A Basic Renovation

by Sandra Antonelli

  Kyle spun around and came back. ‘Hang on. Uh, could you…um…you…’ he pulled the puppy from his shoulder, ‘Stay here and…and…watch Clementine…uh, please. She needs to do a piddle before I let her back inside. Dad’s a little miffed because she’s been peeing all over the house. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Lesley adjusted the shopping bag and held out her hands. He gave her the dog and jogged back to the front door. When he reached for the knob the door swung inside. A woman with the most impressive bust-line Lesley had ever seen came through the threshold. She had a wasp waist and a head full of glossy black curls no hair dye could ever duplicate.

  ‘There you are, sugar,’ she said in an Alabama sing-song. ‘Your daddy doesn’t have any tea in the house. I just gotta have ice tea if we’re gonna barbecue. I’m going to get me some down at the Shell station and pick up some beer for honeybuns too. You and Clementiny want to come with?’

  The tits were too indiscrete and Kyle was young. Lesley knew he couldn’t help it. He looked right where those two majestic mammaries came together and stammered, ‘N-no thanks, S-Susannah.’

  Susannah? Lesley’s ears pricked up. Susannah, as in Big-boob Sue, Dominic’s girlfriend, the one Kyle mentioned in the same breath as Greta the Great?

  ‘Suit yourself then, sugar,’ Big-boob Sue smiled and shimmied past the boy. Decked out in a bubble gum pink mini-dress, she looked like a shorter version of the 1950s actress Jayne Mansfield [K1] and moved like a ballet dancer in preposterously high pink stilettos that laced up her ankles. A ribbon matching her dress held the shiny black hair back from her face. Her shoes clickety-clacked on the flagstone walk as she jiggled by Lesley and headed for the BMW. ‘Hey,’ she said with a wave and affable smile full of southern charm. ‘Sure is hot, innit?’

  Nodding dumbly, Lesley watched the woman climb into the convertible and felt herself wave back. It was hard to believe, but she’d been mesmerised by the undulation of the woman’s breasts almost as much as Kyle. She shook her head and watched the car reverse and drive up the street.

  So Dominic liked them sweet and voluptuous. If that was Big-boob Sue, what did Greta the Great look like?

  Why was she thinking about that? It didn’t matter if Dominic had the staff of Hooters in his house cooking up Buffalo wings. She didn’t want to invest any more energy into this than necessary. It was past time to wash her hands of Dominic Brennan. This was cut and dried, over and out. ‘Kyle,’ she kept her voice even, ‘can you get your father for me, please?’

  ‘I’m right here.’

  When Lesley turned around, Dominic was walking towards her, a frown on his face, eyes twin aquamarine lasers. Her stomach dropped all the way down to the soles of her feet and bounced back up. That pissed her off. There wasn’t supposed to be a trampoline effect to this event. He was not allowed to disarm her simply by looking all tanned and handsome. She would not be blinded by lust or his riveting over-the-top sculptor’s good looks. She inhaled, ground her back molars together, and tried to reach for her resolve, her bitterness and remorse.

  Dominic swallowed a Christ, what are you doing here? Seeing her was the last thing he expected and the last thing he needed, but his day had gone to hell already, so what was one more log on the fire? Heart thumping, he snatched Clementine from her hands. ‘Kyle, take the dog inside…and, please, try and keep your best bud in the kitchen.’

  ‘OK,’ Kyle nodded, his curious blue eyes ping-ponged from his dad to Lesley.

  Clementine squirmed in Dominic’s grip. She was sandwiched between his big fingers, wriggling, tail wagging. He held her out.

  Kyle didn’t move an inch.

  Dominic thrust the dog towards his son. ‘Will you take her inside?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Today would be good!’

  ‘Oh, all right!’ Disappointment plain on his face, Kyle collected his puppy and walked backwards up the pathway to the house, not wanting to miss anything.

  Dominic waited until the door closed. It wasn’t his intention to act like a jerk, he’d done enough of that at her house, but apprehension made him snippy, ‘What do you want?’

  Lesley pulled a folded envelope from her pocket and slid the bag from her shoulder. ‘I’ve got something to say to you.’

  ‘I don’t have time for you to berate me right now. We can rehash this morning some other afternoon.’

