Page 34 of Inferno

Chapter 9

Something was different about Manning.

Stan knew it the moment his son strolled into the kitchen the next morning, freshly showered and dressed in his favorite Atlanta Falcons T-shirt, black sweatpants and high-top sneakers.

“Morning,pops,” he greeted Stan, who was seated at the breakfast table sipping his second cup of coffee while readingTheDenver Post.

“Good morning.” Peering over the top of the newspaper, Stan watched as Manning sauntered over to the microwave to heat up the plate of pancakes and bacon his mother had left for him. Even when Prissy was mad at the boy, she couldn’t suppress her maternal instinct to coddle and pamper him.

Stan took another sip of coffee. “Did you talk to your mother before she left for work?”

“Yeah,” Manning answered, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. “We’re cool.”

Which meant he’d laid on the charm—draping an arm around Prissy’s shoulders, resting his head on top of hers and calling her “Mommy” until she melted, as she always did.

Stan chuckled inwardly. “Did she give you the list of chores you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Yup.”Manning patted his shorts pocket.“Got it right here.”

Stan nodded, setting down his mug. “As soon as you finish your breakfast, I expect you to get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed. Manning looked and soundedwaytoo chipper for a kid who was facing three days’ worth of grueling manual labor.

“How’s that eye?” At the blank look Manning gave him, Stan pointed to the shiner on his face.

“Oh.” The boy reached up and touched the discolored skin, then shrugged a shoulder.“Forgot all about it.”

Stan’s brows went up.

When the microwave beeped, Manning removed his plate and poured syrup over the stack of pancakes, then grabbed a fork from the cutlery drawer and scooped up his drink. Walking over to the table, he plopped down across from Stan and said a quick grace before attacking his food with even more gusto than usual.

Amused, Stan watched him for a few moments. “Looks likesomeonewoke up with a huge appetite.”

Manning grunted, shoveling a syrupy forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“Just out of curiosity, why’d you take a shower?”

“Huh?”

“Why’d you bother to take a shower,” Stan elaborated, “when you’re gonna be doing chores all day and getting sweaty?”

Manning shrugged, not glancing up from his plate. “I forgot I wasn’t going to school.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Laying aside his newspaper, Stan stood and leaned across the table to sniff at Manning.

The boy eyed him quizzically. “What’re you doing, Dad?”

“You smell different.”

Manning looked wary.“Different how?”

“I don’t know.” Stan took another whiff. “But you do.”