Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series)

by Smith, J Gordon

  Everything about him and his brother told her of shattered childhoods full of hate, abandonment, struggle, and damage. Kyle was the worst choice she could make in a mate. What qualities would he teach any of her children? What perilous habits would they learn? What would happen to her? Would she be left with a young child to raise on her own, just the broken situation she grew up with? How could she give her soul to that man? She told herself she was better for telling him to stay away.

  The smooth waxy surface and the bitter taste of the lemon wedge at that party flooded her mind. The citrus odor and the burn of the alcohol. Everything about Kyle in that instant came back, how he looked strong and solid, how his lips tasted, his raw masculine fragrance, the spinning adrenaline in her body when surrounded by all those people. His touch.

  Her body clenched and yearned for him. She would need chocolate bars to jam into her chocolate ice cream. Plus that special expensive-because-it-is-real dark chocolate syrup on top of it all that the ice cream store downtown called Chocolate For Your Mistakes.

  Chapter 9

  Kyle squinted to read the work schedule behind the bar.

  Julie said, “Hi Kyle. Are you thinking of working in the winery too? Because that’s the work schedule.”

  “No. I thought Amanda was going to be here tonight while we played. I wrote a new song and wanted her reaction.”

  “That’s very romantic.” Julie’s eyes got large, “Unless it’s a mean, breakup song?”

  Kyle laughed, “No way is it a mean song. It’s an attempt at an apology.”

  “Can I fight with you so you’ll write a song for me?”

  Kyle laughed. “– I don’t like fighting with beautiful women.”

  “Oh. You are perfect.” Julie grinned, “You must marry me now.”

  “I think I’m already taken, if she will have me again.”

  “That’s what I guessed.” She frowned and pointed at the calendar. “It shows Amanda was scheduled to work tonight.” Julie walked toward the door to the offices upstairs, “Let me find out if she switched or something.”

  Kyle looked back at Sardis. They bought a couple of real drums from a kid off a classified advertisement with half their weekend gig money. Sardis had to work on the drums so they stopped rattling. That would help get some of their sound back. Elliot tuned his bass. Kyle strummed his guitar nervously as he stood waiting. He would need to start playing soon.

  One of the workers from the wine cave pulled a small pallet jack behind them with a full wine barrel, taking it to a private barrel sample party at the conference room. Kyle asked him, “Hey, was Amanda working tonight?”

  “Don’t know, man.” He shrugged and tugged on the pallet jack.

  Julie came back from the offices. “Martin Ginter said Amanda called and would be out sick. She had arranged with one of the other workers to swap days next week too.” Julie put the calendar back on the counter behind the bar. “I’m not sure why she didn’t tell me. I’ll have to call her.”

  Kyle paused before pushing through the big patio doors, “If you talk with Amanda … let her know I asked about her.”

  Julie said, “Sure.”

  Chapter 10

  “This is a shitty job you found us.” Kyle wrenched on the shingle stripper to pry up the shingles, “These are melted to the roof boards like asphalt flavored candy.”

  “The weekend gig at the winery doesn’t pay like an everyday job to get us out of sleeping in that car. We can eat now but I would like a room and a regular shower. And what skills do we have other than music and general labor?”

  “We might get a different general labor job.”

  Sardis fixed how his t-shirt fit on his head, “We get a great tan up here though. The hot chicks adore a deep tan and the muscles we’ll get from bending these shingles all day.”

  “And we’ll look like sheiks with our shirts on our heads to keep the sun off.” Kyle freed a section of shingles that slid down to the guy everyone called Arty, because he only ever wore tie-dyed shirts and cutoffs, and then his socks. Kyle had never heard of anyone tie-dying socks but that is what stuck out of the top of Arty’s work boots. Arty slid the liberated shingles from the roof over a short ramp and into the back of a truck that had a hoist to bring the bin to roof height.

  Sardis yelled to Arty, “How about tossing that water jug up here?”