  ‘Got company, huh?’

  He glanced at the house and nodded curtly. ‘Yeah, I got a blonde and a brunette inside. So?’

  ‘This is yours,’ Lesley said flatly, trying to ignore how good he smelled, how good he looked, and how good she remembered he’d felt, just as much as she tried to ignore his sarcastic remark. She focused on the smear of bubblegum-pink lipstick on his cheek then held the bag and envelope out to him.

  He took them. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Your tool belt and payment.’

  ‘I don’t want your money.’

  ‘I’m not here to argue. We had a deal. Consider it done.’

  Dominic tossed the shopping bag on the grass. He grabbed her wrist, stuffed the envelope into her hand, and let go, as if she’d scorched him. And she had. His skin still felt raw from earlier in the day, his lips still scalded from her kisses. What was worse, he stood in front of her smouldering. If she touched him again, he was sure he’d burst into flames. ‘I don’t want your stinkin’ money,’ he hissed like a vapour of steam escaping from a cracked pipe.

  ‘Then give it to Kyle. Like you said, we’re done, Dominic.’

  ‘I was wrong. We’re not done. We only just started.’ Glory days, did I just say that out loud?

  She pushed the envelope against his chest and held it there with one finger, grinding it into his breastbone. ‘Oh, we’re so done.’

  This was taking entirely too long. Dominic needed to get her out of here. Considering the way she drove, Susannah could be back at any minute and if Lesley was still here when that happened something rancid sure as hell would hit the fan. He tried to grab the envelope, hoping if he accepted it she’d take off. ‘OK, little one, you said your piece, now run along.’

  She rocked back on her heels and crumpled the envelope in her fist. ‘Little one? Oh, that’s it!’ The balled-up wad of paper bounced off his shirt. ‘Quit trying to bully me, you condescending twat! You don’t get to talk right now. You get to listen. So listen.’

  For a second, his jaw shifted from side to side. Yeah, he wanted to listen. He wanted to listen to her sigh under his touch. He wanted to hear her moan his name. He wanted to…his eyes flicked to the house again. ‘Fine. I’ll listen, but let’s get out of the sun. It’s too damn hot out here.’

  She followed him into the shade at the side of the house where Kyle took the dog to do her business. Her hair was loose and hung just above her shoulders. He wanted to run his hands through the strawberry blonde and nibble on the mouth that had tasted of chocolate and vanilla mint lip balm. Dominic cocked his head and tried to concentrate on the tip of her nose instead of ideas of a Lesley Neapolitan sundae. ‘All right, I’m all ears.’

  Lesley looked at her feet and exhaled. Her knees were scratched and nearly as red as her boots. She had to handle this right and not resort to name calling or mudslinging. There were enough bastard children of contempt from this family, no more needed to be bred. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts and looked up at him. ‘Part of what happened is my fault,’ she said softly. ‘I could have done things a little better. I could have spoken up instead of letting you go on believing what you do. Honestly, I didn’t think it was anything I needed to explain. We weren’t supposed to be…friends. I thought I didn’t really care, but if I’m here I guess maybe I do. It was unfair of me not to set you straight – so to speak.’

  Dominic shook his head. ‘Are you apologising?’

  ‘You don’t get to talk, remember?’

  He rolled his eyes.

  ‘Yes. I’m apologising. I never should have let you help me at the h
ouse. You were right. When you and Kyle showed up at my house with the Bush Hog, I offered him a job just to piss you off.’

  Dominic said nothing. He took a step forward. The smooth stucco wall of his house was behind her. He pressed a palm to the earth-coloured surface beside her.

  Lesley sneered at his domineering tactic. Didn’t he know by now intimidation made her obstinate? She screwed down her temper. ‘Did I piss you off?’ she said, holding his gaze.

  ‘So now you want me to talk?’

  ‘Just answer the question.’

  The stucco was cool beneath Dominic’s palm. It would be so easy to just give her a little push back against the wall and set to feasting on that deep pink mouth, so easy and so inappropriate. Despite that, he brought his other hand up, flattened it on the house, and moved a little closer, getting into her space.

  ‘Did I piss you off?’ she said again.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, shifting his arms lower, boxing her in as he stared at her, waiting for the flames to sear his skin.

