“Oh, hey again,” Jamie said with a wave and his signature charming grin. Niko struggled not to roll his eyes.
She gave a small huff and stepped out onto the porch, her arms crossed. “I was taking bets with myself over whether or not you guys would show up. Guess I wasn’t as big of an idiot as I thought, trusting you’d come back.”
“We’re men of our word.”
She nodded, not even bothering to cover her dubious expression. “Santiago, right?”
“I go by Jamie, but yeah.”
“Middle name?”
“Nah. Jamie’s a nickname for Santiago. Don’t ask me how that works. Ma told me, and I just believed her. But yeah. I’m Jamie Amaya, and this guy is Nikolai Amorosa. You can call him Niko, though, if you want.”
A small smile tugged at the woman’s lips, and she visibly relaxed a fraction. She gave Niko a once over, and knowing a cue when he saw one, he offered his hand. Her grip was firm, and he kept his light.
Looking at her in the light of day, Niko amended his first impression. She was beautiful; expressive eyes, cute-as-hell nose, and brown hair that turned red where the sun hit it.
He’d been right about the ass, though. Hot damn.
“Did you say last night that your name is Paris?”
She scowled, dropping Niko’s hand as she looked to Jamie. “Carys. Carys Harper.”
“My bad.”
She waved her hand. “It’s not a big deal. I was in middle school when Paris Hilton was a thing. I thought I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Kids are good at being obnoxious. And speaking of obnoxious things, thanks again for letting us do this.”
“It’s like you said last night; you’re doing me a favor. Besides, I get it.”
Jamie arched an eyebrow. “You get it?”
“The whole rage thing?” She glanced at Niko and offered him an understanding smile. “I know how hard it is to live with a disability.”
Niko’s head snapped to Jamie, who was looking back with a half-guilty, half-what-did-you-expect expression on his face. Jamie gestured with a slight nod of his head. Carys wasn’t talking anymore, and the silence was becoming awkward. Looking back at her, Niko offered her what he hoped was an appropriately humble smile and looked down at his feet as though he were ashamed. He wasn’t. He was furious but not at her. Suffice it to say that if Niko wasn’t positive Carys wouldn’t be so understanding if his next fit of rage happened on her lawn again, Jamie might’ve found himself on the ground.
“So, are we going to meet your grandmother?” Jamie asked. “You said this was her house, right? I’d like to apologize in person.”
“Lucky for you, she’s with my aunt in Florida for the summer.”
“Lucky for us?”
Carys tilted her head. “See, she’s actually a rational person. She would’ve called the cops first and let them ask all the questions later.”
“Right.” Jamie coughed into his hand. “Anyway, let’s talk business. I think the most obvious thing would be to start on the broken windows. So here’s what I’m thinking. For each thing we tackle, I’m going to assess the damages and the condition of the house. This is an old house, so there are a lot of things that could be upgraded for greater energy efficiency and to add value. Some things we’re going to upgrade automatically because they just ain’t made that way anymore.”
For his part, Niko smiled and nodded in agreement like a good little boy. He knew this woman was doing him a huge favor, so he hoped he looked at least somewhat contrite, even though contrition had never been his forte. His mother used to get so aggravated that she had to remind him that the point of being punished was so he’d be sorry for what he’d done. He wasn’t supposed to glare at her as though she was in the wrong for catching him.
“We’re going to give you the option if you want us to go the next step up,” Jamie said. “I’ll make sure you know all the pros and cons, and if you decide you want something a little more top of the line, you’ll cover the costs minus what we would’ve forked over. You with me so far?”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay. That’s for the stuff we broke. Now, like we talked about, there’s a lot to do on the house. One way or another, I’m going to do a thorough assessment—what should be done sooner than later, what can wait, and your options. Then it’s up to you if you want to move forward. I’m going to ask you to cover the cost of the materials in that case, but we’ll still do the work free of charge for your troubles.”
