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    AmosLee1023
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Good Son - 9. Chapter 9: When You Were Young

Daniel scrolled through Arty's emails, looking through the names that rolled by. He continued like that until he found Richard Cavloski, where he clicked the email to look at the messages.

Richard Cavloski: From what we're working with, your father's will is still in place for your mother. If you want another chance to fight for it, you would have to go back to court. I can arrange for a date for this coming Monday, but I think the courts are still in favor of your mother.

Arty Mason: I still don't understand why. His inheritance was supposed to go to me when I turned eighteen. What changed that?

Richard Cavloski: Your mother has a very good lawyer, and I can say from personally looking at this will that it isn't entirely clear of who takes the inheritance.

A few days go by before the next email, from Arty.

Arty Mason: That guy Henry I told you about, he still won't leave me alone. He keeps calling and texting me.

Richard Cavloski: Like before, you said that you don't want your husband knowing about this. The only way you can stop this is to take it into court for a restraining order, or try and settle it civilly between the two of you. Taking it to court would mean that your husband would know. The real way to stop this would be to save the messages and calls, and report it as blackmail.

Richard Cabloski: I know that isn't what you want to do, but there's really no way to stop it unless you take it to a judge. Or find a way to settle it between each other.

Before Daniel could read Arty's response or any further messages, he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. Quickly closing the tab, he opened up his backup tab: a page on biology. A hand rest on his shoulder and he looked up at Arty.

"Hey, how's the computer treating you?" the man asked. Daniel looked back at the screen.

"It's fine; thank you for letting me use it.

"No problem." Arty walked around the couch to sit on it, beside the teen. Daniel looked at him again.

"Is something wrong?" the teen asked, grabbing the top of the laptop to close it, but Arty pushed it back up to keep it open.

"Um..." he huffed and looked at Daniel. "Jack's oldest son, Johnathon, is coming over with his girlfriend, Shelly."

Daniel quirked an eyebrow. "Is that bad?"

"...No, but he isn't too happy about... me, so just don't let him bother you if he says anything."

"Why is he coming over, then?" Daniel asked, shutting the computer now. Arty crossed his legs, sitting back in the couch.

"They're having a baby, so I said that they could have some of Geil's old stuff. Toys, and such. They shouldn't be here long, but I thought I'd tell you. Just to make sure."

Daniel nodded in understanding, looking at the closed laptop on his lap. "...Do you like Johnathon?"

Arty laughed, but it sounded a little fake. "Yeah, I mean, he's a smart guy."

"Jack told me he's twenty eight. That means he's your age and your stepson," Daniel said after noticing it, and Arty shifted on the couch, furrowing his eyebrows.

"...Yeah, it's a weird thought."

"Did you know Jack had children when you met him?"

Arty didn't reply, kicking his leg on the other. He pressed his lips together like he was thinking about something, but then he uncrossed his legs and stood up. Looking at Daniel again, he motioned. "Come here, let me show you something."

Daniel stood, putting the laptop on the couch. He followed Arty when the man started walking off, up the stairs and to the storage room.

"I found this earlier," Arty said, kneeling to dig in one of the boxes. "I was looking for some stuff you might like and found this old music player I got as a kid." He grabbed something and laughed, pulling it out. It looked a little heavy, because he struggled a little, but he managed to get it from the box, setting it on the cluttered table in the room. Stepping aside, he let Daniel look at it.

It was an old music player, silver, Sony. Arty patted it.

"I know it looks like, old, but it's just 2005. The good part though, is..." He grabbed the cord, plugging it into a plugin underneath the table. Then he turned the player on, and Daniel walked over to look closer. "It has an old CD in it!" Arty continued happily.

The screen's light came on, blue, and Arty pressed play once it said ready.

The disc inside whirred before the song started, with a guitar and drums. Arty turned up the volume, grinning, and then he looked at Daniel.

"You can't live without this- The Killers were the bomb when I was a kid. Especially this song." It was When You Were Young, and once the singing came in, Arty started dancing.

Snapping his fingers to the beat of the drums, he swayed his hips from side to side, eyes closed like he was living in the moment. Daniel watched him, smiling softly as the older brunette danced to himself.

"...old ways. You play forgiveness, watch it now, here he comes-"

Arty looked at Daniel, biting his lip in excitement. He reached out and took the teen's hands. "Come on, you know you want to dance! This is a great song!"

