then what? Paul composes himself and gets us the rest of the way home, mumbling a few times to himself. I spend my journey thinking.

  “Other men,” he mutters as we park. “James was just trying to get your panties in a wad, Carter.” He studies me for a moment. “From the looks of it, he was successful.”

  I give him a smile. The best one I can. “Thanks for the help tonight.”

  “No problem, mon amie,” he says. His accent resembles something somewhere between French and Italian.

  When we get out, I eye Iris’s house as Paul enters his, but instead of swinging back by to see if she’s okay, I head back into my own to work on the renovation some more.

  After all, it’s what I do.

  Half way through laying the wood flooring down in the master bedroom, I can’t seem to concentrate, or find my motivation. I toss the tools aside, grab a water out of the fridge and fall into the futon. Just as I’m about to grab for my cell phone, it rings.

  When I see who it is, calling, it’s like he has a sixth sense. “Hey Frank.”

  “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?”

  I clear my throat. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

  And he laughs at my blatant cover up. “You think I don’t know when my favorite nephew’s upset about something? I’m hurt.”

  He’s being sarcastic. “Asshole.”

  “Come on, tell your favorite uncle what’s troubling you,” he says.

  I can’t say I know where to start.

  “Before I die, Carter.”

  “I’m not sure,” I tell him, honestly. “I met this woman.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Exactly! And I don’t know when whatever’s going on between us became something more than just teasing and a little harmless flirtation but I’m confused – and kind of pissed.”

  He laughs. “Pissed at what?”

  “I had plan, Frank. A five to ten year plan.” I wave my arm around at nothing. “This wasn’t part of it.”

  I wait after reminding him of my creed, for some deep and meaningful advice to come, but the only thing he can give me is, “Maybe it is.”

  “What?”

  “Carter, haven’t you learned by now that you can’t keep people out forever? It’s just not possible, son.”

  “I’m not---”

  “Bullshit! You’ve been trying to keep your dad out for years; probably since your mom died. And ever since you were disbarred, you’ve been moving around, trying to keep life out. Hell, you haven’t dated someone seriously since Cheryl because you’re trying to keep women out. Who knows what you’ll do when you get sick of yourself.”

  I sit there, stunned. Annoyed. Peeved. I mean where does he come off telling me what I’m doing and how I’m doing it? He’s supposed to agree with me.

  “Say what you really mean, Frank.”

  “Listen kid, I know you’ve had it rough. I know it kicks you in the gut every day that goes by and you don’t hear from your old man but face it, Sacramento's where you were born, Carter. That doesn’t mean it’s where you belong.”

  His words sting a little, I’m not gonna lie. Despite my relationship issues with dad, growing up, I always loved my home. Mom was there – and Tony. I had friends, at least I did before the hooplah at the law firm, but something still rings true to what Frank is saying. “Think I’ll ever be able to go back?”

  Frank’s breath is heavy on the other end. He blows out some air for what feels like an hour. He knows all the gory details of everything that’s happened between my dad and me over the years. I pretty much know what he’s going to say. “Do you want to?”

  And that’s not it.

  I think about my brother, yes, but then I also think about Iris, and Ally even. Meg, and Paul, the Beatrice. I never would have guessed in a million years that I’d connect with people in a neighborhood like this on the coast opposite where I grew up. “I don’t know. I’m . . . this place is . . . and these people . . .”

  I can’t seem to get my thoughts straight but I don’t have to, because as though he knows what I’m trying to say, without saying it at all, Frank says, “Sometimes, when you find your home, you find your home.”

  “But mom wanted---”

  “Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve turned into, Carter.” He has a sharp edge to his words. “She didn’t give a single shit about all that other crap. She wanted her sons to be happy. Period. Whether that’s in a courtroom or a construction site has always been up to you.”

  My chest heaves and I have to fight back the urge to sob like that eight year old kid whose dad didn’t have a second to look at the bird house he’d built.

  Luckily, Frank doesn’t wait for a reply.

  “I’m not saying you don’t belong there too, Kid. When you’re supposed to go back, you’ll go back.”

  I nod. It’s all I can do. I hear someone calling for my uncle in the background.

  “I gotta go, Carter. You gonna be okay, sport?”

  I nod. Then I laugh. He can’t see me.

  “Yeah. Hey, Frank?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just make sure you call me when you’re ready for building with the big dogs.”

  “Will do.”

  I check the time when I end the call. It’s far too late to go check up on Iris even though that’s the only place I really want to be right now. Besides, I don’t know if she wants me to at this point. Plus she’s with Ally. They’re dealing with enough right now.

