"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Roberts," Richie said to Coach Roberts' wife later
that night on the phone. "He was a great guy, practically a father to
every guy on the team. I'll make sure everyone comes to the funeral
Friday. Bye." He hung up.
He lay on his bed staring at the walls Greg had painted a light blue two summers before. The whole room was shades of blue. Blue walls, blue shelves, blue carpet, and blue bedclothes. Richie had never thought of it before. but it was an extremely blue room. He didn't even really like blue. Tessa had put him in blue a lot when she bought him clothes. He hadn't really minded; all his foster mothers liked to dress him in blue. Greg was the one who liked blue. Richie had gotten no say in how his room was decorated. His room at the team house had been painted in the school colors years before he had gotten there, so he hadn't decided there either, but Greg deciding for him rubbed him the wrong way. There was a soft knock on his door.
"Rich?"
"Come on in, Mac," Richie said sitting up.
"Do you want to be alone?" Duncan offered as he opened the door.
"You're fine."
"I just wanted to check on you. Adam said to give you this," he added handing Richie a bottle of beer.
Richie smiled faintly for a second as he took the beer then went back to studying the walls. There were framed pictures of Richie's childhood sports heroes, a few of Greg, one of Richie's basketball team at the Y, and one of Richie and Greg from when Richie was ten.
"What are you thinking?" Duncan asked as Richie took the picture of him and Greg off the wall.
"I don't like blue," Richie said.
"You wear blue all the time," Duncan pointed out, wondering where this was leading.
"Yeah, but I don't like it."
"May I ask why you are worrying about this?"
"I'm just saying. You asked what I was thinking. and I think I don't like blue."
"I'm going to bring up one more point then we can drop it. You're whole room is blue."
"I know," Richie said looking around again. "And I don't like it."
"Then why did you do it like this?"
"I didn't. Dad did. I came home one day and it was all blue. Just like my room when I was a kid."
"Then redo it."
"I don't think he'd let me."
"Richie, are you okay?" Duncan asked. "You seem a little off."
"I'm fine, Mac."
"Who were you talking to?"
"When?"
"Just now, on the phone."
"Mrs. Roberts. She had called me at the team house and left a message."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about? He died, Mac. We all knew it was coming."
"And?"
"And I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine. but if you ever do."
"Mac I know. Just because I'm a little out of it right now, doesn't mean you have to talk to me like I'm still in diapers."
"Sorry."
They sat in silence. "I really liked him," Richie said staring at his desk. "I know he was old and sick. but. I even knew this was coming and I'm not ready. I know it's selfish. but. I wanted him to at least see us win it for him. I promised him we'd do it and he died before we did."
"Seeing you miss that shot nearly killed me; you should be grateful Coach didn't have to watch," Greg said from the doorway.
Duncan immediately jumped to Richie's defense. "How can you say something like that to him?"
"You missed a free throw," Greg continued to scold Richie, ignoring Duncan. "That's the easiest shot there is. Nobody was guarding you. You had all the time you wanted. And what did you do? You choked!"
"Dad, don't start," Richie said quietly.
"You could have won the game. You should have won the game! I taught you everything I knew about the game. The set up couldn't have been more perfect for you to show the world that you're just as good as your dad. instead you blew the whole thing."
"I don't know if you noticed, but we won," Richie snapped. "AND this has nothing to do with you! I wasn't trying to show anybody anything. I just wanted to win and we did. So what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is you let me down," Greg told him.
"You know something? I don't even know why we're talking about this. The game doesn't matter any more. Coach died today, Dad. Why are you freaking about the game?"
"You let me down!"
"It's just a game!"
"Greg, leave him alone," Duncan cut in.
"Oh, that's right; I forgot. your bodyguard is here."
"Get off it!" Richie yelled, standing up. "This is ridiculous! You are the most heartless control freak I have ever met!"
"Watch your tone, young man."
"NO! Stop telling me what to do! I can take care of myself!"
"You're about to have to," Greg warned him. "I am your father and I will not allow you to act like this in my home. I don't know who you think you are, but let me set you straight. You are my son and you will do as you are told. Do you understand me?"
"Get out," Richie told him in a low voice.
"Excuse me?"
"I said get out."
"I believe this is my."
"GET OUT!" Richie yelled in his face, pointing at the door.
"You have ten minutes to pack your things," Greg told him. "Until you learn to behave like an adult, I will not allow you to live in my house." He turned and left.
"I was going to LEAVE ANYWAY!" Richie yelled down the hall at him before slamming his door.
