Dad, Meet Wally
In which Lawrence is a Good Dad.
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Wally popped another Cheeto in his mouth as he lounged on the couch and channel surfed. Mingled with the munch, munch of the junk food and the insipid blare of the television, the familiar sounds of a departing Artemis also pervaded his ears: the jangling of the car keys in her hand, the steady tread of her shoes, sometimes the drumming of her fingers on the kitchen table or the rustle of clothing as she pulls on a jacket.
"You ready to go, babe?" she calls as she strides down the hallway and into the living room, where Wally is currently seated.
"Totally, babe," he spatters through two mouthfuls of Cheetos. He swallows down the remnants of his snack, licks his fingers, folds the bag, places it on the coffee table. Shuts off the TV, stands up, brushes off his khaki slacks.
His girlfriend is waiting by the door, fingering the collar of her cardigan as she gives him a once-over.
"Before we go," Artemis enunciates as Wally moves to put on his shoes, "I, ah, probably should have told you this before, but I'm not exactly expecting you to hit it off with my dad. He can be kind of intense. And you might find him a little intimidating."
"Well geez, you certainly sound optimistic about this dinner," her boyfriend deadpans as he jams his foot into the loafer.
"My dad's just kind of a hit-or-miss guy, that's all. And, well, let's be real here: you, you're just bound to be a miss for him. Nothing personal." Her arms were crossed, a small smirk playing at her lips. She looked a little too smug for Wally's taste.
He made a face—a particularly indignant one, to be exact. Artemis smirked all the wider.
Sure, Wally West didn't know much about his girlfriend's father other than that his name is Lawrence and he's a corrections officer, but that didn't mean that Wally was predestined to be loathed by Mr. Crock. Sure, the man could be the "Stay Away From My Little Girl" macho dad type, but quite frankly West was a bit insulted that Artemis had already decided he had zero chance of pleasing Papa C. Come on, now. In fact, the Physics major was convinced that if he put some of his Wall-man charm into play, he had at least half a chance of not making Lawrence want to murder him.
The redhead's hands are on his hips. "What makes you so sure I'm 'bound to be a miss', huh? I'm thinking I'll be a resounding hit—a home run, if you will. Yeah. An in the park home run."
"Yeeaah, o-kay," she drawls with a grin and eyes twinkling with mirth. Her brow arches and she points at his polo shirt. "But you might wanna get all that Cheeto shit off your shirt before you step up to the plate."
"What—oh, uh, yeah. Right."
xxxxXxxxx
They pull up to the old Crock home at six sharp. Wally examines it after he slams the car door shut: It's small but quaint. The paint is chipping on the white garage door, but it's otherwise in nice condition, especially for an older house. And the driveway is perfectly shoveled, even with the snowy winter they were having.
The boy follows as Artemis strides up to the front door, where she does some sort of special knock and promptly lets them both in herself.
The warmth of the indoors is a relief. A delectable aroma permeates the air, and there's some sort of meat sizzling on the stove. Wally's mouth waters.
"Hi, Dad," Artemis calls as they remove their shoes and hang their jackets on the coat rack.
"Artemis! Come on in, baby girl, I'm just finishing up the meal," replies a gravelly voice from the kitchen. She complies and her partner follows suit.
The man turns away from the stove and smiles benignly at his daughter.
"It's so nice to see you, baby girl," he croons before engulfing Artemis in a hug.
"Nice to see you too, Dad," she replies lightly as he releases her.
"You know this is my favorite part of the week. Well, have a seat, girlie, food's about done."
He then notices the redhead lingering by the kitchen table, and dons an expression similar to that of one who just witnessed a stoner puke all over his '98 Chevrolet Camaro. Or, more precisely, the expression of a dad who just remembered that his daughter was bringing over her boyfriend to crash their weekly Sunday evening family dinner.
That's when the fun began.
This might not go quite as well as he had hoped, Wally thinks. Because, well, for starters: Lawrence was roughly the size of three and a half grown men combined; the way he looked at the young man didn't exactly give the impression that he was currently too thrilled about this dinner for three or about Wally's general existence; and Wallace West got the distinct feeling that this was the sort of man who would rip out your spine with his bare hand if you so much as looked at him—or better yet, his daughter—the wrong way. It took all of three seconds for Wally to decide that maybe macho dad was a bit of an understatement for Larry here.
Okay... I think I might just be able to see what Arty was getting at.
After Lawrence stands there glowering at him for what seems to Wally like six whole eternities, the big man moves to shake his hand.
"You must be Artemis' boyfriend," he says frostily. His grip is like iron and as cold as his tone. "I'm Lawrence Crock."
"Wally West," he manages with what he hopes is an affable smile. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Crock."
Lawrence Crock stares him down for a moment more before begetting a curt nod and a noise that sounded like a cross between a grunt and a hum. Then he turns back toward the stove to serve dinner.
