by Shaye Marlow
“This whole manover thing,” I said. “Maligning my masculinity, banishing me to the shed, generally fucking with me—”
“We’re your big brothers. We always fuck with you,” Rory argued.
“The manover thing,” I repeated, slowly. “The calendar, the projects, the reading list, the objectives. Trying to help me by yanking on my arm. All of it will stop now. Swear.” I twisted Zack’s arm a bit, until he wheezed.
“All right. Yes, yes. I swear on all those things, no more,” Rory said hurriedly. A big smile bloomed on his face. “Congratulations on your graduation!”
I glared up at him until his smile slipped. “I will accept your oath—and not maim your monster—on one condition,” I said.
“Name it.” That look on his face as he gazed down at Zack was one of real concern.
“I get to shoot you out of a cannon,” I said.
Rory blinked. “Me?”
“Yeah. You.”
“But… but we don’t have a cannon!” Rory sputtered.
I glanced across the yard. “I would accept a catapult as an adequate substitute.”
Zack chuckled, a tired yet mirthful sound.
“But I could die!” Rory objected.
“Your choice of landing,” I said.
Rory chewed his lip, thinking about it. He wouldn’t die if, say, he were flung into a lake. But, apparently, he didn’t want to take even that risk. “Zack can do it,” he said.
“No,” I said, drawing the word out. I was unwilling to let him talk his way out of this one. “You will do it. And you will do it wearing a Bigfoot suit,” I added, punishing him for his prevarication.
He sputtered again.
“And Zack will get video, because I feel certain that seeing Bigfoot shot out of a catapult is on his bucket list.”
Rory’s expression twisted. I could see his mind working behind those deceptively vapid blue eyes, see his desire to save his brother warring with fear—pure, animal fear.
“Rory, think of the publicity,” Zack said, his words slurred. “Our fans would love it!”
The Jeopardy theme played in my head as Rory continued to hesitate. Finally, his jaw firmed. “Just maim him,” he said, turning away.
Zack started to fight my hold. Knowing what was coming, I let him up.
“You coward!” Zack yelled, launching himself at Rory.
I watched with deepest satisfaction, having turned Frankenstein’s monster against his maker.
“You will do it, you shit,” Zack growled. Mad and dirty, covered with blood and vomit, he was an intimidating sight.
“But… I don’t need to… ’cuz… you’re free!” Rory grunted, trying to slip his hold.
“You will, because I want that video,” Zack said.
The only thing that could possibly make this moment better, I thought, is a chair to lounge in while I watch. And, maybe a cocktail.
Rory started to cry, and I realized that my previous thought was patently untrue. Rory’s tears were utterly delightful. Nectar of the gods, really.
Zack made a sound of disgust, and climbed off our brother. “You’re doing it,” he said. He kicked dirt in Rory’s face, then turned and strode away.
I drank in the sight of Rory on the ground, head under his arm, sniveling pathetically, for a good two minutes. When he finally looked up, it was to find me standing over him. He cowered when I bent closer.
“So,” I said, “you’re laying off me, correct?”
“Correct,” Rory muttered.
“And you agree to be shot out of a catapult, while wearing a Bigfoot suit, at my earliest convenience?”
He grimaced.
“On pain of death?” I added.
“Yes,” he growled, sitting up.
I straightened, greatly cheered. “Excellent.”
As he looked up at me, there was the strangest expression in his eyes. I wanted to say the glitter was just tears, but that wasn’t quite it.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said.
“Oh, fuck off.”
THEA
Rory and Zack walked in looking particularly worse for wear this morning. Rory’s hair was matted and sticky, while Zack was bruised, his lip puffy.
“What the hell happened to you two?” I asked, wondering if Suzy’s vengeance could possibly have been so violent.
Zack waved a hand. “Us and J.D. had a little disagreement this morning, but it’s all settled.”
“J.D. did that to you?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we deserved it,” Zack said. “It’s fine.”
How could he call that ‘fine’? His face and arms were mottled with red, and he had dried blood crusted in his ear.
Rory leaned over the counter toward me, bringing with him a waft of sour stench. “Thea, we want to thank you,” he said.
I picked up my rag and moved to the sink to rinse and wring it. The movement was a cover for distancing myself from his smell, while I mulled over how I felt about J.D. roughing up his brothers, again. It seemed like an escalating pattern of violence: First tripping them, then gut-punches, then a full work-over. And, like true abusees, they were making excuses for him.
“For?” I asked.
“For your commitment to helping J.D.”
I started to wipe down the espresso machine, maintaining my distance. “It was my pleasure. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t have done the same.”
Rory shook his head. “I wish there were more women like you,” he said.
“Like you and Mitzi,” Zack agreed.
I cocked my head, wondering what Mitzi had to do with it.
“So many women guard their vaginas like they’re something precious. Others, god bless them,” he said with a wink, “just want to have fun.”
I was lost. Why was he talking about my vagina?
“Thanks to you, we were able to graduate J.D. this morning,” Zack said.
“Thanks to me?”
