The Shovel Talk
Paul still remembers, with a healthy dose of fear, the first time Percy properly talked to him.
He had opened the apartment door, fumbling a bit with his key as he tried not to spill the two coffees- one for him, one for Sally. As he swung the door open, swearing a bit as some of the hot coffee spilled on him, he noticed Percy, Sally's son, sitting on the couch in the living room. He was staring at him with those unnerving, bright green eyes.
Paul grinned at him nervously. "Hey, Percy!"
The boy nodded at him coolly. "Paul." He gestured towards the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table as him. "Come sit with me. I'd like to… chat."
Paul shivered. A fourteen year old who still had some baby fat had no business being as scary as Percy was. For some reason, the word chat sounded like "torture you" coming from his mouth in that tone. Paul had never really talked to Percy before. They had made small talk when in the same room, but they had never talked one on one. It seemed like that was about to change.
Paul placed the coffee on the kitchen counter before going to sit in the chair facing Percy. There were a few moments of intense silence before Percy spoke again.
"My mother," he began, "is the most amazing woman in the world. She has gone through hell for me, and I love her more than anything."
Paul fervently agreed with that statement. Sally was an amazing woman, and loving her was a given. He still had an uneasy feeling about this conversation, though.
"That being said, what are your intentions with my mother?"
Paul immediately turned red. It was a shovel talk. And worse, it was from a son about his mother. Oh god, he had not prepared for this.
"Um- I like seeing her? And I love her, I think. And maybe- maybe one day I'd like to marry her?"
Percy's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed so fast Paul wondered if he had actually seen his first expression. "So you'd be my stepfather," he said slowly.
Paul nodded nervously.
Percy's eyes grew stormy. "My last stepfather," he hissed, "was an interesting man." He spat the word interesting as if it was poison. "He liked to gamble. And drink. And he liked cigarettes." He leaned back into the chair. "He also liked to hit my mother."
Paul recoiled back, in shock. He wondered how anyone could want to hit Sally. She's one of the most perfect people he'd ever met. The shock quickly turned to anger, which he saw reflected in Percy's eyes.
"Now, do you know what happened to him?" Percy said slowly.
Paul shook his head, nervous for the answer.
"Neither does anyone else!" Percy sing-songed, far too happily for a topic like this. "He disappeared without a trace, and the police couldn't find him! It's a complete mystery."
Paul blinked twice, getting the feeling that his girlfriend's son was threatening him. "What did you do to him?"
Percy smiled innocently. "Me? Nothing. But soon after his death, my mother made a fortune selling off a sculpture called The Poker Player."
Paul remembered how Percy described the man as liking to gamble. Somehow, Sally Jackson had been able to sell a sculpture of her abusive ex-husband.
Percy stared at his (maybe) soon-to-be stepfather, a challenge in his eyes. "Now, I'm sure you were probably expecting me to say that if you did anything to my mother, I would kill you. And I will. But my mother can also take care of herself, so I'd watch my back if I were you."
Paul nodded, more enamored with Sally Jackson than he ever had been. She was such a badass.
He felt bad for anyone on the wrong side of the Jackson family.