When She Least Expected It

by Jeanette Lynn

  He stopped and looked at me thoughtfully.

  "Then there's you, of course. He hasn't figured out who you are yet. I would really love to see that," Toby said wistfully.

  Scowling instantly, I tensed up. "But he's never going to, so I doesn't matter anyway," I reminded him, a little bit of steel in my voice.

  Tobes glanced to me quickly and shook his head. "Aw, don't get all huffy, Bit, I was just kidding. I wouldn't do that to you."

  "I am not getting huffy,” I insisted, and I really wasn’t. Huffy was a level of grrr I had yet to attain today. Right now, this was... irksome, pre-huff level one. “The last thing I need,” I went on to explain, “is someone trying to buddy up to me so I'll paint a portrait of his favorite flavor of the week in the nude for him."

  Toby’s eyes widened until I thought they might pop right out of his head. "Have people really done that? Asked you weird favors?" he blurted, more than a little surprised.

  "Yeah," I admitted reluctantly, trying not to think about some of the more zealous requests. Ick. I shuddered on the inside, lest he see and find yet another reason to taunt and or tease me.

  Ugh.

  "But you don't even paint nudes," he muttered incredulously.

  "Can't you just picture it, Tobes? 'Oh, this would look bitchin' in my kitchen'," I used a masculine voice for this part. "Oh," I replied in a falsetto, "what did she paint for you?"

  "A naked painting of the girl I was screwing last month on top of a horse," I said in the masculine imitation again.

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, incredulous but not disbelieving, Toby started laughing. "Yeah, that would really have everyone talking at the dinner table."

  Footsteps sounded and we quickly changed the conversation, prattling on about Toby’s work and whatever monotonous think we could think of, catching the tell-tale skipping of tiny, sneakered feet. Rita came back with drinks and set a number on the table for them to bring us our food.

  "Let me help, Rita,” I offered. “I feel useless when you don't let me help."

  "Then feel useless, Bit. I need to keep moving or I'm going to poop out," she joked.

  Rita bantered with me for a few minutes before someone came to place napkins and disposable utensils on the table, signaling the food was next, and then she took the boys to wash their hands.

  "Your wife is stubborn," I muttered, once I was sure she was out of range.

  "Soooo," Toby drawled, not touching that land mine with a ten foot pole. A slight, prideful smile tipping his lips, he sipped his soda. "Is it a true story?” he asked when the silence became too much for him—and I couldn’t blame him, being used to two rowdy boys running things. “Did someone really want you to actually paint that? The horse and nakedness and stuff?"

  "Yep." I nodded, pulling the paper off my straw.

  "Did you do it?" Toby’s face was ten kinds of intrigued, a hint of excitement lighting his features. Oh, I was going to be heckled about this one, if not now then in the near future, I just knew it.

  "What do you think?" I shot back sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him.

  "Was she hot?" he asked, grinning at me unrepentantly.

  "Toby!"

  Too fast for me, he ducked my fist in time.

  "Just kidding!" he shouted between laughs, almost tripping over the bench seat in his haste as he leapt up.

  ****

  Humming under my breath, the song on the radio earlier still stuck in my head, I pulled my truck into the drive, threw it in park, and collected my winnings.

  I do so love the fair!

  The truck door creaked as I opened the door, and it creaked again as I slammed it closed with a jarring thud.

  Mumbling what I thought were the lyrics to that song, I hummed a little at the bits I didn’t know, my steps lighter as I walked up the steps.

  The two large stuffed dogs I'd won playing games were piled in my arms and it was hard to see in front of my face, so I slowly, but surely, navigated my way to the porch.

  Ironically enough, one of the dogs looked almost exactly like Snuggles.

  Grinning at the thought, and my neighbor’s reaction, should he encounter it, I stuck my foot on the top step and went to advance, but hit a softness that groaned.

  It. groaned. No crick or creak, it freaking groaned.

  Surprised, I leapt back, dropping my prizes. "Jesus, what the hell was that?"

  Eww. I hope I didn't squash it when I stepped on it. Damn it, I’ll never get that smell out!

  My porch light was off, so I couldn't see what I'd just inadvertently squished my foot into, but I knew it was definitely still alive.