"Richie," Duncan started. Richie turned and glared at him. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
"Mac," Richie said as Duncan opened the door. "I'm not."
"I know. I'll be downstairs."
Duncan went into the living room where Adam was waiting.
"I hear we've been invited to leave," Adam said.
"Once Richie comes down," Duncan agreed.
Five minutes later, Richie thundered down the stairs. "Let's go," he said not looking at Greg.
"Richard," Greg said.
"What?"
"I'm disappointed in you."
"I don't give a shit."
"When you're ready to apologize."
"Hell will have frozen over. Let's go," he said turning for the door. Adam followed with a slight smirk on his face.
"If you give him any trouble," Duncan warned Greg. "I'll kill you."
. . . . . .
The team filed to the front of the church. Mrs. Roberts had asked that they all say something at the funeral.
"Coach was an awesome man," a freshman said. "He always made you feel like you were part of his family. He always had time for you if you needed to talk about anything. I just wish I had more time to play for him."
"My brother played for Coach a few years ago," a sophomore told everyone. "Every vacation, he would come home and tell us how cool he was. I just had to see for myself. I wasn't disappointed. If anything, Coach was better than my brother ever told us. He was the best coach I've ever played for."
"Coach gave everyone a chance," Young said with tears in his eyes. "He would do everything he could to make sure everything worked out for you. He had high standards and he held us to them, but if we fell short, he made sure we had the help we needed. He was a very understanding man and I know we're all going to miss him."
Richie went last. "I've known Coach since I was eight. I used to go to all of the home games when he coached for Washington. I remember him taking me out on the court so I could show him what I'd learned. Even if it was something as stupid as dribbling the ball, he made me feel like I was the only person in the world who knew how to do it. The only dream I ever had was getting to play for him. I knew him for fourteen years and it still wasn't enough."
Later on that night, Duncan went to the team house to say good bye to Richie before he headed back home. Nobody knew where he was. It took some looking but Duncan finally found him, still dressed from the funeral, sitting in the cemetery staring at Coach Roberts' tombstone.
"Thought you might be here," Duncan said, sitting next to him.
"Wasn't ready to leave, yet," Richie answered his cheeks still stained from crying. Duncan sat quietly waiting for Richie to talk. "It's not fair," Richie nearly whispered. "How come everyone dies, but I can't?"
"Richie, nobody knows why some people are immortal and some aren't. That's just the way it is."
"I hate this, Mac. It's not fair."
"No."
"Everyone I ever get close to dies."
"I know, Richie."
"I mean, I had to do this with Emily, then Tessa, now Coach. someday this is going to be Heather."
"Is that what's bothering you? One day Heather is going to die?" Duncan asked.
"Mac, I love her. I mean, like, I really love her. I don't know if I can do this again. I mean, if I get this upset over a basketball coach."
"Richie, you really looked up to Coach Roberts. You practically worshiped him. You have every right to be upset about this. You're not overreacting."
"None of the other guys."
"Hey, none of the other guys knew him as long as you did. They didn't grow up going to his games. He didn't watch them grow up. You can't gauge your feelings by theirs."
"I really miss him, Mac."
"You should. He was a great guy. He spent a lot of time with you. That's not something you can just forget."
"I spent a lot of time with Emily, too, and I don't even know what she looks like."
"You were a baby. You were too young to be able to remember."
"But."
"Have you forgotten Tessa?" Duncan asked.
"No, of course not."
"Then why would you forget Coach Roberts?" Richie shrugged. "A lot of the time when someone close to you dies, you start to get these irrational fears. Like being afraid you're going to forget. Richie, you're an adult; you're not going to forget anything." Richie didn't answer. They sat quietly for another ten minutes or so before Duncan stood up. "Do you want some dinner?"
"No," Richie shook his head. "I think I'm going to stay here a little longer."
"Okay. I'm leaving in the morning, so if I don't see you before then, I'll see you when you come home."
"Bye, Mac."
"Bye, Rich."
. . . . . .
A few weeks later, Richie was more or less back to his old self and back home at the dojo. School had gone well and somehow he had scraped up all A's despite the continual interruptions that had happened. He had decided that he and Greg were through and even made everyone promise that if he started to go back to hold an intervention to stop him.
Life at the dojo was going great. He worked during the day at the dojo and usually helped Joe at the bar at night. He was very busy. Duncan thought he was doing it all for the cash, but the young man never seemed to spend any on himself. If he went to the store, he would pay and refuse to let Duncan pay him back. "You've been feeding me for years, Mac," he had argued. "It's about time I start helping out with the grocery bills." But other than those few insistent times, Richie was saving every penny he earned.