  Lesley stared back, undaunted. ‘I’m not proud of that. I like your son. So, take the money and give it to him, or keep it for his coll—’ The tang of cigar reached her nose, her gaze flicked from Dominic’s blazing eyes, over the top of his big arm, towards the sunlit back corner of the house. She felt her mouth melt. Her bottom lip sagged gracelessly.

  A pungent haze of white smoke swirled above Terry’s head.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Aw, shit,’ the youngest Brennan brother grumbled and slid his foot across the grass to wipe off the dog poop he’d just stepped in.

  ‘Aw, shit,’ Dominic echoed, dropping his arms.

  Lesley mumbled something incoherent.

  Terry squinted, sunlight full in his face. He was focused on the shoe he scraped along the ground as he moved towards them. ‘Jesus, Dom, you could have warned me about all the dog crap on this side of the house.’

  ‘I thought you said it was too hot to be outside.’

  ‘You told me I couldn’t smoke inside.’

  ‘So smoke on the deck.’

  He held up a hand to shade his face, the cigar between his fingers coiling smoke. ‘What, and track poop all over your precious wo—’ His blue-green eyes narrowed suddenly, ‘Well, well. Lesley.’

  Lesley stared at the brunette that had been inside Dominic’s house. Like a page straight out of New York magazine, her ex-husband wore a trendy scruff of dark whiskers on his chin. His hair was a messy bed-head style. The way it stuck up accentuated his high cheekbones and crisp angle of his jaw. His t-shirt was vintage Hang Ten, his artfully distressed navy cargo shorts Dsquared, his shoes, two-hundred-dollar Alberto Guardiani flip flops. Hell, with her taste in clothes and music she knew she fit the bill for being a grup, or yupster, or alterna-yuppie, or whatever the preferred term was that redefined moneyed-up, über-cool adults over thirty-five, but Terry was the frickin’ poster boy.

  He looked her up and down and licked the corner of his mouth. Then he bit his cigar between his teeth and smiled. ‘My, my, all this time later and just look at you. A little older, a little more mature, but who would have thunk it?’

  She looked into the eyes of a man she once loved and waited for his left eyebrow to arch. He’d always been a big eyebrow raiser, like some kind of attractive Mr. Spock without the Vulcan ears, but this time he simply went on smiling.

  Lesley changed her mind.

  Terry wasn’t just smiling, he was oozing. As handsome as he was, as well-fitting and expensive as his casual clothes were, it was just a front to cover the fact his charm oozed like a snotty nose on a toddler.

  ‘Ah, babe,’ he cocked his head and let smoke seep out through his teeth, ‘don’t you worry,’ his gaze travelled over her body and lingered on her breasts, ‘you’re still all woman, in all the ways that count, even if a few parts of you are a little lower than I remember.’

  Lesley snorted. This had been over a lifetime ago. The bitterness had been buried and decomposed, but here she was unearthing the decay all over again. She had two choices. Compete in a barb tossing competition, or turn and walk away. She swallowed the do you still pick your nose when you read snipe on the tip of her tongue and snorted again.

  Dominic cleared his throat and put his hand in the small of her back, ready to lead her to the front yard. ‘Thanks for the money, Lesley. I’ll make sure Kyle gets it for services rendered.’

  ‘Services rendered?’ Terry sneered around tobacco. ‘Are you paying young boys for company these days instead of old men, Les? What would Kelly think?’

  Somehow, Lesley shoved Dominic aside. The next thing she knew Terry was swearing, the cigar still in his mouth, one hand planted over his left eye.

  ‘Glory days and duck shit, Lesley!’ Dominic grabbed her around the waist before her next jab caught his brother in the nose. He pressed her back to his chest, both arms wrapped around her. There was no way he was about to let go.

  Squirming, breathing heavily, Lesley stared at Terry. All at once, she went still. Then she started tittering maniacally. ‘You nose-picking faker!’

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’ Terry shouted. He jerked the cigar out of his mouth and threw it on the ground.

  ‘You’re pathological, aren’t you, faker? You lie about everything, don’t you, you faker?’

  ‘Faker?’ When he pulled his hand away, his eye had already begun to weep and swell. ‘Look what you did, you squawking little harpy!’

