Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [85]
Brady made sure he removed his vest and hat before visiting Petey each day. His brother would never see him in that getup if Brady could help it.
Every visit saddened Brady more. Petey seemed so down, so unhappy. And why not? He said he had fun and had friends at school, but there was nothing for him at the trailer park. Brady wanted to get rich somehow and get them both out of there.
He was distracted that evening trying to do his work at Dennis Paving. For the first time in days, he broke two stops and was tempted to try to hide them, though he knew better. No, it was best to be honest and stay on good terms with Alejandro, prove himself worthy of more work if any ever arose.
With nothing to do between work and bed, he hung out at the Laundromat, hoping to see Tatlock. He thought about seeing Petey again, but his mother would be home by then, and he didn’t need the aggravation. Anyway, desperate to find the money for the party he had promised, Brady didn’t have any for even taking his brother to a movie, so there was no sense getting Petey’s hopes up.
As he sat waiting, Brady thumbed through the entertainment magazines, reminding himself how much he missed the stage. Mr. Nabertowitz had referred to him once as a dilettante, making Brady ask for a definition.
“It’s someone who likes an area of interest and dabbles in it but is not an expert.”
“Then I don’t want to be that,” Brady had told him.
“That’s on you. You’re brand-new and you seem to have unlimited potential, but there’s only one way to move from dilettante to pro, and that’s a lot of work.”
Brady had already royally screwed that up, and now as he followed the exploits of the young hunks of Hollywood, he realized he had made his odds of getting there about as remote as they could be. He was deep into an article about a young director and his lofty ideals when Tatlock interrupted him.
“Conrad Birdie,” the man said as he swept in.
Brady rose quickly. “Need to talk to you.”
Tatlock looked at his watch. “No payment due for a few days. What’s up?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I need to skip just one payment if I could.” He told Tatlock what he planned to do for his brother.
“Come with me,” Tatlock said, and they went to the back room and sat. “And you’re no longer at home why?”
Brady explained, embellishing everything as usual.
“Makes no sense you would give up the last three performances at school.”
“Yeah, that. I wanted to give the other guy a chance. He’s going for a scholarship and all.”
Tatlock seemed to study him, squinting. “Well, I like your thinking—about your brother, anyway. Nothing more important than family. But you know what, Brady? I’m going to challenge you to follow through on that promise, but I’m afraid I’m not going to let you postpone even one payment.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you have responsibilities, obligations. Plus I see something in you. I think you can do the hard things. Find a way to earn extra money while still paying your bills. Someday you’ll be a husband and a father, and you’ll have car payments and a mortgage, and something will come up. An injury, an illness, a repair. You’ll have to adjust. That’s life, son.”
Brady could not remember ever having been so conflicted. Tatlock was talking to him like a father, respecting him almost as an adult. He knew this was wise counsel, surprising because it came from someone Brady had wronged, someone who had no reason to give him the time of day.
And yet Brady was so frustrated, so angry that Tatlock would not budge, that he imagined himself attacking the man. Except he knew Tatlock could tear him in two. Unless Brady stabbed him. Or shot him. Or something.
Brady felt himself flush and his muscles tense. What was he thinking?
“So I have to pay you and still try to pay for my brother’s birthday party?”
“You can do it. I know you can.”
“I’m glad you think so. How about a loan?”
Tatlock laughed. “That makes a lot of sense. I lend you money so you can make your payment, and you still owe me? What’s the difference between that and letting