  “You two are thirsty again?”

  Arty stabbed his fork into the pile of shingles in the truck then reached over, grabbed the insulated water jug, and tossed it to Sardis. Sardis flipped out the nozzle, and upended the jug to pour water into his mouth. He gave it to Kyle. The water was hot and tasted like moldy plastic left a week in the yard, but in the heat soaking off the roof into his body, the water tasted like the best drink he ever had. He tossed the jug back to Arty. In a while, they had the remaining shingles pried from the roof. The finishing crew positioned the shingle elevator from the truck that had backed into the driveway with the pallets of shingles they would put on the roof.

  Arty said, “Why don’t you two go down to the truck and load the bundles of shingles on the elevator. Take a bit of a break. I’ll have those other two new guys at the top help the finish crew place the bundles. You’ll be feeding five or six guys up there so load the elevator fast.”

  Kyle and Sardis stuffed bundles on the elevator. A few of the roofers pulled a bundle from the elevator, broke the package open, and started laying down shingles. Other roofers and the laborers piled the other shingles from the elevator in several handy places at the peaks of the house roof.

  The truck driver came up to Kyle and Sardis, “I just got a call from the other site. They are waiting for the shingles on the front of this truck. Put those bundles on so they are tight together; don’t waste all that belt length.”

  Kyle’s shoulders burned and his back protested from all the twisting in moving the bundles from the pile to the elevator.

  The trucker watched the roof team. He whistled. “Arty, I have to get to the brown house. They have the whole crew waiting for shingles. I’m going to speed up the elevator.”

  Arty waved the OK.

  The truck driver put his hands on the control and the belt sped up. Kyle and Sardis increased their pace to match, leaving only a finger space between the bundles. Then a crackling snap came from the elevator as the chain slipped over fractured sprockets and lurched to stillness. The trucker kicked the truck tire, “You piece of shit. Hey, Arty. Pull more guys over. We can drop the rest on the ground and your crew can carry them up the ladders. You two, unload the elevator. You’ll have to climb up and retrieve the bundles already loaded on it.”

  The truck left, leaving them with leaning ladders against the house. Kyle heaved two bundles of shingles, one over each shoulder, and waited for the ladder to clear. He stepped forward and used the ladder like a swaying stairway to the roofline. The other workers joked with Kyle that this was the roofer’s ladder to heaven because they got so dehydrated they started hallucinating. Kyle did not know. He had filled up on water from the homeowner’s garden hose and the light sloshing in his belly was comforting. It tasted like stagnant rubber hose even after he let it run for five minutes. A second ladder was set up for downward traffic.

  Kyle stood on the grass with the bundles on his shoulders and watched Sardis wobble off the top of the ladder with his pair of shingles. The way clear, Kyle put his feet on the first rung, then the second. He made the trip so many times that he knew the bar with the orange paint remained five lower than the middle of the ladder and the sticky bar was three quarters of the way to the top. His legs pumped lifting him and, he guessed and thought probably too low, eighty pounds of shingles up another twelve inches into the sky.

  Kyle could not remember which happened first, but his foot slipped a rung several higher than the sticky one. The base of the ladder slipped away from the house. The top of the ladder dipped from the edge of the roof and twisted under his feet like one of those skateboard tricks. None of it
mattered. He fell to the grass with the ladder half across his body and the two bundles of his shingles folded in a lump behind him. Then black bars blotted out the sun as stacked shingle bundles slipped over the roof edge. He could not kick his tangled legs free of the ladder. The bundles fell with crushing force on top of him. He blacked out after the third and fourth bundles hit him.

  -:-:-:- -:-:-:-

  Kyle heard a beeping sound through the rest of the silence. He cracked open an eye and saw Sardis sitting agitated in a chair at the end of the hospital bed that Kyle lay in. “I thought I was in heaven until I heard that machine beep out of tune.” Kyle started to laugh, but his chest hurt like he could not believe.

