by Carter Ashby
"So you can understand my concern?"
"Travis has earned a good reputation around town. He's done good, honest business with people. And though he appears on the outside to be something of a roughneck, he's actually really respectful of women. And if you don't like him, well you certainly have to admit that his brother, Dustin, is a solid, upstanding citizen. Blameless, really."
"I don't know either of them and frankly, I don't care. All I want to know is that he treated you well...I mean...respectfully."
Good God, how much more of this must she sit through? "He did," Arden said.
Nick deflated, slumping back into the sofa. "I don't think I slept the entire time," he said, his tone becoming somber. "I was so worried about you and him together."
"Give it a rest, Nick. Feigned jealousy is not a turn-on for me. Besides, you know I'd never go for a guy like Travis anyway."
He sat abruptly forward and gripped her chin between to fingers turning her to face him. She was not a fan of this sudden physical treatment. She made a mental note to pay closer attention lest he become a bully. "I was worried about him hurting you," Nick said.
Arden jerked her head away. "Well he didn't," she said.
"You can't possibly blame me for being uncomfortable with the situation?"
She sighed and turned away. "No, I don't blame you. It's just, when this gets out, people are going to gossip about me and I hate having my integrity called into question. I just hope you know me well enough to trust me when I say that nothing happened."
"Of course I do. I know you'd never cheat on me. It's him I don't trust. Be honest. In the five days you two were alone together, did he really not try anything?"
Arden couldn't stop herself turning red and her blush was answer enough for him.
"See? So I do have a right to be concerned."
"You did. But you don't any longer. I'm home. Everything is going to go right back to the way it was."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dustin Lanier sat on the couch with his head in his hands in the house he shared with his older brother Travis. He stood two inches shorter than Travis, not nearly as broad across the shoulders and lighter of hair and complexion. But they'd both inherited their father's bright blue eyes which was a dead giveaway to anyone contemplating whether these two were actually brothers.
Dustin heard the shower kick on and hoped Duane, their youngest brother, would take plenty of time. He'd been in that jail cell all week and apparently hadn't showered once. On the drive home, Dustin could hardly breathe for the awful smell.
At the sound of tires on gravel, Dustin looked over his shoulder and out the window. Travis pulled in, driving the tow truck. Dustin stood and went to the door to greet his brother who didn't even look at him as he dragged his feet through the door and collapsed into his favorite armchair. Great, Dustin thought, and braced himself for the upcoming confrontation between Travis and Duane. Travis was a man of many moods and today, for some reason, he appeared to be brooding. Dustin wondered if anyone would notice if he slipped quietly out of their lives and let them deal with each other.
He watched as Travis flipped on the television for the morning news and tossed the remote carelessly onto the coffee table. It landed with a dull thud on top of a pile of old car magazines.
Dustin studied him for a moment before closing the door. He sat back down on the edge of the couch and looked from Travis to the television and back again. "So," Dustin began, pausing in case Travis wanted to take control of the conversation. When he didn't, Dustin sighed inwardly. "So, did you get Arden Butler delivered safely home?"
Travis nodded, still staring at the TV. "I guess that's Duane in the bathroom," Travis said. His voice was a couple of shades deeper than the other brothers. Dustin sometimes cringed when he heard Travis get angry because he sounded exactly as their father had.
"Yeah," Dustin answered. "Is there going to be a problem? Or can we talk this out calmly like men?"
Travis dropped his feet from the edge of the coffee table to the floor and sat up straight. "Yes, oh wise one, we can talk this out like men. Jesus, Dustin." Travis buried his face in his hands and groaned in frustration.
Dustin hadn't seen him in this bad of a mood in years. The only cure for it was a good fight. Maybe he could take Travis up to Rowdy's later that night and see if there was anybody up there he could piss off. "What the hell's wrong with you?" Dustin asked.
"Nothing," Travis groaned through his hands. "I just hate my life."