  Glancing around for inspiration, help, a shovel, I didn’t know, I found a stick and picked it up, cautiously walking back and poking the lump on my porch.

  It groaned again.

  Okay. So, obviously it was human, but... "Ummm... hello?" I called tentatively.

  "What are you doing on my front porch?" my oh-so lovely new neighbor mumbled from somewhere in the darkness.

  Ohhhh, it's just him. Yippy skippy. "Don't you mean my front porch?" I grumbled as I picked up my stuff and maneuvered over him, stomping maybe a little too hard where I thought his smarmy head might be. Reaching the top of the porch, stomping to my door, and unlocking it to dump my things in the entryway, there was much satisfaction in my dark little heart and the smile lighting up my face, as I blasted his ass with the front porch light.

  "Gah!" Fancy Pants yelped and made to shield his eyes as the bright light hit him.

  Studying my quarry, I noticed there were beer bottles neatly lined up by the railing. Yay, he's drunk, I thought glibly. "This look like your front porch, Tin Man?"

  "William," he said after a moment, blinking owlishly.

  "Huh?"

  "William." He sighed the word. "William, not Tin Man. Not ass next door or Mr. Codger or any of the other names you've called me these past few weeks," he grumbled, making a flimsy cutting motion with his hand, "just William."

  "Weeellll, Just William, what are you doing on my front porch, getting shnockered on cheap beer, for?"

  "It's all I could afford," he said morosely, a sad, kicked puppy look on his face that wasn’t working on or for me.

  "Uh-huh..." I said slowly, stifling a laugh. "And you're drinking it here because...?"

  "I dunno,” he trailed off. “Did you know you're the only one who'll talk to me since I yelled at the old lady and her dog?" he asked abruptly, going wide-eyed.

  "No, but I'm not really surprised," I muttered, sighing heavily, glancing over at his house.

  "The guy at the little grocery store... you know him?"

  "Mr. Seppel." I nodded.

  "He called me an inconsiderate whippersnapper and hit me over the head with a newspaper," he blurted, giving a wobbly head shake, in awe.

  Smiling, my hand coming up over my lips, I coughed to cover up my laugh. "Is that all?" I asked innocently, when it looked like he wanted to say more.

  "No. Who says whippersnapper, Bit?"

  Now that took me back. I’d never told him my... "How do you know my name?"

  "That's what you're boyfriend calls you," he said on a shrug, listing a little to the side when he tried to sit up straighter.

  And again with the surprises. "I don't have a boyfriend. What boyfriend?"

  "Lover?" His pretty face pulled into a deep, confused scowl.

  "Uh, no... Why would-” I started.

  "Friend with benefits?"

  "No, but-”

  "Then why is he here all the time?" he asked abruptly, squint-frowning up at me, cringing at the porch light beaming down on him.

  "No- I don’t- That doesn’t- Who?!" Exasperated, I threw my hands up.

  William huffed, then blinked and grunted, as if the sound of him exhaling was freaking weird or new to him. I’d have laughed if I wasn’t already annoyed.

  "The big guy in the big truck."

  "Congratulations, you've just described half the men in this county,
" I muttered dryly.

  "He wears flannel... Toe something or other."

  Smacking my forehead with the palm of my hand, I choked for a minute and finally managed to get out, "That’s- Toby. Toby. He's my brother."

  "Oh," he said quietly after a moment, his scowl loosening, his expression morphing into flat out confusion.

  Choke-laughing, I got my coughing fit under control finally and allowed my gaze to dart towards him again. As our gazes met I realized he'd been steadily regarding me the whole time.

  "You're still green," he observed, squinting as his eyes roamed over me to stop suddenly, staring at my hands.

  Oh boy, was he gone. I couldn't help the smile that peeked out at that. "Maybe the jolly green giant is secretly my cousin," I said wryly.

  Fancy Pants looked me up and down in a strange once over and smiled a little, dimples popping up on his ridiculously perfect face.

  For a minute, he almost looked handsome to me, with his adorably tousled hair and disheveled outfit, but had to go and ruin it with... "But you're still short," he said on a chuckle.

