Read Online Here by Mistake by David Ciferri - Free Book Online Page B

money’s never borin’, my man,” Quint said. “I support myself now doin’ books for some businesses. I’ll be takin’ accountin’ at Tulane.”
    Brandon yawned into his fist. “Anyway, you’ve lived in New York as long as I’ve known you.”
    “As long as that,” Quint said in a tone Brandon didn’t quite like. “Brandon—sorry, B—how old are you, anyway? Fifteen?”
    “Fourteen.”
    Quint chuckled, and Brandon thrust out his chin. “What?”
    “I’m just wonderin’ what I’m doin’ at fifty-eight hangin’ ’round a bunch of damn kids.”
    Now it was Quint who bit his lip. Sarah threw the last bit of her beignet on the table. Stephen turned on his chair and looked out the window. Brandon fixed steely eyes on his host.
    “Sorry,” Quint said. No one spoke. “Sorry, really, sometimes I just talk without thinkin’ and say stupid things.” Silence. Quint gave Brandon a playful tap on the arm. “Hey, B,” he said.
    “You’re a lot better in 2005,” Brandon said. “Maybe it took you that long to learn some things.”
    “Look, I said I’m—”
    “We don’t hang together,” Brandon said. “We just talk sometimes, okay? Sometimes you tell me stuff, but mostly it’s me talking, I guess. You listen and you don’t throw me out. Everyone else just wants me to get lost.” Quint started to speak, but Brandon cut in. “Like my dad. He spends all his time on golf. If his golf buddy calls him on the phone, he’ll yak for an hour. But if I want an hour with him, he’ll just tell me: ‘Self-reliance depends on keeping one’s own counsel and company.’ That’s how much he cares.”
    “What’re you talking about, B?” Sarah asked. “We talk all the time. You and Stephen talk. At school you’re always kicking it with someone.”
    “It’s not the same. You and Stephen are great, but Quint’s . . .”
    “An adult, at least in 2005,” Quint said wryly. “Now I’m eighteen, and maybe not quite fillin’ the bill.”
    Brandon hunched his shoulders and leaned over the table. “I can’t picture you at eighteen, even with you right here.”
    Quint reached over and rubbed the back of Brandon’s neck. “Well,” he said gently, “I’ll work on actin’ better, not sayin’ dumb things. You work on rememberin’ I’m forty years behind the guy y’all know. Workin’ together, maybe we can get y’all back where y’belong. Deal?” He gave Brandon his hand and they shook on it.
    “Now, t’business,” Quint said. “Y’all need t’get t’this niche. And since y’nearly gave poor Faye a heart attack when y’dropped in on her, she’s not likely t’let y’all back in her house.”
    “Right,” Brandon said. Sarah and Stephen nodded glumly.
    “So, we need t’go when she’s not there.” Quint placed his other beignet in front of Brandon. “I know Faye well enough t’stop by and talk. I’ll use the excuse that I’m drivin’ her north in two weeks. I’ll find out when she’s out for a mornin’ or afternoon, and we’ll make our move then.”
    “Can you do it and not make her suspicious?” Sarah asked.
    “Sho’ can,” Quint exclaimed. “Ah’ll just charm her w’my Southern sweet talk.”
    Everyone laughed.
    “It’s wild how your accent’s almost gone in 2005.” Brandon smiled.
    “I imagine all the years in New York’ll sand it down some. And by the way,” Quint added, flashing a teenage version of the grin Brandon knew so well, “in these parts, it’s y’all who have the accent.”
    Late that morning Brandon was sitting in front of Quint’s TV with a smirk on his face. Stephen came in from outside and stepped over Sarah, who was napping on some cushions. A minute later Quint walked in. The TV show cut to commercial.
    Brandon put his head back on the couch. “Aaarrrgh,” he said. He asked Stephen, “Ever watch The Beverly Hillbillies ?”
    “No.”
    “Don’t start. I’m watching an old one, but they say it’s on at night, too. It’s about this