"...Talks like a gentleman, like you imagined when you were young..."

"No, no, I'm fine, Arty," Daniel said, laughing despite himself as Arty tried bringing him into the music. Arty laughed.

"Please, Daniel? It's fun!"

Daniel groaned, stepping forward to Arty, the man crying out with excitement because he had managed to persuade him.

"Can we climb this mountain, I don't know. Higher now than ever before I-"

Letting go of Daniel's hands, Arty danced again, mostly with his hips and arms because the music just made you want to jump around. Daniel shook his head before moving some, the most he really could without embarrassing himself, while Arty looked like he had been to plenty of concerts as a teen. Though, a touch of sexuality touched his dancing because he wasn't a teenager anymore.

"Know we can make it if we take it slow. Let's take it easy, easy now, watch it go!"

"We're burning down the highway skyline,"

Arty laughed at Daniel, motioning to him. "Come on!"

"On the back of a hurricane, that started turning when you were young-"

Daniel rolled his eyes with a smile, pausing and watching Arty, because he didn't know how to have that much energy. And because he liked how Arty moved his body.

"When you were yo-ung!"

The music broke into a short instrumental break and the door opened, to Geil in some sweat pants. He looked confused as to what was going on, but he didn't mind it when Arty went over to grab him, picking him up and dancing with the boy; making the child laugh and cry out happily.

"And sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live... when you were young."

Daniel stepped back to watch the two, smiling as Arty dipped Geil down before bringing him back up, the child screaming with laughter.

Arty and Geil were too busy dancing to notice, but Daniel caught it: the door opening wide. It wasn't Jack, since he was at work.

Daniel went to the player and pressed stop as the song grew quiet for a good part. Arty stopped dancing to look at him in confusion, but then Daniel pointed at the door and the man looked over.

There was a handsome man with neatly combed dark brown hair, leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed. He would look even more handsome if he didn't look mad.

"You can hear that shit all the way from downstairs, what's wrong with you?" he asked as Arty put Geil down, clearing his throat. Arty rubbed his neck.

"Sorry... Come on kids, let's get out of here." He glanced at Daniel, the teen looking at the man in the doorway.

He most certainly looked like Jack; he had the man's square jaw and sharp nose, but his eyes were green and different, hair brown unlike Jack's blonde.

"This room is a hazard," the man said, pushing off of the doorway and stepping away so that Arty and Geil could leave.

"Come on, Daniel," Arty motioned the teen over, standing in the hallway. When Daniel came out of the room, shutting the door behind him, Arty started introducing.

"Johnathon, this is Daniel. Daniel, this is Johnathon," he said. Johnathon looked at Daniel, his eyes narrowed like he was permanently angry. He probably was. He didn't say anything though, so Daniel didn't say anything, either. Geil also didn't.

Arty cleared his throat. "Where's Shelly?"

"Downstairs. I don't want her tripping on anything."

"...Wise." Arty motioned for Johnathon and started walking down the hall, the other man following him.

Geil held his arms up for Daniel and the teen looked at him. "You don't like Johnathon?" he asked flatly. Geil didn't answer, meaning he just didn't want to, or he didn't personally remember Johnathon enough to like or dislike him.

Daniel picked Geil up, taking the boy with him after Arty and Johnathon.

"Where's my dad?" the dark brunette asked. Arty exhaled.

"Work."

Johnathon scoffed. "Work, work, work. When is he here?"

He didn't look at Arty, walking beside him and looking everywhere else. It was as though something had happened between them once. There were a number of things for that, though, Daniel thought.

A: it's the fact that they're both the same age despite being step-father and son. B: it's the fact that Johnathon's baby brother died in this house, under Arty and Jack's care. 😄 the fact that his father divorced his mother and married a young man. Or the special of 😧 all of the above.

"...I have the stuff boxed up near the backdoor," Arty said, leading Johnathon and the boys downstairs.

When they got down there, there was a red-haired woman with freckled skin sitting on the couch. She looked over when she heard the men and stood up, smiling nicely. She looked breathless, though, and she had to hold her stomach to get up; her stomach was humongous.

"Hi, Art. Sorry to drop by this early," she said, walking around the couch to go to them. Johnathon shook his head at her.

"Go and sit down, the boxes are too far," he said. Shelly leaned against the couch, holding her stomach. She looked like she wanted to complain, but she didn't. Arty looked at Daniel.