  Face lighting up, though I was guessin’ no one was exactly home at the moment, he gave me a huge grin, his eyes a little glassy from his misadventures with cheap beer.

  "You don't say?" I muttered bitterly.

  "I just did..." he responded, very matter of fact like, blinking at me stupidly.

  Shoulders shaking with laughter, I cracked up, giving in, and gave him a good once over. "You either aren't used to drinking alcohol or a total lightweight when it comes to beer," I guessed.

  "I don't like to drink beer," he said on a belch, "tastes like shit."

  "Well, you must have suddenly acquired a taste for it, my friend, because you are drunker than a skunk." Sighing, though somewhat amused, I set my purse and keys down on the end table just inside the house and stepped out, closing my front door behind me.

  Walking over, I sat down next to ol’ Willy boy on the porch steps. "So what's the deal?" I asked curiously, shooting for honesty.

  "What deal? We have a deal?" Fancy Pants leaned in then, maybe a little too much so, almost toppling himself into my lap.

  Pushing him back, but gently, my index finger poking his chest to help him along leading the way, I raised an eyebrow and inquired again, changing tactics, "Why are you here?"

  "Oh.” He seemed to slump down, shoulders rounding as he curled inward, hanging his head to stare at the ground. “My parents got tired of my crap, cut me off, then offered me this piece of crap.” Lifting a hand, he halfheartedly waved at my house.

  Slapping his hand away, I took his wrist and pointed it in the direction of his place, waggling it a bit in that direction.

  "You mean that piece of crap. This one," I said on a grunt, using my other hand to hook my thumb at my house, "Is my piece of crap."

  Will laughed a little, snorting at my overdone snark, then belched again, and jerked, surprised by the action.

  Good lord...

  "Let me get you some water- Erm, or coffee, maybe?" I offered. Get his ass mobile, Tabs, and get him home. Then get gone.

  "No, stay," he said quickly, pulling me down to sit with him when I would have gotten up.

  His hand on my shoulder, holding me in place but not forcefully, I settled back down, clucking my tongue at him. "You sure?"

  "Yup," he said succinctly.

  "Mm. Anyways... that's not what I meant when I asked why you're here. I meant why are you here, on my porch and not yours?"

  "Ohhhh.” A very slow, almost torturous to watch, light bulb moment happened for the man. “Uhm... lemme think...”

  "Don't hurt yourself now," I joked.

  "I was lonely. No one here likes me and all of my old friends ditched me," he mumbled dejectedly.

  Pity, party of one, your table is ready!

  "Then they weren't really your friends to begin with, were they?" I quipped.

  His shoulders slumped further.

  "I came over and you were out with your boyfriend..." he began.

  "Brother," I corrected. Gah! I'm going to have nightmares about his little mishap, I just know it.

  "Brother.” He made a grunting noise, his body moving with the force of it, and continued, “So, I decided to wait for you."

  "And the beer?" I prompted.

  "Peace offering." he said simply.

  "Why'd you drink it?" I asked, enjoying his muddled mind.

  "I got thirsty?"

  He looked over at me then, lifting his head up to stare at me. Carefully blanking my expression, I slowly raised my eyebrows until they looked like they were attempting to touch my hairline, waiting for him to eventually look away before I let my teasing half-smile resurface. Sighing the saddest sigh to end all sighs, he put his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands.

  "No one will hire me, either. I've been black listed by an old lady and a dog named Snuggles. This place sucks ass."

  "So move," I snapped, irritated.

  "Can't," he said heavily.

  "Why not?"

  "If I do,” he paused to groan, and I wondered if he was tempted to lie back and lol around my front porch a bit more, “he'll disinherit me."

  "Your dad?"

  "Yep.” Will scrubbed at his face, expression pinched, tight. “He thinks living here for a while will do me some good."

  "So, say fuck him and do what you want, or suck it up and make the best of it," I said easily, shrugging. What am I doing debating with a drunk man? It's not like he's going to remember any of this in the morning....

  "It's a lot of money."

  "Life isn't all about money, Will."

  "It is to me," he said belligerently.

  "Then I feel sorry for you." Standing, I turned and bent down, leaning in, and hooked his arm over my shoulder. "Can you walk?"

