I threw up my hands. "You know what? Forget I said anything."
They both turned to look. Steve said, "You sure you're not pregnant?"
It was only the hundredth time he'd asked. After days of this, I was reasonably certain that he was only doing it to get a rise out of me, which of course, it did, every single time.
"For the millionth time," I told him, "I'm not pregnant. And stop asking, okay?"
He gave me a look that was all wide-eyed innocence. "Why?"
"Because it's irritating."
He grinned. "I know."
I was heading out for groceries. As I dug through my purse in search of my car keys, I said, "Gee thanks."
They'd been working on my sewer for days now – although the amount of hours they spent actually working wasn't terribly impressive. In truth, they seemed to spend most of their time eating pizza, drinking beer, and giving me a hard time.
By now, it was pretty obvious that they weren't fixing things as fast as they could, which for some weird reason, I didn't mind. As strange as it was, I liked having them around, temporarily, anyway – even if they were making me a little crazy.
Across from me, Steve said, "If you don't want to personally shit in a vase, you could pay a hobo to do it."
I rolled my eyes. "I'll think about it."
Steve leaned forward. "Seriously?"
"No." I pulled my keys out of my purse. "While I’m out, do you guys need anything?"
"Yeah," Steve said. "Beer."
Oddly enough, I was planning to get beer – only because they seemed to like it so much. "Anything else?" I asked.
Anthony said, "Pizza. Get a couple, alright?"
"Again?" If we ate pizza tonight, it would be the third night in a row. "Don't you guys ever get tired of it?"
"Not if you're buying," Steve said.
I had to laugh. In truth, they'd been treating me to pizza for the last few days. Already, I felt incredibly guilty and was trying to keep track of everything they were spending. Someday, I vowed, I'd pay all of them back with interest.
True to form, Anthony reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty. "While you're out, get some donuts or something, will ya?" He made a face. "If I eat one more bran muffin, I'm gonna be shitting in a vase."
Well, that was an image I didn't need.
I waved away the money. "That's alright. It's my turn to treat." True, I was seriously short on funds, but I couldn’t let them pay for everything.
But Anthony was insistent. He thrust the money closer. "Take it, or I'll hear about it later."
"From who?" I asked.
"Luna. Who else? You wouldn't believe it to look at her, but she can be pretty scary sometimes."
Somehow, I just couldn't see it.
But Steve was saying, "Yeah, especially after the phone thing." He looked to me and said, "You wanna know what I think?"
"What?" I asked.
"I think they wanted to get rid of us."
I recalled something that the brothers had told me when they first showed up. "Well, you were trying to make Jake…" I paused. "…how'd you put it?"
Steve was grinning again. "Pop." He looked to Anthony and said, "Funny to think Luna popped first."
I had to ask, "But why would you even do that? Don’t you like him?"
"Jake?" Steve said. "Sure. But that don't mean we're not gonna give him shit once in a while."
I felt my gaze narrow. "Are you doing that to me?"
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
"Well, you keep asking me if I’m pregnant."
"So?"
"So, are you waiting for me to pop?'
The two brothers exchanged a look, but neither one replied.
I looked from one to the other. "Oh, my God. You are. Aren't you?"
Steve looked to Anthony and said, "If she pops now, does it count?"
Anthony shook his head. "Hell no. She's gotta pop right when you're asking her."
Steve said, "Hey Melody."
"Don’t even—"
"Are you pregnant?"
"Oh, for God's sake," I muttered, turning to head for the door. By the time I reached it, he'd asked me that same question three more times.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to kill him.
But on the upside, all the teasing made the house feel a little less empty while I waited for Joel to return.
In spite of all our troubles, I was dying to see him, or heck, even a phone call would've been nice.
So far, I hadn't heard from him, not that I'd expected to. But then, as if by magic, just as I was pulling into a grocery store parking spot, I got my wish.
Chapter 38
Just the sound of Joel's voice was enough to send my heart fluttering. And yet, I had to confess, "I almost didn't answer."
"Yeah? Why?"
"Because I didn't recognize the number." In truth, there was no number. The call had come through as "unknown."
"Sorry," he said. "Burner phone."
"Oh," I said. "You mean like a temporary one to tide you over?"
"Something like that." He paused. "Listen, I don't have much time, but I wanted to let you know that we'll be back on Saturday."
I felt myself smile. "Really?"
"Yeah, but do me a favor. If Jake gets there first, don't let him in, okay?"
And just like that, my smile was gone. "Wait. Jake's coming over, too?"
"He's not gonna stay, if that's what you're asking."
I wasn't sure what I was asking. It's not that I objected to Jake or any of Joel's brothers stopping by. But Joel's attitude was more than a little confusing.
I was still pondering that when Joel said, "So promise me, alright?"
"But why?" I asked.
"Because I don't want him alone with you."
Now, I was frowning. "You don't trust me?"
"I trust you. It's him I don't trust."
I wasn't quite sure I believed him. "Is this because of that thing with Jake and your dad's girlfriend?"
"That's part of it."
"What's the other part?"
"He's a dick."
"Oh come on," I said. "He's your brother."
"Yeah. Which means that I know him. You don't."