  Sardis stood up and came near Kyle. “Those shingles fell on you. We got you to the emergency room and you were out cold. You have broken ribs and they thought bruised organs, so lots of tests. Good to see you awake, bro.”

  “I don’t know if I can sing now. I can’t take much of a deep breath.” Fear caused Kyle to want more air but he could only pant like a dog in short shallow breaths.

  “We can drop off the screamer songs and put in a few more mellow tunes or covers even. Or I can sing a little.”

  “You can’t sing, Sardis.”

  “I know, but this is what we do. It’s only ever been the two of us so I’m used to it, and you’ve done the same for me.”

  “How are we paying for this hospital?”

  “The roofing company has insurance, not much though. Paying us cash under the table does not get very far with an insurance company. They filled out the forms like we were vagrants that stumbled on the job site and got injured.”

  “We are kind of vagrants.”

  “We were working. If they recognized that then we’d have regular health care and some sort of disability payment.”

  “On our own still, aren’t we.”

  Sardis nodded.

  “Something …” Kyle’s voice dropped off when he looked across the room, he hoped he was not dreaming, Amanda stood in the doorway. Her arms crossed her body and her hands squeezed her arms. Her eyes told him she had been on a mix of crying and worry. Kyle said, “Hi Amanda. How long have you been waiting?”

  Amanda stepped over the threshold as if knowing she crossed an airlock into unforgiving deep space without a hope for a protective suit against the vacuum, “I’ve been in the lounge for two hours –”

  Sardis put his hands up, “I didn’t know anything about that.”

  Amanda said, “No, you did not. I saw you waiting in the room and the nurse told me Kyle was out still. I lurked in the hallway for a time and then went to the waiting room. I cannot believe how wrinkly those magazines are. They must have a hundred readers flipping through them, a day.”

  Sardis stood. “I guess I’m curious now how those magazines hold up so well. I should go check them out. Maybe a drum or guitar magazine is in there.” Sardis nodded to Amanda and left the room.

  “That was nice that he left for a few minutes.” Amanda approached Kyle. She put her hand on his arm. He slid his arm up so his fingers could grip hers. “Julie heard Sardis called the winery that you are in recovery and not to give up your band schedule.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “About what?”

  “About what happened.”

  Amanda pulled up a chair with her toe and sat down. She bent her head and pressed his hand against her cheek. “I shouldn’t care like I do. Especially after Haley came to the winery.”

  Kyle curled his body forward but he winced when the pain shot through his chest. He lay back, helpless. “What did Haley say?”

  “She said you slept with her.”

  “No, I did not. I told you she likes to mess with people.”

  “I thought so. But can I trust your word?”

  “As much as any. Haley is crazy. Before I met you, I might have accepted her advances. Something about you, I don’t know what has happened. I only want you. Even though you hurt me.”

  Kyle felt the air rush through Amanda’s nose where she still held his hand against her face. He saw her eyes close as if smelling more than the chemical wash residues and adhesive bandages that held his lacerations together while he healed. He said, “I’m glad you came.” Her warm face felt delicate and soothing. “You are beautiful.”

  “They must put you on strong pain meds.”

  “The pain pills are all that are keeping my heart from hurting. I’ve been miserable.”

  “Because of your broken ribs?”

  “No. You don’t get it. You are all I want.”

  Amanda took a deep breath. She slid his hand along her jaw and touched his wrist against her throat. She pressed his elbow against her breast and his fingers brushed her ear.

  The throbbing of his heart in his wrist sped up to match her heart beat as if they raced along a sandy beach, laughing when he caught her only to feel her slip ahead out of his fingers. His groin awoke. “We should stop.”

  “Hmmm,” Amanda opened her eyes and set his hand down. “Sorry. I’ve missed you.” She stood and pushed her chair back against the wall. “I’ll sit over here and wait for you.”

  “You don’t need to go that far away.”

  “It’s probably better for you.”

