by Law, Adriana
Birdie offered her a smile. “It’s okay honey. No one blames you.”
“Something smells good! What’s for dinner?” Drew stopped mid-step, an intense scowl darkened his face as he noticed Megan at the table. “Oh… it’s you. I thought maybe you’d checked into a hotel seeing as how this place doesn’t suit you. Guess you’ve decided to rough it with the hired help?”
At least he was wearing a shirt. A white T-shirt with a few holes showing the olive tone of his flesh on his belly, but a shirt all the same.
“Don’t you give Megan grief, and wash your hands before you come over here. She already doubts your ability to clean yourself.”
He went straight for the stove, grabbed a warm biscuit from the pan balanced over two burners. He planted a firm kiss on the woman’s right cheek. “Now birddog…. you know I don’t care what she thinks.”
She shoved his shoulder. “Well you better. You’re never going to snag a woman with that attitude.”
He plopped down in the seat across from Megan. He crumbled off small pieces of the biscuit tossing them in the air catching them with his mouth. “Maybe I don’t want one.”
“What are you, six?” Megan snapped.
He continued fingering his biscuit, never once taking the time to actually look at her. “Nope, just not all cranky like you.”
Spite’s a horrible emotion, Megan’s eyes lit with it. “So, you’re no longer worried about being homeless?”
“Hey ho, what have I missed?” Tink sang as he entered the kitchen. He stopped next to Drew and clamped a friendly hand on his shoulder. The two exchanged a look that said they had already been talking about Megan behind her back. And most likely it wasn’t good. “Are you in here fraternizing with the enemy?”
Drew gave Birdie a wink. “I came for the food, not the company. Birdie’s cooking can make a man suffer through about anything.”
The room went silent.
All eyes were focused on Megan, even Birdie stopped by the sink to stare at her, though her expression was one of pity. Megan was thick-skinned. They needed somebody to hate. Oh well, let it be her.
Tink wore a heavy, gray beard, suspenders to hold up his pants and kind of wobbled as he walked. His hands were drawn in a way that you just knew was painful. He dropped down in the seat beside Megan, draped an arm over her shoulder, and tucked her in close to his side. Her nose scrunched as she distinctly smelled the body odor rising from under his wet arm pits. “I’m just teasing. You’re okay. We’re not going to hogtie you to a stake and cook you. ”
“At least not today,” Drew muttered.
Tink released her. His flat palm came down hard on the table top causing Megan to almost come up out of her seat. “Birdie, what’s for dinner?” He called.
Before Megan had time to process all of the sounds and commotion in the room. Dishes were being placed on the table, platters of steaming food were brought out. A pitcher of iced tea was passed around. Emma was there. Ms. Susan and Griffin too. Suddenly the long country table felt extremely cramped. Megan drew her elbows in, crunched in between Tink and Griffin. The room was stuffy from all the cooking that had taken place over the span of the afternoon, not to mention the six people sucking up useable oxygen as they talked. Of course she was excluded from their conversation. Just as well.
“Want some?” Tink stuck a bowl under her nose, his crippled hands—fingers all contorted—held the bowl steady as any man with the full use of his hands. Whatever was in the bowl smelled tasty, but looked horrible, like someone had already chewed it up and spit it out.
“What is it?” She eyed the slop as she poked at it with the serving spoon.
“Country style steak. Nice and tender. Ever had any?” Tink inquired.
She shook her head still peering into the bowl with a crinkled nose. “What’s stuck to it?”
Elbows propped on the table, Drew jabbed the prongs of his fork in her general direction. Irritation was apparent on his face. “It’s Gravy! It’s not going to kill you. Stop complaining and just eat it!”
“You don’t ever turn up a nose at a woman’s cooking.” Birdie added.
Tink leaned in, “Trust me….you don’t want to hurt that woman’s feelings. I done that once, spent weeks going hungry. I had to resort to catching crickets outside. They got a mighty crunch to um, their little legs are the problem, got um caught in-between my teeth. ”
Birdie laughed, “Oh, stop fibbing. Everybody knows you’ve never missed a meal.”
Everyone watched Megan waiting for her response, except for Drew, who was already shoveling food into his mouth. Megan shook her head. “No thanks, I’ll just eat a salad.”
“Suit yourself,” Tink said sitting the bowl back in the center of the table.
They all told jokes. Laughed. Made conversation. Enjoying each other’s company after a long day. Megan kept quiet, ate and listened. No one would ever suspect they’d just been told they no longer have a home. Life went on. And so did the tall tales at the table. She caught herself watching Drew as he told his share of bullshit, his hands were always as descriptive as his words. The genuine smile he shared with his five friends had her feeling a twinge of jealously.
“Birdie…. that was one fine meal!” Tink commented rocking back in his chair rubbing his bloated belly.
Noticing a break in the conversation, Megan jumped in, “Why do they call you Tink… if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Drew came up with the name. Says I’m always tinkering with something, disassembling it, although my damn hands slow me down these days.”
“And Birdie?”
