by JC Szot
She unpacked the last of her boxes and worked in her apartment. She had everything set up the way she wanted. It was a visual display of every garage sale she’d gone to over the last year. She’d painted the walls a sunshine yellow—without the super’s permission—to complement her moss-green couch and overstuffed, rosy-pink chair. Meg liked bright and stimulating. She needed it. If she had to live in one more apartment with beige walls and tweed carpeting, she’d scream. Her geraniums were blooming in their flower boxes despite the fact that it was the middle of January. That’s what had sold her on this unit. It had a large bay window in the living room. She glanced at the clock. It was almost eight. Meg scooped up all her papers and the brown bag from the store and crept out into the hall.
The hardened whine of Alice in Chains reverberated out into the hall. She wasn’t waiting any longer. She curled her fingers into a fist and pounded on the door like his friend had, wanting to fit in. A pair of brown eyes greeted her as the door opened. The music vibrated in her ears. Shit, his friend is still here.
“Well, hello there.” A burly guy with dirty-blond hair grinned, his body swathed in leather.
“Hey, Zane, you’ve got a pretty redhead out here,” he announced over his shoulder. His woodsy-brown eyes returned to hers. His face was shadowed with a light growth, angled in all the right places. A leather, braided necklace lay on his firm chest, disappearing between the flaps of his leather vest.
Zane shuffled across the carpet in a pair of blue sleep pants and a wrinkled muscle tee. Nora was right. More ink leapt out at Meg. Living here was going to be like staring at a panoramic billboard. A pair of indigo-blue fish swam around Zane’s upper arm. A Pisces, was he? Dark-brown-and-green barbed wire wrapped around the raised bicep of his other arm. He wasn’t as heavily inked as his friend, unless there was more somewhere else. Her face filled with heat, thinking of where. Zane turned down the stereo.
“Hey, Meg, how’s it going?” Zane eyed the bag in her hand. “Come on in. This is my buddy and partner, Sean.”
“It’s a pleasure, Meg.” Sean’s animated arm extended to hers. His fingers were thick and warm. “Well, bud, I’m outta here.” He slapped Zane’s shoulder. “No worries, man, right? We’re good.”
Meg saw the exchange of knowing looks. They must’ve been talking about his diagnosis and settling some business, figuring out how they were going to run things while Zane recovered. Sean met her gaze. Sandy-blond hair hung over his brows, the razor-cut ends resting on the nape of his neck.
“Nice to meet you, Meg. Keep our boy in line here, will ya?” He grinned. He moved through the door. Sean was shorter, thicker, his frame not as wiry as Zane’s. Zane shut the door and waved her into the kitchen, his eyes narrowed in question.
“What brings you by, Meg?” His head tilted, his eyes lowering to the bag. He sauntered behind the kitchen counter, gesturing her to a stool on the other side. Meg sat down and emptied her bag on the counter. His brows lifted. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you. Um…I have some things from the store I thought you might want to look at.” Meg was hesitant to mention that she’d spoken to Nora. She wasn’t sure if Zane was even aware that he’d done her son’s tat. It was too soon for that. The last thing she wanted was Zane getting pissed off and tossing her out on her ass. He leaned on the counter and picked up the bottle of vitamin C. He rolled the jar around in his hand.
“First of all, I should ask what the doctor said.” Meg met his eyes, not wanting to look timid. His face darkened, his lips pressed in anger.
“Well, I can’t fucking work,” he bit back. “The treatments are gonna suck, and I’ll be sick for months. That’s about the extent of it.”
“I think I can help you, make it easier to deal with.” Her offer was spoken quickly. Heavy silence fell between them. The apartment was dark and a bit chilly, like him. His drapes were open. Twinkling lights from the parking garage across the street glowed like Christmas bulbs, casting the room in shadows.
“What’s this?” Zane picked up the canister.
“That’s a protein shake. It’s important that you do a high-protein diet.” Meg smiled sheepishly.
“Yeah.” Zane nodded. “That’s what the doctor said. And these?” He fingered the other jars.
