by Laura Drewry
A little tug pulled at Jayne’s heart. Like his sister? Sweet.
“Okay.” She pulled on the work gloves and grinned up at him, knowing she looked like a complete idiot. “First thing we need to do is get the padlocks off the back door so we can get to the dumpster.”
The door opened behind them and Nick stepped in, followed by a tall guy with a blond crew cut.
“Thought you were going to wait for me,” Nick said. “This is Brett Hale. Brett, Jayne.”
A good six or seven inches taller than Jayne, with the shoulders of a linebacker, Brett crowded out what little space they had left, until they all shifted a little more to the right, leaving Jayne pushed up against a stack of boxes.
The man’s dark eyes barely blinked. “Nice to meet you.”
Even if they could have seen her frown behind her mask, Nick would have ignored it. “Uh, yeah, you too. Nick—tell me you didn’t drag some poor unsuspecting bystander into my mess.”
“Brett doesn’t care, do you?” He didn’t give the guy a chance to respond. “He’s a cop, he’s seen worse.”
“Yeah,” Carter snorted. “But I bet he hasn’t smelled worse.”
With the four of them crowded into the cramped entrance, it was beyond claustrophobic, so Carter charged off, squeezing his way down the narrow gap and calling back over his shoulder.
“Light some incense or spray some Febreze. Guh!”
Jayne hurried after him, followed closely by Nick and Brett, who both immediately went to work on the padlocks.
“Brett,” Jayne said, flashing a hard glare at Nick. “I don’t know what Nick did to get you to come in here, but whatever it was—”
“He said you could use the help, so here I am. No big deal.”
No big deal? Maybe Nick hadn’t given him the whole picture.
“Okay, well, um, thank you.” She flashed Carter a look, but he just smiled behind his mask and reached for a box. “But anytime you want to leave, feel free.”
Brett nodded slightly, never taking his focus from the job of dismantling the padlocks. After a second, Jayne sliced open the box Carter had pulled down and dug through it, piece by piece. No books, just mismatched dishes, plates, and bowls crammed in as tight as they could be. Jayne set the box aside and reached for the next one.
“What are you doing?” Carter asked.
“Looking for books.”
“But—” Nick and Carter stared from her, to the box, then out to the hundreds, possibly thousands, of boxes and bags waiting to be opened. By this time she was into the second box, which was full of pots. Enough pots, actually, to service three families, so why the hell would Gran have them?
“Maybe we can set the useable stuff aside,” she said, “and have the Salvation Army pick it up.”
Both guys spoke at the same time.
“Set it aside where?”
“No good.” Nick pulled his mask down, folded his arms over his chest, and shook his head. “If the inspector’s coming on Tuesday, you need to get as much of this stuff out of here as you can, but you’ll never get anyone to do a pickup on a long weekend.”
“So what do we do? We can’t just throw out perfectly good things, Nick. It’s a waste.”
His mouth twisted a little, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Give me a minute.”
He pushed out through the back door, talking quietly into his phone, so Jayne went back to work. A tangled mess of blankets and pillows went straight into the dumpster; there wasn’t enough bleach in the world to get the smell out of them and besides, with all those holes gnawed in them, the rats had obviously put them to good use.
By the time Nick returned, he’d lined up a U-Haul and called a church thrift shop and the women’s center to see if they wanted any of the useable stuff. With that done, he set his mask in place and started up the stairs, with Brett on his heels.
“Nick.” She couldn’t ask them to clean out the apartment; it was too much, too gross. At the same time, the thought of doing it herself made her want to throw up. The store itself seemed to be just crap; boxes and bags full of crap. But upstairs …
His look said everything he didn’t. She could argue all she wanted, but there was no way in hell he was going to let her go back up those stairs anytime soon.
“We’ll leave everything that isn’t garbage so you can look through it,” he said, never slowing down.
“But I …” She stopped, cringed. Oh, she was going to owe him big for this. “Thank you. And Brett, I’m really sorry.”
They spent the rest of the morning picking through boxes and hauling everything out to the back of the U-Haul where workers from the church thrift shop and the women’s center pulled out what they wanted. More than once or twice, Jayne took a few extra seconds outside, mask off, gulping in as much fresh air as she could, and letting her body shudder out all the creepiness brought on by the spiders, bugs, and rat nests.
It was nasty work, but by the time they stopped for lunch, they’d cleared out the back room and had made their way through several stacks in the store.
“Do you have to open every box?” Carter asked over a giant slice of double-cheese meat-lovers pizza.
“There might be something in them I want to keep.” She handed him a napkin and pointed to his chin where a long piece of mozzarella dangled.
“Like what?”
It was stupid to hope Gran might have found a sentimental side after Jayne left, but that was the thing about hope; it didn’t always make sense.
“Have you seen the kind of shit we’re pulling out of that place?” Carter choked. “Why would anyone want to keep it?”
Jayne didn’t have to look up to know Carter had been on the receiving end of one of Nick’s looks. The sudden silence gave it away. Brett hadn’t uttered a single word since they’d ordered.
