by L. C. Morgan
“Yeah, what is that, a fifty-nine?” I asked.
Pulling off her cat-eyed glasses, Mona rolled hers. “Nice try.” She plopped down beside me on the steps, her gaze fixing on where mine had just been. “He’s a total shit, just so you know,” she said. Leaning back on my elbows, I acted as if I had no idea what she was talking about. “You’d have much better luck with Patrick over there.” She pointed to the not-so-shy blond I had talked to earlier. “He’s Phil’s cousin, and really sweet. You should let me hook you two up.” Smiling slyly, she wiggled her brows, getting a little too excited and way ahead of herself.
Raising a hand, I shot her down. “Uh, no thanks,” I said, giving her a pointed look that told her to forget it. “I’m not really dating right now.”
With a sigh, she slid her glasses back over her narrowed blue eyes. “Fine,” she said. “Be that way, but do yourself a favor.” She gestured toward the field, and I followed her line of sight to find the man at hand. “Stay away from him.”
Chapter Two
By the next morning, I was caked in invisible dirt, sticky from the draft of a cracked bedroom window. Crawling off the bed, I made my way into the bathroom and nearly cried when I flipped the light switch. It was too easy to forget I didn’t have electricity and even easier to forget I didn’t have running water. I let out a hollow laugh when I realized toilet paper was just another thing I didn’t have.
After shaking myself dry, I finally broke down and called Mona. I left a message when she didn’t pick up, contemplating sponging off with a lukewarm bottle of water when I heard a knock on the door.
Expecting Phil, I was surprised to find Patrick on the other side.
“Hey,” I greeted.
Looking me up and down, he cleared his throat. “Morning.”
We stood in awkward silence for a moment, while he tried and failed not to gawk at my legs.
“You wanna come in?” Stepping back, I motioned him forward, and he followed me to the kitchen, no doubt staring at my ass the whole way. “You hungry? You wanting some breakfast?”
“No, I’m all set.”
“Okay good, ‘cause I don’t have anything.”
That earned me a laugh, and I shot him a smile.
“I’ve been meaning to go to the store, but …” I gestured to myself, and he took the opportunity to look me over again.
“But what? You look fine to me. Better than fine. You look good.”
My eyebrows shot up at his forwardness, and he huffed another laugh. “Shit.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he smiled at the ground before taking a step closer. “I came in to see if you had your electric back, but what the hell? Now’s as good a time as any.” Looking up, his blue eyes found mine. “Would you want to go out sometime? Maybe out to eat? There’s a nice little diner down by the water. I think you’d like it. They actually have food.”
His joke was upstaged by the ringing of my cell phone. I used it as a tactic to avoid his question. “Uh.” I pointed toward the table. “I kind of need to …” Sidestepping around him, I grabbed the phone, gesturing to ask if that was okay.
“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”
I was brief on the line with Mona, sneaking peeks at Patrick and wondering what I was going say to him.
Thanks, but no thanks.
You’re wasting your time.
I’ve already had my heart ripped out and stomped on.
By the time we hung up, I still hadn’t decided.
“That was Mona. She said I could use her shower, so …”
“Yeah, you go. I should get back out there anyway. Just think about what I said, yeah?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
We exchanged an awkward goodbye, and I grabbed a change of clothes, sure to avoid looking up as I made my way out to the car.
The graveled drive felt bumpier than I remembered, and it jostled me out of my stupor. It seemed more narrow, too, when I spotted the monster of a truck barreling toward me, stirring up dirt in its haste. My stomach dropped when I realized who it was, and that he wasn’t stopping.
“What the—”
Jerking over to the side of the path, I came to a complete stop, gaping out the window as he turned off-road to just barely make it around me.
His tinted eyes stayed glued to mine the entire time, sending a twinge of fear and excitement up my spine. My chest warmed as he flew past. And I just sat there, staring after him long after the tailgate disappeared from my rearview mirror.
***
Mona’s house was, well, Mona—clean and crisp with a white picket fence that popped off a background of red calla lilies and canary-yellow paint. Looking over at the pink Cadillac sitting in the drive, I wondered, but didn’t have the nerve to ask, if she was colorblind.