“I’ve got some vitamin C, and those are herbs. I’ve been doing some reading, and they say that echinacea is good for the immune system. Red clover and white oak bark will help you, too.”
Zane laughed, a hint of sarcasm slicing through. “I appreciate all this, Meg. It’s just that the doctor told me I’m gonna be queasy, and—”
She pressed on. “Yes, but that’s where the ginger comes in.” She picked up another jar and handed it to him. His eyes darted to hers then to the bottle. She shrugged, smiling, wanting to accommodate. “This’ll help your stomach, and I can even get my hands on some fresh ginger and make you cookies, and—”
His words iced over her optimism. “Why are you doing this?” He set the jar down and raked the hair back from his eyes, the longer strands free from styling products today.
“You’ve got to overcome this thing,” she said, her tone cracking. “Traditional medicine, in my opinion, needs a little help. I want to help.” She avoided his hard stare, looking away. She fought the burning sob that was pushing on her esophagus. Why it was there she didn’t know, hormones maybe? She barely knew this guy.
“I appreciate it. I really do.” He reached across the counter, patting her hand like a master would a dog.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “You already said that.” Zane stepped back, his eyes lifting, almost smelling her defeat. She brushed it off like lint. “Don’t think people are just gonna sit around and let you slip away. This type of Hodgkin’s can be beat.”
Zane nodded his head. “Yeah, the doc said we caught it early.”
“Good.” Meg got up, not wanting to push her luck. She was done until next time, unless he refused to let her into his apartment again. “Then get in the game and fight. Fight to win.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the new monthly newsletter that she and Nora would be writing for the store and their patrons. Meg handed it to him. “If you have any questions, call the store.” She didn’t wait for him to escort her out. Last time was humiliating enough when he had to show her the door. She slung her bag over her shoulder, meeting his dejected, icy-blue eyes.
“Hey, Meg.” Zane reached for her arm. “Thanks. I’ll give this stuff a try, okay?”
She faced him head-on, tipping her chin, feeling patronized. “Good. That’s all I ask, or anyone else who cares, for that matter.” Her eyes wandered down to his chest. He had nice formation, sure to please any girl’s eye. The ribbed cotton hugged the lines of his pectorals. A light splash of dark hair sprouted from his wheat-colored skin, peeking out the well-worn neckline. His personal scent moved around her like a dewy mist on a foggy morning. It was an earthy freshness, like cut grass or lush foliage. “Good night.” Meg moved away, suddenly feeling engulfed by him.
“Yeah, see ya.” Zane stood in the middle of his living room, looking a bit dazed by her pushy, holistic pitch.
Chapter Four
“You’ve done all you can for now.” Nora moved the slew of papers around on her desk. “Wait and see what happens. You like him, don’t you?” Nora grinned, setting her reading glasses on her head. Her acorn-brown hair was braided loosely, resting over her shoulder.
“I’m not really sure.” Meg laughed. “He’s got that ‘bad boy’ appeal. Not as much as his friend, but he’s got it. Why do we girls like that image so much? We always choose the ones we shouldn’t bring home to Mama.” Meg tossed her hands up in defeat.
“It’s the mystique.” Nora waggled her brows.
“Yeah, some mystique. The guy’s a bit of grouch, but he’s sick. I shouldn’t judge.”
“So he’s introduced you to his friends?” Nora glanced up from her desk, thinking Meg’s acquaintance with Zane had progressed quickly enough to w
arrant an invitation into his social circle.
“No, no.” Meg waved her hand dismissively. “His partner, I should say, was there when I stopped by with the supplements.”
“Sean’s pretty rough looking, too.” Nora nodded. “But they are fine-looking men.”
“I want to help.” Meg dropped down into the chair opposite Nora’s desk. Stacks of holistic pamphlets littered the surface. “And I can’t even tell you why.”
“I know you do, honey. You’re sweet. We haven’t worked together long, but it comes naturally. It’s inside you. He just may be hard to reach, that’s all. Don’t burn yourself out. He has to want to get better. Remember that.”
“I know.” Meg heard the front door buzz and walked out to see who she could help today, hoping they were more receptive than Zane.