This whole conversation was incredibly frustrating. Of all the things we could be talking about, why this? I tried to laugh. "It's pretty hard to get to know him when you guys are always fighting."
"We're not fighting," Joel said. "He's here with me now."
So Jake was hearing this? I just couldn’t see it. "You mean in the same room?"
"No. In the same country."
"Wait. You're in a different country?"
"Long story," Joel said. "But you promise, right?"
It was only like the tenth time he'd asked. Maybe I should've said yes and been done with it. But after everything Jake had done for me, I just couldn’t see myself refusing to let him in.
Looking to sidestep the issue I said, "The thing with your dad's girlfriend, that was what? Ten years ago."
"Yeah. So?"
"So people change."
"No. They don't. Especially Jake."
"But honestly," I persisted, "he seems really happy with Luna. And let's say he was like that as a teenager, I don't think he's like that now."
"Maybe not, but he's still a dick. I don't want him bothering you."
I so didn't want to get in the middle of this. I sighed. "If that's the case, why don't you tell him?"
"I did."
"And…?"
"And he was a dick, like always."
I thought of Steve and Anthony. They were brothers, and they gave each other grief all the time. Heck, they'd given me tons of grief, too. But there wasn't any real malice there.
I said, "Maybe he was just teasing you."
His voice was flat. "Teasing me."
"Yeah. Like to make you pop. You know. Lose your temper." I tried to smile. "Come on. Admit it. He was probably just goading you."
"You think that makes a difference?"
"Doesn't it?"
"Listen. My dad's girlfriend? She was a skank twice his age. And you wanna know what else? He loved pissing my dad off."
I wasn't following. "So?"
"So Jake screws her right there in my dad's house, with my dad in the other room."
My jaw dropped. "You're kidding."
"No. I'm not. And when my dad catches them—"
"Oh, my God," I said. "In the act?"
"No. But close enough. Anyway, when my dad walks in, Jake looks to my dad and says, 'What's the big deal? It was like screwing sandpaper.'"
I sucked in a breath. "He didn't."
"He did," Joel said. "Starts calling her Sandpaper Sally, right to my dad's face."
I shuddered at the implication. "So what'd your dad do?"
"What do you think? He takes a flying leap, looking to beat Jake's ass. This is in Jake's bedroom, by the way. But before you know it, the whole thing spreads to the kitchen."
"Why the kitchen?"
"Who knows. But give it five more minutes, and it's not just Jake and my dad fighting. It's all of us."
"You too?" I did the math. "So you were what, twelve years old?"
"Give or take."
At the image, my heart went out to him. "But why were you involved at all?"
Joel gave a humorless laugh. "Why were any of us involved?"
"I don't know," I said. "Why?"
"At first, it's because we're trying to separate my dad and Jake, but then, someone throws a bad punch, and before you know it, it's hard to say who's fighting who. And right there in the mix, there's Sandpaper Sally, naked except for this ratty-ass blanket, and all this time, she's still screaming that nothing happened."
"Did your dad believe her?"
"What do you think?" Joel said. "Forget she's got no clothes on. Jake's bragging about it."
I gave another shudder. I wasn't quite sure it could be counted as bragging, considering the whole sandpaper aspect. But that was probably beside the point. Bracing myself, I asked, "So how'd it all end?"
"For me," Joel said, "it ended with a broken arm and a whole lot of stitches."
I winced. "Really? How?"
"Long story," he said. "But there was this glass table—"
"In the kitchen?"
"Hell no. We're long past the kitchen. By now, we're in the living room, heading out the front door…" His words trailed off. "Anyway, you get the picture. I'm just saying, Jake? The guy's a dick. And if you let him in, he'll get under your skin – or worse."
"Worse?" I said. "Like what?"
"I don't know." His voice hardened. "And I don't wanna find out. So just promise me, alright?"
Desperately, I wanted to promise. But I knew it would be a lie. I heard myself sigh. "I can't."
Sounding less than thrilled, Joel said, "Why not?"
It should've been obvious. "Because if he stops by with Luna or something, I can't just be rude about it. I mean, they just did me this huge favor."
"So?"
"So I owe them. And besides, you guys should patch things up."
"There's nothing to patch up," Joel said. "It's just the way it is."
"But it doesn't have to be."
Sounding more unhappy than ever, Joel gave a low curse.
At first, I thought he was cursing at me, but then said, "Sorry, but I've gotta go."
Now, I felt like cursing. We'd talked for what? Five whole minutes? And we'd spent most of those minutes arguing.
Joel's voice, softer now, carried across the distance. "Listen, I want you to know something."
"What?"
"I love you, and we're gonna work this out."
In spite of everything, I smiled into the phone. I couldn’t help but say it back. "I love you, too."
And then, he was gone.
I sat in the parking lot for a long moment, wondering where all of this would lead. I only prayed that Jake didn't stop by – not because I was truly concerned, but because there was no way on Earth that I could refuse to let him in.
But with Derek, it was another matter entirely, as he soon found out.
Chapter 39
From my open doorway, I gave Derek an annoyed look. "For the tenth time, no."
"Oh, come on," he said, "I'm trying to make it up to you."
