Thanks to everyone who read, and as always reviews are appreciated.
Dr. Warren was still ranting, and Roddy fought down a yawn. Sleep hadn't been a priority for the last couple nights, and he was starting to feel the effects.
Monroe had dropped him off at home after lunch on Sunday, but while they'd spent a few hours playing over the weekend, Roddy really hadn't put in the amount of practice he should have. And since the first thing he'd had to do when he'd gotten home was crawl around and check all the piping—the bathroom was fine, the line into the kitchen not so much, but whatever, he'd be fine—he'd been up late that night making sure he had the ballet music down. It had paid off and Dr. Warren had barely glanced at him on Monday, but then instead of being able to make up for it last night the stupid heater had started squealing at random intervals. He'd finally given up and gotten up at like four this morning, and all he wanted right now was to go home, nuke the last of his Thanksgiving leftovers, and fall into bed.
Dr. Warren finally shut up at the basses and moved on to more generic dire threats about what would happen if the orchestra as a whole wasn't prepared by the family-and-friends dress rehearsal with the dance school on Saturday, and Roddy fought down the urge to pull his case onto his lap. He was ninety-nine percent sure that this was the lead-up to their release, and the last thing he wanted was to have to wait around for an even later bus, but drawing attention to himself when Dr. Warren was already in a mood was very much not the way to go.
Finally they were ordered out, and he tucked his violin carefully into its case, far less carefully threw his music folder into his backpack, and hurried for the doors ahead of the crowd.
He made it to the stop only a couple minutes before the bus did, and he decided after a minute that he was just as glad that it was a later bus than usual since that meant he could lean against the window and doze a little. Considering that his evening plans involved the earliest bedtime that he could manage he should probably at least look at his homework, but whatever. A problem for tomorrow.
The second bus was almost more deserted, and he caught himself just before he could accidentally nod off for real and end up stuck at the end of the line. But the walk from the stop to his place was longer than it needed to be, the chill in the air way worse than when he'd left school, and he was so busy concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other that he nearly missed a truck sitting where one absolutely shouldn't be in front of the trailer. Hell, if the light from the cab hadn't come on as he approached, he probably would have missed it entirely.
Unfortunately once the light was on he recognized one of Uncle Joseph's work trucks, and he swore automatically. Just what he wasn't up for dealing with right now.
"Where have you been?" Uncle Michael demanded.
Oh. Well, not that Roddy was happy to see him either, but better him than Uncle Joseph. "School."
"It's after eight."
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when rehearsal runs long." Not to mention when your school was on the other side of the city. "What are you doing here?"
"You weren't at Joseph's last week."
"Wasn't invited." Technically. Not that he would have gone if he had been. "I went to a friend's." As much as he didn't want to, he climbed the steps and unlocked the door. Stupid freezing weather.
"A friend's," Uncle Michael repeated slowly, following him inside.
"Yeah, you know, someone I like. Someone who likes me." Roddy wasn't exactly inclined to encourage him to hang around and dropped his backpack and violin on the couch before Michael could think about taking a seat. "Are you just here to bitch at me for not giving you and the rest of them a convenient target, or what?"
"You know, if you could just behave normally for once in your life maybe—"
"I'm eighteen," Roddy interrupted. "Believe it or not, high school is normal." At least if you weren't one of his anti-education, anti-anything-that-took-you-out-of-the-family-bubble relatives.
"You're a Reinigen."
"Dad didn't think that was a problem."
"Ephram—"
He apparently thought better of whatever he'd been about to say and cut himself off, which was just as well because on the list of shit that Roddy was never going to take from his relatives, any crap about Dad was right at the top. Dad would be here if it wasn't for them.
"I was just wondering what you were going to do with Ephram's truck," he said finally. "We were talking a little at Thanksgiving, and ...well, from the look of things, it doesn't look like it's even been moved since the last time I was here."
It hadn't been. Roddy'd started it every couple weeks since Dad had always told him to do that when he was away on a job, and he'd made sure that no rats decided it was a good place to set up a nest or anything, but otherwise all he'd done was the stupid paperwork. Not that he was dumb enough to say so, especially since it was pretty easy to guess why Uncle Michael was asking. Although now that he thought about it, Roddy had no clue what had happened to Uncle Michael's old truck. Up until last spring he'd had one for sure, but since then he'd been borrowing Dad's on and off. Mostly when one of Uncle Joseph's work trucks wasn't available. But the reason for the question didn't much matter, and he shrugged. "Getting ready to sell it. It's in my name and everything now, but I haven't gotten around to putting up an ad." Both because he'd been busy, and also because he still had no clue where or how to do such a thing. He'd totally forgotten about asking Nick or Monroe over Thanksgiving.
"How much are you asking?"
"I was going to list it for three thousand, but Dad would have said family and shit, so if you want it call it twenty-five."
Uncle Michael scoffed. "Like you'd get more than fifteen for it. Max."