  “Tomorrow,” I say. “I’ll check in tomorrow.” Then I start working on the floor again.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake up late enough to know I’ll have to wait for Iris to get home from work to talk to her about everything that happened last night. But when I take the trash out about a half hour later, I see her car in the driveway across the street still and my stomach does a nose dive.

  I check the time again. Then the date.

  “Nope, she should definitely be at work,” I tell the trashcan.

  I stare over at Iris’s front door like she’ll be coming out of it at any moment. When she doesn’t, I f
ind myself without the boldness I’ve had the past few weeks. The fact that she’s home and knows I’m home and didn’t come over to talk about . . . whatever, bothers me. Instead, I head back inside and try to tell myself I don’t care if she’s made a judgment call, or what she thinks of the fact that I had a cushy job in the palm of my hands and then pissed it away.

  I said try. I did not say succeed.

  In fact I feel so incredibly bad that even after the long, hot shower I take to try and rejuvenate myself and redirect my energies, I still can’t get the look on Iris’s face from last night out of my head. I slide some jeans on and a t-shirt, which I don’t even look at, and my jacket, before I storm across the street and right up to her door.

  I knock.

  And knock and knock and knock.

  “Iris!”

  I knock again, harder this time. I ring the doorbell. I peek in through her window. I step back and holler at the damn house.

  “Iris. Your car is sitting in the driveway.” I point to it. “I know you’re in there.”

  “I know how to jimmy a lock if you need me to,” a low, feminine voice informs me. Alex comes striding up the sidewalk with a crowbar in her hands and I have to laugh.

  Mostly at myself.

  “I don’t think it’s going to come to that Alex, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Makin’ quite the scene out here, big guy.”

  I wave at the door. “She’s avoiding me.”

  “That surprises you? After what happened last night I’d be surprised if she didn’t up and move far, far away.”

  “That won’t solve her problems, trust me.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I open my mouth to answer her when the door creaks open. Iris stands there, almost completely hidden by the door. She’s got no make-up left on and bags under her eyes and even with her hair tied up like it’s a caged animal trying to escape, she still looks beautiful.

  “Hi,” she says in this small voice. Smaller than the one I remember her having when I first met her.

  “Hey.” I run a hand through my wet hair to try and resemble normalcy.

  Iris’s eyes shift to the woman next to me, now. “Hi Alex.”

  “Everything alright there, Iris?”

  “Define alright.”

  “Point taken.” Alex sets a hand on my shoulder and whispers as though Iris won’t hear her. “Listen, I’m gonna go, I have a . . . date. So . . .”

  She backs away slowly. Not that I can blame her. “A date, huh?”

  She shrugs. “What can I say?”

  She turns and skips with her crowbar in her hands and I gotta hand it to her, she is not one to get swept up in a bunch of emotional turmoil. Hers or anyone elses.

  When I turn back to Iris, she’s smiling too, kind of, as she watches our neighbor head off. She finds my eyes again and twists her mouth a little.

  “I guess we have a few things to talk about, huh?”

  “Understatement.”

  I stand there like I’ve made some huge proclamation only now that I have her full attention, I seem to have lost my train of thought. I continue to stand there like a statue made of self-righteousness.

  “Did you want to come in or were you just trying to make your presence known with all the banging and yelling and doorbell ringing?”

  That does the trick. I can at least move my feet, now.

  “I would love to come in, but what I’m really curious about is, why are you here?”

  She leaves the door open as she turns to retreat inside her home and I step inside.

  “I live here.” She shuffles back down the hallway.

  “No I mean, why aren’t you at work?”

  I close the door behind me as Iris pulls the blanket around her tighter.

  “I’m sick.”

  I laugh. “Iris, you’re not sick.”

  “I’m not?” She stops and turns.

  “No, you’re just . . .” She reminds me of someone. Me. So instead of trying to give her advice, I tell her a story. “Did I ever tell you I was engaged once?”

  Her eyes grow big. “Um, no.”

  I motion for her to sit on the long comfortable sofa in the back living room that sits across from the kitchen.

  “Well I was. And I was also a lawyer.”

  “That part I know.”

  She plumps down and grabs a pillow, then hugs it tight. I scratch at the back of my neck and take a seat next to her. I guess there’s not time like the present to get everything out in the open.

  “Right.”

  “So did you really get disbarred?”

  I nod once. “I did.”

  “Were you involved in something illegal?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Dangerously illegal?”

  “No.” I laugh.