Carys looked over at Niko at that point, and he did his best to keep his expression straight. Right at that moment, he hated his life, but listening to Jamie in professional mode had stoked a grudging appreciation toward his friend for what he was doing. Jamie didn’t have to say “we”; he wasn’t the one who’d gone ballistic on the house. And Niko supposed going to jail would’ve cost him thousands of dollars in fines and legal fees anyway.
“Now, it’s pretty likely we’re going to run into the need for a bigger job,” Jamie said. “Older house like this? I’m thinking probably plumbing or something like that.”
“There’s no probably about it. There are rocks in my pipes,” Carys said.
“You probably have a galvanized steel system still, so that’s not uncommon. After we’re done with the minor stuff, we can talk about the big projects like that, so, at the very least, no one’s going to take advantage of you when you’re ready to go forward.”
“And I know I can trust you how, exactly?” She crossed her arms again, but when she raised her eyebrow, she seemed much more amused than wary. Niko had to struggle not to roll his eyes. Jamie was right about one thing; he did know how to be charming when he wanted to be.
To that end, Jamie grinned at her. “Well, we got no reason to lie, do we? We’re not profiting at all.” He shrugged. “But if you want to hire some guy to tell you the same thing, we won’t be insulted.”
“Or I could hire someone reputable to fix the things you broke.” She looked at Niko. “And you can foot the bill. That’s how it would work if we got into a car accident.”
Jamie’s cocksure grin faded, and Niko’s lips tugged down. Money had been tight since the accident, what with him not working, and he didn’t know if he could afford parts and labor for a job like this.
Carys laughed. “I’m kidding. Really, this is above and beyond, and I know that. But I’d appreciate it if you answered one question.”
“Sure. Anything.”
She turned not to Jamie but to Niko and waited until he looked up at her. “Why did you target this house?” she asked. “Just luck of the draw?”
Niko set his mouth in a thin line, and Jamie answered for him. “He used to live here when we were kids.”
“Ah. Not good memories, then?”
“I—”
“Never mind. It’s none of my business. You want to look at the windows?”
It took Niko a minute afterward to figure out why that last interaction had thrown him. He realized it was because, even as Jamie spoke for him, Carys had never looked away from his face. It had been a while since someone had looked at him like that, as though they were paying attention, listening as he spoke.
“Where have you been?”
Niko shouldn’t have been surprised to find his older sister in his apartment, but when she shouted at him, he startled. Delilah was standing in the living area with one hand on her hip and the other hip occupied by her six-month-old son, Luca. He stepped all the way through the doorway, his glare never leaving his sister, and shut it behind him with a bit more force than necessary.
Rather than try to answer, he dropped his gaze and held his arms out to take Luca from her. Hers was the sigh of the put-upon big sister, but she gave up her son easily enough and moved into the kitchen instead. “We’re having chicken and rice, and I’m making steamed vegetables to go with it. I don’t want to hear you bitching about it, either. It’s not going to kill you to choke down a carrot that hasn’t been smothered in ra
nch dressing.”
Though she couldn’t see him, Niko rolled his eyes. She hadn’t heard him bitch about anything in seven months, and he wanted to shout that at her. He sat down on his couch with the baby cradled against his chest.
Luca lifted his head and giggled. Niko quirked an eyebrow and lifted his chin in a “what?” gesture the baby apparently found hilarious. His laughter was infectious, and Niko was in a much better mood when Delilah called him to eat.
His good mood vanished when he noticed his sister had left a notepad to the right of his plate. She took a step forward to take Luca, but Niko kept out of her reach. He grabbed his plate and sat down in the seat to the side of her instead of the place she’d set directly across. He grabbed his plate and dragged it to his seat.
“Come on. How else are you going to tell me where you’ve been, huh?” Delilah crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Her best mom impression hadn’t worked when he was growing up, and it didn’t work now that she actually was a mom. He readjusted Luca on his lap and went about serving himself dinner, and because her being a nag wasn’t an excuse to forget his manners, he served her, too. When she still didn’t sit down, he kicked her chair out and gestured.
