Cole

by Tess Oliver

  “Good idea.”

  We turned the corner again and landed in a kitchen that glistened with shiny granite counter tops and stainless steel you could see your reflection in. There was even a small sitting area with a wide screen television and plush green couches. The dogs stretched out on the rugs in front of the couches, and Some Pig curled up next to them.

  The house was truly magnificent. Every fixture sparkled. Every rug looked lush enough to sleep on. Every piece of furniture looked expensive and imported. But aside from the small herd of cool pets, the whole place lacked the magical element that made a house feel like a home. As luxurious as it was, it felt unfriendly and cold. Just like Finley’s brother, Jude.

  “I don’t eat critters of any kind.” Finley reached for a cupboard handle. The door swung open and revealed a huge refrigerator stocked with food and beer. “Are grilled cheese sandwiches all right? Sorry, but that’s all I really know how to make.”

  “Grilled cheese sounds divine.” I had no idea how much Mrs. Vickers had told Finley about me or how much my school counselor really even knew about my life. But the way Finley looked at me from beneath the curtain of long white bangs, it seemed she knew that I’d grown up on cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, and free school lunches. And I sensed that none of it mattered to her. I was just going on first impressions, and I could have been totally wrong, but it seemed that this was a girl who had grown up with everything but who would never look down at someone who had less. There was something truly genuine and trustworthy about her.

  Finley searched around for a frying pan in one of the bazillion cupboards lining the walls.

  I helped her butter bread and she dropped the sandwiches onto a heated pan. My intuition told me that we could become close friends. And truthfully, I’d moved around so much, I’d never really had a true friend. The only hurdle so far was the cold greeting from her brother. In those few seconds, he had made me feel unwanted and uneasy. Down the long stretch of hallway from the gym, I’d engaged in a mind debate on whether or not to mention it. I figured there was still time to back out of this if necessary.

  “Your brother was definitely not pleased to meet me.” Up until this point I’d been feeling pretty positive about the whole adventure, but her brother had put a spoiler on the whole thing.

  “Don’t mind Jude. He thrives on being an asshole. He’s cranky because he’s been under house arrest for four months. Once he gets the ankle monitor off, he’ll be out of here. He rarely stays around.”

  She had talked freely about her life since I’d arrived but she obviously had no intention of telling me why Jude was under house arrest. He definitely looked like the kind of guy who lived for trouble.

  Chapter 5

  “Ta da,” Finely sang out as she flipped the sandwiches onto plates. “Half-burned but plenty of gooey cheese.”

  “Gooey cheese is definitely a bonus.” I hopped up onto one of the stools that lined the granite counter. I picked up the hot crisp sandwich. “I just realized I’m starved.”

  Finley poured us each a glass of lemonade, pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, and sat next to me.

  “How long have you been a vegetarian?” I asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

  “Since I was five. Jude, Dad, and I were in the back of the limo on the freeway and we drove past a giant stock trailer filled with pigs. I smiled and pointed at the pretty pigs and asked if they were going to a farm. Dad assured me they were, but Jude chimed in to let me know that he thought they were going to the ham factory. I haven’t eaten meat since.”

  “I guess it’s easy to figure out why your brother calls you Doolittle.”

  “Jude has tons of nicknames for me. About the only name he doesn’t call me is Finley.” Her bracelets jangled as she lifted her sandwich and took a bite. She sipped her lemonade. “I’ve been blathering on like a grocery store tabloid about my life. Tell me more about yourself. What do you like to do? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “I’m kind of a book nerd. I liked to read, and I was an honor student up until last week when your aunt found my mom’s joint perched on the top of my backpack.”

  Her eyes widened. “No way. Aunt Julie must have had a stroke.”

  “She was actually pretty cool about it. My mom cried about it all day. She had me when she was sixteen, and we’ve always been more like friends than like mother and daughter. We’re really close. She can take one look at me as I walk in the door and know exactly what kind of day I had. My dad and I are close too. He has always had the dream of becoming a rock star. I think that’s what has always stood in the way of him holding a real job. I think deep down he figured if he ever got trapped in a mundane nine to five job like other guys his age then his dream would be shattered forever. The big break he needed just never happened.” I laughed. “You should have seen him when I told him about coming here for the summer. He was pacing our apartment with a starry-eyed look that only a true man-crush could produce.”

  “We’ll have to get them together this summer.”

  “That would be great. My dad would have to be tranquilized first, but he would love that.”

  Finley’s phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and went back to her sandwich. “Let’s remember to exchange numbers to put in our cell phones.”

  I stared down at the half-eaten sandwich on my plate. Occasionally, our family had splurged on a prepaid phone but it was definitely a luxury.

  Finley seemed to sense what I was thinking. “I’m a knucklehead. I don’t know why I assume everyone has a phone. Honestly, I hate having one, but my dad insists that I carry it. He calls a lot to check in on me.”

  “That’s sweet. He sounds like a good dad.”

  “He is. It’s just he’s so busy, he’s rarely home. I’ve been trying to convince him to retire from the whole rock scene, but he still loves it. But I worry about him when he’s on tour. He always gets rundown and then he gets sick.”