  “Am I keeping you from work?”

  “No. Zack and Claire Steel are away for a few days to San Diego and I’m not scheduled to work at the winery until tomorrow.” Amanda retrieved a small notebook and a silvery pen. “A couple of notes.”

  “For what, the next wine to serve?”

  “No. A hobby. But hold on so I don’t forget the idea.” Amanda scribbled in her book for a few minutes.

  Kyle looked at the ceiling and his fingers reached for the television remote control but he stilled them. He watched Amanda write and cross things off. She pressed the silver pen against her lips. She had what some might call thin lips but they were sharp and precise at the edges, curling slightly in the corners when she thought of something funny.

  Amanda brought her eyes up to his, “Have you been staring at me the whole time?”

  “I didn’t dare turn the television on. You were the next most interesting thing to look at in the room.”

  “Ah, yeah, thanks for leaving the television off then.”

  “What’s in the notebook?”

  “A diary of sorts.”

  “What kind of sorts? The sort where you put down that Kyle is an ass? Or I feel sorry for Kyle’s broken ass?”

  Amanda giggled.

  “Or A plus K with a nice round heart around it all?”

  “High school was a long time ago,” at least it seemed that way. “You influenced my writing, yes. It’s about music. I really like music. I listen to it almost all the time when I can.” She held up her ear buds that snaked down into her pocket where they attached to her phone. “A long time ago I started jotting down words or phrases I thought of or admired quotes or pieces of poetry –”

  “Lyrics?”

  “That’s what they lead to.”

  “Let me hear one.”

  Amanda flipped through her pages and then closed her notebook. “No. They are silly, really. You write much greater songs.”

  Kyle lifted his bandaged arm, “Hey, I’ve got lots of time.”

  “– Actually, you don’t, Mr. Doukay. You are being discharged.” The lead nurse said, “The doctor’s orders and the insurance you have is running out plus we have emergency room patients stacking like lumber out there.” Two other nurse aids slipped into the room and unhooked equipment and rolled monitors away. A third came in and started tidying up the room preparing for a deep clean and the next patients. They readied the bed next to Kyle for another patient that sat in a wheel chair in the hall with bandages and tubes and beeping electronics. The patient stared at the ceiling still under antithesis.

  Amanda slipped her notebook into a back pocket, “Kyle, can I help?”

  The nurse aids twisted Kyle around and helped him into a wheel chair. Ky
le winced a few times as they juggled him. They attached the footrests and unfolded them for Kyle. “Here’s your discharge packet. You have someone to drive you home? Or do we need to call a taxi?”

  “– I have a ride if I can find my brother.” Kyle looked down at his plastic bag of stuff, like the prison gate keepers would give him. His phone lay in the bottom of the bag. “Sardis doesn’t have the phone with him.”

  Amanda said to the nurse, “I’ll take him from here.”

  “The rules are we must have an orderly wheel them down to the car.”

  Kyle thought it seemed even more like a prison.

  “Kyle, I can drive you.”

  “If Sardis knows we left,” Kyle said to the orderly that arrived with the wheel chair. The orderly had tattoos scrolling up both arms and into the sleeves of his purple scrubs. Kyle said as the orderly helped him into the chair, “Take me to the main entrance and then I can wait for my brother.” The orderly nodded silently and pushed Kyle easily through the doorway and down the hall. Kyle could see how the hospital floor became busier now than when he arrived. Like shift change at the factory, or the prison.

  Sharp sunlight illuminated the lobby, perhaps some thought cheery but Kyle only saw scalpels, knives, and scissors. The prick of needles. The lifeless plants and sterile furniture, ragged at the corners and stained with coffee or other fluids over the years. The receptionist wore a sweater against the too-cold air conditioning. The orderly pushed Kyle toward the door that whisked open to the heat outside that seemed like an oven now. “Do you have a car to bring up?” he asked. “Otherwise, I need to transfer you from the chair to the bench outside.”