by Tori Fox
It’s only nine at night and I have already been hit on four times. The seventy-five-degree weather during the day and the college football games means everyone started drinking early.
It’s also strange to get hit on by a bunch of young guys. I know I look young for my twenty-nine years, but that isn’t the reason. I used to be overweight and rarely ever got hit on. But a little over a year ago I moved to Asheville, thanks to Seraphina, and she got me into yoga. I was at a low point in my life and it helped clear my mind and shed a few pounds. Mostly it just gave me back a confidence I hadn’t had in years.
The night goes by quickly as the bar gets more and more crowded with every hour that passes. I can tell by the tips in the tip jar that I am going to have a good night, even after we divide it between the three bartenders. Maybe I should quit Jimmy’s. It would be nice to have more free time, more time to work on my music.
I grab a ticket from the printer and pour a few pitchers for a server. I bring them over to the station at the end of the bar. The glasses we keep stocked under the station is empty so I head into the kitchen to grab another rack. I lean over to slide them into the holder when someone grabs my ass, turns me around and tries to lean in for a kiss. I push his hands off me, about ready to slap him, but someone pulls him away first.
“Asher, stop being a douche,” the deep voice says. I look up, surprised to see it’s my neighbor.
“Y’all dared me to,” Asher slurs. He probably should be cut off.
Noah hits him on the side of the head. “I definitely did not. Your idiot friends did.”
Another guy, who looks like he could be Noah’s brother, grabs Asher by the arm and pulls him back toward a table.
“Anna, right?” Noah asks me.
I nod.
He brushes his hand through his light brown hair. “Sorry about that. My brother’s wasted.”
“I can tell.”
“It’s his twenty-first birthday.”
I smile at that. “Well tell him Happy Birthday.”
Noah smiles back at me, and my knees nearly buckle at his perfect smile. This man should not be out in public, he is just too attractive for his own good. “I will.”
I feel awkward talking to Noah. This is the most conversation we have ever had. Even though he is my neighbor and a regular at Jimmy’s, I never really talk to him. “I should get back to work.”
He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “Yeah, sorry to hold you up. You still working at Jimmy’s? I’ve been working swing shifts so I haven’t been in for a while.”
“I do.”
He starts walking backward to his table. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
I wave and then turn back to the server station, ensuring the glass rack is secure.
The rest of my night flies by. I glance over to Noah and his brothers a few times and they all seem to be surviving the alcohol haze.
By the time I am pulling into my driveway, I am grateful I have Sundays off. My feet hurt and I feel like I am covered in a film of sweat, beer, and tequila.
I unlock the front door of my duplex and throw my keys and purse on the entryway table. I pull my tips out of my purse and walk into the small sunroom at the back of my house. I’ve turned it into an office and music room. It’s where I find the most solace during the day. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the greenery of the plants centering me, and the soft sounds of whatever my inspiration is for the day filtering through the speakers of my vinyl record collection.
I pile up the dirty, crumpled bills in each denomination before counting. I made four hundred and sixty-three dollars. Not too bad. I open my safe under my desk and place half the money in a bag designated rent. Half of what’s left goes into a bag marked bills and the other half gets split between my personal spending funds and a bag marked Nashville.
I walk to my bathroom and strip out of the clothes I have on, throwing them directly into the hamper. I take my hair down and brush out the reddish-orange waves. I look into the mirror and take a deep breath; nights are always hard for me. I clasp my fingers around the two rings hanging from my neck and fight the urge to cry. It’s been almost seven years, but the pain feels like yesterday.
I turn on the shower and climb in before the water is even warm. The cold blast shakes my thoughts and I think about music and songs, the only thing I have found to help me cope. A sad melody filters through my head. Once I am out of the shower, I head back to my music room wrapped in a towel. I sit on a chair and work on the melody until I fall asleep.
3
Noah
It’s been a week since my brother’s birthday but because of my work schedule, we haven’t been able to celebrate as a family. At least that is what my mother says.
That’s how I find myself driving out into the woods, deep into the Blue Ridge Mountains with Carson, Mason, and Asher in tow. They drew straws over who was getting the front seat. And not because I forced them to be in the police cruiser, which I have done in the past, but because I brought Brutus and he is a licker. Mason and Asher got stuck in the back seat and I think Mason is two seconds from walking the rest of the way to our parents’ house.
“I think you need to teach your dog some manners.”
I roll my eyes as I glance in the rearview mirror to see Brutus half sitting on Mason, his tongue hanging to the side. “Maybe if you roll the window up, he wouldn’t be bothering you.”
“Dude, your car is like eighty-five degrees, I need the breeze,” Mason says.
Asher snorts. “Or maybe if you laid off the booze before you got in the car you wouldn’t be so hot.”
I hear a rustling then, “Fuck you, dick.”
I look back in the mirror and see Asher rubbing his arm, Mason sitting smugly next to him.
Carson sets his phone in his lap, the one he has been on the entire time, somehow ignoring the bickering going on in the back seat. He turns around and faces our brothers. “You would think the two of you are twelve. Shut up and act like adults.”