"Hey kiddo, can you help her out? And watch Geil?"

Daniel wasn't fond of leaving Arty alone with Johnathon, but he didn't protest. Carrying Geil to Shelly, he put him on the couch.

"Stay there," he said to the boy, who huffed. Shelly laughed, her air breathy. Daniel walked around to her, unconsciously looking her over.

She was pale, like she was sick. Her body was thin, which made her stomach look bigger than it probably was, and she wore a black dress with different flowers decorating it. Her lips were shiny from chapstick and her brown eyes were lined with grey. She smiled at Daniel.

"Hi, are you the new addition? You're cute," she breathed. Daniel pressed his lips together.

"...Here, let me help you," he said, reaching out to her. The woman put an arm over his shoulders and let him help her back to the couch, which she gripped the back of for further support.

"Do you have a baby?" Geil asked, sitting on his knees on the couch, watching her as Daniel helped her to sit. She hummed, sitting back in the cushions.

"Not yet. It's in here," she pointed at her stomach, and Geil reached out to touch it. Daniel caught him first, sticking his arm out and grabbing Geil's wrist.

"No, Geil."

"Aww, but I want to see the baby..."

"You can't see it yet," Shelly said, smiling at the boy. "You'll get to when it's born, though."

"When will it born?"

Daniel didn't correct him, sitting down in another chair.

"One more month," the woman replied. Geil slipped off of the couch, hurrying off to the stairs. Daniel sighed.

"Geil, where are you going?"

"To show her my toys!"

"No, come here." Daniel looked around for the TV remote, finding it on the coffee table. Getting up from his seat, he snatched it up and turned on the television, which was already set to a cartoon. Geil came back.

Shelly smiled softly at Daniel. "Do you like being a brother?" she asked, lightly. Daniel glanced at Geil, who climbed back onto the couch.

"...I suppose so, yes."

"That's good. Is it good here? Are you happy?"

"I am, yes."

Shelly closed her eyes while smiling. "Good."

"...You're ill, aren't you?" Daniel asked, watching her. She opened her eyes to look at him and nodded, but she didn't look sad or anything.

"Ovarian cancer. It's hard a lot."

"...Are you getting treatment?"

"No, not right now. Radiation could hurt the baby, so we're waiting until it's born."

"...You're very mindful," Daniel said to her, and she laughed.

"A little too much, Johnathon tells me. I'm sorry if he's a little mean, he's just stressed."

"I'm stressed," Geil said, looking at Shelly, only catching those words of the conversation. She laughed again, but it looked like it hurt.

"Are you? Is it because your brother has his eyes on you?"

"Yeah, I'm stressed because his hair."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "I can't help it's dark. I also don't think you know what that word means." Shelly laughed again.

"Shelly," Johnathon sounded, making them all look over. He approached from the back of the house, with Arty behind him. "We're gonna eat something here before we go."

Shelly nodded. "Okay."

Daniel looked at Arty, who turned to leave to the kitchen, silent. Johnathon walked to the couch and sat beside Shelly, so that Geil was on the other, because he didn't want anything to do with the boy. Geil didn't mind either, his attention back on the TV and mind too young to realize.

Daniel got up from his seat, looking at Geil briefly to make sure that he was still occupied, because if he ran off anywhere he wasn't supposed to, Shelly couldn't get him, and Johnathon sure as hell wouldn't. When he saw that Geil was particularly interested in the show, he left to the kitchen, to Arty.

The man was at the counter, leaning on it by his elbows. He sighed deeply, looking at the marble top.

"Is something wrong?" Daniel asked, starling the other brunette. Arty looked at him and heaved a small laugh.

"You scared me," he said, getting up from the counter. Daniel walked over.

"What's wrong?" he asked again. Arty puffed his cheeks and shook his head.

"...I don't know what to make for Shelly. Johnathon said she needs-"

"A smoothie."

"Excuse me?"

"My mother... used to drink smoothies," Daniel said, brushing passed Arty to go to the fridge. Opening it, he grabbed the carton of strawberries and went to the counter to get a banana. Arty watched him quietly.

Daniel put the fruits on the cutting board and opened the freezer, where he got the blueberries he had seen in there a while back, and then he opened the fridge again, to get some cream. Arty didn't want to stop him, because he looked like he knew what he was doing, so he just went to start cutting the fruits.

