by Kelli Walker
“Please sweet hell don’t do that,” DeShawn said.
“Hey. Language,” I said. “My sixteen-year old boy won’t be using that kind of filthy mouth at school.”
“That’s why I don’t use it at school,” he said.
“Yes you do,” Dom said. “You cussed at a teacher yesterday.”
“You did what?” I asked as I peeked into his room.
“I didn’t cuss at her, Mom. I caught myself,” he said.
“Dom, what did he say?” I asked.
“I’m going to tell Ma all about those magazines underneath your mattress if you don’t shut up,” DeShawn said.
“Excuse me?” I asked as my eyes widened.
I watched my two boys come out of their rooms with grins on their faces. I sighed, rolling my eyes as I opened my arms for them. I held them close and kissed their cheeks, murmuring ‘good morning’ to them and feeling them wrap their arms around me.
Then, I popped them both on the backside of their heads.
“Hey!”
“What was that for?”
“It was just a joke!”
“That’s for lying to your mother and almost giving her a heart attack,” I said as I pointed at the two of them. “Now get into your bathrooms and wash up. Pronto.”
“Can I drive this week?” DeShawn asked. “Dom drove all last week.”
“Yes, sweet boy. You can drive.”
“But I get to pick the music,” Dom said as he stuck his tongue out.
My boys were crazy. True sixteen-year olds to their core. I listened to them bicker the entire time they were getting ready as I packed their lunches. DeShawn ate two ham-and-cheese sandwiches with grapes, chips, and three Capri-Suns while Dominique ate two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches with carrots, broccoli, ranch dip, and a massive bottle of water he carried around with him.
I set the bags out on the kitchen counter as the boys came tumbling down the stairs.
Literally tumbling.
“Ow, Dom! What the-? Why did you trip me?”
“I didn’t mean to, Dee. You were in the way.”
“I was in the way? I was in front of you!”
“And now I’m in front of you.”
“Don’t you take my lunch.”
“As long as you don’t take mine like you did Thursday.”
“Boys,” I said. “Cool it.”
They came around the corner into the kitchen and they both smiled at me. I could still remember the day I brought DeShawn home from the hospital. He curled against me the entire time and wouldn’t let me go. I had a hard time even bedding him down that night. And Dom? That kid was right there alongside him. Going wherever he went. The two of them couldn’t have been more opposite. DeShawn played football and lacrosse. Spent his free time after school in the gym with the guys on his team. And Dominique, with his love for books and classical music. He knew every single answer to the questions on Jeopardy and never missed a day of school. Not even when he was sick. Keeping Dom home from school was a punishment in his eyes, while DeShawn would live it up as much as possible if sickness kept him back.
But I didn’t mind, considering the circumstances in his life that brought him to me.
“Got your homework?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Got it.”
“Got your lunch?” I asked.
“Just grabbed it.”
“I checked to make sure it was mine.”
“Any after-school functions I should know about today that didn’t get written down onto the fridge calendar because you boys can never remember?” I asked.
“I hear the shade, Mom.”
“You couldn’t have been more obvious.”
“Good,because the next time one of you is stranded at school and you call me all upset and everything, I’m coming with a big sign that says ‘My son can’t remember to write things down’. I’ll even pick you up in my robe and slippers with curlers in my hair,” I said.
“You don’t own curlers,” DeShawn said.
“Then I’m coming in my face mask,” I said.
“Oh that’s bad,” Dom said. “Don’t do that.”
I giggled as I escorted my boys out onto the porch. I kissed their cheeks before I tossed the car keys to DeShawn and I watched Dom try to intercept them. DeShawn was tall. Six-foot-two and the doctors weren’t convinced he was done growing. But Dom? He was maybe five-foot-two on a good day.
The poor boy took after me in that regard.
My phone rang in my pocket as I waved my boys off to school. The two of them had taken their driving course together, and their sixteenth birthdays consisted of getting the permits off their license. I couldn't believe it. At thirty two years of age, I had two sixteen-year old boys that could drive.
No wonder the town talked so damn much about me.
“Isabelle Carpenter, where the name is my game. How can I help you?” I asked.
“Miss Carpenter, hi! It’s Agatha.”
“Hello, Miss Agatha. To what do I owe this phone call?”
“I know you’re coming by later to take a look at my house, but I was wondering if we could push it back an hour? Maybe it two instead of three?”
“That’s fine with me. Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Oh, everything’s fine. Except my in-laws are dropping in for an impromptu dinner and you know how my father-in-law is.”
“He expects you to move the world when he calls. I know. I’ve met him, remember?”
“And bless you for being as kind as you were. I’ll need the extra hour to run to the grocery store once we’re done.”
“Then I’ll make our walk-through as quick as possible. All I’m wanting are dimensions of the areas where you’re going to put the furniture you requested so we can make sure everything fits once I’m done making it.”
“Oh, wonderful. Can we talk about designs and colors when you get here, too?”