Ten minutes earlier, he'd shown up in a suit and tie, uninvited, to ask me out to dinner.
I gave him an annoyed look. Dinner with Derek was the last thing I wanted. Cripes, I didn't even want to be talking to him.
I had told him that. Hadn't I?
Apparently, it was time to tell him again. "Seriously, just get in your car and leave, okay?"
He turned and looked out toward the driveway. Near the road, the brothers were laying a huge pipe in the massive trench they'd dug with the backhoe.
Derek said, "So you're having some work done, huh?"
I recognized this for what it was – a stalling tactic. Probably, under that cool façade of his, he was planning his next attack. Sadly for him, he'd chosen the worst possible topic.
I said, "Funny you should mention that."
He turned again to face me. "Oh yeah? Why?"
"Because it's your fault."
"Why mine?"
"Remember that giant moving truck? The one you sent?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"It missed the driveway and crushed the main sewer line."
His eyebrows furrowed. "Like what? You saw it happen?"
I recalled what the brothers had showed me a few days earlier – a crushed pipe directly below deep ruts left in my lawn, courtesy of the wayward moving truck. "I didn't have to see. I've got the evidence, right there in my front yard."
"Sorry," Derek said, "but even if the truck did crush it, they'd be liable, not me."
"I don’t care who's officially liable," I said. "It's your fault."
"What are you saying? You want me to pay for it?"
I knew the odds of that – just about zero. Still, it was worth a shot. "Well, the truck wouldn’t have been here if it weren't for you."
"Alright," he said. "How about this? I'll file suit, see if they pay up. Then we'll split the proceeds, okay?"
Well, that was attractive. "I don't want you to sue them," I said. "I want you to stop interfering with my life."
His jaw clenched. "In case you haven't noticed, we've backed off considerably."
I rolled my eyes. "You backed off for like five days. What do you want? A medal?"
"No," he said. "I want to take you to dinner. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes. It is."
"Why?"
"Because there's nothing we need to talk about."
"Sorry, but you're wrong." He glanced around before lowering his voice to say, "I've got something you'll want to hear. Just trust me on this, okay?"
"Trust you? You've got to be joking."
"I'm not joking," he insisted. "You'll want to hear this."
I crossed my arms. "Fine. Tell me now."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because there's a process."
"Then forget it."
Now, he was crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving 'til you say yes."
I wanted to scream. The way it looked, he actually meant it. What now? My gaze strayed to the nearby garden hose, and I felt myself smile.
I looked back to Derek. "Are you sure about that?"
Derek glanced around. "Why are you smiling?"
"You'll see." I stepped forward and shut the front door behind me. I elbowed my way past Derek and made my way down the front steps.
He said, "You're not leaving, are you?"
I called out over my shoulder. "Nope."
"Then where are you going?"
But I was already there. The faucet for the hose was just a few paces away from my porch. I leaned down and gave the handle a twist. I glanced toward the far end of the hose. I saw no water coming out, but that didn't mean anythi
ng.
The hose had a complicated nozzle with ten settings. It wouldn't do anything until I gave the handle a squeeze. I began striding toward the nozzle.
Derek said, "You're watering the flowers now?"
It was an incredibly stupid thing to say. For one thing, the flowers were long dead. For another, they weren't standing on my porch refusing to leave. I gave Derek a cheery smile. "Nope."
"Then what are you watering?"
"You."
His mouth fell open. "What?"
I reached down to swoop up the nozzle. I looked to Derek and asked, "Should I go for a fine mist or master-blaster?"
"Master-blaster?" Derek took a small step backward. "That's not a real setting."
He was right. It wasn't. But I really liked the sound of it. I gave the nozzle a quick glance. "Jet spray." I shrugged. "I guess that'll have to do."
I squeezed the handle and sent a stream of water splashing low in his direction, just enough to dampen his shoes.
He stepped back like he'd been scalded. "What the hell?"
I lifted the nozzle higher and squeezed again. This time, it hit the bottom of his pant legs.
He yelled, "Watch the suit!"
"What suit?" I asked, aiming the water just a bit higher. "That suit?"
He scrambled backward until his backside hit the porch railing. "You're nuts! You know that?"
"Totally," I said, flicking the hose nearly to waist level.
"Son of a bitch!" he yelled, looking down to his newly dampened groin. "That's freezing!"
When I squeezed the nozzle again, he dove sideways, vaulted over the porch railing, and hit the ground running, sprinting toward his car.
By the time he peeled out of the driveway a moment later, the faucet was off, and I was already coiling up the hose. But I didn't put it away, not completely, because if he came back, I'd definitely be using it again.
Chapter 40
Two days later, my sewer was finally fixed, and everything was working just like new. As far as the yard, yeah, it was pretty torn up. But that, I decided, was something to worry about later.
Like spring.
Spring would be good.
At noon, I left the house for yet another job interview and returned later that afternoon to a surprisingly quiet house. The brothers were nowhere in sight, but on the kitchen counter was something I hadn't seen before – a sturdy-looking portable safe, not much bigger than a small microwave.
Something True (Joel Bishop Book 2) Page 15