Dustin leaned forward and put his hand on Travis's shoulder. "Hey," he said, and waited for Travis to look up at him. "Do I need to be concerned about you?"
Travis shook his head and looked away. "No. I'm fine. Just tired."
"You look pretty bad, Trav."
Travis shook his head again. "No, really. I'll be okay. I'll stay sober. No worries."
Dustin leaned back and nodded, reluctantly. Then suddenly he grinned. "It must have been torture being cooped up with that girl for five days. I hear she's a real bitch."
Travis looked up at him, then, his eyes narrowed.
Dustin met his gaze, his own eyes narrowing as he studied the vast array of emotions playing beneath the surface of his brother's skin. And then Dustin relaxed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Then again, maybe it wasn't torture after all. She is pretty hot."
"Shut up."
Dustin laughed. "Did you and she...?"
"No," Travis answered sharply. He buried his face in his hands again and massaged his temples with his fingertips. "No," he said, this time a hint of sadness in his voice.
Dustin started to tease him some more, but then thought better of it. "Just forget about her, brother," he said. "You can do better than that."
Travis laughed bitterly. "There's nothing better than that."
Dustin felt a pang of compassion in his chest. He knew the feeling. "Well...then...maybe she'll come around to your way of thinking."
Travis shrugged and stared down at his feet. "She's engaged. How far can I go to convince her without it being...I don't know...morally wrong or whatever?"
Dustin shook his head. "I don't know, man. I guess you just have to hang around and watch for an opening."
Travis nodded thoughtfully. He took a deep breath and then sat up straighter. "What's going on with him?" Travis nodded toward the bathroom. The water was off now.
Dustin leaned back, relieved at the topic change. Travis had mastered the whole "sensitive male" thing, talking about his feelings and all, but it always took a great deal of effort for Dustin to pull it off. "He had the good sense to look ashamed of himself when I picked him up this morning. But I haven't had the chance to talk to him about it. He stank so bad all I could think about was getting him to the nearest shower."
Travis nodded.
"I think he's going to have to crash here for a while. I tried to take him back to his apartment and all his things were sitting outside by the dumpster. The landlord says he hasn't been paying his rent. This was just a good opportunity to kick him out, I guess."
Travis cursed. Duane came into the room, then, wearing some of Dustin's jeans and a t-shirt. Both of which were too big for him. Dustin wasn't as big as Travis, but he was much larger than his skinny baby brother. Duane, at twenty-two, looked every bit of fifteen. He was tall but incredibly lanky. Dustin often worried that he was malnourished. In these times when Duane lived with them, they could usually fatten him up a bit, but he'd been living on his own for over a year, now, and had looked less and less healthy by the day.
Travis picked up the remote and hit the mute button. Duane continued staring at the TV from where he sat on the couch. Finally, he turned to look at Travis.
"You going to interrogate me, or what?"
Travis's jaw tightened and Dustin prayed he would keep control of his temper. Travis in a rage was a dangerous thing. And Duane was nearly always the catalyst.
"We just want to know what happened, bro," Dustin said, saving Travi
s from having to speak in that moment.
"He doesn't," Duane nodded to Travis. "He just wants another excuse to beat me up."
"This isn't about him, Duane. It's about you. Now what happened?" Dustin asked.
"It wasn't nothing," Duane said. "Me and Vicki got in a fight and the neighbors called the cops."
"Did you hit her?" Dustin asked.
"I don't remember. I was too drunk."
"Don't bullshit me, Duane. Did you hit her?"
Duane shrugged and looked away.
Travis sighed and shared a look with Dustin. Maybe this would make Travis finally realize they needed to cut Duane loose. The problem with Travis, though, was that he saw himself when he looked at Duane. He saw a confused, angry young man in need of guidance. But Dustin saw much more than that in Duane. Duane hated. Specifically, he hated Travis. Probably because the old man wasn't around anymore. And every kind act Travis did for Duane only fueled him to hate even more. Duane didn't want their help. And it was long past time to send him on his way. But anytime he tried to convince Travis, he got yelled at.