“Of course we can. I’ll come with all my swatches and my picture book,” I said.
“I can’t wait for you to get here. I’ll see you at two! And I’ll be prepared to give you half up front. It’s half, right?”
“Only if the job is over two thousand. If it isn’t, I only require twenty five percent up front,” I said.
“Great. I’ll see you then. Can’t wait to have some original Carpenter pieces in my home!”
“I’m looking forward to it. And a suggestion for your in-law dinner? Don’t mix up the pepper and the arsenic. The look a lot alike sometimes.”
“Oh, Miss Carpenter. You’re bad,” she said with a giggle.
“See you soon, Miss Agatha.”
I hung up the phone and went back inside. Pushing that meeting back an hour meant I needed to get out to my shed earlier than I thought. I walked over to my coffee machine and quickly made a cup, then pulled back the sliding porch door. But a loud sound barreling down our small neighborhood road caught my attention.
What the hell was making all that noise?
Sipping on my coffee, I made my way to the kitchen window. I watched a blue truck with a moving trailer hitched to it pull into the driveway of the house across the street from mine. Huh. I didn’t know the Millers had moved out. They were really nice renters. Kept the place clean. They were pretty quiet. But the renters before them hadn’t been. Loud-mouthed college kids with an obsession for parties that lasted until three in the morning. Luckily, the landlords had kicked them out due to destruction of property.
New neighbors were always a toss-up.
I stood there, leaning against the kitchen sink. My cream-filled coffee filled my stomach, waking me up and preparing me for my day. And even though I had a full day of working in my woodshop creating pieces for people in the community, I was intrigued with who was moving in across the way.
Especially once the guy stepped out of his truck.
Lean legs with taut muscles that blanketed his body. Tanned skin that accented the brown eyes set deep in his wary
stare. A thick head a brown hair that glistened in the morning sun as his body slid from his vehicle.
The man from the restaurant.
He was moving in.
I slowly opened my front door and slipped out onto the porch. I had to be mistaken. That couldn't be him. He didn’t live in this area, and with the way my best friend Bella had been riding him all during his lunch, I figured he’d get the hell out of dodge while he still had the chance. I watched the man stretch, his long arms bulging with veins as he reached them over his head. His shirt pulled up from the hem of his faded jeans and I could see the faint outline of his chiseled abdomen. Lines that disappeared beyond his pants tickled at the recesses of my mind, and as I mindlessly sipped my coffee I watched his stare fall upon me.
He didn’t move as his eyes took me in.
I rose my hand and gave him a little wave. A little southern hospitality. He was a great-looking man. But that didn’t mean he was a good man. I’d had my fair share of run-ins with men that weren’t good. Men that looked innocent in the eyes and boasted of boyish charm before taking what they wanted and leaving me high-and-dry. Fighting for and raising the children they left behind in the process.
I kept my distance from men.
I’d gotten good at it, too.
I watched him cock his head for a second. I lowered my hand and took another sip of my coffee before recognition washed over his face. He waved back. A small flick of his wrist. Like I was a fly he was trying to shoo away. No matter, though. I had a great deal of work to do. Just because we lived across the street from one another didn’t mean we had to be friends. Or even friendly. Kosher was all that was necessary for Texas. Smile when you see one another in public, then avoid each other at every other cost.
He walked around to his moving trailer and heaved it open. I watched him bend over, flexing his ass before he threw the door up. I cleared my throat and forced myself to turn around and retreat back into my house. It had been a long time since my eyes had lingered on a man like that. A long time since I’d felt that telltale pulse between my legs for someone else. I hadn’t even stomached the thought of being with a man since I was a teenager.
Since my boyfriend decided I was taking too long to give him what he wanted.
I finished off my coffee and set the mug in the sink. That had been a long time ago and there was no need to dwell on it. I had two beautiful, healthy, well-adjusted boys who did just fine without their bullshit fathers. I didn’t need a man, and neither did they. And I made sure they understood it. I made sure they knew that it was okay to grieve who their fathers were before pulling up their big boy britches and showing their fathers they could succeed without them.
That was the best way to stick it to them.
To both of them.
Succeed and show them I could do it despite what they did to me.
Despite what they did to my boys.
I walked into my bathroom and cleaned myself up. I really didn’t need to clean up too much for work. Just some teeth brushing and splashing some water in my face. I wouldn’t need a real shower until after I was done with my day. When my black hair was coated with sawdust and my clothes were soaked through with sweat. I enjoyed what I did. Woodworking was something I enjoyed with my father before things went bad. I learned everything everything from him. The tools of the trade. The techniques. How to properly sand and stain a surface. In some ways, I owed him my business. I owed my craft to his open-mindedness when it came to teaching his only daughter how to whittle bits of wood into masterpieces.
Too bad he couldn’t be open-minded about everything.
