Hard Cover

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  “How about board game night?”

  “That’s a little tame.”

  “Not if you’re playing Missionary.” Jeannine pulled the adults-only game off my shelf and waggled it at me. It was like a cross between Cards Against Humanity and Truth or Dare.

  “Now, that’s a different type of party,” I mused. I could set up a couple of tables, one for married couples and one for singles to mingle. It was so crazy it might work.

  “You charge a ten-dollar cover price and you can easily clear two hundred a night.” Jeannine was practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “And that’s not even counting merchandise sales. Stock up on toys, lube, and other impulse purchases.”

  “Lube really shouldn’t be an impulse purchase, and this isn’t a sex shop. You’ve been listening to the selectmen too long.” While I did carry those things, they weren’t my primary merchandise. Unfortunately for the town government, they did make up a nice portion of my business, so there was no chance in hell I wasn’t going to stock them. But I also didn’t want to antagonize anyone by handing out free condoms. Not this week anyway.

  “Okay, okay, stock up on intimacy and relationship books and those stupid-ass coupon booklets like good for one back rub.”

  I should remind her that she was going to be late getting back to work, but she was having so much fun I didn’t want to stop her.

  “Oh,” she breathed out, and I could swear I saw a lightbulb go off over her head. Then she made a beeline for my back room.

  “Wait,” I said, frantically wondering if I had cleaned up after the cat.

  Jeanine flung open the door. “We could offer baby-sitting back here. It would cost them five dollars an hour, and even after paying the sitters you could make a profit. We would have to move this futon.”

  She stepped into the room and froze. I saw her look down at the litter box and water dish.

  “You have a cat?” she said.

  Then she saw my comforter and pillow stacked up in the corner. Her eyes went to the shelves, where there was a clock radio and the unicorn statue that she gave me when we left to go to college.

  “Why is that here?” she asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer. In a few seconds, I saw that she had identified several things that should be in my apartment and not here. Pushing her way into the bathroom, she saw my toothbrush and toothpaste were out on the sink instead of hidden in my toiletry bag with my luggage under the futon. “What’s going on?”

  She hugged herself and her eyes were full of hurt.

  “It’s temporary,” I said.

  “Are you living here?” she asked, horrified.

  I looked out into the store, but there weren’t any customers. “It’s complicated.”

  “How long have you been staying here?”

  “Since Jack left.”

  “Oh my God!” She covered her mouth with her hands.

  “He hadn’t been paying the rent in the three months before he left. He was hiding the eviction notices from me.”

  “Why?”

  I couldn’t figure that out either. “He didn’t want me to yell at him. He didn’t want me to worry. I don’t know.”

  “That fucker!”

  “So I came home one day and all my shit was on the curb and the locks changed. I saved what I could and I’ve been squatting here for the last few months.”

  “Why didn’t you get an apartment?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to spend the first and last month’s rent when things were so tight here.”

  Jeanine slapped a hand over her face. “Why didn’t you come stay with me?”

  “Because I knew it was going to be longer than a week, and your roommates would get pretty pissed at me crashing on your couch for this length of time.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice trembled.

  “Because I was ashamed.” I sagged against the doorframe, one eye on the store. “Because I thought I’d be in an apartment by now.”

  “You need to tell Rory about this.”

  “Oh hell no. Do you know what he’ll do?”

  “He’ll buy you an apartment.”

  “Yeah, as long as I sell out to him. I can’t take another ‘I told you so.’ Not from him.”

  Jeannine marched over to me and shook her finger in my face. “You’re dating a billionaire. You make him buy you a present—an expensive one. Then you hock it and get your ass into a cheap apartment. Do you know what they’re going to do to you if they find out you’re living here? You’ll be gone. On the street. They’ll terminate your lease.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” I hissed out between my teeth. “But I’m not going to whore myself out to Rory for expensive gifts. You know that’s not who I am.”

  Slapping her hands against her thighs, Jeannine seethed. “He’s got stupid money. A couple of thousand dollars means nothing to him.”

  “I said no. And don’t you dare fucking say a word.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Hurt replaced the rage in her eyes. “How could you think that?”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But this is all temporary. Rory’s finally accepted that I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got this great plan to make serious bank on the Fourth. If all goes well, I can be in a new apartment in August. I just have to hold out a little longer.” Actually, it would probably be more around September, but I wanted to downplay the seriousness of my situation.

  Jeannine bit her lip. “I have to tell you something.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Rory is planning on taking you to Manhattan on Monday.”

  “I can’t. I have to work.” I said with a half laugh.

  “He’s arranged coverage.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous. Who the hell does he think he is?” I was going to call him and ream him out.

  “Wait.” Jeannine laid a hand on my arm. “Let him do it.”

  “Why? So it’s easier for him the next time to roll all over me?”

  “A couple of reasons. First, you’ve been in this store too long. Go out and have fun. It’s one day. Think of it as an all-expense-paid trip to the city with a hot guy.”

  It did sound good.

  “Second, if you’re not going to make him buy you a diamond bracelet . . .”

  I shook my head emphatically. No way.