“Yeah. He couldn’t have made such incredible progress without you. Seducing a woman does wonders for the self-esteem. It’s why we had it on his list of objectives. Thank you for being so accommodating, and for helping J.D. out of this slump he’s been in.”
“Slump?” I repeated, feeling dumb. Seducing me had been on J.D.’s list?
“Yeah. That boy wasn’t getting any, and damn, could you sure tell it. He was all mopey and repressed. And then you came along—”
“We’re so glad we pointed him in your direction,” Zack said, with Rory nodding agreement.
“—and you were even more willing than we’d hoped. Now that you’ve helped him get his groove back, helped him get back in the game, he can move on to bigger and better things. Did you know he was dating a model, before he lost that fight?”
I shook my head.
“God damn, she was hot,” Zack said.
“What can’t a man do, with a woman like that on his arm?” Rory mused. “Anyway, we were really impressed with the way you took one—”
“Or two, or three,” Zack said with a grin.
“—for the team. And, as a thank you, we’d like to give you this.” He pulled a little wooden contraption out from behind his back, and set it on the counter.
I stared at it.
“It’s a catapult,” Rory said. “We had some other ideas, but this one was the most phallic.” So saying, Rory tweaked the shaft so that it pointed straight up.
“Which we thought was important, because we really want you to have something to remember J.D., and your service, by.”
“To remember him by?” I asked faintly.
“Yeah. He’s leaving tomorrow. Didn’t he tell you?”
I experienced a tearing sensation very near my heart. “No,” I said, my voice empty.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Zack said, “he didn’t tell us either.”
“We had to do some digging on the computer, hack into his email,” Rory explained.
I finall
y pulled my gaze from the catapult, and saw their pity and chagrin. My pride prickled, and I regrouped. “So you’re telling me, one of J.D.’s goals, set by you, was to get me in bed?”
“Well, no. Not you specifically.”
“It could have been any woman,” Zack agreed.
“Though we did specify, he had to score with a woman who was at least a five out of ten. Pity fucks do not count. Not when it’s your manhood on the line.”
I nodded. “Get out.”
“What? But… but we haven’t ordered yet,” Rory said.
“I’d like a strawberry milkshake,” Zack said. “Like the one you made Ed.”
“Get—” I said, scooping up the tiny catapult and launching it at their heads “—out!” I missed them, and the little contraption crunched against the far wall before clattering to the floor. I glared at them, fists clenched, breathing hard. “Get out,” I said more quietly.
And they did.
J.D.
I met my brothers along the trail to the Birch Chalets. They looked harried.
“Dude, watch out,” Zack said. “She’s in a mood.”
I stopped. “What do you mean?”
“She’s pissed. PMSing or something, we don’t know,” Rory said.
“About what? What did you do?”
“We just thanked her for her help in your rehabilitation.”
“And we gave her a present,” Zack added.
“Which she promptly smashed,” Rory said, running his hand through his crusty hair.
It sounded innocent enough, but I was sure there was more to the story. With my brothers, there always was.
“What did you give her?”
“A miniature catapult. A collector’s item, the only one we’ve made,” Rory muttered.
“Anyway,” Zack said, clapping me on the shoulder, “just watch yourself.”
I turned to watch them walk away, wondering what the heck they’d said to Thea. Determined to find out, I continued on to the coffee shop.
Thea was just finishing sweeping splinters of wood into a dustpan when I walked in. She saw me, moved to the trash, and forcefully dumped the pieces in. Then she circled behind the counter, and put her back to me to wash her hands. No ‘hello’, hardly a glance. At least my brothers were correct about one thing: She was definitely upset.
I studied the tight set of her shoulders, wondering about the best approach.
“Can I get you something?” she asked.
“What did they say to you?”
“They?” She began stocking cups, adding to the towers next to the espresso machine.
“My brothers,” I said patiently.
“They thanked me.” Her words were clipped.
“That’s not what’s got you upset.”
Her lips tightened, and she shook her head.
“Then, what?” I asked, keeping my tone gentle.
She moved back to the trash, yanking the lid off. “You hurt them, for starters.”
I’d had a feeling that’d been it. “Did they tell you what they did?” My arm was still aching, and I was trying not to think about the fact that they might’ve done permanent damage.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “Can’t be justified.”
I stared across the counter at her. This was not going at all how I’d imagined it. I was supposed to tell her how much she meant to me, and she was supposed to fall into my arms. End of story.
I opened my mouth.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the plane ticket?” she asked, looking up from the knot she’d just tied.
“How did you—?”
“Your brothers,” she said, her tone impatient. She heaved the bag up and out of its can. “They said you were leaving tomorrow. Nice of you to tell me,” she said as she passed me on the way to the door.
“Thea, that’s what I came here to do,” I protested, dogging her steps from the coffee shop.
“Well… thanks. It’s been nice knowin’ ya.” She crossed to a shed, unlatched the door, and chucked the bag inside.
I thought of Zack’s advice: Apologize, apologize, apologize. I waited until she’d closed and relatched the door before planting myself in her way. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said.