I threw on some work clothes and grabbed my goggles off the couch. I put my phone on vibrate and stuck it in my back pocket, then I grabbed some water to take out to the shed with me. I had my own little office out there. A miniature fridge that I needed to restock with a grocery trip, air conditioning, a small desk to sit at and draw up plans for furniture. I even had a couple of windows to let in some of the natural light of the hot summer sun before resorting to the three massive overhead lights I had installed.
I built the entire thing myself and used it to showcase my talents in case new clients showed up my house.
I made my way to the shed and got to work. I flipped on the lights, sat down at my desk, and began pulling out blueprints I’d sketched up. I had plenty of product to start working on and a few things I needed to finish up and get delivered after my meeting with Miss Agatha.
But I always started my day the same way.
I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath of fresh wooded air, and let it out through my nose.
“Time to get to work,” I said to myself. “Let’s do this.”
Tristan
I couldn’t believe it. The woman from the restaurant was my neighbor. I waved at her while I studied her, taking in her mug of coffee and her multi-colored hair. She really was a beautiful woman. And from the brief run-in I’d had with her, she struck me as a good woman as well. I started unpacking my things, trying to settle myself in as much as I could. I didn’t have much to unpack. I didn’t bring anything with me that reminded me of my late wife. I didn’t want to drag those painful memories with me if I was going to be restarting my life. I wanted to remember her as the vibrant, beautiful, sparkling woman she was.
Not the corpse she wasted away into.
“Tristan!”
“Hello, Jackson,” I said.
“You still on the road? I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
“Actually, I’ve touched down somewhere.”
“And it’s about damn time. You’ve been driving for a few months now.”
“Weeks,” I said.
“Well it feels like months. So! Where’d you end up?”
“Georgetown.”
“That, like, an island or something?”
“You thought I’d drive my truck and end up on an island?” I asked.
“What state, you nimrod.”
“Texas.”
“Well, you weren’t joking when you said you were going to get away,” he said.
“Nope. I wasn’t.”
“So what does Georgetown have that no other city for weeks did?”
I peeked out the window of my newly-rented home and glanced across the street.
“Decent people,” I said.
“Then it’s no wonder you ran as far as you could from D.C.”
I chuckled and shook my head as I tore my first box open.
“Good to hear you laugh, Tee.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get sappy on me now,” I said.
“Just saying. Been a while since you’ve done it.”
“Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve been funny.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“See? It’s not that hard,” I said with a grin.
“You’re a dick.”
“Always have been, always will be.”
“So where are you living? An apartment? A townhome? A cardboard box in an alleyway? Still sleeping in your truck?”
“I rented a house on the outskirts of town,” I said.
“Well, damn! Show off.”
“Not my fault you always coop up in a crackerjack box.”
“Maybe I like my crackerjack box.”
“It cost you thirteen hundred a month. You don’t like your crackerjack box,” I said.
“Especially on my government salary,” he said.
“How are things at the CIA going anyway?”
“You know, same old same old. We catch one bad guy and two more pop up. Ones and zeroes and hacking into things and basically solving their issues for them.”
“You really aren’t paid enough for what you do,” I said.
“Trust me. I know. I see my paycheck every two weeks.”
“See? That was funny.”
“I don’t hear you laughing.”
I shook my head as I moved to another box to open it.
“Speaking of jobs, what kind are you going
to get in town? They probably don’t have an opening for ‘super secret undercover operative’.”
“They don’t at the CIA, either. You just called me that to be annoying,” I said.
“Hey, you were boring to work with.”
“And yet you kept requesting to be my partner.”
“I can’t help it if my heart guided me to you, Tee.”
“I figured construction,” I said.
“I didn’t know you built shit. Good for you.”
“Once I get settled into the house, I’ll start looking for leads in town. I’m sure there’s a construction place that could use someone who also fixes heavy machinery.”
“They’ll hire you on the spot if you’ll save them money that way.”
“That’s what I figured,” I said.
“How much money you got to get you through until then? You need anything?”
“Are you secretly a millionaire or something? Because the last time I saw you, you swiped your card for two hundred dollars worth of drinks.”
“Hey, some girls like to have good times. Not my fault. It was the least I could do after sweet-talking them into more tequila shots.”
“That one woman drank you under the table,” I said as I opened another box.
“But I fucked her over one that night.”
“You didn’t.”
“She was sweet, too. Made me breakfast in the morning and everything.”
“If you didn’t have the face of a sixteen-year old, most women would call you a ‘womanizer’.”
“It’s my boyish charm that gets me in good with them,” Jackson said.
“But to answer your question, no. I don’t need money. I’ve got more than enough after cashing in my pension and 401(k), then I’ve got that savings account that wasn’t drained completely.”
“Do you need help paying those off?” he asked.
I sighed as I wiped at the sweat forming on my brow.
“No. I paid off the last chunk of her medical bills before I left,” I said.
“Because if you need anythin-”
“Jackson, hack into my financials if you’re that worried. I’m good,” I said.
“Okay. Damn. Just asking. I’m only worried about you.”
“I know,” I said as I reached for another box. “I know.”