I smirk at Carson as he turns back around and picks his phone up. He has a point. The ride out to Mom and Dad’s is about forty minutes and it feels like we have been in this car for hours.
I glance back in the rearview and see Mason taking a sip from a flask. “You realize I am a cop and you are drinking in a moving vehicle.”
“Mom forced me to come or else I wouldn’t be here.”
Mason hates coming home. I don’t blame him. Dad treats him like shit for being a musician and not choosing a real career like myself or Carson who is a lawyer or Hunter who is a doctor. Even Asher, the little punk that he is, is in school for pre-law. Our other brother, Everett, my dad has written off ever since he moved away.
“It is Asher’s birthday dinner.”
“And last week I was there for the fun time. I’m sick of being treated by my own family like the black sheep. I’m treated more like a child than Asher is.”
“It’s because you don’t have my good looks,” Asher jokes, earning him another punch from Mason.
“Your family loves you, Mason. Even Dad. He just sucks at showing it. But he loves having you home. At least he wants you there. Unlike Everett.”
We all go silent at that. We all miss our brother, but we don’t talk about it. I have a regular call with him once a month. He’s out in Montana now, herding cattle or something. He sounds happy, but he is the best out of all of us at faking it.
We stay silent the rest of the ride and pull into our parents’ house about fifteen minutes later. Asher jumps out of the car first, Brutus fast on his heels. Carson puts his phone in his pocket and heads in next. I get out of the car and wait for Mason. It takes him a minute to get out of the car but eventually he does.
He takes a swig from his flask and I grab it from him and take one too. I clasp a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, Mase. Today is about Asher, not you. And if Dad brings anything up, I’ll change the subject.”
Mason looks me in the eyes, his same blue one
s meet mine. “Thanks, Noah. I’m so close on closing that deal. But if I talk about it, I’m afraid it will fall through. I don’t want Dad to know because if it doesn’t work out, it will be just another thing he will call me out on.”
I nod my head. “I’ll tell Carson. Not that he will say anything to begin with.”
Mason opens the door to my SUV and throws the flask on the seat. He slams the door then brushes his hand threw his shaggy brown hair. “Thanks, bro.”
We head inside and I sigh. I hate that my dad doesn’t believe in my brother. It sucks. My brother is a businessman with a business mind. He got it from my dad. But my dad just doesn’t see it that way. He wanted Mason to take over the family business, the grocery store chain that runs throughout the Carolinas, but Mason was never a nine-to-five man. He has always been more free-spirited, creative, talented. He is in the process of buying a recording studio. Carson is helping with the legal side of things, even though Carson is a criminal defense attorney. I know that if Mason can secure the studio, he will flourish. He has an ear for music that most musicians don’t have. He wants to produce, write, record, if it has to do with music, he wants to be a part of it.
I walk into the kitchen where I can hear the din of my family. I nod at Hunter who drove up from Charleston this morning. My dad smiles as I walk in, grabbing me in a one-armed hug.
“There is the man of the family,” he says. My dad was always proud of me for some unknown reason. I didn’t go to college right out of high school, didn’t follow in the family business, maybe it’s because I am the oldest or the fact I am always looking out for my brothers.
I smile back at my dad and take the beer he hands me. My mom walks over and gives me a kiss on the cheek before getting back to work on dinner.
We make small talk before we all sit down in the formal dining room.
My mom is a master chef, at least for us. She was a housewife as we were growing up and she made the best meals in the world. We always told her to go to culinary school but she pushed it off saying if she worked who would take care of the kids. It wasn’t until Asher went to college that she finally took it seriously. She’s been going to a culinary school in Asheville part-time for the last two years and I have never seen her happier. I doubt she will ever try to get a job at a fine dining restaurant but she is happy just fulfilling a dream.
“Any news on that detective exam?” he asks.
Well, that didn’t take long. But I am glad he is going to hound me and not Mason as we eat dinner. “It’s not until March, but I’m studying every day.”
“There is no reason you won’t pass. You are a great cop.”
“Thanks.” I nod, wishing I had another beer but I already finished the one I allowed myself so I was able to drive home. No one knows I’ve taken it twice already and failed. Not my family and not my police squad. It should be easy. I shouldn’t have a problem passing, but every time I take it, I freeze.
“So Asher, how was your birthday last week? Your brothers didn’t do anything too crazy, did they?”
Carson snorts and Hunter laughs obnoxiously.
My mom looks confused before her face turns to anger. “What did you boys do to my baby boy?”
I can’t help but smile too. We did nothing she wouldn’t expect. Dinner, strip club, lots of drinks, but Asher and his idiot friends are an entirely different story.
Mom stares us all down, Asher looks like he is about to slink beneath the table but Carson speaks up before he can cower. “Ash, why don’t you tell Mom about how good you were at that dare your friends made you do?”
Mom’s gaze cuts to Asher who is redder than a tomato. “What dare?”
Dad is keeping his cool. I’m sure he will find the whole thing funny. He did raise six boys and knows we are trouble.
“Asher, if you do not tell me in the next thirty seconds I am going to make your brother throw you in jail for a night!”