"Thank you," Shelly said, holding the smoothie in her lap, "But I'm really full now," she continued, smiling at Arty and Daniel in thanks. Johnathon looked from her face to the smoothie, which was still full; she had only taken a few sips from it. Geil had tried drinking some of it, but Arty convinced him to leave it alone.

Shelly looked at Johnathon with her tired eyes. "I think it's time to go home," she said. He stood up immediately and helped her up, putting the cup on the table. Arty also stood up, so that he could see them out.

"We took everything out ahead of time, so you don't need to worry about that," he said to her and she clicked her tongue.

"Darn, I wanted to see some of it."

"You'll see it all at home," Johnathon said.

They walked with her to the front door, Arty opening it so that Johnathon could help her to the car. Before they got onto the porch, though, Shelly doubled over in her boyfriend's arms and vomited on the floor.

Daniel instantly went off to the kitchen, where he grabbed the roll of paper towels to bring to the three. He tore a square off and handed it to Shelly, so that she could wipe her mouth, and then he knelt so that he could start picking up the mess on the floor.

Arty rushed off to get a bag for in case she started puking again, and Johnathon held her, watching the woman as she swallowed down more puke from rising up.

"...I think I'm okay," she murmured softly, her voice shaky as her body recovered. Johnathon didn't let her go, though, watching her as though she was going to do it again.

Arty came back in with a puke bag and a cold bottle of water, which he brought to them. "Here, Johnathon." Johnathon took them, keeping his arms around Shelly. He breathed through his nose.

"Come on," he started walking with her again, taking her outside.

"Geil, get me a trash bag," Arty called to the boy, kneeling beside Daniel to help him.

"How long has she been like that?" Daniel asked quietly, putting the used paper towels in a pile to the side. Arty sighed.

"I don't know. They only came here once, a few years ago."

"...Tell me something, Arty. Just something else."

Arty looked at Daniel, who was looking at the mess on the floor. "...Earlier, when you asked if I knew Jack had kids before... I knew Johnathon back in high school," the men said, moving to continue cleaning, "I didn't know who his dad was until a long time later, when I went to his house once. It was after Jack and I had already started seeing each other, and it was so embarrassing." He chuckled lightly. "I remember it really well, too. School finals were coming up, so John had asked me to come over for dinner, so that we could wind down and stuff, because we were becoming friends. When we got there, it smelled like fresh barbecue- we were so excited. You can imagine the horror of when I saw it was Jack cooking."

"Is that why Johnathon doesn't like you?"

"Yeah. We were both twenty when Jack left his mom, so he was really mad. I wouldn't blame him; it must have felt terrible."

Geil came with a bag, not knowing that another was stuck to it.

"Thanks, babe." Arty took the bag, tearing it from the other and putting tagalong to the side. Opening the first, the man started putting the trash in, Daniel following along.

"Do you ever regret this life?" Daniel asked Arty, making the man look at him. He shook his head and put more trash in.

"No, why would you ask that?"

"I don't know. You could have a different life right now. Do you think of that?"

"No, not really. Now you've got that on my mind, though," Arty laughed. "Are you saying I could be married to some model and live by the sea?"

"Maybe."

"Well, my husband is hot enough to be a model, and I like this sea of snow better- get it?" He nudged Daniel with his elbow, making the teen smirk and roll his eyes at the cheesy, not so punny pun.

Arty stood up with the bag and left to throw it away. Daniel left to the kitchen to wash his hands, where Arty came in to do the same a moment later, so that he could get some cleaning spray to pick the mess up better. As Arty washed his hands, Daniel walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, hugging him. Arty paused to look back at the teen.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Daniel didn't say anything for a long while, just letting the running sink sound the kitchen. Then he did speak, quietly.

"Thank you for taking me in."

Copyright © 2018 AmosLee1023; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Well I can't say Jonathon doesn't have a reason to be a dick. I like Daniels sweet side, but I still think there's something off about him

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My, but Daniel is good at playing the good son... I like that you wrote this whole scene without making him have one of those "mask-slipping" moments that other writers tend to use (badly) in stories like this. Usually, those are so obvious that you start wondering why the family is so daft as to not notice and, having had some experience with sociopaths myself, their masks really don't slip as often as some writers think. Your story, on the other hand, is quite believable and a joy to read for fans of the "cuckoo in the nest" genre. Great stuff!

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