  “Your dad is living the life my dad always dreamed of.”

  Her phone vibrated again. She glanced at it and then ignored it.

  “I’ll bet you have a million different friends texting you,” I said. “That would get annoying fast.”

  “Nah, only a handful. I don’t give my number out much. It’s kind of hard to stay private when you’re the daughter of a rock legend. My dad has forbidden us to use Facebook too. We get all kinds of weirdoes posting on there.”

  “Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  One of Black Thunder’s songs jingled through the ring tone on her phone. She sighed audibly and pressed it to her ear. “What do you want?” she asked. “In the kitchen. Make your own lunch. You’re the reason the cook quit.” She placed the phone down again.

  Seconds later, footsteps plodded down the hallway. Jude stepped into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. His scrutinizing gaze flashed my way. Just like his sister, he was definitely a person who could steal the attention of a crowded room. And he seemed well-aware of it. I made a point to focus on my sandwich. As comfortable as I’d felt eating lunch with Finley, her brother had stripped that confidence instantly.

  The dogs lifted their big heads as he walked over and flopped onto the couch. He plunked his feet, unwieldy cuff and all, hard onto a highly polished coffee table. “Hey, Freak Show,” Jude called without looking back, “bring me that carton of milk, would you?” He switched on the television.

  Finley’s blue eyes skewered the back of his head, but she jumped off the stool and went to the refrigerator. She pulled out the milk and then walked to a cupboard and opened it.

  “I don’t need a glass.” He called again without looking back.

  “Other people might want to drink from this carton, you swine.” Finley looked at me. “When it’s in an insulting context, we always say swine instead of pi
g. Some Pig is super sensitive.”

  Jude twisted around this time. “How much is in there?”

  Finley shook it. “It’s still half full Or as you would probably say, half-empty.”

  He spun back to face the television. “Like I said, no glass necessary.”

  Finley stomped over and placed the carton on the table hard enough that some of the milk splashed out of the top. She returned to the stool and hopped up onto it. “So, anyhow, Eden,” she spoke to me but looked Jude’s way, “as I was saying,” she winked at me, “we used to have a really great chef.”

  “Shut the hell up, Doolittle.” Jude raised the carton in the air and swallowed back the contents.

  “But last week, Tanya, the chef,” she spoke loudly enough to be sure that Jude heard every word over the sound of the television, “crept into Jude’s room, took off her clothes, and climbed into bed with him.” Finley was trying hard to suppress laughter, and I wasn’t completely sure I wanted her to finish the story.

  “Shut the fuck up, Freak Show.” He lifted the remote and turned up the volume.

  She laughed once and continued. “Well, Jude told her to get out. The next morning he came in to breakfast, and she was spitting in his scrambled eggs.”

  “Ooh, gross. I take it that was the end of her employment.”

  “Yep.” She glanced over at Jude. “I told Dad what happened. He said it is your job to hire a new chef.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He held the carton up in the air. “Empty.”

  This guy was beyond arrogant, and I wanted to slap him. I only hoped that like Finley had said, he’d be gone once the ankle monitor came off. Finley was about to push off the stool, but I put my hand on her arm. “Allow me. I’m used to waiting on two baby sisters.” This time I spoke loudly enough for him to hear.

  I tromped up behind him and reached for the carton, but he moved it out of my reach. Refusing to give in to his teasing, I walked around to the front of the couch. He was focused on the television as I reached for the carton. My fingers grazed his. They were unexpectedly calloused. His grip on the empty container had not loosened. His hardened gaze shifted to me, and he stared at me for a few long seconds before releasing it.

  I returned to the kitchen and Finley pointed out the trash. We carried our plates to the sink and rinsed them. The dishwasher was also camouflaged in a cupboard. “This dishwashing thing is going to get old real quick,” Finley quipped.

  “Unfortunately, I’m rather skilled at it. Years of practice. And yes, it gets old.” Especially without a dishwasher I thought but didn’t add.

  Jude turned off the T.V., pushed up from the couch, and left the room.

  Finley had grown uncharacteristically quiet. “You know, Eden,” she said quietly, “I haven’t left the estate in nine months.”

  “Your aunt mentioned something about it.” Her change of tone made my throat tighten.

  “But I’m not a freak.”

  “I know.” I paused a second before speaking. “Why don’t you tell him to stop calling you that?”

  “He doesn’t mean anything by it. He just worries about me.” It was amazing how she stuck up for her brother. He was obviously a jerk. Then her face brightened and her tone changed completely as if a switch had been turned off and on again. “Do you want to take a tour of the grounds? We’ve got a great pool area.”

  “Sure.” I was slightly taken aback by her abrupt mood change, but something told me I was going to have to get used to it.

  “Wait here and I’ll run up and change shoes.” She opened a cupboard and threw a box of cookies on the counter. “These are delish.” She walked out of the room, and Some Pig trotted behind her.

  I sat munching on a cookie looking around at the unbelievable décor when both dogs lifted their heads again. The side door to the kitchen opened, and a guy walked in wearing a motocross shirt and pants that were completely splattered in hardened mud. Dirt crusted goggles hung around his neck. The skin around his hazel eyes was the only area not covered with mud.