Finally, Duncan couldn't take it and sat him down. "Richie, what are you doing?"
"You and Adam are always telling me to save my money when I can," Richie shrugged it off. "And right now I kinda need to," he added.
"What happened?"
"I quit the team."
"You what?"
"Quit the team."
"Richie, why? You love basketball."
"I don't think I do anymore."
"Is this one of those 'I don't like blue' things?" Duncan asked.
"Huh?"
"In your room at Greg's, remember? You decided you didn't like blue."
"Then I guess so."
"You going to explain or do I get to make a reason up?"
"I like soccer," Richie told him flatly.
"So why do you play basketball?"
"Greg made me. He tricked me."
"He tricked you? I thought he let you play both."
"He made basketball a bigger deal than soccer. He would take the whole ball team out for pizza when we won; with soccer he would just fuss over me until we got home. I got more attention when I played basketball."
"You've been reading your psychology book again, haven't you?" Duncan asked.
"So what if I have? It's true. He tricked me into making me just like him."
"Because he gave you more attention when you did what he wanted you to."
"Yeah."
"What did he do when you did what he didn't want you to do?" Duncan asked. "What he does to you now?"
"He never hit me, Mac," Richie said. "I mean, sure there were a few swats on the butt. but nothing abusive."
"There's such thing as verbal abuse, Richie. I've stood there while he did it."
"Mac, don't make a federal case out of this," Richie groaned. "I'm just saying, I decided to quit the team because I don't know if I like it anymore."
"What does this have to do with you overworking yourself?"
"I'm not. I'm just saving up for an apartment. I can't stay at the team house anymore."
"What about the dorms, Rich?"
"I've looked into that and I'm on every waiting list possible. But the people that lived there last year get preference and it looks like everything will be full."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Get an apartment. I'm going down a month early to look."
"You're giving yourself a month to find an apartment?"
"I gotta work some; I need the money. Besides, Steven said that a lot of kids going away to college sublet their apartments for the year. there's a good chance I can get one of those."
"Where are you going to stay while you're looking?"
"Heather's."
"What about your job? Isn't The Stadium athletes only?"
"I got that covered."
"What are you going to do?"
"Take care of Brandon and Courtney," Richie admitted uncomfortably. "Kinda like how I used to do odd jobs and run errands for rent money for you and Tessa. I'm gonna take care of Brandon and Courtney while I stay with Steven and Melinda. And then, if I move out before I get a job, they're gonna pay me."
"Richie."
"Mac, I don't need any of your money. But thanks."
"Actually, I was going to tell you that you have a trust fund that you can use if you need to."
"I thought I got that when I turned twenty-one?"
"You have a few coming your way. You get one when you turn twenty-three that's as big as the first one. And then one at thirty and the last one at thirty-five, those two are bigger."
"Oh. those all from Tessa?"
"Two of them; I don't remember which. The other two we set up as soon as you moved in."
"Wow, thanks."
"Just so you know. You'll always be covered."
. . . . . .
When Richie told Joe about his situation Joe insisted on putting Richie on salary. He told him he'd pay him just as much as the other bartenders. but actually paid him five dollars an hour more. Richie worked extra hard for a month before he took his week vacation from each job at the same time. Heather was coming to visit and he wanted to have every minute he could with her while she was there.
The day that Heather arrived, Richie paced back and forth across Duncan's living room floor. Duncan sat back and watched him pace, amused by the boy's nervousness. "You'd think you'd never met Heather before."
"MAC! It's been almost 2 months since I've seen her. Last semester was kind of weird between us because of the Coach, and Greg and stuff. I just miss her and want everything to be okay!"
"It'll be fine, Richie." Duncan looked down at his watch. "Isn't Heather flying in at 4?"
"Yeah."
"It's 3:15; you should get going so you get there on time."
"3:15! I was supposed to have left 10 minutes ago! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I think I just did." Mac stayed out of the way as Richie ran around getting his stuff together to go pick up Heather from the airport. As Richie ran out the door, he called out, "I made reservations at Magellan's for us, Joe and Heather. Thought it'd be nice. They're at 5:30, so why don't you two just meet us there?"
Richie raised his hand in response as he pulled the elevator grate down, in too much of a rush to reply verbally.
"Bye, Rich!" Duncan loved a flustered Richie. It always reminded him of the times they had with Tessa. Duncan moved over to the living room, sat on the couch and turned on the TV. He had 2 ½ hours, plenty time to get showered and dressed for dinner.