"I'm sorry," Travis said, "for losing my temper that night and for fighting with you. I really am sorry."
Duane's expression softened somewhat.
"You need help, Duane. I'm trying to give you a better start than I had. You may hate me for whatever reason, but I'm begging you to take advantage of having three older brothers who all want to see you succeed."
"Succeed?" Duane laughed. "You're a fucking mechanic. You've got nothing. You're no better than me."
Dustin rested his head on his folded hands and prayed for patience.
"It's not about that, Duane," Travis said. "It's about finding some peace in this world. Some way to be happy. Now if you don't want to work at the shop with us, that's fine. If you don't want to live in Splitlog anymore, again, that's fine. Just tell us what you want and let us help you get there."
"What I want is for you to get off your goddamn high horse and admit that you're no better than me."
"I've never said I'm better than you," Travis said through his gritted teeth.
"You think I need your help. You think you've got something I want."
"Then what is it you do want, Duane?"
Duane glared hatefully at him. "I don't know. But I know I don't want anything from you."
Travis jumped to his feet. "Except to live in my house and eat my food, right?"
Dustin stood slowly, preparing to break up another fight.
"Right!" Duane was on his feet, too. The coffee table stood between him and Travis. "I figure you owe me that, you piece of shit, for abandoning me when I was a kid."
Travis shook his head and took a step forward. That coffee table had been their grandmother's and Travis would have just barreled right through it. He just didn't think beyond the moment, that was his trouble. Dustin put his hand on Travis's chest to keep him from going any further. A few moments passed while Travis fought against his own rage and Duane stood there with a hint of a smile, just daring Travis to lunge at him. And then Travis seemed to calm. Slowly he released his fists.
Finally he relaxed enough to step back. "I'm going out to the garage," he said. He turned and left.
When he was gone, Duane laughed. Dustin turned on him, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and slammed him against the wall. Duane was completely caught off guard.
"Listen to me, you little piece of shit," Dustin said. "This is your last chance, you hear me? I don't care what Travis says, this is my house too. And if you ever hit another woman again you're out of here." Dustin let go of Duane and stepped back. Duane never looked afraid of Dustin, but he looked afraid now.
"Take it easy, Dustin," Duane said, his voice quivering. "I thought you and me were getting along fine."
"Well you thought wrong," Dustin said, calmly this time. "Travis is your best friend in the world. If it weren't for him, you'd be out on your ass right now. And until you show some sign of getting your life on track, I'm going to do everything I can to talk him into turning you out. And God help you if you fuck up again. Travis will stand in front of you and defend you, but I swear to God I'll put him in the hospital if that's what I have to do to get you out of our lives. Last chance, Duane."
Then Dustin turned and went to the garage with Travis.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Life for Emma Harris was generally peachy keen. It was Friday morning and as per her usual schedule, she donned her Sunday skirt and blouse, arranged her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and shoved into her black wool coat and matching cloche with the little, crocheted flower on the side. She was the preacher's only child and all growing up, she and her mother used to have tea parties quite regularly. When she'd grown old enough to take on her own responsibilities with the church, she'd begun a regular, Friday tea social with her friend Shannon Murphy.
This was where she was headed now, strolling down the sidewalk along main street, occasionally slipping on a leftover patch of ice. Normally this walk would take her longer because there would be people to stop and visit with. But today was rather cold and mucky and most folks had stayed indoors. She expected a rather small turnout for tea. Which was fine. It would give her more time to socialize with her friends.
She arrived at the Sweet Nothings Café a half an hour early, draped her coat over the back of one of the chairs and the long table Shannon had set up for the event, and went into the kitchen. She paused only once to visit with an elderly couple from church who were having a late breakfast.