“Well Drew came up with that one too.”
Drew grinned across the table at Birdie, “It was better than the alternative.”
“What was the alternative?” Megan inquired.
“Big Roberta,” Drew teased.
Tink draped an arm over her shoulder again bringing back the musky smell of body odor. “Consider yourself lucky, if that one over there ever decides to give you a nickname….means you’ve graduated to “special” status with him. Few rarely get the honor.” He clicked his tongue.
“Yeah, few rarely get the honor of being pain in the asses!” Drew snapped although his cheeks told a different story as they heightened with color. He shifted in his chair taking a huge gulp of ice tea.
“He loves us….just don’t want to admit it.”
Drew made some grumbling sounds and went back to eating.
Megan should have left well-enough alone. Drew was the one being drug behind the horse, so to speak. But then she had to open her big mouth causing the entire room to go silent. “Why doesn’t Griffin ever talk?” She looked to Emma for an answer, since the young girl was the one that hung around him the most, but it wasn’t Emma that answered.
“Can’t,” Tink said and was about to explain when Drew cut him off with shake of his head.
“Don’t….now’s not the time to talk about this.”
Megan studied the boy with his messy dark hair and thin features sitting to her left. He looked around sixteen, and was an attractive boy with full lips and tan skin, but there was something definitely going on with him. Her voice dropped to a hush, “Shouldn’t he be like… in a home or something for people with special needs?”
A fork full of country style steak came to a halt hovering near Drew’s down-turned mouth. He threw her a look of belief. “He’s fine. It’s you who needs to be in a home for people with “special” needs.”
“Me? Why, because I speak the truth? What none of you are willing to face?”
The tension in the room stretched to the point of snapping. Birdie shifted in her chair. Griffin slowly chewed his food as if the conversation around him didn’t have squat to do with him. Tink hung on every word with a shady smile waiting for a full blown fight.
Emma looked near tears.
How dare Drew cut her down in front of everyone at the table. He didn’t know her. Megan felt her cheeks burning. She took a swallow of
tea wishing she could fish out an ice cube to cool her forehead and cheeks, maybe then she wouldn’t have the overwhelming desire to walk around the table and claw Drew’s eyes out.
‘Charm’ my ass, the guy didn’t have a clue what the word meant, and he definitely didn’t have any.
Drew had yet to take a bite. He stared across the table at her. “You don’t have a filter, do you?”
“A filter?”
“Yeah… to keep you from saying the first stupid thing that pops into your head!”
Tink laid a comforting hand on Megan’s shoulder. Or maybe he sensed she was about to rise up out of her chair and the hand was there to hold her in her seat. Emma spoke, “Don’t think he’s dumb, because he can’t talk. He hears and understands everything you’re saying.”
To prove the point Griffin gave Megan a lopsided grin. A smile that said he took no offense to her questions.
“I better get to cleaning these dishes,” Birdie exclaimed her chair squealing across the floor as she came to her feet. She stacked plates in the crook of her arm carrying them over to the sink. The other’s followed suit, and before long the kitchen was back to being quiet.
Later, Megan found Drew in his room, or what was now her new room. She couldn’t wait to crawl under the covers and sleep until noon. “What are you doing?” she snapped not sure she liked him anywhere near her things.
“Getting a blanket for the couch, and a few of my things. That okay?” Drew stepped quietly to not disturb the others in the house. He went around the room doing just what he said, collecting some of his belongings. He said, “Listen, we may have gotten off to a bad start. I think we should forget everything, and start over. No sense making this harder than it has to be.”
She paused by the door. “I agree.”
Hands full, he brushed past her, stopping in the doorway. Bodies less than an inch apart, their eyes met for a brief moment. His where brown as a delectable piece of sweet, forbidden chocolate. Long dark lashes complemented the color well. Someday, some simple-minded girl would find herself lost in those eyes. Too bad the guy didn’t possess a single quality that would keep a girl.
“Drew, I am sorry for kicking you out of your room. Really, I am.” Her tone was boarding sarcastic. Yeah, she could play nice, but she didn’t buy his whole “lets forgive and forget” attitude. “I wish things were different. In a perfect world, you and your friends would still have a home, I wouldn’t be here and none of this would be happening. I’m doing you all a huge favor by forcing you to move on. You can’t remain idle forever. Not at my expense. You do understand, don’t you?”
“That’s awful nice of you… thinking of us.” His eyes dipped down to the swell of her breast visible in her low-cut tank top. “If you really want to help, you might want to try putting on some actual clothes tomorrow. The men around here aren’t blind. It’s misleading to give a man any ideas, if you’re not prepared to let them sample the goods.”
“You know….for about five minutes, I actually felt sorry for you. You don’t deserve my pity.”
“I don’t want your pity.” He noticed how fast her breast rose the angrier she became. Quick breaths he felt the warmth of, but refused to respond to. She was a cold, heartless bitch. He suspected anything halfway intimate with her would be like trying to take a rattlesnake by the tail.
Day Two
[Whack! Whack!]
