How to Misbehave (Camelot 1)

“That sucks. Was it just you, or—no, that director girl would’ve still been here, huh? I bet that was interesting. She try to jump your bones?”

“Shut up.”

The warning in his voice made Patrick look over. Tony watched him leap to the logical conclusion.

“You were holed up with the director girl, huh?”

“Her name’s Amber. And no. I was home all weekend. I didn’t answer the phone because I didn’t want to talk.”

“Touchy.”

Tony hammered without saying anything, hoping Patrick would take the hint and leave him alone.

Between blows, he heard the faint, intermittent buzz of a chainsaw. Amber must have called somebody to pull the limb off her car and cut it up.

Her voice came through from the other side of the plastic.

“No, Kim was supposed to take that shift. Give her a call, okay?”

“That girl is cute,” Patrick said. “With the whistle and all. Amber, huh? She gave me half her sandwich at lunchtime.”

Tony pounded another nail into the joist.

“I think she likes me. Maybe I’ll see if she wants to go out this weekend. Take her to that place in Danville where they do the line dancing.”

“If you lay a finger on her, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

A huff of laughter. “That’s what I thought,” Patrick said.

“Fuck you.”

“She any good? She looks like she might not know which end is up.”

He gripped the hammer so hard, his fingers started to ache. “Seriously, Patrick, shut the fuck up.”

Her voice drifted into the room again.

“… big galvanized tin bucket we used for the Halloween party? It might be big enough. I’m not sure. I can take a look later, after …”

He couldn’t take this. Couldn’t hear her, see her, talk about her.

Coward.

“We’re starting that job at the church tomorrow,” he said. “I’m going to be there a lot. I want you to take over here. Keep the crew in line. Quit jerking around all morning hanging three panels of sheetrock.”

He hammered in the last nail, and Patrick let go of the panel, rolling his shoulders and staring at Tony with a set jaw. “We talked about this.”

“I know, but you have to do more. There’s too much work for me to be in charge of it all.”

“So hire somebody. Mom says there’s enough money.”

“I already have you.”

Patrick shook his head. “We talked about this,” he repeated. “I don’t want the responsibility, and nobody wants an ex-con in charge of their construction site.”

“You work hard, you do a good job. If people have a problem with it, they can bring it to me.”

“I have a problem with it.”