“You’re a stubborn ass. You know that, Nikolai?” She sat down and pulled the plate he’d served over to her side of the table.
Niko busied himself setting aside some of the rice and bits of the soft vegetables to satisfy Luca’s grabby hands. Delilah, who’d never had a problem filling a silence, launched into a lengthy diatribe about their younger brother’s latest dating disaster.
“Look, we’ve all dated jerks. Every woman you’ve been with has dated an asshole.”
He shot her a middle-finger salute.
She snickered but went on without missing a beat. “And some of your girlfriends were just as big bastards, but Micah’s talented. I’ll say this much for him, though; he knows when to run. This latest jerk hit him.”
Niko brought his head up, looking at his sister with a sharp expression. She held her hand up. “He called the cops on the prick, and he’s living with Nia again. Thank God for Nia. They shared a womb, for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t he have inherited some of her good taste? Her boyfriends are always so nice, and they break up because it’s not working out, not because he went apeshit on her.”
Unable to find a flaw in her argument, Niko nodded his agreement. Despite being a sweet kid, Micah seemed attracted to first-class jerks. Niko often thought that if his little brother weren’t so much younger—he and Nia had been a surprise, born when Niko was ten and Delilah fifteen—he might’ve tried to push Micah toward Jamie. He trusted Jamie. He didn’t trust other assholes with his baby brother and sister.
Delilah hummed around a bite of chicken. “Anyway, Skype them later. Remind Micah he doesn’t need to be with anyone. He’s twenty. It’s okay to be alone. And he’s not even alone. Like Nia would ever leave him.”
The one-sided conversation was interrupted by Luca’s squealing. He pitched forward in Niko’s arms, reaching for his mother. Delilah rose and pulled the baby up. “Here. I’ll change him and see if he wants to go down for the night. He’s had a long day. Haven’t you, Luc?” She kissed the baby’s forehead and looked up at Niko. “You get the dishes.”
Raising his hand in a cheeky salute, Niko returned to his dinner, intending to get to the dishes after he’d had his fill. He ate and listened to the sound of his sister’s chattering to the baby, who cooed in response.
An old, comfortable sense of familiarity settled over him. When the twins were born, their mother worked nights. Their father wasn’t of the mind that it was a man’s job to raise babies, so a lot of the grunt work fell to Delilah. It was Del who fed the babies, changed them, and rocked them to sleep.
Just as she had back then, Del began to sing soft rock ballads full of tenderness. When Niko was ten and eleven and twelve, he’d always pretended he was much too grown up for baby stuff like lullabies, but whenever Del began to sing, he would secretly creep up outside the twins’ room to listen and hum along.
It was no mystery why he’d so often sung the same rock ballads with his band, dedicating them to his sister, whether she was there or not. It was an automatic reaction to sing along.
He only got one word out, and it was warped and scratchy before his throat closed off. He coughed, making the scratch-burn even worse. He reached blindly for his beer and gulped it, slaking the fire in his throat. The physical discomfort was fleeting, save for an irritating tickle at his vocal chords that reminded him he would never sing again. Or talk. Or hum.
It was a good beer he was drinking, but the taste turned bitter in his mouth. He drained the bottle and had to stop himself from hurtling it against the wall.
There, in his apartment with Delilah, the older sister who had never let him get a word in edgewise all his life, he’d forgotten for a few minutes he couldn’t respond to her even if he wanted to. For almost thirty years, he’d opened his mouth and spoke whenever he damn well pleased. It was a hard habit to break.
He pushed back from the table and went to his room, passing Delilah and the baby without looking at them. He closed and locked the door, ignoring the questions his sister shouted at him through the wood.
“Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself!” Delilah said, and Niko bristled.
He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself; she’d annoyed him. If he were feeling so sorry for himself, he’d be pouting in his bed. Instead, he was on his bed, settling his laptop on his lap to see if either of the twins was online.