Wally feels his synthetic smile melt off of his face before he takes a seat beside his girlfriend. Who, of course, had watched the entire episode with the same smug smirk she was giving Wally now. "Told you," she mouthed, not that it was needed. The boy glared daggers at her.
Well, I'm not giving her the satisfaction. I'm not done yet. Home-run, Wall-man, remember? Er, well, maybe not in-the-park, but a home run still.
Artemis' old man sets the plate of two large steaks on the table, then brings out the bowls of corn, mashed potatoes, and broccoli, respectively. The table is already set.
"Help yourself, now. Dig in, I made it myself."
Well, it didn't matter if he was in King Crock's domain, nobody had to tell Wally West to dig in twice. He hit up those spuds and beef like they were the last meal he'd ever eat.
Lawrence opted to sit across from Artemis. For a few moments, they were graced with nothing but the sound of forks clinking on the bowls and plates. Then Mr. Crock elected to have a daddy-daughter chit-chat time while he blatantly and blithely ignored the other man at the table.
"So, how's college been going for you, baby girl? You like your classes?" Lawrence cuts off a large hunk of steak and is quite amicable (now that his attention is on his daughter rather than her boyfriend, of course).
"It's been going well. And yeah, especially Vietnamese Lit."
"I'm glad to hear that. And enjoy this time in your life, baby girl, but you better not slack off. College is a luxury I couldn't afford, you know."
"Of course, Dad, I know. My grades are my priority."
"Good. You know, I could have gotten a football scholarship and played in college had it not been for that heart condition. But then I might not have met your mother, so everything works out in the end."
Wally's ears perked up. Okay, time to make my move. Home-run time.
"You played football in high school, Mr. Crock?" Wally asked in a cheery manner.
Lawrence's demeanor morphed back into that of a rock. "Yes. Linebacker."
"Were you good?"
"Yes."
"Make a lot of sacks?"
"Yes."
"Was your team good?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever make it to state finals?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever win state finals?"
"Yes."
Out of the corner of his eye, Artemis kept busy with her food to stifle her bubbling amusement.
Wally tried another approach.
"My Uncle Barry was a wide receiver in high school and played in the NFL. I think he went to your high school...did you know him?"
The boulder seated at the opposite side of the table chewed his steak pensively. "'Flash' Allen? Sure. Everybody did."
Yes, a hit!
"Never liked that smug asshole." Lawrence wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Wally deflated. So much for the home-run.
Artemis placed her hand on Wally's, then cut in and asked her dad how work was going ("An inmate stabbed another inmate in the yard yesterday, now we're on lockdown"). She probably could only take so much of her boyfriend totally striking out without bursting into laughter, Wally thinks. Surly-Rock-Lawrence was gone and subsequently replaced with Happy-Dad-Lawrence as he chatted with Arty.
Better he talks with her than glares at me, I guess. Wally busies himself with his fourth serving of everything.
"How has your sister been?" the father presently asks Artemis. "I haven't seen her much these past few years. She's not too fond of her old man anymore, I'm afraid. But I can't blame her." A tired, wistful sigh crawls out of the big man. Wally is surprised that a super-alpha-mega-macho dad like Lawrence was physically capable of such a noise.
His youngest daughter reached across the table and gave Dad's hand a consoling pat. "Don't be hard on yourself, Dad. What happened to Mom wasn't your fault. There's nothing you can do about Jade, but she'll come around soon. Just be patient with her."
"I guess you're right," Lawrence mutters. Pokes at his potatoes. "She still dating that Harper character?" He spits out the word Harper like it leaves a sour taste on his tongue.
Artemis shoved a spoonful of corn in her mouth to keep from grinning. "Uh, yeah. Roy told me he's planning on proposing soon, actually."
Mr. Crock grumbled his disapproval. "I wish Paula was still alive to talk some sense into that girl; she'd listen to her mother... I don't know what she sees in that pompous ratass..."
The youngest Crock shrugs. "I know, Dad. I dislike Roy Harper as much as the next guy...," she glances next to her at the redhead inhaling his fifth serving of meat, "But, I guess if Jade's happy with him, that's what counts, right? I mean, didn't Mom's dad disapprove of you, too?"
Lawrence slowly finished his last bite, flitted his eyes to Wally and back to Artemis again, wiped his mouth, and sighed. "I will concede that much."
Wally produced a choked spluttering sound on his mouthful of steak when he looked up a moment later to find both Crocks' eyes on him.
The blond man grimaced. "But that doesn't mean I have to like this yahoo. That's up to you, Artemis, Lord help you."
Artemis tittered, then eyed the yahoo-in-question fondly. "I know, Dad. I think I'll do just fine at that."
xxxxXxxxx
The only sounds in the apartment complex parking lot were two car doors slamming shut and the susurration of softly falling snow. And then, the sounds of Wally West kissing his girlfriend beneath the streetlight in the crisp night air and saying, "Admit it, babe. I was totally a resounding hit."