  “Pick his brain on how to make this store more profitable.”

  Opening my mouth to argue, I hesitated. Rory had offered, and if he was truly backing off on pressuring me to sell, it would be a shame not to gain the benefit of his experience.

  “If Landscapes can make eight grand in one week on three stupid paintings, then there’s a market for rich people needing shit that you should be able to tap into. How would you like to make twenty-five hundred in one transaction?”

  “That would be pretty sweet,” I admitted.

  “Good. I don’t have time to go into the other reasons, because I’m going to get my ass chewed out for being late as it is.” Jeannine pointed at me. “I still need to hear about the cat.”

  “I’ll fill you in on all of it later.”

  “You better.” She glared at me. “No more secrets.”

  “I promise.” I crossed my fingers over my chest.

  “You can stay with me anytime. You know that, right?”

  Tears threatened, which would totally ruin my badass chick reputation. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

  “Don’t give Rory a hard time.”

  “I can’t promise that,” I said, and smiled as she rolled her eyes at me.

  Chapter 16

  Rory

  Cammy was in physical therapy when I got there, but they allowed me to wait in her room until she got back. I wandered around trying to get comfortable, feel comfortable in this place. The bells over her door made me smile. It was like a piece of Dawn was here. I wondered if she would come with me if I asked.

  My eyes caught on a photo album t
hat hadn’t been here the last time. I flipped through it, and it was obvious from the scrapbooking it was my mother’s work. She must have been here recently. She had chronicled every year of Cammy’s life, a page per year. I touched the picture of me holding baby Camilia on the day they brought her home. I held her like she was going to break. Turning the pages, I went through to her wedding picture and then to the birth of my nephew. I wondered if anyone had told Kendrick that Cammy was out of her coma.

  Before I could think better of it, I called my brother-in-law. It went to voice mail and I don't think I'd ever been so relieved. "Hey, Kendrick, it's Rory Parker." And that's where words failed me. What the hell do you say in this situation? I went for blunt truth. If I was lucky, my father had already told him. "Cammy is out of the coma. I wasn't sure if you knew. But she doesn't have full memories. Give me a call before you go and see her and I'll give you a heads up."

  It occurred to me that I didn't even know if they were still married. I had assumed, but maybe he divorced her. Could he do that while she was in a coma? I sent an email to my lawyer posing the question. I hoped he hadn't, because custody would be an ugly nightmare. Spencer wasn't his by blood, but Kendrick was the only father he'd ever known. I hoped he wouldn't try to keep him from us. For all I knew, Kendrick had moved on in the last five years and wanted nothing to do with Cammy. He could even have a girlfriend or gotten remarried. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Then again, I was getting way too ahead of myself. Cammy had to be able to take care of herself first before she could be a wife and mother again. Still, the thought that Kendrick might be cheating on my sister made me want to chuck him out a window.

  I should probably mind my own business. I had no idea what kind of marriage they had. I wanted to think that they found love. They could very well have an arrangement like Dawn's sister for all I knew. I paced around the room. I was overthinking this. My mother had current pictures of Spencer and she sent him gifts for his birthday and Christmas. They were a part of his life, if only on the sidelines instead of upfront and center. Kendrick spent holidays with his family, so I hadn't seen him or the baby in years.

  Great. I was a shitty uncle too.

  Cammy came back in with a nurse on either side of her. She looked exhausted, but calm.

  "She's doing great," Brenda said, settling Cammy into the chaise longue by the window. "Did you want to join Camilia for lunch?"

  "Sure," I said.

  "I'll have the cafeteria staff send up an extra meal." Brenda tucked a cotton throw over Cammy's legs and poured her a glass of lemon and cucumber water before leaving us alone.

  "Want to play cards, or are you too tired?"

  Cammy turned her head toward me.

  "I'm Rory, your brother."

  She nodded slowly.

  "You know who I am?" I grinned and stood up. "That's fantastic."

  Cammy flinched back.

  "Sorry. Sorry. I just got so excited." I quickly sat back down. "Has Mom been here lately?"

  She just looked at me with a blank expression.

  "Okay. I'm not going to rush it. I'm just happy that you know who I am."

  We were interrupted by lunch. It was a bland chicken and rice with soupy peas. I watched her pick at it halfheartedly for a few minutes. Then I called a pizza shop and offered a hundred-dollar tip to anyone who would deliver ten cheese pizzas to the hospital. After they got here, it cheered Cammy up a bit. She had three pieces before zonking out on the chaise longue.

  "Thank you so much for the treat," Brenda said as I was leaving.

  "Maybe I'll make it a Saturday habit."

  I gave her a little wave, feeling a little better about leaving Cammy in there while I went about my life. I don’t think I could be locked up in a place like that for five years and still keep my sanity. It ate at me that my sister could be trapped inside her own mind, banging at the windows trying to get out. I called around and spoke to her doctors. She had lesions on the brain, and some of her brain cells had been damaged or killed. Unfortunately, brain cells don’t grow back, but there was a chance that she could learn to work around that. There had to be some way to reach her. I bought a bunch of books on brain injuries, but I hadn’t had any time to read them. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d start to read them and find myself fighting back emotions I didn’t want to feel. Bottom line, I wasn’t a doctor. But I was her brother, and I would be there for her, even if the only thing I could do was order pizza.