She forced a pathetic excuse for a smile when she looked up at them. “It’s probably stupid, but if I give it all away and it turns out there’s something in there … I don’t know …”
“Forget about it.” Carter slid another piece of pizza onto his plate and grinned. “We’ll get ’er done, Jay.”
“Ugh,” she grunted. “I don’t know how you guys can eat.”
She pushed her untouched plate away and waved the waitress over for the bill, but Nick reached over and took it out of the girl’s hand.
“I’ll get it.”
“No you won’t.” Jayne and Carter both grabbed for the plastic case, but Nick had already slipped his credit card inside and handed it back to the waitress. “Nick!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried,” she said. “You guys are doing me a huge favor, the least I can do is feed you.”
“You can get it next time.”
Jayne’s snort was drowned out by Brett’s; his eyes softened a little, too. Not a smile, but close.
Back at the store, she plugged in her iPod dock now that they’d uncovered an outlet and turned the music on. Having Billy Idol in the background made the time go faster, so by late afternoon, she’d cleared a good-sized area at the back of the store. No books and no personal items, but among the piles, they’d uncovered a huge plastic bin of National Geographics, which had preoccupied Carter for the last hour, and four large shoe boxes full of red pens. Weird.
Brett had already left—all hands on deck the night of the Stomp—but when she caught Nick checking his watch for the third time, Jayne pulled down her mask and grinned.
“How ’bout we call it a day?”
“Okay.” Carter didn’t even look up as he threw the last of the National Geographics back in the bin. “I told Katie I’d swing by, so I’ll meet you guys at Nick’s later and we can all go to the Stomp together. Sound good?”
“Yeah, but watch out,” Nick warned. “My sister’s a full-on crank these days.”
Jayne grunted. “You would be, too, if you were nine months pregnant in the middle of summer.”
“See you in a bit.” Carter
flashed a quick grin, a quicker wink, and then he was gone. Nick carried the bin of magazines over to the recycle pile, then came back for more.
“Just leave it,” she said. “Don’t you need to get going, too?”
“Trying to get rid of me?” He set the pen boxes on top of a big box of pots and grinned crookedly. “I’ve got time.”
She followed him as far as the door, then blocked the opening when he tried to get back in.
“Thank you. Now go home.”
“But—”
“But nothing. After dropping the whole ‘Guess who’s living with me?’ bombshell last night, you better be taking Linda out to dinner or something before the Stomp.”
“It’s Lisa.” Nick’s face pinked a little. “And yeah.”
“Lisa. Right. Sorry, I’ve got some kind of mental block about that.” She laughed quietly and shifted to the right when he tried to sneak by again. “You’ve done enough.”
He glanced at his watch again. “You sure?”
“Go.”
He hesitated another second. “This is the first full day we’ve spent together in a long time. It was kinda fun.”
“Fun?” she snorted. “Man, are you twisted.”
Fun might not have been the word she’d choose, but it was good spending the day with him, no matter what they were doing. Maybe she’d done the right thing after all by coming back. She opened her mouth to say as much, but before she could utter a sound, Nick had her in another vise grip. She waited a couple seconds, but when he didn’t release her, she tapped him on the back until he grunted an acknowledgment.
“Uh, Nick. It’s one thing to say your girlfriend’s okay with me staying at your house, but I doubt she’ll be as understanding about you hugging me all the time.”
In the hundreds, maybe thousands, of times Nick had hugged her over the years, she’d never gotten used to it, had always struggled with knowing that as close as they were, literally and figuratively, they would never be as close as she wanted.
They were best friends; had been forever, and even though she’d long ago decided it was better to accept that than nothing at all, it was still hard.
“Enough.” She untangled herself from his arms and stumbled back, forcing the unfinished thought from her mind. “I’m all hugged out.”
“Fine. Just make sure Pop and Carter don’t hog you all night.”
“Yeah, right.” Jayne stuffed her hands in her pockets and smirked. “I’m sure Carter’ll be plenty busy all on his own without worrying about ol’ Plain Jayne.”
Her old nickname slid from her tongue with ease, but one look at Nick’s face and she regretted the slip. Gone was his crooked little smile, and long gone was the warmth and softness in his eyes.
“Whatever,” she sighed. “Don’t get all ‘Nick’ about it.”
His jaw muscle tightened and his fingers clenched around the door, but he didn’t respond, which was a first.
“Go,” she said, tipping her chin toward his pickup. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
It took him a few seconds, but he finally released his death grip on the door. “We’ll pick you up at the house. Say nine?”
“Nine it is.”
When he was finally gone, Jayne stared into the space they’d managed to clear. It had been a huge help having the three of them work with her today, but so many times she’d wanted to tell them to wait, to let her look through the boxes again, just in case there was something—a photo, a trinket, anything—but there’d been nothing, not even the bookshelves, and those suckers had been bolted to the floor.
The amount of stuff they’d gone through was amazing, but even more mind-boggling was how much they still had left to go through. She checked the time, stared around the store for a few seconds, then snapped her mask back in place.
Despite what Carter said, being “like” his sister wasn’t the same as being his sister, and Jayne didn’t want him or Nick to feel like they had to do this, so the more she got done now, the better. Besides, she still had time before she had to meet Nick and Lin … Lisa.