* * * *
Zane stacked all his medications and the supplements that Meg gave him on the counter. The row of jars looked daunting. How the hell he was going to ingest all these every day he didn’t know. He smoothed the wrinkled newsletter on the counter. Her small photo at the bottom grinned up at him. She had a look about her he couldn’t put into words. She wasn’t like other women.
He’d gone shopping. He was stocked up on everything. Tomorrow he started taking the chemo in an oral form, for now. He’d just sent Sean away. He wanted Zane to go out tonight, a sort of last hurrah, but Zane wanted to stay home. The last item to be unloaded was a bottle of bourbon. After tonight there’d be no more playing.
He collapsed in the recliner and sifted through the stack of DVDs. Was he in the mood to watch a movie, or should he just watch ESPN and drink himself into oblivion? He picked up the pile of information that Meg had left. He unfolded the reflexology chart, noting what area of the foot was connected to the spleen. That was the hub of his cancer, what had prompted his visit to the doctor, that swollen feeling of fullness on the side of his gut. The girl was sort of sweet. Every time Zane saw her, it was becoming a little bit harder to not like her. He hadn’t seen any other women dropping in to help. He had a few female friends, his “friends with benefits” type of girls, but suddenly they were nowhere to be found.
* * * *
A knock on the door had Meg scurrying down the hall. She hoped it wasn’t the super. He wouldn’t like the fact that she’d painted. She left the chain attached, opening the door an inch. Sean’s sharply defined face filled the crack.
“Meg, right?” His lips broke into a mischievous grin. “I’m sorry if I spooked you. You got a minute?” She disengaged the chain and waved him through. “Wow.” He laughed. “I’ve stepped into a time warp. Where’s Austin Powers?” His laughter was amusing. Meg giggled. He looked like a bull that had just stepped into a cluttered consignment shop. “Is that a real plant?” Sean’s gaze followed the ivy that wrapped around the living room.
“Yup, that plant’s almost fifteen years old.”
“Shit.” He shook his head. “Where do you get this stuff?” Sean canted his head, staring up at the lime-green tension-pole lamp Meg had anchored in the corner.
“I’m a bit of a consignment-store hound.”
“That’s cool. Hey, listen, I don’t know if you’re busy tonight, but—”
“Not at all.” Meg smiled, wanting to help. Her social life had been nonexistent since she’d arrived, not that there was much of one back home. Her mother’s illness had absorbed all of her time.
“I wanted Zane to go out tonight. He starts his treatments on Monday, but he wouldn’t go.” Sean frowned. “Could you just check on him, make sure he’s okay? I offered to stay, but he kinda rushed me off. I’m worried.”
“No problem. I’d be happy to.”
“Thanks, Meg. Hey, you have any tats?”
“Ah, no, I don’t.” Her heart kicked into overdrive, thinking of all those needles. Is this a come-on? Sean shoved his hands into his pockets. Black jeans hugged his strong, sturdy legs, nicely paired with a blue-and-green plaid pullover.
“I’m asking because you’ve got great skin, nice tone to it. I get twitchy when I see virgin flesh like yours.”
“Like a hairdresser with new shears?” she mocked.
“Yeah.” His full lips curved into a smile. “When I see great skin, I just wanna mark it all up. If you change your mind, I’ll give you a 20-percent discount.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The thought of all that ink in her pores had her stomach rolling over. It was so forever, a tattoo.
“Thanks for checking on Zane, I appreciate it. This is rough. In plain English, it just sucks.” His eyes softened. He kneaded his forehead, looking away for a moment.
“I’ll take care of him. He will get better.” Meg’s voice sharpened. “I’m always around, and if you need me during the day, stop in at the store. I’m down on Seventh. He’ll never be alone.”
“You got it.” Sean took a breath, his face smoothing with relief. “Thanks, Meg.” Fine lines around his eyes and mouth deepened with his smile. He was handsome, too, a bit softer than Zane. She’d just seen a little of his emotional depth just then. With that, Sean was gone.
Meg closed the door and went into her room. She’d go see Zane. Without realizing it, she changed her clothes and put a little lip gloss on. She tousled her hair, attempting to finger the curls into place. Her hair was a genetic mess that required patience. Sometimes it looked good, but if she ever wanted to look like she was sick and confined to bed, it wasn’t hard to pull off.