“Come on in, Laney.” She motioned me forward, placing her hand against my back to lead me down a picture-filled hallway. “Hope you found the place okay.”
Nodding, I turned into the spacious kitchen.
“Great, now, could you please tell Brenda that the color scheme of my house does not resemble that of a fast food restaurant?”
Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, the woman I gathered was Brenda handed it to me.
“It does, too. Laney, tell her it does, too,” Brenda said. Her wide, blue eyes bored into mine, and she flipped her shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair.
Taking the cup, I placed it against my lips, feigning thirst while they argued back and forth over the design Mona was going for—which was retro.
“It’s retro, Brenda, and retro is in. Tell her, Laney,” Mona ordered as I finished off my first cup of coffee. I took a second from Brenda.
“Retro is in?” I kind of agreed with a shrug, not wanting to be on either one of their bad sides. Mona had possession of the running water and, judging by the glare, I was pretty sure Brenda wouldn’t hesitate to cut me.
“See, Brenda?” Mona smiled, twisting from side to side in her neon-green hot pants. She poked Brenda on the tip of her pointed nose. “Retro is in.”
Brenda swatted Mona’s hand away with a roll of her eyes, and I excused myself to the bathroom. I took my time, too, looking over the pictures hanging in the hallway.
Most were of Mona and Phil, some black and white, some with them dressed in all black and white, red and green for Christmas, dusty-pink and sky-blue for Easter.
Jesus.
The torture she put that poor man through. But he was smiling in every single one of them, like really smiling, so that had to count for something, right?
A little further up the hall, the pictures started to change—them with who I assumed were their two sets of parents, friends and other family members. I stopped when my eyes grazed across him—the cedary-sweet one who tried to kill me earlier in the day.
Straight-laced and clean shaven, the army green made his pine-painted eyes pop.
He looked handsome in that cap.
“My older brother, Joe.”
I jumped when Mona spoke, coming out of nowhere.
Like brother, like sister.
“You wouldn’t know it now, though. He’s so different from when that picture was taken.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t such a bitter asshole back then,” Brenda added, joining us in the hallway to stare at the boy in green.
That was exactly what he looked like, a boy.
“What happened,” I asked, twisting at the waist to face the two of them, “if you don’t mind me asking?”
Opening her mouth, Brenda took a pointy elbow to the ribs.
“Ow, goddammit!” Brenda cried, shoving Mona by the shoulder. “What the hell, Mona? That shit hurt!”
I waited while they communicated with forced facial expressions and threatening stares. I almost regretted asking, but then Mona sighed and turned to face me. “Two tours overseas, but the rest he’d have to tell you,” she said before squinting back over at Brenda. “That’s not really for us to say.”
While the two battled it out in a glare-off, I turn
ed back to the photo, wondering what his story was. What horrors had he seen? What nightmares had he lived through? Why hadn’t Mona told me before now that he was her brother? God only knew.
And well, Mona and Brenda knew, obviously.
I kind of wanted to know, too.
“Well, I can tell ya one thing. He needs to trim that beard,” Brenda said, and Mona was quick to agree.
Still staring at the green eyes popping out from the picture, I narrowed mine, not seeing what the problem was. Real men had beards. Full ones, like Joe’s.
“I like it,” I stated, shrugging it off when both women scoffed at me. I didn’t care what they thought. In fact, I whole-heartily disagreed.
***
Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of girlfriends. Splashing around in mud puddles and digging in the dirt was more of a boy thing, so I hung out with them instead, picking on all the little prissy-pants Pollys.
Brenda and Mona reminded me a lot of those girls, sitting around the kitchen table, comparing the quality of acrylic on their manicured nails.
While I didn’t necessarily want to go play in the dirt, I wouldn’t have minded taking the mind-numbing conversation outside. At least then I could breathe, maybe stare up into the blinding surface of the sun. It would have been less painful.
“What do you think, Laney?”
“Hmm?” Removing my chin from the palm of my hand, I leaned back to look at Mona.
“Tomorrow …” She paused, making sure I was still listening.