“Geez, Mom, don’t bring me into this.” I laugh.
Asher sits with his mouth gaping open, looking for words, but Mason cuts in. “Asher’s friends thought it would be funny to see how many girls were willing to kiss him. Twenty bucks for each girl who did.”
Mom’s mouth falls open and I can’t hold back my laughter. Dad is sitting next to me and is having trouble keeping it together. He is a smart man and knows his wife will not be happy if he condones this behavior.
“Well…” Mom says, waiting on an answer.
Hunter answers for Asher. “This fucker made two hundred and sixty dollars that night. Dick should have been buying us drinks, not the other way around!”
My mom gasps at Hunter, stands abruptly, walks over to Asher and smacks him upside the head. No one can keep their laughter in at that point, even Dad is dying next to me.
“That is not how you treat women, Asher Jackson Taylor!”
Asher shrinks into his seat even more.
“And the rest of you better stop laughing. God, it’s no wonder all of you are single, you have no idea how to respect a woman!” She looks at Dad and shoves a finger at him. “And you are about to lose the woman you have been married to for thirty-seven years if you don’t stop your laughing!”
My dad quickly stops laughing and grabs his whiskey and sips it. I can see him struggling to keep a straight face.
Carson is the first to speak up after Mom’s outburst. “Just for the record, I do have a girlfriend, in case you forgot.”
Mom turns to him. “And if she saw the way you reacted to that, her taillights would be the only thing you would be seein’!”
With that, Mom huffs and barges into the kitchen.
We all look around the table, holding in the laughter as best we can. But none of us are any good at it.
Mom bursts back through the doorway holding two pies in her hand. “Now that it’s out of your systems. Who wants some pie?”
4
Noah
I grab the water bottle out of my cup holder as I turn on to my street. I finish it off then wipe sweat from my brow. I was at the gym with a few other officers playing a scrimmage game of basketball. I should have showered at the gym, but I wanted to get home to Brutus before I had to leave for my shift.
As I pull into my driveway, my neighbor runs up to my car. Her hair is in a messy bun on her head and her entire outfit is soaking wet. It’s almost like she forgot to take her clothes off when she got in the shower.
“Noah!” she shouts as she runs at me, barely allowing me to get my door open. “Oh my god, I am so glad you are home. I need your help!”
I am barely out of the car and she is pulling me toward her house. Well, she is trying to at least; her curvy frame doesn’t have the strength to pull my two hundred pounds of muscle.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
She huffs as she gets up to the first step of her porch. “An emergency! Water! Everywhere!”
I can tell she is stressed out by the situation since she isn’t forming a complete sentence. “Where?”
“Bathroom.”
I follow her into her house and try not to look around too much. We might be neighbors, but we have never hung out, much less talked. I think the most I have ever said to her was at the bar the night Asher tried to hump her. Even when I was at Jimmy’s every day after work, we only had friendly greetings to each other.
Her house has the distinct smell of patchouli. I am sure if I looked around I would find an incense burner or two. Her living room has a giant Turkish rug in the center, plants everywhere bringing life to her house. I should get a plant; it might feel more like home.
We reach the hall between her living room and kitchen and I step into the problem. Water is all over her hardwood floor, a bigger problem than she probably realizes. When I walk into the bathroom, I expect to find the water leaking from under the sink.
Not the case.
Instead, it’s like I am walking into a kid’s waterpark. Within seconds, I am just as soaked as she is. The showerhead somehow bro
ke off in her shower and is spewing water everywhere, the walls, the vanity, the floors, us. I go to turn the knobs to shut off the water and one falls off into my hand.
“Don’t touch those!” she shouts.
“Too fucking late,” I respond as water continues to soak us both.
I take my shirt off hoping I can use it to get a grip on the inside of the water knob but it doesn’t work. I push her out of the way to shut the water off under the sink and it only increases the pressure of the water spraying all over the bathroom.
“Where is the main water shutoff?”
I look at her for an answer but she is staring at me, her eyes locked on the muscles across my chest, trailing down my six-pack to the V that leads directly to my finest asset. And I know she is getting a real show because my basketball shorts hang low, very low, as in if you pulled them down an inch, you would begin to see everything.
If she wasn’t covered in water, I am sure she would be drooling right now. And I don’t mind it. I work hard for this body. I don’t mind when people admire it.
But the water situation is more dire than her desire for me. I snap my fingers in front of her face and she blinks a few times, coming out of her trance.
“Sorry, what—what—a what were you asking?”
I smirk at her stuttering. Glad to know I still got it after thirty-five years. “Main water valve?”
She scrunches her brow and it creates a cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows. “Umm, the what? I’m not sure.”
Great, so she is not handy at all. Of course, if she was, she would have figured out how to turn it off to begin with.
“This place have a basement?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, it’s—ugh out the back.” Her eyes are still fixated on my lower abdomen.
I head out of the bathroom but stop next to her. “I’ll let you touch them later if you want.”
That snaps her out of it. “What? Oh my god. No. I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s been... never mind. This way.”