The claw end of the hammer busted its way through the old wall, a small slither of the adjacent room showed through. Muscles flared as Robbie jerked a huge piece of sheet rock free. Pieces crumbled to the old linoleum floor. Then another. [Whack!] The claw met resistant’s. He shook the stuck piece until the rusty nails let go of the termite infested studs.
Robbie talked while he worked, “I think you’re making the right decision here. Taking out this wall will open this bathroom up dramatically. It’ll give the new owners a good size bath on the first floor. Once we add that second bath and dining room off the back like we talked about, you’ll be able to ask a lot more for this place.”
The faraway words gnawed at Drew’s subconscious, a flicker of annoyance. He shifted. Flat on his stomach on the most uncomfortable couch in the world, he opened one eye, the other eye buried in a folded pillow. Assuming it was all just a bad dream he shut his eyes. Quiet. Finally! His fingers came up to relieve a tickle under his nose. One long leg dangled off the side of the couch, out from under the too short blanket revealing a bare foot. He was seconds away from drifting off, when it started again. Every blow of the hammer made him flinch and groan. Bloodshot eyes soaked up his surroundings: the bright morning sun, the fresh coffee on the end table by the couch. His lips gave way to a smile, even though he felt as he hadn’t slept more than an hour. Birdie was such a jewel, always taking care of everybody.
[Whack! Whack!]
Who the hell would be bold enough to make so much racket in the morning? He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see he’d slept until 9:22 am.
Then he heard her voice, “I agree Robbie. I can’t wait for you to yank that stupid toilet up! I’m thinking maybe we should put the new one over here. What do you think? Maybe close it in with walls and put a door leading to it. The added privacy would be nice.”
She wouldn’t?
She couldn’t?
Sadly, he already knew the answer.
Her timing was impeccable.
Had he done something in a past life that warranted this kind of torture? If so, he was sorry.
“God, please make her go away.” He slid off the couch his sore knees bumping cold hardwood. He rose to his feet and straightened the jogging pants hanging low on his waist. He exhaled a breath running a frustrated hand through his matted hair. Better go ahead and deal with it. Or her. Whichever the case may be. He followed the noise finding a sight far worse than he imagined.
“What are you doing?” he frowned walking carefully over all the torn out debris. He winced as he stepped on a missed nail sticking up from a split board. Hobbling on one foot he assessed the damage: blood oozed from a small prick. Not a large amount, just enough to irk him. The woman was insane!
Megan turned, “Working.”
She was wearing protective glasses, a white supper tight T-shirt with the Pink Panther on it, and a pair of jeans that hung low on her hips. Drew guessed the shirt and jeans belonged to Emma, the only one in the house remotely close to Megan’s size.
He’d assumed—or hoped—she would look less attractive without all the makeup and fancy clothes, but Megan was even more attractive without all the flare, so attractive that she stole his breath. Her hair was pulled up revealing an elegant, slender neck. Drew came to realize, in that moment, that he had a fetish for kissable necks: the tender spot just below a woman’s ear, the sensitive cord of muscles that ran clear to her collarbone, then there was her shoulders where a man could latch on sinking his teeth into flesh begging to be bitten.
He growled low and deep disguising the direction his mind was taking by shouting, “Why aren’t you still in bed?”
“I woke this morning feeling energetic. Thankfully when I called Robbie,” she affectionately patted the guy's arm, “he was already awake too.” Her lips gave way to a smile. Drew knew enough of Megan by now, to know her smile was an indication something bad was coming, and he braced himself.
“It was your idea really,” she said.
“What was my idea?”
“Moving the toilet to a better place….adding on,” her hands done a sweep of the room, “Remember? I just took your brilliant idea and ran with it. And as for everybody sleeping, you’re the only one still in bed.”
“I wasn’t in bed. I was on the couch.”
“Yeah, well, do you know you snore?” She and Robbie exchanged a snicker. “It’s awful. I tried pinching your nostrils closed a few times, but the quiet never lasted. You really do need to go see a doctor. I think you may suffer from sleep apnea. My mother used to snore really bad too. Her doctor gave her one of those
machines that blows air into your nose while you sleep. Helped her tremendously! I know I’d appreciate it if you done something about it.”
“Can I talk to you a minute?” He motioned for her to follow. When she made no movement, he tacked on, “Alone, in the den?”
She sighed pulling off the protective glasses muttering to Robbie. “Do you mind? I think someone woke up on the wrong side of the couch.”
“Nah,” Robbie smiled.”
“Of course he doesn’t mind! The man was probably waiting for someone to come rescue him.”
Megan tilted her chin. She wasn’t going to let Drew provoke her this morning. He could sense her holding back. Her hand went to his shoulder as shoved him out of the way for her to pass. In the den, he took several deep breaths raking a hand through his hair. He favored his sore foot. She stood with her hands firmly planted on her hips. Dust swirled in the sunlight coming in through the nearby window. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room clicked off minutes in the brief moments of silence from the sound of the hammer.