  “Do you want to expand on that?”

  “I think at this point, I need to. Don’t I?”

  She crosses her legs like she’s getting ready to hear an exciting story with happy endings. I hate to tell her, this story has a ways to go to be considered a happy one.

  “I guess I should start by telling you, I’m the eldest of two boys belonging to the great Kenneth Blackwood, licensed attorney to California and nine other states in the continental US.”

  “You have a brother?”

  It strikes me as funny that she’s not impressed with the name I just threw out there, which admittedly is a relief, but more with the fact that I have a sibling.

  I nod.

  “From the time I can first remember, we were raised to be lawyers. When we were little, we debated everything from school work to homework, study habits to chores around the house and when we were old enough, my father put my brother and me in a magnet program that specifically taught us everything we needed to know about the law so that when we graduated, we’d have a head start in college.”

  “You mean like ROTC, only for lawyers.”

  Never had it compared that way before, but . . .

  “Right. Well, I told you about Habitat for Humanity?”

  She nods and bites her lip like she knows what’s coming.

  “My passion for building things started when I was young but I was so engrossed in making dad proud and happy that I went with the status quo, you know? Stayed the path. But that year was different for me. When I got home from that trip, I tried to tell him that I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore.”

  “I’m guessing he didn’t listen,” Iris says, with all her intuitiveness and beauty.

  “No. He did not.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, well, Dad never did hear anything he didn’t want to hear, so . . .”

  An awkward silence falls between us. I can’t tell what Iris is thinking. And maybe I don’t want to know, so I continue on with my story.

  “The other thing you should know is, we grew up with a strong sense of being guilted into just about everything our parents wanted us to do.”

  “You should try being a part of the PTA sometime,” she snorts.

  I momentarily forget what I’m saying.

  “Sorry, go on,” she urges.

  I shake my head and regroup.

  “Anyway, his plan was always to keep Blackwood and Associates in the family. I was at the height of that plan. He wanted me to be the best, always. Then eventually, I’d take over some day and consequently, train my brother.”

  “It’s not difficult to guess that’s not how things went down.”

  “Nope. Although I gave it a good run for a while there. And honestly, the money was so much better— I didn’t have any problems getting enough money down to Spencer every month. When he started college I practically insisted he go to U of M.”

  Iris’s eyes are full of sympathy. At this point, I don’t know if it’s directed toward me, or Spence.

  “I still don’t understand the disbarment. You don’t get disbarred for having a conflict with your father,” she says.

  “No, Iris,
you don’t. But you do get disbarred for throwing your case.”

  Her mouth falls open and her eyes bulge. “What?”

  “I’d gotten this rape accusation case from my dad. It was the first case that was my very own and he wanted to see how I would do – you know, show him a ‘what I’m made of’ kinda thing.

  The only body language I get from Iris is telling me to go on, so . . . I go on.

  “I had a bad feeling about it from the go, though. A gut feeling I guess, plus my dad had handled a case for this guy quite a few years prior and I already didn’t like him.”

  Hated him, actually.

  “I practically begged Dad not to give it to me, but he insisted. He said it was an important case. But, all the while I’m interviewing him and studying his discussions with the police, I’m looking for something to prove him guilty. But I didn’t find it.”

  “So he was innocent?”

  I shake my head. “He was such a douche that guy – and smug! Jesus, I wanted to smack the cockiness right out of him on a daily basis.”

  I’m taken back to one particular meeting with him in my office at B&A when he practically dared me to prove he did it and I grow angry all over again.

  “Carter, what happened? How did you---”

  “It was a weird day from the word go. I woke up with this unsettled feeling. I tried to go about my normal daily routing, you know? I showere. I shaved. I dressed. I prepared for another day in court. And then, while I was making my breakfast, staring down at my over easy eggs, sprinkling pepper on them, it hit me: cell towers.”

  “Cell towers.”

  “Yeah, cell towers. Everyone checks the phone calls and texts and he was smart there. He didn’t use his phone. I’d gotten a copy of his cell tower pings at the same time I’d gotten his phone records but I never checked them. I figured if there wasn’t anything in his sent and received records, there probably wasn’t anything there either. But there was, Iris.”

  “What?”

  “The guy had lied to me. It was plain as day. Right there in front of my face, he said he hadn’t been on her side of town in quite a while. Even went as far as to say it had been a good six months since he visited anyone in that area.”

  “But he had?”

  “Yeah, and it wasn’t a piece of evidence he was going to be able to hide or get his daddy to pay someone to get rid of either.”