Page 71 of Mean Machine

“Want me to leave?” Hazel likely needed Nathaniel much more than he did, plus he might have messed with prior commitments by deciding to stay yesterday.

Nathaniel shook his head. “No. Hazel?”

She looked up, again glanced at Brooklyn, not afraid, maybe a little shy, very likely not clear how he fit into the picture.That’s two of us, Hazel.

“This is Brooklyn; you’ve met him before.”

She nodded. “Hi, Brooklyn.”

“Hi, Hazel. I’m a friend of your dad’s.” There was something undoubtedly sweet about how children that age took everything at face value. Not old enough to roll her eyes at the situation or comment about how “friends” didn’t lie naked together in bed.

“Are you coming with us to the park?” she asked, perking up.

“Uh. Now?”

Nathaniel reached out to check the time on his watch. “Nine o’clock. I did promise her to feed the squirrels in the park. Want to join us?”

“Sure.” Brooklyn glanced at Hazel. “If that’s okay? I don’t think I’ve ever fed squirrels.”

“They’re my favourites!” she declared and jumped off the bed.

“All right, so we’ll go feed the squirrels.” Nathaniel managed to reach his pyjama trousers and put them on under the blankets, then sat up. “Coffee first. Brooklyn, if you want to grab a shower….”

“Yeah, won’t take long.”

The park was just a very short stroll away and, luckily for Nathaniel, there was a coffee shop that was already open and serving on a Sunday morning. They weren’t alone by any means—joggers and cyclists drove and panted past—but Hazel ignored all of that in favour of the fat grey squirrels that made such a comfortable living off tourists and pensioners that they’d lost all fear.

When Hazel crouched down with peanuts in her hand, they quickly came over and almost took the food straight from her palm, but not quite, and Hazel proved too impatient to wait very much longer.

Nathaniel made photos of her with the most adventurous creature extending itself on its hind legs to survey whether she had anything worth waiting for, while Brooklyn pushed his hands into his pockets, remembering how he’d jogged along that path with Les not too long ago, and still in a different life.

“Brooklyn?”

“Hm?”

Nathaniel motioned him towards Hazel. Brooklyn took a few steps and bent over a little to point at another squirrel sizing her up. Nathaniel peered at his camera screen, then nodded, pleased. Brooklyn grinned—it was something so normal, so ordinary, and still it all felt so very right, though unfamiliar at the same time. Special, in any case.

Instead of waiting for another squirrel, Hazel wiped the peanut debris off her hands, straightened, and ran towards one of the large trees. Nathaniel reached for Brooklyn’s arm. “Let her run for a while.”

“She’s got a lot of energy.”

“Well, she sure doesn’t have that from me,” Nathaniel muttered, and Brooklyn laughed. “I’m still one coffee short before I’m coherent.”

“Well, I can always take her with me to the gym.”

“As long as you give her another ten to fifteen years before you do, why not?” Nathaniel shrugged. “For the record, I’m a night owl, and being surrounded by two larks gives me chrono-whiplash.”

Brooklyn grinned. “Let’s see if we can find you some more coffee.”

WHEN BROOKLYNwalked into Cash’s kitchen at about noon, a stranger sat at the table. First, Brooklyn thought he might be family, but where Cash’s skin was a medium brown tone, this guy was almost blueish black, the shaved fuzz of his hair going grey, and his nose and ears gave him away as either a former rugby player or boxer. The man measured Brooklyn with that level gaze that Brooklyn knew from prison guards and cops. Brooklyn paused and looked at him the same way.

“Brook, this is Joseph. Joseph, you know Brook.”

“From the TV at least.” Joseph waved him over. “Come, sit with us.”

Brooklyn glanced at Cash, who was his bouncy self, then slid onto one of the chairs. “How’s it going?”

“Had a good evening?”