“You’re up early. It’s barely five,” Trent said quietly, placing his shoes on the kitchen floor by the table. He made his way to the oversized sock basket in the laundry room directly off the kitchen. He and Rhonny hated matching socks so it never seemed to get done. Instead, they piled high in a laundry basket causing them to dig through it regularly trying to find matches.
“I know. The thunder woke me. By the time I got up here, the kids were already out of bed. I supposed in your room,” she said quietly, standing at the stove, turning the bacon in the sizzling pan. Rhonny occupied the basement all by herself. The space was small, but held enough room for a shower, a bedroom, and a small office area. He gave it all to her when she’d accepted the job, moving his office into the garage to give her more room.
“Yeah, I don’t think the first clap of thunder ended before they were already there, climbing up into bed. It pretty much ended sleeping for the night,” Trent said, sitting in a chair at the table, angling his socks and boots on.
“I figured. It’s why I started breakfast early. I have an eight o’clock final this morning and I need to study. But I can take the kids to school before I go, if you need me to. I didn’t get your text until too late last night about my schedule for the next week. It’s why I didn’t text you back.”
“It’d be great if you took them. I have a nine o’clock walk-through and I need to get the crews out. I’m behind on some blueprints I need to bid on. I should be able to make a big dent on the estimate before the guys get here.” Trent mentally ticked off his to do list as he adjusted his feet in his thick steel-toed work boots. Rising, he made his way to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. He pulled another cup from the cupboard and served up a second mug for Rhonny. She used all those sweet creamers, doctoring the taste, so he pushed the cup closer to her before turning and propping himself against the kitchen counter and taking a long drink.
“It’s the only early test I have for finals this week, so I should be able to take them to school the rest of the week, too. Oh, but remember, I have LSAT classes starting next week. I need to be there no later than six. I can call Auntie Crazy, if you’re gonna to be late. Or meet you somewhere, just let me know. I’m also going to Milwaukee this weekend. I’m leaving early Saturday morning, but I’ll be here the next weekend. I told Em I would stay for her birthday, if it’s okay?”
“Of course, it’s okay. Thank you for planning to be here on your day off. I know she’ll be excited. I can’t believe she’s already turning four. We’re supposed to go on Sunday to pick out decorations.” Trent took another long drink of the hot coffee. He could feel it slowly doing its job of getting him moving for the day.
“Oh man, she’s so gonna love that. Did she stick with Tinkerbell?” Rhonny asked, looking over her shoulder, her long brown hair swinging with a twinkle in her eye.
“Heck, no, that was three decisions ago. She just told me it’s a princess party now,” he said, chuckling a little before drinking down the rest of his cup.
“That’s funny. It’ll be interesting to see what she finally decides on. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll have lots of hot pink in it.” Rhonny turned back, pulling the bacon from the skillet at the same moment the toast popped free from the toaster.
“I know, right? She was so wishing that pink Barbie kitchen table was made big enough so we could have one in our kitchen,” Trent said absently, pouring another cup before turning to head through the laundry room to the attached garage.
“Here, take this with you,” Rhonny called after him.
“Oh, sorry… I’m already working those plans out in my mind. Thanks for breakfast,” Trent said, took the sandwich, and without another thought of the birthday parties and pink kitchen tables, he opened the garage door to his makeshift shop to begin working on the blueprints.
Chapter 2
“Sid, I don’t care if you agree with retirement or not. It’s here, live with it. You can’t entice me with leads anymore. I’m done and it’s four in the fucking morning, man. Damn it, Sid, sleep for once,” Gage said, interrupting his rambling editor and letting all the irritation of being awakened bristle through the few sentences he’d spoken since the phone call began. A yawn tore across his lips as a crash of thunder rumbled outside. An unexpected groan sounded from an unknown bed partner, reminding Gage someone still shared his bed from the previous night’s activity. Damn, how did I not get rid of him before now?
“Just tell me when I can expect the last story? The higher ups are breathing down my neck. It’s been years since you promised this one, Synclair. If it’s the last piece, we need to strike while the iron’s hot,” Sid growled vehemently. Gone were the years when Gage begged Sid to air his work. Now he was a sought after commodity working with the largest names in the broadcasting industry.
Most of the time Gage liked Sid, and he knew he owed the man; it was the only reason he didn’t shop this last report and promised it to Sid straight out. Sid was the first one to take notice of the complexity of Gage’s photos and the depths he went to in order to find the entire story, not just accept the obvious answers to help conclude the broadcast. With Sid’s help, Gage turned into an international success, making his photo and video investigative journalism the standard to be reached in present day news.