Thea looked up at me with hurt in her eyes, then started to step around.
I caught her arm. “And,” I said, “I’m here to ask if you want me to stay.”
Surprise lifted her brows. She studied my expression, and finally asked, “What do you want to do?”
I hesitated, many things going through my mind, among them that I’d spent money I didn’t even have on that ticket, and if I was going back to Arizona, I had to be on that flight.
She pulled away from me. “I recommend,” she said quietly, “that you figure that out.”
THEA
J.D. was pissing me off. He was freshly showered, his hair still damp, looking clean and healthy and whole. I’d inspected his arms—no bruises—and his face—no blood.
He was perfectly handsome, and perfectly leaving.
He followed me back into the coffee shop.
I scrubbed at a spot on the counter that I knew would never come off, trying not to focus on the squeezing sensation in my chest. I’d known this moment would come, had to come—he had a career elsewhere, models to snuggle, fights to catch. I just hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t wanted to face it, hadn’t thought it would come so soon!
I kept scrubbing. I didn’t think I could look at him without breaking down. It’d been just sex for him, I’d been just a goal. I didn’t need to make this messy.
He was watching me closely. “I wasn’t sure how you felt. I mean, I enjoyed our time together, but I didn’t know if—”
“It was good,” I said. Ha! As if ‘good’ could even begin to describe it. “It’s fine,” I continued. “Sounds good.” Yeah, I was babbling. “I think we’re headed into the rainy season, anyway.” I moved over to the sink to rinse my rag, and so he couldn’t see my face. My throat was tight, my eyes burning. Thinking about what his brothers had said about a ‘pity fuck’ helped.
“Keep doing your stretches,” I said, trying to distance myself. “You’ve made incredible progress in the past couple weeks. Keep working, and in a couple months you should have your full range of motion back.”
“So, you don’t…” He stopped, just staring at me.
“I wish you the best of luck,” I said, needing to end this ASAP, needing to get rid of him before I broke down and cried. “And, maybe we’ll cross paths again.”
He started to turn away, and paused. “Is it because of my fighting? Is that why you’re being like this?”
Like what? I shook my head. “Even if it did bother me,” I allowed, “it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s none of my business.”
“None of your business?”
“Isn’t that how summer hook-ups work?” I asked.
“What are you—is that what this was for you?” he demanded.
I couldn’t let it be anything else, couldn’t let him get any closer. He’d become too precious to me, too quickly. I didn’t want to hurt myself more than I had to, didn’t want him to pity me for the truth.
I’d fallen for him. I loved him. And, you know what? I loved him enough to let him go. He had a life that didn’t include me, a life full of training and travel and models, a life he was happy with. He was a fighter, a champion. Who was I to get in the way of all that?
“Yep. That’s it,” I said. “It was fun.” I was in shock. It was the only way I was holding myself together. I needed him to leave, even as I drank in the sight of him.
I’d always remember him this way, on the other side of my counter, those strong shoulders, the light in his eyes. “I might see you next summer,” I added.
I could only hope, because he was it for me. That truth was as crystal clear as his eyes. Unlike him, I wouldn’t be moving on, wouldn’t move up to ‘bigger and better things’. There was no one better th
an J.D.
He absolutely wasn’t perfect… but he was perfect for me.
Seemingly reacting to the awful weight of the scene, the mobile chose that moment to surrender to gravity. The birds plummeted, clattering against and sprawling in a tangled, gaudy mess across my counter. A few birds slithered over the edge and swooped crazily, as though frantic to be free.
The silence between us stretched as we both stared at it.
“Maybe,” he finally said.
Then he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
J.D.
I didn’t know what to think. I was mad.
No, I was furious.
No… I was hurt.
I stomped back to my brothers’ place, stormed… but it didn’t seem to help. I pulled up Minecraft and started to dig, hoping it would distract me, hoping it would numb the pain. It didn’t.
The look on Thea’s face kept coming back to me, her distance, her denial. My fingers clenched on my controller, and… I felt like putting my fist through something. There was the punching bag, but I knew of something that’d work infinitely better to distract me.
I tossed the controller aside, and ran out of the cabin. Once I started running, I didn’t want to stop. I ran into the woods, ran past Lane’s lodge—only too aware of the coffee shack where a gorgeous barista was still slinging coffee. The air burned my lungs. The ground slapped my feet.
I ran all the way to the bar, and inside. Dashed through the main room, and skimmed down the stairs. There was already a crowd gathered, of which I was glad; plenty of options to choose from.
But it was the opponent I really wanted that met my eyes from across the room, and grinned. Tim stood head and shoulders taller than everyone else, so when he bulled his way through the crowd, only the drunk objected. He said a few words to the two guys getting ready to enter the cage, and they cleared out.
He pushed the door wide, and turned to look at me. The crowd turned to look with him, and a path cleared.
I yanked off my shirt, and threw it aside. I held his gaze as I advanced, as I kicked off my shoes. Barefoot, in nothing but my sweats, I bounded up the stairs and passed by him, into the octagon.