He lay on his bed staring at the walls Greg had painted a light blue two summers before. The whole room was shades of blue. Blue walls, blue shelves, blue carpet, and blue bedclothes. Richie had never thought of it before. but it was an extremely blue room. He didn't even really like blue. Tessa had put him in blue a lot when she bought him clothes. He hadn't really minded; all his foster mothers liked to dress him in blue. Greg was the one who liked blue. Richie had gotten no say in how his room was decorated. His room at the team house had been painted in the school colors years before he had gotten there, so he hadn't decided there either, but Greg deciding for him rubbed him the wrong way. There was a soft knock on his door.
"Rich?"
"Come on in, Mac," Richie said sitting up.
"Do you want to be alone?" Duncan offered as he opened the door.
"You're fine."
"I just wanted to check on you. Adam said to give you this," he added handing Richie a bottle of beer.
Richie smiled faintly for a second as he took the beer then went back to studying the walls. There were framed pictures of Richie's childhood sports heroes, a few of Greg, one of Richie's basketball team at the Y, and one of Richie and Greg from when Richie was ten.
"What are you thinking?" Duncan asked as Richie took the picture of him and Greg off the wall.
"I don't like blue," Richie said.
"You wear blue all the time," Duncan pointed out, wondering where this was leading.
"Yeah, but I don't like it."
"May I ask why you are worrying about this?"
"I'm just saying. You asked what I was thinking. and I think I don't like blue."
"I'm going to bring up one more point then we can drop it. You're whole room is blue."
"I know," Richie said looking around again. "And I don't like it."
"Then why did you do it like this?"
"I didn't. Dad did. I came home one day and it was all blue. Just like my room when I was a kid."
"Then redo it."
"I don't think he'd let me."
"Richie, are you okay?" Duncan asked. "You seem a little off."
"I'm fine, Mac."
"Who were you talking to?"
"When?"
"Just now, on the phone."
"Mrs. Roberts. She had called me at the team house and left a message."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about? He died, Mac. We all knew it was coming."
"And?"
"And I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine. but if you ever do."
"Mac I know. Just because I'm a little out of it right now, doesn't mean you have to talk to me like I'm still in diapers."
"Sorry."
They sat in silence. "I really liked him," Richie said staring at his desk. "I know he was old and sick. but. I even knew this was coming and I'm not ready. I know it's selfish. but. I wanted him to at least see us win it for him. I promised him we'd do it and he died before we did."
"Seeing you miss that shot nearly killed me; you should be grateful Coach didn't have to watch," Greg said from the doorway.
Duncan immediately jumped to Richie's defense. "How can you say something like that to him?"
"You missed a free throw," Greg continued to scold Richie, ignoring Duncan. "That's the easiest shot there is. Nobody was guarding you. You had all the time you wanted. And what did you do? You choked!"
"Dad, don't start," Richie said quietly.
"You could have won the game. You should have won the game! I taught you everything I knew about the game. The set up couldn't have been more perfect for you to show the world that you're just as good as your dad. instead you blew the whole thing."
"I don't know if you noticed, but we won," Richie snapped. "AND this has nothing to do with you! I wasn't trying to show anybody anything. I just wanted to win and we did. So what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is you let me down," Greg told him.
"You know something? I don't even know why we're talking about this. The game doesn't matter any more. Coach died today, Dad. Why are you freaking about the game?"
"You let me down!"
"It's just a game!"
"Greg, leave him alone," Duncan cut in.
"Oh, that's right; I forgot. your bodyguard is here."
"Get off it!" Richie yelled, standing up. "This is ridiculous! You are the most heartless control freak I have ever met!"
"Watch your tone, young man."
"NO! Stop telling me what to do! I can take care of myself!"
"You're about to have to," Greg warned him. "I am your father and I will not allow you to act like this in my home. I don't know who you think you are, but let me set you straight. You are my son and you will do as you are told. Do you understand me?"
"Get out," Richie told him in a low voice.
"Excuse me?"
"I said get out."
"I believe this is my."
"GET OUT!" Richie yelled in his face, pointing at the door.
"You have ten minutes to pack your things," Greg told him. "Until you learn to behave like an adult, I will not allow you to live in my house." He turned and left.
"I was going to LEAVE ANYWAY!" Richie yelled down the hall at him before slamming his door.
"Richie," Duncan started. Richie turned and glared at him. "I'll wait for you downstairs."
