Page 14 of The Hang Up
“Nice one,” Jason said. “Like he wasn’t already fixated on the whole penis/vagina thing.”
“Well until you said that, he probably had no idea what a baloney pony was.”
Henry giggled again and pointed at him. “Uncle Jason has a baloney pony.”
“That I do, kiddo.”
Ellie leaned closer, lowering her voice. “So you didn’t answer my question—you’re spelunking with the PR girl?”
“Miriam,” Jason said, liking the way her name sounded rolling off his tongue. “Yes. It’s just business.”
“You mean so you can give her pointers on caving or so she can give you pointers on being a refined and polished CEO?”
“Once again, yes.”
Ellie snorted. “If you come back here wearing a three- piece suit and lifting your pinkie when you drink tea, I’m calling the cops.”
“Actually, that’s the cool thing,” he said as he remembered his conversation with Miriam in the conference room the other day. “She doesn’t seem to want to change me much at all. She thinks the whole scruffy mountain man thing is good for the Urban Trax brand.”
“No kidding?” Ellie slugged him in the shoulder. “I hope she at least gets you to do something about your hair.”
“What’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing, if you want to look like Sasquatch just rolled out of a tent after sleeping in a beanie all night.”
“Maybe that’s exactly the look I’m going for.”
“In that case, you nailed it.” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the house. “Come on. I think the helmet’s in the toy box.”
Ellie led him through the living room and into a corner of the small space she’d designated as Henry’s playroom, for all the good it did. The whole house was essentially Henry’s playroom, as was the world at large.
“I know it’s in here somewhere,” Ellie called from the depths of the red-and-yellow hand-painted toy box Jason had made for Henry when the boy was barely two. Back before cancer and chemo and all the heartache that came with it.
“It’s gotta be in here,” Ellie said, tossing out a plastic dinosaur, a mini basketball, and a broken lightsaber. “Here it is!”
She stood and held up the helmet triumphantly, her hair rumpled and wild and her face sweet and lovely and familiar as the back of his own hand. Jason was tempted to tousle her hair again, but he settled for taking the helmet.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Ellie nodded at the helmet. “Was this what you always meant when you used to remind me to bring protection on dates?”
He laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of a Glock or a Magnum, but a condom would have sufficed.”
“I’m glad it didn’t,” Ellie said, shooting a loving glance at her son, who was back to tapping cheerfully on the pots and pans. “Even if his dad turned out to be a d-i-c-k-h-e-a-d, I got the better end of the deal.”
“That you did,” Jason agreed. He glanced down at his watch. “Look, I’ve gotta run. Call me if you hear from the doc with any new info?”
“It’s Saturday. I doubt we’ll hear anything until at least Monday.”
“Okay, then call me if you need anything. Or he needs anything. Or you run into any trouble with?—”
“Go, Mr. Overprotective.” His sister shoved him toward the door. “We’ve got it covered.”
“I know you do,” he said, but he let her propel him back toward the entryway. “But I still worry about you.”
“And we appreciate that. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, but you can relax every now and then, too, you know. Especially since he’s in remission now.”
Jason started to argue. To tell her there was no way he could ever let himself relax. Not when his family needed him, or when they’d come so close to losing Henry last year?—