"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't think it." Which was total bullshit, obviously, because Roddy'd figured on two thousand at best, but whatever. That was how this ridiculous game worked. "Fine. Split the difference and call it two." He hesitated. Given the way that orchestra had been going he wasn't going to suggest any more evening meetings this week, but it wasn't like there was a point to keeping the truck around, either. And Dad would have said family, as much as he hated to admit it. "If you can have the money here this Saturday, say around eleven or so, I can have all of the paperwork ready." Playing for The Nutcracker guaranteed that he wouldn't be going to Barry's this weekend, and the dress rehearsal was downtown at one so even if Michael was late Roddy should still be able to make it.
"Or you could just hand it over now, and it doesn't have to be a big thing. Ephram would have wanted—"
"To be alive?"
Michael flushed.
"Yeah. And since that's shot to hell, you know damn well he'd want to make sure that I was okay and can eat and pay rent. And fucking graduate." Not to mention college, although that was a subject that Roddy was never going to bring up again with his non-Dad relatives after the last time. "We all know that none of you are going to do jack for me unless I agree to go be a good little drone for Uncle Joseph, so while you can have the first chance to buy the truck, sure, and you can buy it for a little less than anybody else because he would have wanted that, you do get to buy it."
For a moment it looked like he was going to argue, but it wasn't like Roddy had said anything untrue—well, except about the asking price of the truck, obviously—and he knew it. "Fine. Saturday, then?"
"Saturday at eleven," Roddy confirmed.
"Fine," he repeated. "I'll see you then."
Roddy hopped off the bus and pulled his jacket in a little tighter as he hurried up the street to Monroe's. The go-to-school-in-the-dark get-home-in-the-dark thing sucked every year at this time of year, but this winter the cold seemed to be making it even worse than usual. Of course, so did the fact that it was half past seven.
Fortunately for his quickly-freezing fingers Monroe pulled open the door almost as soon as he pushed the bell, and he was hit with a blast of heat and light and gingerbread and he wasn't even sure what else.
"Good timing," Monroe greeted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him inside. "I just took the cookies out of the oven. You weren't kidding about your practices running long this week."
"Yeah, call it the usual panicked run-up since performances start this weekend and we pretty much did nothing for the ballet before Thanksgiving. Plus there's only like one upperclassman left in the bass section, and the others are having a rough time." He ducked away from Monroe for a moment to put his stuff in the practice room. "But why are you baking? You were just saying last weekend that you were swearing off snacks for a while."
"That was the plan, but then I got to thinking: if I'm going out to my parents' place for Christmas, there's not much point in doing all of my usual decorating around here. I mean, Nick will be here, and if he was interested I'd be happy to set up the tree and the lights and all of that, but when I asked he said that he's already offered to cover a bunch of extra shifts and doesn't expect to be around much. Really, I think he's just leery about the holidays in general given everything going on with Juliette. But it still doesn't feel right doing nothing so I thought I'd make some cookies, maybe set up the trains—you can't have Christmas without trains, right?—and just be a little festive about the whole thing."
Roddy was pretty sure he'd never had a Christmas with trains, but whatever, because Monroe was pulling him into the kitchen, and not only were there the cookies he'd mentioned, there was also a pot of spaghetti on the stove and spaghetti sauce simmering beside it.
"Actually, if you don't mind taking a break from dueting tonight, I could use some help getting the trains set up," Monroe said, as he pulled down a couple bowls.
"I wouldn't mind," Roddy admitted. He loved dueting with Monroe, but the sheer amount of practice they'd been putting in at school over the last couple days had more than made up for his lack over Thanksgiving week, and he could use an evening off.
"Excellent. Now, I've got spaghetti and meatballs here, but it's a new recipe for the meatballs—turnip and chickpea, if you can believe it—so you'll have to tell me what you think."
Roddy nodded. Some of what Monroe made was kind of weird, but it was also usually good.
He grabbed napkins and forks while Monroe dished out dinner and brought it to the table.
"So you're going to your parents' for sure?" Roddy asked, digging in as soon as they were both seated.
"Yeah. I'll fly out the week before and then come back on the 26th. Mostly because while Mom swears it'll just be the three of us, there's no way someone from the extended family won't end up dropping by, and I'm not about to let them drag me out for any post-holiday entertainment."
Roddy didn't know what a Blutbad, or at least a Blutbad who wasn't Monroe, considered entertainment, and he didn't really want to know.
"Do you have any plans for the holidays? You're welcome to come over here for Christmas if you want to get away from home, although I can't promise anyone will be around. Or are you going to visit the Rabes?"
"Well, Barry and his dad are going camping for the holiday itself so I'm for sure not going over for that, but I probably will sometime during the break. Especially since I don't think I'm going to be able to go over again before then."
Monroe tilted his head, and he shrugged.