"Mac," Richie said as Duncan opened the door. "I'm not."
"I know. I'll be downstairs."
Duncan went into the living room where Adam was waiting.
"I hear we've been invited to leave," Adam said.
"Once Richie comes down," Duncan agreed.
Five minutes later, Richie thundered down the stairs. "Let's go," he said not looking at Greg.
"Richard," Greg said.
"What?"
"I'm disappointed in you."
"I don't give a shit."
"When you're ready to apologize."
"Hell will have frozen over. Let's go," he said turning for the door. Adam followed with a slight smirk on his face.
"If you give him any trouble," Duncan warned Greg. "I'll kill you."
. . . . . .
The team filed to the front of the church. Mrs. Roberts had asked that they all say something at the funeral.
"Coach was an awesome man," a freshman said. "He always made you feel like you were part of his family. He always had time for you if you needed to talk about anything. I just wish I had more time to play for him."
"My brother played for Coach a few years ago," a sophomore told everyone. "Every vacation, he would come home and tell us how cool he was. I just had to see for myself. I wasn't disappointed. If anything, Coach was better than my brother ever told us. He was the best coach I've ever played for."
"Coach gave everyone a chance," Young said with tears in his eyes. "He would do everything he could to make sure everything worked out for you. He had high standards and he held us to them, but if we fell short, he made sure we had the help we needed. He was a very understanding man and I know we're all going to miss him."
Richie went last. "I've known Coach since I was eight. I used to go to all of the home games when he coached for Washington. I remember him taking me out on the court so I could show him what I'd learned. Even if it was something as stupid as dribbling the ball, he made me feel like I was the only person in the world who knew how to do it. The only dream I ever had was getting to play for him. I knew him for fourteen years and it still wasn't enough."
Later on that night, Duncan went to the team house to say good bye to Richie before he headed back home. Nobody knew where he was. It took some looking but Duncan finally found him, still dressed from the funeral, sitting in the cemetery staring at Coach Roberts' tombstone.
"Thought you might be here," Duncan said, sitting next to him.
"Wasn't ready to leave, yet," Richie answered his cheeks still stained from crying. Duncan sat quietly waiting for Richie to talk. "It's not fair," Richie nearly whispered. "How come everyone dies, but I can't?"
"Richie, nobody knows why some people are immortal and some aren't. That's just the way it is."
"I hate this, Mac. It's not fair."
"No."
"Everyone I ever get close to dies."
"I know, Richie."
"I mean, I had to do this with Emily, then Tessa, now Coach. someday this is going to be Heather."
"Is that what's bothering you? One day Heather is going to die?" Duncan asked.
"Mac, I love her. I mean, like, I really love her. I don't know if I can do this again. I mean, if I get this upset over a basketball coach."
"Richie, you really looked up to Coach Roberts. You practically worshiped him. You have every right to be upset about this. You're not overreacting."
"None of the other guys."
"Hey, none of the other guys knew him as long as you did. They didn't grow up going to his games. He didn't watch them grow up. You can't gauge your feelings by theirs."
"I really miss him, Mac."
"You should. He was a great guy. He spent a lot of time with you. That's not something you can just forget."
"I spent a lot of time with Emily, too, and I don't even know what she looks like."
"You were a baby. You were too young to be able to remember."
"But."
"Have you forgotten Tessa?" Duncan asked.
"No, of course not."
"Then why would you forget Coach Roberts?" Richie shrugged. "A lot of the time when someone close to you dies, you start to get these irrational fears. Like being afraid you're going to forget. Richie, you're an adult; you're not going to forget anything." Richie didn't answer. They sat quietly for another ten minutes or so before Duncan stood up. "Do you want some dinner?"
"No," Richie shook his head. "I think I'm going to stay here a little longer."
"Okay. I'm leaving in the morning, so if I don't see you before then, I'll see you when you come home."
"Bye, Mac."
"Bye, Rich."
. . . . . .
A few weeks later, Richie was more or less back to his old self and back home at the dojo. School had gone well and somehow he had scraped up all A's despite the continual interruptions that had happened. He had decided that he and Greg were through and even made everyone promise that if he started to go back to hold an intervention to stop him.
Life at the dojo was going great. He worked during the day at the dojo and usually helped Joe at the bar at night. He was very busy. Duncan thought he was doing it all for the cash, but the young man never seemed to spend any on himself. If he went to the store, he would pay and refuse to let Duncan pay him back. "You've been feeding me for years, Mac," he had argued. "It's about time I start helping out with the grocery bills." But other than those few insistent times, Richie was saving every penny he earned.