In the kitchen, Shannon looked up from her work, elbow deep in bread dough, and smiled. "I'm so glad it thawed out enough for brunch today," said the tall, redheaded beauty. Emma didn't often envy, but if she could have changed her appearance at all, she would model it after Shannon, who had all the elegance and presence of a Druidic queen.
"Me too," Emma said. She washed her hands in a nearby sink. Then she tied an apron around her waist. "Now. What can I do to help?"
"You can frost the cinnamon buns and prepare the tea pots." Shannon directed her to one of the long, butcher block work tables where a sheet cake pan full of freshly baked cinnamon buns was cooling. Emma leaned over, inhaled deeply and thought, who needs men?
She went straight to work icing them and then arranging them on one of Shannon's special platters that she reserved just for these events.
"Alice and Arden are coming by," Shannon said over her shoulder.
"Oh good," Emma said, only slightly half-heartedly. Arden was her best friend, but Alice tended to be...difficult.
"Don't worry," Shannon said, reading Emma's mind. "I'm spiking Alice's drink. She should be mildly pleasant." Shannon reached under the counter and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka.
"You've done this before, I see?" Emma asked.
Shannon nodded. "Regularly."
Emma slipped out of the kitchen with four china tea pots on a tray. She spaced them out along the table and then set out the teacups and plates. There were a few patrons in the café already, but it didn't tend to get too crowded during the lunch hour. Shannon did most of her business at breakfast and in the evening after dinner when people needed a place to go to sip coffee and socialize.
Emma smiled as she looked up and saw two of Sweet Nothings' regular patrons tromp in. Travis and Dustin Lanier came in nearly every day for lunch. She'd come to expect it and was always severely disappointed on days when they didn't show up. Some days Dustin came alone, but she could tell he didn't like to. She could also tell he was dragging Travis there against his will since Travis always picked up the menu, shook his head in disgust at the effeminate offerings, and ordered a reuben sandwich...apparently the only food masculine enough to be worthy of his attention.
Travis looked over and saw her. She smiled and he waved. He nodded towards her at Dustin, but Dustin ignored him, sat at his table and hid behind his menu. Travis sauntered over, his hands in his pockets. So Emma sat the last teacup down and met him halfway.
"Hello, Travis, how are you today?" she asked, in her churchiest voice.
"Just fine, Miss Emma. And you?"
"Well and good. I heard you got stranded in the snow?"
Travis shrugged. "Yes. It wasn't pleasant. I heard you broke up with Cody Cowen last week. Is that true?" Travis hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and cocked his head slightly.
Emma blushed. "It was a mutual break-up."
"Sure it was. What went wrong?"
Emma glanced over her shoulder hoping to catch Shannon's eye and get some help, but she was in the kitchen.
"No one to save you, dearest," Travis said with a wink.
Emma felt her knees go weak. It was impossible not to swoon around this man. He seemed to see into your very soul.
"So? What went wrong?" he asked again.
Emma sighed. She really didn't like having personal conversations with...well...with anyone, really. "Same thing that always goes wrong. Every guy I date seems to think I was put on this earth to save him from himself. They want an angel, not a woman."
Travis shook his head. "Damn fools. You're a hell of a woman, Emma. I'm sorry you keep getting stuck with these losers."
She blushed at his compliment and was about to change the subject when Travis continued.
"You know who isn't a loser? And doesn't need anyone to save him from himself? And is looking for a woman, not an angel?"
She batted her eyelashes up at him. "You?"
He grinned. "Well yes, as a matter of fact. But you're altogether too sweet for me. I'm talking about Dustin."
"I'm not interested."
Travis's expression fell. "What? Why not?"
"Why not? Because I've been nothing but nice to him and even flirted a little bit and all he does is look at me and then walk away. He's way too much work. I want a guy who's easy to be with."
"Hey, none of us are easy to be with. He's crazy about you, Emma. Come with me and talk to him."
"Nope."