Page 85 of Thick

I’d reached a point that proceeding was all I could think of. Almost seven weeks had passed since the day I dropped him off at the clubhouse, and we’d seen each other at least three times a week throughout every one of those weeks.

I took another quick look at Tate and then knocked on the door. The only way to get him to come to my father’s house without his kutte was to drive my car, as he wasn’t allowed to ride his motorcycle without it.

Luckily, he’d agreed. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a black tee shirt, he didn’t look much different than any other day. I hoped the absence of his kutte, as subtle as it was, would be enough to allow my father to see him with the clearest of mindsets.

The door opened. “Come in.”

We stepped inside.

“Dad, this is Tate. Tate, this is my father, James.”

My dad extended his right hand. “James Madden, pleasure to meet you.”

“Tate. Tate Reynolds. Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“TD Reynolds,” My father said. “I got a kick out of that Tripper fellow in the boxing book. He was about as funny of a man as I think I’ve ever encountered.”

“Dad!”

He gave me a look. “What?”

“You read that?”

“Well, it wasn’t on audiobook, so I had to.”

“I said not to read them.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Since when do I listen to you?”

“I can’t believe you,” I huffed. “I asked you not to--”

“I needed to know who I was meeting before I met him. Have something in common to talk about.”

“You could talk about cars, or sports, or something.”

“If he’s like his characters in his books, he doesn’t like sports.”

It was something I’d read about in many of the books, but it never sank in. I looked at Tate.

“Do you?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, grinned, and shrugged. “Not so much.”

“Don’t have a television, do you?”

“No, Sir.”

“See? He can’t even watch TV.” He looked at me, shifted his eyes to Tate, and then grinned as sly grin. “She watches it, but doesn’t listen to it. Damndest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop it,” I hissed playfully.

“It’s true,” he said. “She turns it on without the sound, and watches an entire series on Netflix. Never listens to a word.”

“It’s impossible to listen while I read.”

Tate looked at me and chuckled. “We’ve all got our quirks.”

It was the same thing I’d told Andy. I found it funny that Tate repeated my quote almost verbatim. Maybe we were more alike than I thought we were.