  I checked my messages. Kendrick hadn't called back.

  I drove back to Haven, hoping to spend some time with Dawn, but then Hans called bitching about being kicked out of his lease and not getting his deposit back. It ended ugly and I directed him to my lawyer. It clearly said in his contract that any violations of the lease—and having illegal drugs on the premises was one of them—voided the agreement and the monies he paid in were forfeit.

  "Give me a second chance," he had pleaded.

  Not when my sister was confined to a hospital for the past five years. Sorry. Not Sorry.

  "You'll regret this," Hans had threatened.

  I doubted it. My only regret was the replacement store, the Italian shoe designer, was going to make me build another closet for loafers. I got involved with more business, even though it was a Saturday. It took my mind off how helpless I felt about Cammy’s condition. At least in this I could make a difference. The time spent was productive; the Greasy Spoon’s owner agreed to move his business to food trucks after I offered to supply him with three used food trucks in lieu of the cash incentive. I called in some of my staff to work overtime to get me the trucks by Monday. Then I had to coordinate the gutting of the little restaurant and hired contractors to build it to spec.

  "Dad?" I called him after lining up the workmen. "I need a builder's permit for Monday."

  "You get the Nolan girl to vamoose yet?"

  "No, the Greasy Spoon."

  "My heartburn owes you a debt of gratitude. I can get you the permit by Monday. Is this where the French restaurant is going?"

  I checked my waiting list. "Depends on if they can get approval for their loan. Otherwise, it's going to be a modern American gourmet restaurant or a Colonial-themed restaurant complete with period costumes."

  "Go with the modern one. The other one is too campy."

  I liked the idea of the historical restaurant. It was more kid friendly than some fusion restaurant, but I was fine with any one of them. It wasn’t worth the argument to mention it to my father.

  "What about the pizza place?"

  "They're staying. We're going to expand the menu and the dining area."

  "I suppose that's all right," my father grumbled. "So you're almost done."

  "I told you I would be." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  "What's going in the smut peddler's store?"

  It took me a few minutes to realize he was talking about Dawn and not about Zeke, who sold his cigar and magazine store in order to open a gentlemen's club in Bridgeport. The magazines he had sold usually came in brown paper bags.

  "I'm still working out the details." I wasn't sure yet what Dawn was willing to do and I didn't want to hear it from my father. "I saw Cammy today, and she knew who I was."

  My father grunted. "Don't get your hopes up. We've seen this before."

  I knew this time was different. I could feel it in my bones. "Have you spoken to Kendrick?"

  "Not lately, why?"

  Because of your grandson, I wanted to say that, but I bit my tongue. "I was wondering if anyone told him about Cammy."

  "We don't want to get his hopes up. Kendrick has been through a lot."

  So had Cammy. "Are they still married, or did Kendrick divorce her?"

  "What? No. Of course, not. He's still her husband. I'm her guardian. I'd never sign the divorce papers. Besides, Kendrick likes being part of this family."

  Well, that was one of us. "How much are you paying him?" I was only half joking, but in the awkward silence I realized I h
adn't been far off. Time to change the subject. "I had to replace Landscapes with the Italian shoe store I was telling you about." I felt a little twinge of guilt. I hadn't even tried to find local artists to occupy that store like I had told Dawn I was going to.

  "Maybe you can put something similar where Tantric Books is?"

  That wasn't a bad idea. After all, Dawn had wanted me to go native. This could work. I was positive that the selectmen didn't have a problem with Dawn personally. They just didn't want the smutty merchandise tossed in their faces.

  By the time I got everything sorted out for next week, I was comfortable on my yacht and didn't want to go out again. I called Dawn to see if she wanted to come over. Of course, she didn't answer her phone, so I texted her. She called back a few minutes later.

  "Are you on your way?" I asked.

  "No, I've got a busy day tomorrow and I was moving furniture all day. I'm beat."

  She did sound like she was one step away from bed.

  "How about I come over there?" I could probably rouse myself enough to get into the car.

  "No," she said quickly, and I tamped down a pang of hurt. Why didn't she want me at her apartment? I wondered if she was living with a man. I tamped down the jealousy. There was no reason to think she was cheating on me. She could have just told me no if she didn’t want an exclusive relationship. Dawn wasn’t the type of person to lie or hide who she was. That was one of the things I loved about her.

  My eyes went wide. That was just a turn of phrase, wasn’t it?

  "The place is a mess. It's the maid's week off," she joked.

  "I hear ya," I said, booting up my computer, pushing thoughts of love aside for lust. Lust I understood. Lust could be satiated. I didn’t know the first thing about love. "I guess I'll just have to make do with the video."

  We wound up watching it together. Her on her computer and me on mine. It got hotter every time I watched it. It was even better when I could hear her come over the phone while I jerked off to it. Not as good as the real thing, but it would have to do. I couldn't get off the bed if they paid me.