Finally, Duncan couldn't take it and sat him down. "Richie, what are you doing?"
"You and Adam are always telling me to save my money when I can," Richie shrugged it off. "And right now I kinda need to," he added.
"What happened?"
"I quit the team."
"You what?"
"Quit the team."
"Richie, why? You love basketball."
"I don't think I do anymore."
"Is this one of those 'I don't like blue' things?" Duncan asked.
"Huh?"
"In your room at Greg's, remember? You decided you didn't like blue."
"Then I guess so."
"You going to explain or do I get to make a reason up?"
"I like soccer," Richie told him flatly.
"So why do you play basketball?"
"Greg made me. He tricked me."
"He tricked you? I thought he let you play both."
"He made basketball a bigger deal than soccer. He would take the whole ball team out for pizza when we won; with soccer he would just fuss over me until we got home. I got more attention when I played basketball."
"You've been reading your psychology book again, haven't you?" Duncan asked.
"So what if I have? It's true. He tricked me into making me just like him."
"Because he gave you more attention when you did what he wanted you to."
"Yeah."
"What did he do when you did what he didn't want you to do?" Duncan asked. "What he does to you now?"
"He never hit me, Mac," Richie said. "I mean, sure there were a few swats on the butt. but nothing abusive."
"There's such thing as verbal abuse, Richie. I've stood there while he did it."
"Mac, don't make a federal case out of this," Richie groaned. "I'm just saying, I decided to quit the team because I don't know if I like it anymore."
"What does this have to do with you overworking yourself?"
"I'm not. I'm just saving up for an apartment. I can't stay at the team house anymore."
"What about the dorms, Rich?"
"I've looked into that and I'm on every waiting list possible. But the people that lived there last year get preference and it looks like everything will be full."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Get an apartment. I'm going down a month early to look."
"You're giving yourself a month to find an apartment?"
"I gotta work some; I need the money. Besides, Steven said that a lot of kids going away to college sublet their apartments for the year. there's a good chance I can get one of those."
"Where are you going to stay while you're looking?"
"Heather's."
"What about your job? Isn't The Stadium athletes only?"
"I got that covered."
"What are you going to do?"
"Take care of Brandon and Courtney," Richie admitted uncomfortably. "Kinda like how I used to do odd jobs and run errands for rent money for you and Tessa. I'm gonna take care of Brandon and Courtney while I stay with Steven and Melinda. And then, if I move out before I get a job, they're gonna pay me."
"Richie."
"Mac, I don't need any of your money. But thanks."
"Actually, I was going to tell you that you have a trust fund that you can use if you need to."
"I thought I got that when I turned twenty-one?"
"You have a few coming your way. You get one when you turn twenty-three that's as big as the first one. And then one at thirty and the last one at thirty-five, those two are bigger."
"Oh. those all from Tessa?"
"Two of them; I don't remember which. The other two we set up as soon as you moved in."
"Wow, thanks."
"Just so you know. You'll always be covered."
. . . . . .
When Richie told Joe about his situation Joe insisted on putting Richie on salary. He told him he'd pay him just as much as the other bartenders. but actually paid him five dollars an hour more. Richie worked extra hard for a month before he took his week vacation from each job at the same time. Heather was coming to visit and he wanted to have every minute he could with her while she was there.
The day that Heather arrived, Richie paced back and forth across Duncan's living room floor. Duncan sat back and watched him pace, amused by the boy's nervousness. "You'd think you'd never met Heather before."
"MAC! It's been almost 2 months since I've seen her. Last semester was kind of weird between us because of the Coach, and Greg and stuff. I just miss her and want everything to be okay!"
"It'll be fine, Richie." Duncan looked down at his watch. "Isn't Heather flying in at 4?"
"Yeah."
"It's 3:15; you should get going so you get there on time."
"3:15! I was supposed to have left 10 minutes ago! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I think I just did." Mac stayed out of the way as Richie ran around getting his stuff together to go pick up Heather from the airport. As Richie ran out the door, he called out, "I made reservations at Magellan's for us, Joe and Heather. Thought it'd be nice. They're at 5:30, so why don't you two just meet us there?"
Richie raised his hand in response as he pulled the elevator grate down, in too much of a rush to reply verbally.
"Bye, Rich!" Duncan loved a flustered Richie. It always reminded him of the times they had with Tessa. Duncan moved over to the living room, sat on the couch and turned on the TV. He had 2 ½ hours, plenty time to get showered and dressed for dinner.