  ‘You should be grateful,’ she snickered, ‘now instead of that frozen Botox look, your face will have some real character!’

  ‘I don’t use Botox!’

  ‘Liar!’ Lesley suddenly realised she couldn’t move. She struggled against Dominic’s grasp. ‘Frown!’ she shouted, ‘Show us you can frown!’

  ‘All right, that’s it!’ Dominic huffed and jerked his chin at his brother, ‘Go inside and put ice on that, and you,’ he turned Lesley in his arms and held her elbows, ‘go home. Just…go home.’

  Lesley stared up into Dominic’s face and licked her lips. Her heart bounced down, and back again, but this time, instead of a trampoline, she felt as if she were balanced on the very edge of a high, springy plank, which meant it was time for a swan dive. She yanked out of his grip and faced Terry, an unnatural calm settling over her. ‘I remember, a long time ago, when we were invited to a baby shower I didn’t want to go to, you said something that makes a lot of sense now. I was trying to figure out a way to decline the invitation and you said, ‘when you make up an excuse or a lie, always use a grain of the truth because the truth bit is what makes the lie believable.’ Do you still live by that code or have you found Jesus or something?’

  Terry bent to pick up his cigar. He relit it with a shiny gold lighter and puffed, his expression as carcinogenic as the smoke veiling his face. ‘Screw you and your soon-to-be dried up middle-aged box.’

  Dominic clamped a hand on her shoulder before she lunged again. ‘I said go home!’ he said between his teeth.

  Lesley ripped away from his fingers. ‘How’s Emily?’ She took a few steps towards Terry.

  Terry brushed by, flicking ash at her.

  ‘Let’s see,’ she said, following him, ‘since you told everyone my business partner was my lover, I wonder what you said when you left Emily. Oh, I know you dumped her too. You probably divorced her and took her for all she was worth, but I wonder how you got rid of her and managed to make yourself look good. Were you stoned at that wedding too? Or did you take her bout of teenage depression and turn it into some kind of full-blown mental disorder? Or was it alcoholism? Did you tell everybody my old best friend was an alcoholic?’

  Terry froze at the front corner of the house.

  ‘Oh, my God, that’s what you said!’ Suddenly she was cackling, ‘That’s really what you said!’ She grabbed his elbow and yanked it, pulling him backwards, so he’d face her. ‘You always made sure you got attention and sympat—’

  Dominic had had more than enough. Witho
ut even being aware of it, his innate, big brother sense of duty took over. With one arm, he hoisted Lesley off the ground. She tried to kick him, but he’d lifted her sideways and held her tucked against his body. While she flapped like a fish, he shouted at Terry. ‘Get out of here, you idiot!’ He carried her down the driveway while she squirmed, swore, and called him a few unusual names he’d probably find funny later on.

  Terry ran up the front walk and left the door open as he rushed inside.

  ‘Now,’ Dominic set her on her feet beside her Bronco, ‘go.’

  Lesley jerked open the Ford’s door and glared at him over her shoulder. ‘I can’t believe an educated man like you, with a PhD and everything, fell for it.’

  ‘Fell for what?’ he rumbled.

  ‘Your brother’s grain of truth.’

  ‘Why the hell should it matter to you if Emily was an alcoholic or bi-polar transve—’ Dominic’s glower disintegrated. ‘Emily.’ He put a hand to his forehead. ‘You said she was your best friend. Jesus, she was the maid of honour in your wedding. That’s how I knew her.’

  ‘Hey, everybody, look who’s finally cleaned out his ears!’ she said and swung up into her old SUV. Three seconds later, she made a hook turn in the cul-de-sac. Her squealing tyres left long black marks on the pavement.

  Dominic didn’t bother to watch her drive up the street. The framed, black and white photographs in the foyer rattled against the wall when he slammed the front door. From his vantage point he could see all the way to the kitchen at the back of the house, where Terry sat at the table. He strode through the dining room and brought his palms down on the tabletop, looming over his brother. ‘You son of a bitch!’

  ‘Hey, that’s our mother you’re besmirching.’

  ‘You son of a bitch.’

  Terry moved the ice pack from his swollen eye. ‘What’s your problem this time?’

  ‘Lesley and her partner, the whole I married a lesbian thing, you made it up. You made it all up.’