The annual father-son basketball game was something Colin looked forward to every January. It had started ten years ago as a way to help Ryan and his friends burn some energy during the winter months, but it was such fun the parents had decided to keep it going. This year was bittersweet because the game they'd just played was likely to be their last. As Colin drove home from the gymnasium, he looked over at his son in the passenger seat. A wet lock of hair was stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were still red, but the kid wasn't the least bit tired. He, by contrast, was exhausted and looking forward to having a cold beer when he got home.
"Good game, hey?" he said.
Ryan grinned. "Did you see my three-pointer? Didn't think I'd make that one."
"Absolutely I did! It was a fantastic shot."
"Oh man, and Jason! He was all over you guys." Ryan started to laugh.
Colin had to agree. "Yeah, he's pretty good."
"Pretty good? Dad, he's up for a basketball scholarship. He's excellent."
"Indiana, right?"
"Yup."
"And what about you? Still looking at Stanford and UCLA?"
With that one question, the energy in the car fell flat. Ryan took a long drink from his water bottle and then answered with a nondescript shrug.
"Are you planning to apply to any schools in the east?"
Ryan focused on the basketball in his lap, running his finger over the black lines as he spoke. "I know you want me to stay, but . . ."
"It would be a lot cheaper if you went to NYU, that's all. You can live at home —"
"No." Ryan was emphatic. He seemed almost to startle himself. "Dad, I'm not living at home."
"Why not?" From the corner of his eye, he watched his son shift in his seat. There was clearly something on his mind — something he didn't want to say. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's just . . ."
He waited in silence, giving Ryan time to find the words he needed.
"It's just . . . you and Mom fight all the time."
Ah. So that was it.
He drove on in silence, trying to process what he'd just heard. It was a tough pill to swallow, that. Their arguing was driving their son away, and that realization made him sick to his stomach. College was a chance to escape and Ryan was taking it, not that Colin blamed him. How could he when he was doing exactly the same thing through Seduction?
"Ok," he said at last. That was the last either of them said on the matter.
When they reached home, Colin noticed Henry's car parked nearby. He was in the kitchen having coffee with Maureen.
"What are you doing here, Henry?" he said as way of greeting. There was nothing welcoming in his tone.
Maureen flushed and dropped her eyes to her cup.
"Business. What else?" He was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, looking for all the world like he owned the place. He drained the last of his coffee and laid the cup on the table with a satisfied thunk. "That was delicious, Maureen. You have a real talent."
Colin spied the instant coffee and whitener on the counter and rolled his eyes.
"Ryan, how are you?"
"I'm fine, sir. Thank you."
"Off to university soon, I understand." There was something odd about Henry that Colin couldn't quite put his finger on. He was being overly friendly — no, friendly wasn't the word. Familiar. That was it. He was a touch too familiar.
"That's right," said Ryan.
"What are you going to study?"
Ryan shrugged. "I don't know yet." Again he focused on the basketball in his hands. "Actually, I thought I might take a year off. Do some backpacking."
Colin looked at his son in amazement. His mouth had fallen open and in an effort to hide his surprise, he shut it tight and smiled. It was a forced grin, but surely that was better than a frown. It wasn't just escape he wanted. His goal was to be as far from his parents’ arguing as he could get.
"Is that right?" Henry's laugh was belittling.
"I think that's a terrific idea," said Colin, and he meant it. He was even a little envious.
Maureen slid off her chair and picked up Henry's mug. "More coffee?" she asked.
"Love some."
"It was nice to see you again, sir," said Ryan, and went to his room. When he was out of earshot, Henry spoke again.
"Pretty extensive renovations."
Half the kitchen was torn up now too, and the only thing separating the cooking area from dust was a sheet of clear plastic. "Contractor found rot in the floor joists," said Colin.
"Even more reason to close the deal with Miguel Costa."
"So that's why you're here on a Sunday afternoon, is it?" He watched Maureen lay the coffee on the table and slide back into her seat. She didn't offer him any and he wondered why she was even still there.
"Look," he said, anxious to get this over with, "it's simple. Either we give Costa a one point five million dollar advance, or he goes with Pete."
"One point five? You said he wanted a million."
"He did, but that was last month. He's had offers since then."
Henry uncrossed his legs and leaned into the table. The tension Colin was so used to seeing in him was returning. "Fuck," he said.
"Look, he wants to work with us. You promised Staadt Miguel Costa, so find the money and let's get on with this."
Henry rubbed his eyes. "One point five," he muttered as though it were some kind of chant. "One point five . . . one point five. Alright," he said. "Do it."
"You're telling me Charles Staadt has approved a one point five million dollar advance for Miguel Costa?"
"I'm telling you to sign Costa."
Nothing about this felt right. Not the advance and not Henry in his house on a Sunday afternoon. He must be more desperate for this deal than Colin realized. Pathos was a pretty powerful thing, powerful enough to make him ignore his instinct.
He picked up his cell phone and sent Miguel Costa a text to let him know they had a deal. "Done," he said. "I'll have a contract drawn up tomorrow."