Meg paced around the living room. Should she bring anything? She didn’t want to imply that she would be staying for any prolonged period of time. She’d go empty-handed. If she was just checking up on him, it wouldn’t look right if she brought something. She returned the bottles of apricot and pear nectar to the fridge. She slipped her keys into her pocket and closed the door behind her.
Zane was several doors down. She put her ear to the door. It was unusually quiet. Maybe he was in bed. About to turn on her heel, she heard the clinking of glassware through the door. Meg gave a light tap this time, not having to compete with any rough-n-tough men. She lowered her eyes to the worn, tan carpeting that was beyond the call of Rug Doctor. The clicking of the lock got her attention.
“Meg?” Zane’s eyes darted between hers, a bit puzzled by her appearance.
“Hi.” She waved, suddenly feeling like a nuisance. “I don’t want to be a pain in the ass.” Zane apparently found her statement entertaining. He laughed. It appeared that he was playing it safe by not admitting to anything.
“Nah, get in here.” He jerked his chin.
Chapter Five
Here she was again. He’d invited her in, but his feet seemed stuck, sinking in some kind of muck he couldn’t identify. The aged overhead lighting in the hallway hit her hair. The rich, auburn curls gleamed, all askew above lush green eyes that shined like new growth. Her jeans were weathered, most likely soft under a roving hand. She had on an interesting blouse. It was dark green, making her eyes pop. Tiny wooden buttons lined the front. Fair, creamy skin lay exposed between the open, relaxed collar. Zane hadn’t realized the tour his eyes had taken until he landed on her thick-soled SKECHERS. Her airy voice led him back.
“The hallway’s not that great, kind of smells funny, doesn’t it? Mold is so bad for you. You think that’s what this odor is?” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Too many words. Zane rubbed his temple, stepping back to allow her to enter.
“What’re you up to?” He kicked the door closed behind them. He’d already slammed down two drinks and had only eaten half a frozen dinner, a bad version of Salisbury steak. His head was feeling light, and his mind was flirting with dangerous thoughts, ideas Zane didn’t think he should be exploring.
“Not much.” Meg buried a hand inside her pocket. “Just wanted to check in and see what and how you were doing.” She followed him to the kitchen.
“Take a seat.” Zane pulled out a stool, sitting down next to her. “How about a drink?”
“Sure.” Meg picked
up Zane’s glass, lowering her nose. “I’ll have what you’re having.”
“You sure?” His brow arched.
“What the hell, it won’t kill me. A little booze is good for the arteries.”
Zane poured her a shot. Her fingers touched his as the glass passed between them. It had to be the liquor. How could it be him? He thought only women got hot flashes. His body was on fire. Did he have a fever? Was this his illness talking? He wiped his forehead then rested his palm on his thigh, rubbing it into his jeans. He rested his bare feet on the lower rung of her stool. He watched her as she visually scoured the room.
“Gonna watch a movie?” She gestured to the stack of DVDs on the coffee table. Those crazy curls moved when she did. Was he thinking again that she was sexy? She tucked the unruly strands behind one ear.
“I thought about it but changed my mind.”
“I see you have all your supplements organized.” She pointed to the countertop, grinning. “That’s good.”
“Yup, gonna start that cleanse tomorrow. It better not be disgusting,” Zane warned, trying to give her the evil eye. Meg waved off the comment.
“You have cards.” She reached for the deck that sat on the corner of the counter.
This girl doesn’t miss a beat.
“That I do.” He slid the bottle of bourbon back. Her face bled through his periphery. Her lips were shiny, sensually curved. She crossed her legs, her thighs lean and firm-looking beneath the denim. One foot bobbed. She leaned an elbow on the counter. Her wrist was slender, delicate, adorned with a silver bracelet that held small, coral-pink stones. It glinted in the dim light. Does she do cards?
“Wanna play a few hands?” She smiled.
“Hands” Zane cleared his throat, trying to conceal his laughter. “Like Go Fish?”