The Other Side of Bad (The Tucker Novels) Read Online Free Page B

she handed the phone to Max, she said, “Max, don’t hang up before you give it back.”
    “Hi, Paw Paw. When are you going to take me fishing? I want to go too,” Maxoman said.
    Both children were being home schooled by their father, Roger. Roger is incredibly bright. He graduated Magna Cum Laude from Vanderbilt in computer science. He worked out of the house consulting, so was there to teach them. They both spoke succinctly beyond their years.     
    “Let’s let the weather get a little warmer, and we’ll go. Okay? It’s too cold outside right now, Maxoman.” It really wasn’t too cold, but he didn’t know that.
    “Paw Paw, it’s not that cold. I was just outside playing, and the Koi aren’t frozen in the pond.”
    Maxoman’s a lot like his dad.
    “Not for the fish, Maxoman. It’s too cold for Paw Paw,” I said, then added, “Spring and summer are for fishing. Winter is for hunting.”
    “How old were you when Mom was born?” he asked.
    “Give me the phone, Max!” Margie yelled, positively vexed.
    I could hear the scuffling over the phone, then Little Margie said, “Paw Paw, how old were . . . Huh? Oh, okay . . . ” I could hear Shannon’s voice in the background, then more phone scuffling.
    “Hey, Dad,” she said, when she got the phone from Little Margie.
    Shannon’s laugh came from her throat, like her mothers.
    “What’s that all about?” I asked.
    “Oh, we were looking at the pictures we took the other night with the digital camera. There’s a really good one of you in that black sport coat. Margie said you were too handsome to be a Paw Paw.”
    “Well, I am,” I said matter of factly. “You agreed with her, right?”
    “Yeah right.” She said sarcastically, with a smile in her voice. “Anyway, she asked me how old you were when I was born and I told her if she wanted to know that, she’d better ask you. I don’t want her to hear from me how young you and Mom were. She’s already looking at boys, and I would like her to wait awhile before she gets married.”
    “I see. So this way, if she gets married too young, you can blame it on me. It’ll be my fault, and you can skate.”
    “Exactly,” she said.
    I wasn’t sure if she was teasing.
    After a long pause, she said, “She’s really a handful, Daddy.”
    “Sounds like she takes after her mother,” I said, which she ignored.
    “Are you working tonight? You know what I mean.”
    After the rodeo that took place the night I was watching over Samuel Bench, Shannon and I agreed it would be best if she didn’t know when I was doing that kind of work. She was having a hard time living up to her end of the bargain.
    “No.” I said.
    “You wouldn’t tell me if you were, would you?” she asked quietly.
    “No.”
    “You know what I’d say to you if the kids weren’t here, don’t you?”
    Among her closed circle of friends and family, Shannon was known and admired for the eloquent profanity that could roll off her tongue with the ease and grace only attractive southern women could get away with. Her beauty and timing would spin the connotations into colorful and amusing anecdotes.
    “You’re lucky the kids are in the room,” she threatened.
    “Yeah, I know. Let me talk to Margie.”
    “Okay. I love you. And Dad, you are too handsome to be a grandfather.”
    “Thanks. I love you too.”
    She’s so much like her mother, and other than her mother, she’s the only person I’ve ever been truly afraid of.
    “Paw Paw?” Little Margie’s voice was all business now.
    “Yes, Baby, what is it?” I asked.
    She loves it when I call her Baby. It makes her feel all grown up. It’s what I sometimes call her mom. It’s also what I called her grandmother.
    “Mom said it would be all right if I asked how old you were when she was born.”
    I could hear Shannon in the background denying all culpability.
    “Sure, no problem. Let’s see, let me think . . . I was ten. Yeah . . . yeah. That’s the ticket, ten years