  He looked at me and nodded. “How’s it going?” One of his hands was covered in a motorcycle glove. He fished in a drawer, pulled out some long scissors, and began sawing at the leather glove. It was a futile attempt. “Yeah, I didn’t think that was going to work.” He looked up at me again. “Do you think you could help me? I just need you to pull off the glove.”

  I stood from the stool. “Sure.” It definitely seemed like a task I could manage. I took hold of several fingers.

  “Wait a second,” he said. He grasped the edge of the counter with his ungloved hand. “Go.” He sucked in a deep breath and I pulled. The glove came free but not as easily as I would have expected.

  His face had paled some as he lifted the uncovered hand. “Shit. Why’d you have to pull so hard?”

  Now I was the one holding the counter. His wrist was twisted into a grotesque, unnatural curve. “I’m— I’m so sorry,” I stuttered, swallowing back the grilled cheese I’d just eaten.

  His face broke into a smile, a smile that was oddly familiar. “I’m just kidding you. I dislocated it on the track. Sorry about that. I didn’t know it would freak you out so badly.”

  I pressed my hand to my chest. “That’s all right. I think my heartbeat will eventually return to normal.”

  He reached out with his untwisted hand. “I’m Cole. Are you here for Jude?”

  The question seemed strange, and it took me a moment to answer. “No, I’m here visiting Finley.”

  To my relief, Finley walked in right then. “What the hell, Cole? It looks like your hand isn’t even attached to your arm anymore.”

  Cole held it up and admired his contorted wrist a moment. “I kind of like it.”

  Jude walked past all of us, opened the fridge, and pulled out a plate of chicken. He glanced at Cole’s arms. “Shit, Cole, put that deformed thing away. I’m trying to eat.”

  Cole looked at Jude and then Finley. “You know what’d be cool— if both of my siblings weren’t house bound. Then one of them could drive me to the emergency room so a doctor could pop it back into place.”

  “I could try but we’d probably have to participate in a police chase on the way there.” Jude grabbed up a drumstick and took a medieval style bite before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Finley twisted her face at him. “Use a napkin, Neanderthal.”

  Cole had nice hazel eyes to go with typical, California boy good looks. “Maybe Finley’s hot, new friend could drive me.”

  “Drive yourself,” Jude said angrily before I had a chance to respond.

  I took the opportunity to shoot a quick scowl at Jude before answering for myself. “I’m afraid it would be safer having me pop your wrist back in place. I don’t have a license.”

  Cole stepped closer to me and even with a completely tweaked wrist managed to flash me a flirtatious grin. “No? Well, maybe I could teach you.”

  Jude rudely pushed between us, reached for a shaker of salt on the counter, and sprinkled some on his chicken.

  “Oh my gosh, could you two be any more obvious?” Finley took hold of my hand and pulled me away from both of them. “Let’s go, Eden. I could really use a walk.”

  I gladly followed.

  “Sorry about that,” Finley said as we stepped out onto a long brick pathway that led to a long, ivy covered fence. The dogs followed but Some Pig stayed inside.

  “Will your brother be all right? I feel sort of bad that he has to drive himself to the hospital. His hand looked pretty wrecked.”

  “He doesn’t have to drive himself. Dad’s chauffeur will take him. He was just looking for some sympathy from you, and he takes every opportunity he can to piss off Jude.”

  We continued along a path that was bordered by perfectly tri
mmed hedges and turned right at a rose garden that was rich with red and pink blooms. The path led to a pool that was so large it circled around a small island of palm trees.

  “That is not a pool. It’s a lagoon.”

  “My dad drove himself nuts designing the thing. He fashioned it after some resort in the Mediterranean. I still remember the day they dug the hole. I was only six, so to me it looked like the Grand Canyon.” We walked around the edge to the beach front entry. “We all put our footprints in cement.” She placed her shoes next to a small footprint. “My feet aren’t much bigger now.”

  I smiled down at the comparison. “Hey, I’ll trade my basketball player feet for yours anytime.”

  “Your feet aren’t that big. And if they were my size, you’d be knocked over in a hard breeze.”

  “I guess my boats do serve a purpose. I can also stomp out very large cockroaches. Unfortunately, I learned about that talent when we moved into our last apartment.”

  “You know, I’m usually dorky enough to pick up a cricket or even a harmless spider to carry outside, but I’ve got to say, my empathy ends with the cockroach. They really are disgusting.”

  I glanced at the other footprints. They’d scratched their names beneath them. “Cole’s penmanship was lacking some back then.”

  “Trust me. It hasn’t improved any with age.”

  The prints had been somewhat faded by time but it was easy to see that there was a fourth pair of feet in the cement. There were just as small as Finley’s. The name was hard to read. “Finley, who does this last pair of prints belong to?”

  “Those are Chloe’s. She was my older sister. She died the year after we pressed our feet into the cement.” She said the words casually as if she was telling me the weather, but there was something in her expression that made it clear she’d practiced the cool, unaffected tone. And I was quickly learning that there were some subjects she would talk freely about and others that she would not. Her sister seemed to be one she preferred not to talk about.