Eventually, Del gave up trying to get him to open the door. Niko probably should’ve felt guilty when he heard the sounds of dishes clanking as she washed them. His fingers paused over the keys, and he debated going to help her. Just as quickly, though, he furrowed his brow, dead set against the idea. He’d agreed to do the dishes. It was her own fault if she couldn’t wait.
“I’m going to drop you off so you can get us set up for the day.”
Niko swung his head to look at his friend and raised an eyebrow. Not that the lion’s share of the work shouldn’t go to him—that was fair—but just what the hell was Jamie going to do?
“Breakfast, of course,” Jamie said as though he’d read Niko’s mind. “Man is not meant to function without breakfast. It’s not healthy, for one thing. Besides, you can’t expect me to do manual labor on an empty stomach. I need bacon and eggs and coffee.”
Before he left the house, Niko had filled his stainless-steel mug full of coffee. He drained it now, ignoring the fact the liquid was just a little too hot to chug. As they pulled up in front of the house, he handed his empty mug over.
“Jackass,” Jamie said, shaking his head as he got out of the car.
His friend stayed only long enough to help get all the supplies out of the truck, dumping them on the curb before he drove off and leaving Niko to do all the heavy lifting.
Better than jail, he reminded himself as he got down to business.
Their fathers had taught them well. Organization was the first key to ensuring any job went smoothly. As Niko carried all the equipment they’d need for the long haul to the back of the house, he arranged everything methodically so the more frequently used items would be easier to find.
The section of lawn they’d chosen to lay out their tools, a spot wide enough and yet out of the way enough to be unobtrusive, just happened to be right near the window of Niko’s old bedroom. Since it didn’t take much thought to carry and arrange tools, he found himself looking at the window, curious.
Yeah, such a great idea, he told himself, his inner voice mocking. He already knew it wouldn’t look like the room he’d had half his lifetime ago. It wasn’t his, and he had no business peeping into other people’s homes.
Still, it wasn’t his fault he had eyes and peripheral vision. When he passed by, as he had to do, he couldn’t help but notice the room seemed empty. As long as there was no one there to report him for being a peeping Tom
, a peek wouldn’t hurt anyone, so he peered in. Then he stared. His old room had become some sort of storage room for instruments.
The wall that had once held posters of action movies and pin-up babes was now covered in guitars and banjos. Niko couldn’t imagine why anyone would need to own a banjo, let alone the four on display. He supposed no one needed that many guitars, either, but hey, guitars.
The floor was also covered with instruments, all of them laid out in neat rows, though there was a space left in the very center of the room. One had to have some place to actually play the things, he guessed.
There was a drum set where his desk had been—a kick ass, custom-made drum set, if Niko knew anything—and next to that were a xylophone and a pair of bongos. The same floor space where he’d once scattered his dirty magazines under his bed was now littered with classic string instruments: cello, violin, harp.
He saw a saxophone and a trombone. There was a counter set up for the smaller instruments: several flutes, a clarinet, a complex-looking harmonica. There were also a bunch of instruments he had no name for.
“Hey, creeper.”
Niko jumped and whirled. He hadn’t heard Jamie get back, but his friend was behind him now, fast-food breakfast bags hanging off one wrist. He held out Niko’s mug. “Watching someone get dressed?” Jamie asked in a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, even I can appreciate the fact Carys is a damn good-looking woman, but we’re trying to keep you out of jail, man.”
Jamie’s only response when Niko shoved him was to laugh. He tossed one of the bags he carried at him. “Eat. It’s going to be a long day.”
It wasn’t a good day.
Back when they were experienced workers, it would’ve taken them maybe five hours to replace a window. It had been quite a while since either of them had done this kind of work, and they’d never done it with a communication barrier. Two sets of hands made lighter work but only when Niko could talk to catch Jamie’s attention. When his hands were full, as they usually were with work like this, Niko couldn’t even gesture that the other man needed to move an inch to the right or to watch out because the glass was going to snag.
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