Commuters Read Online Free PDF Page B

leave. Avery wondered if he was, in fact, in for a speech about safety and the bottom line.
    “Jesus.”
    “That one daughter he has is a looker, huh?”
    “Really?” Avery wrinkled his face. That irritating kid who’d latched on to him earlier, bugging him with questions about the tattoo on the back of his hand? What was it of? (Chinese dragon.) Did it hurt? Did they use a big needle? Was his mom mad? (No, yes, who knows?)
    “You don’t think? Well, I don’t envy him. Going to be tough once all those boys start coming around.”
    Then Avery saw who Rich was talking about. Not the younger girl, her older sister. Avery saw both of them, trailing their mom, each with an armful of flower baskets culled from the tabletops. And yes, that taller one—with her waterfall of blonde hair and that skin, golden-tan and smooth as anything. He could see what Rich meant. How old was she? Sixteen? His new—what? Cousin. Step-cousin? Thinking along these lines made Avery feel perverted.
    “So, listen. I don’t want you to worry about her.”
    “Who?”
    “Your mother . She’ll get used to this—” Here Rich waved his hand vaguely at the dance floor, the Brigham family, the few remaining white-haired guests. “Stranger things have happened, in families.”
    “She’s flipping out, huh?”
    “Well. She has worked up quite a lather, but…let’s all give it time. Settle into things. There were quite a few folks unhappy when I burst on the scene, if you recall.”
    “Nah,” Avery said.
    “In any case, I wanted to give you a heads-up about something.” Here it comes, Avery thought. “This deal you made with your mom in order to move here, all the talks we’ve had—”
    “I know , Rich.” AA or NA, weekly calls to old shrink, careful transfer to new shrink, constant contact with home. One screwup and it was back to Chicago. Or worse.
    “Yeah. So, about your grandfather—”
    Avery got real quiet and stayed that way when Rich paused for his response.
    “Now that you’re both here in New York—I know, I know, it’s the suburbs—and you’re in the city, fine.” Rich hustled to cut off Avery’s first objection. “We think it’s best if you train out for regular visits with Jerry. Check in on him—you know. And it’ll be quality time for you guys. He won’t be getting any younger.”
    “I already said I would. Every once in a while.”
    Rich shook his head pleasantly. “Regular visits. Meaning once a week.”
    “Once a week ?” Avery almost fell off his chair. “So what happens if I can’t?” If I don’t, is what he thought, but he already knew the answer. They had him. He was out of that house, finally, but they still had him—and they knew it.
    “Let me put it this way,” Rich said, with a wry smile. “It would behoove you to follow through on this, for your sake. And your mom’s. She’ll talk to you more about it.”
    “Uh-huh.” Avery couldn’t help it: his inward, unreasonable reaction was a fierce, childish disappointment. Here he was, at last on his own, in New York City, and he was being forced to punch a time card with his grandfather .
    “Oh, come on. That’s not so much, is it? Bud?”
    “Grandad’s not going to know if I’m using, you know,” Avery said flatly. “I mean, I doubt he’d even be able to tell if I was high. So if this is the grand plan to keep tabs on me—well, then you’re fucked. And so is Mom.”
    Rich didn’t answer for a minute. “Avery,” he said, finally, and shook his head. Then his stepfather stood to go, and briefly rested a hand on the top of Avery’s head. “Give a call soon.”
    New York so far had proved an immense disappointment, if Avery was willing to admit that to anyone. Or himself. He’d spent the past six days riding the subway, all the way up and down the 6 and 2 lines. If a stop looked appealing—Astor Place, for example, with its funky mosaic sign and the packs of skater-punk kids exiting en masse, plugged into iPods and