  "Since I was two," the moron replied regally, and stubbornly tried to stand up on his own. He wobbled and flopped back down, almost taking me with him.

  "Smart ass,” I said aloud, though it was more to myself than anything. “Come on. I'll help you get home, but then you're on your own."

  "Why are you being nice to me?" He didn’t fight me as I maneuvered him, tossing his arm over my shoulder to reach out and grab his wrist, securing it and him before we attempted a few trial steps. And one, two, three, we’re off!

  "Does it matter?" I grumbled in way of a reply, trying to hold his weight and lead him to the door, wondering if I’d die by armpit suffocation, the way he’d pull me into his side, leaning on me so heavily. He wove and I weaved to counter it, the two of us, temporarily conjoined, winding an unsteady path down the rather straight sidewalk.

  Baby steps, Tabitha, baby steps. Get him home and then he's on his own.

  "Was it the beer?" he asked on a yawn.

  Was what the beer? I didn't get any of it. Eh, just go with it, Tabs, for shits and giggles. "Totally, I really love empty beer bottles... they go with everything."

  "Is this my house?"

  Groaning with the effort of holding him up and talking at the same time, I was tempted to drop his ass right here and make a run for it. "Last time I checked, yes."

  With little coaxing, I got him inside and hobbling to the living room without incident, letting him fall onto the couch with a noisy plop and a thick plume of dust.

  My sweater snagged on his fancy belt at the last second, right as he tumbled, and yanked me down with him.

  Face to face, chest to chest, my shorter legs flailing wildly atop him as I wallowed like a baby seal playing on the beach, scrambling to right myself, he glanced down at me, our eyes connecting, and smiled.

  "Thank you," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me loosely in some semblance of a hug.

  "For what?" I asked, trying to push up and untangle my sweater at the same time, without kneeing him in the groin.

  "For this," he murmured, and his head dipped towards mine, our lips meeting in a brief but toe tingling joining, kissing me soundly on the mouth.

 
A zap akin to an electric current zinged through me when our lips touched, and I jerked, his mouth soft but firm against mine. Confidence oozing from him, cocky even in the way he kissed, self-assured and without a doubt, he leaned back in and deepened our liplock, laying one whopper of a proper smooch on me.

  While I stared down at him, dazed, my eyes wide open the entire time, he sighed, pulling back moments later, his eyes closed, lips tipping up blissfully. And then, of course, he ruined it, sighing one last dreamy sigh to fall back, letting his head flop back onto the sofa.

  Mouth working but no words coming out, I sat there, stunned, gaping down at him in stunned disbelief, until a loud snore started rumbling out of him.

  A small chortle of laughter escaped me—it couldn’t be helped, this whole thing felt so unreal and convoluted—I finished untangling my sweater and, carefully though shakily, slipped off of him.

  Doing my last bit of neighborly good deed-ing, I made sure he was on his side and had a glass of water within reach before I snuck out of there and ran the heck home.

  My heart was still pounding ninety to nothing, ramming against my ribcage in my chest wildly as I climbed into bed a little later that night, my lips still tingling from a simple kiss from my drunken neighbor.

  Oh, how far you've fallen down the rabbit hole, Tabs. Maybe I should get a boyfriend, I thought as I rubbed my lips absently. I mean, what could it hurt to see if I could find my Mr. Right out there somewhere...? I'm definitely not getting any younger, that's for sure.

  My eyelids grew heavy and I decided to think it over some more when I'm not half asleep and fresh from a smooch with the drunk guy next door.

  Yes, excellent idea, Tabs, I thought as I drifted off.

  Look, Ma! I Caught A Yuppie!

  So, the rest of the week went by uneventfully, Will giving me the polite silent treatment whenever we happened to cross paths.

  On a positive note, I did finish the piece I'd been working on. The paint wasn't even dry on it yet, but I just knew in my heart that it was one of my better ones.

  I've been feeling very inspired lately, ideas and creativity running wild through me. It was exhilarating, reminding me of when I'd first started painting, that feeling of renewal, rebirth. Crap, just listen to me, I thought with some consternation, maybe Willy-nilly over there was right after all—cringe—I'm beginning to sound like a god damned hippie!