"We've got the friends-and-family dress rehearsal for The Nutcracker this Saturday at one, the first official performance is Sunday, next week we're doing Friday evening plus two shows on both Saturday and Sunday, and then the last performance is the Friday night right before the break starts." They'd originally planned to have matinees only and the final performances on the Saturday and Sunday before Christmas, but apparently so many of his classmates' parents and the ballet school parents had complained about needing to catch their flights to Bermuda or some shit that they'd doubled up for the one weekend and dropped the last. "And going to the Rabes' place isn't like coming here where I can take a bus to school in the morning, anyway," he continued. "Even if I caught the earliest bus I could out of the shopping plaza, there's no way I'd get to school before, like, third period."
"Plus you probably get less sleep when you're staying over with Barry," Monroe said with a smile.
That was also true, although Roddy wouldn't worry so much about that part if the rest of the timing worked out.
"But they're going camping?" he asked. "This seems like an odd time of year for it."
That was being polite, Roddy thought it sounded completely insane, but then again he thought wandering around in the woods period was a weird thing to do. "Barry says the cold doesn't really bother them unless it's extreme so maybe they don't count it as too much different from regular camping."
"Maybe," Monroe agreed. "I mean, I don't mind camping myself, I just prefer maybe a weekend when the weather is good." He shook his head. "Would you like some more?"
Roddy nodded quickly.
Monroe served himself a couple more meatballs while Roddy got another full bowl of pasta to go with his extras. "So if your dress rehearsal is open this Saturday, what do you say about meeting for lunch beforehand and I'll tag along? I haven't seen the show in years, and while I'd like to wait and take Rosalee, she's still not sure exactly when she'll be back, and I'd hate to miss it."
"For sure you can come," Roddy said immediately. "It might not go totally smooth, though, especially since it'll be our first run through with the dancers." Hopefully the orchestra would be solid by then, but there was no way the timing wouldn't be at least a little shakey.
Monroe waved it off. "That's fine, the staging is sometimes the most interesting part."
"Oh, crap, but I don't know how long I'll have for lunch," Roddy said, as he abruptly remembered his other Saturday plans. "My uncle's supposed to come to my place to buy Dad's truck that morning. I told him eleven, but he might be late, and Dr. Warren will kill me if I'm not set up at the rehearsal hall on time." That or have a stroke, the way the past week had been going.
"Your uncle?"
His face was suddenly very blank.
"It's okay, it's Uncle Michael, not Uncle Joseph. He's...usually fine."
"But if he's coming to buy your dad's truck, how is he going to get there?"
Roddy blinked. He hadn't even thought about that. Aunt Lois hadn't had a car in years so she couldn't drive him, and and while he could take the bus or one of his kids could give him a ride if they were around, it was just as likely to be one of Roddy's other uncles. Especially since it was usually one of Uncle Joseph's work trucks that he borrowed when he needed a vehicle.
"Tell you what, how about I swing by your place a little before eleven? That way as soon as your uncle comes by to pick up the truck we can take off."
And if one or more of his other uncles did come along, Roddy wouldn't be alone. He didn't say that, obviously, but as much as Roddy wanted to decline…. He was pretty sure that Uncle Michael would play fair, even if he was annoyed about it, but Uncle Matthew was questionable, and Uncle Joseph would be a jerk just because that was who he was. And if they decided to just take the truck, Roddy wasn't totally sure that he'd be able to bring himself to file a police report on his relatives no matter what kind of assholes they were. "Even Uncle Joseph wasn't always like that," he found himself saying. "Hell, Toby—his youngest son—used to be one of my friends. He just...I don't know. After my grandparents died he started acting like he was the king of the world or something. Or at least like he suddenly had the right to order his brothers and cousins and everyone else in the family around, anyway. Which, Dad never had any problems calling him out on his bullshit, but for some reason the others just seem to go along with it most of the time."
"Family's rough sometimes," Monroe said with a sigh, patting his shoulder lightly. "Eleven?"
"You don't have to be at the spice shop?" Roddy checked. Considering that Monroe was planning to escape any potential interaction with his own relatives immediately after Christmas Roddy figured he understood better than most, but he'd still feel bad if Monroe skipped doing something Rosalee needed just because of him.
"Nah, I keep it open through lunch during the week, but only in the afternoons or on the weekends if someone has a special order. As of now there are none of those this week."
Roddy nodded quickly.
"All right, then." He nodded to Roddy's plate. "It looks like you're about done?"
"Oh. Yeah." He'd made the second bowl of spaghetti disappear too, but that was about enough, especially since there were cookies on the counter.
"Are you sure you don't want anymore?"
"No, I'm good."
He nodded. "Well, then, let's get the dishwasher loaded, and then we can grab some gingerbread and you can help me set up the trains. 1930s pre-war construction, if you can believe it, all hand-painted, and the details are the kind of quality that you just don't see these days."
Roddy got the sudden feeling that trains were going to end up on the list of things he should never ask Monroe about.