Bit by bit she plugged away at it. Carter was right, it was mostly crap, but that didn’t stop her from going through every single thing. How could there be so much stuff without any of it meaning anything? There had to be something.
The box at the top of the next stack was heavy, long, and awkward as hell, but up on her tiptoes, she managed to wiggle it forward until it teetered over the edge and rested on her fingertips. Before she could get it down, her phone rang, so she balanced the box with one hand and pulled the phone out with the other.
“Hello? Yeah … hi, Nick. Hang on. Whoa … No, I’m just … whoa … hang on … no, I’m fine.” She tucked her phone in the crook of her neck and tried to steady the box above her, but as she stepped back, her foot landed on something wiggly … something that squealed and squirmed.
Shrieking, Jayne jumped in the air then crashed backward, sending her phone skidding across the floor and bringing the big box down on top of her. Her tailbone hit the floor first, followed immediately by the back of her head.
Chapter Four
It’s a nice night for a neck injury.
Kevin McCallister, Home Alone 2
Slicing pain ripped through Jayne’s skull as her teeth slammed together and her neck creaked like an old porch swing, but worse was the God-awful little girl scream she let loose as she fell.
“Jayne? Jayne!”
She shoved the box off her chest, pressed a cautious finger to her head (no blood, thankfully), and crawled over to the phone just as Nick let loose another bellow.
“I’m right here,” she muttered. “Stop yelling.”
“What the hell was that? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” The growing lump on the back of her head was proof of that lie, but it wasn’t like she’d broken anything. “What’s up?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes,” she ground out. “Or I will be once you stop yelling in my ear.”
“Where are you?” It wasn’t so much a yell as it was just plain anger.
Using the wall for support, she got to her feet, scanned the floor for more movement, then leaned back against the wall, one hand wrapped around the phone and the other moving gently over the rest of her head, looking for any other damage.
“I’m at the store. Why?”
By the sounds of the growl that vibrated from his end, he was no doubt gripping his phone even harder than she was gripping hers. “Because it’s nine fifteen”
She pulled the phone away from her ear, glanced at the time, and cringed. Oops.
Fifteen minutes late and she still needed to clean up. The last thing she wanted to do now was go somewhere with loud music and hundreds of people; she’d be so much happier lying in bed with a bag of frozen peas on her head, but that would mean telling Nick she’d hurt herself and that would probably give him a massive coronary.
She could manage a few hours at the Stomp.
“Jayne? Are you there?” His voice was getting louder again.
“Sorry, I’m just … I lost track of time.” She took a slow step away from the wall, relieved to find she still had some semblance of balance. “Why don’t you go on ahead without me?”
“No.”
“But I’ll need to clean up first.”
And maybe have a CAT scan.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound weird. I’m coming to get you.”
“No, I’m leaving right now,” she said. “If I’m not at your house in five minutes, you can send out Search and Rescue, okay?”
Six and a half minutes later, she pulled into his driveway just as he stepped out the front door. Even with the tight jaw and cranky frown, Nick was a sight standing there in his faded jeans and button-down chambray shirt. His sleeves were rolled halfway to his elbows, which made it easy for him to tap his watch.
“You said five minutes.”
“Yes, Mother, I know.” Jayne tried not to roll
her eyes. “I got stopped at all three lights—traffic was a mess.”
When he didn’t so much as smirk, she held her hands up and shrugged. “Are you going to stand out here and lecture me or can I go inside and shower?”
His jaw flexed, but after a second he stuffed his fists into his pockets and stepped aside to let her in.
“Give me ten minutes.” She scooted past him and made her way to her room hoping she could outrun the pounding in her head. No such luck. In fact, each step seemed to make it pound harder until she had to close her eyes to find her balance.
Good thing Nick the Boy Scout had a fully stocked medicine cabinet. “Advil, aspirin … oooh, what do we have here?”
She lifted the bottle and turned to read the prescription label. She’d never had anything stronger than extra strength Tylenol and that was after they yanked all four wisdom teeth. If memory served, those worked pretty well, so surely Tylenol 3s would make short work of her headache.
“One every four hours? How about one right now and we’ll take a few more with us, just in case?”
She was only five minutes late, but Nick was tapping his fingers on the island when she finally emerged. Her head still pounded, and any quick movements were instantly regretted. Easy to fix; she’d just move slower. She’d be fine.
“Are we picking up …” Jayne hesitated. Linda or Lisa? And why the hell couldn’t she remember? It’s not as if it was a weird name or anything.
“No,” he muttered as they climbed into the truck. “I dropped her and Carter there already so they could save a table.”
Good thing, too, because the hockey-rink-turned-dance-hall was already packed when Jayne and Nick arrived. The Stetson-wearing DJ was set up in front of the penalty boxes blasting Charlie Daniels loud enough to wake the dead. A line of wooden tables marked off floor space for the bar and dozens of tables and chairs had been scattered along the sides of the boards, leaving plenty of room on the concrete floor for dancing. Decorations had, as usual, been kept to a minimum; hay bales stacked here and there, a giant blow-up beer can beside the bar, and a couple disco balls glinting light from the ceiling.