“What about it?” I asked.
She sighed. “We were thinking we’d go get manis and pedis; you in?”
Both Brenda and Mona stared at me while I sat there, trying to think of a nice way to tell them I’d rather shove toothpicks under my nails than go out and get them done.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the women.
I liked them fine; they gave me no reason not to.
Yet.
It was just that I liked being alone and felt like I hadn’t been since I got here. I liked not talking. I liked not listening to the drivel that made up the majority of others’ day to day lives.
An afternoon with these two and I already knew all about Mrs. Martin, Mona’s next door neighbor. She had this house full of cats, all of which drove Mona nuts because they left paw prints all over her car.
Brenda, on the other hand, had a much more serious problem. Her neighbors ran a dog mill, specializing in breeding hounds, and she and her husband hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since last September.
It went on like this for hours.
Molly was cheating on Dave with Adam down the block. Adam was cheating on Molly and his wife Holly with Lydia, the barely-legal babysitter. The mailman delivered the wrong mail again and really needed to retire.
Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah …
Looking up at the clock, I noticed the late hour just as the back door swung open and Phil stepped inside. Taking the opportunity, I grabbed up the bag at my feet.
This was my out.
“Well, I think I’m gonna go. It’s getting pretty late and I don’t want to intrude.”
Or listen to anymore of this bullshit.
Scoffing, Mona looked back at Phil and he waved me off. “Nonsense. We’ve cleaned house, you’re welcome to stay.”
Mona nodded. “Yeah, stay, we got a spare room all set up and everything. I washed the sheets after everybody left, just for you, just in case.”
Huffing out a laugh, I declined with a polite smile. “Uh, no, I’m good, but thanks. And thanks for the shower.” Hiking my bag up and over my shoulder, I blew right by Phil with a wave and a “see ya later” before shutting the door behind me.
My lungs filled in relief once I stepped outside. The drive back was a soothing one, with the windows rolled down and the wind in my hair. The air smelled of tangerine and honeysuckle, fresh and sweet from the previous night’s rain. I was surprised when I pulled into the hidden drive, no question as to which overgrown tree was mine. I just knew.
Following the path, I noticed there was something different about it, not quite sure what until I pulled up to find an illuminated house.
Electricity.
That was the difference.
I could see.
With the bright light shining out of the drapeless windows, I could see everything—everything except for the midnight blue pickup parked somewhere in the shadows.
Stopping with a jolt, I shifted into park, jumping out of the car to race up the stairs. I didn’t even consider why they would have left the lights on. All I cared about was the fact that I had them as I barreled through the front door, coming to an abrupt halt just inside the foyer. Sudden warmth filled my chest, filtering up and into my cheeks.
For the love …
There, on a ladder in the middle of the room, stood Joe. Arms raised above his head, his torn black tee was riding up, showcasing the waist of his low-hanging jeans. So low that I could see the gray stripe of his underwear and the patch of burnished hair that disappeared just beneath it. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, considering just sneaking back out and closing the door behind me, but then he spoke.
“Almost done.” His voice was deep and rough, his breaths coming out uneven while he worked. Setting down his tool, he picked up a light bulb, raising his arms back up and over his head.
I nodded, hoping my heart wasn’t pounding so hard and so fast that he could feel it pulsating through the cracks in the sensitive floorboards, up the perched metal and into the soles of his scuffed-up work boots. Swallowing, I licked my lips, still focusing on the underside of his flexed arms and the sliver of bronzed skin peeking out from under frayed black cotton.
“Uh, yeah, no problem.” Stepping further inside, I closed the door behind me. I was quick to walk past him without sneaking a glance back. I laid my head down on the cool tiled countertop once I was in the kitchen. Closing my eyes, I sighed, trying to relax and maybe, just maybe, fake my cheeks out for once.
It sucked that my cheeks gave everything away—everything. Every little thought or feeling I so happened to have, and I hated it.
So I thought he was hot.
So I thought the beard was sexy.
So I wanted him to casually stroll in here, hold me down and take me in my current position.
So what?
Moving further down the counter, I switched to the other cheek, letting it cool the fire burning under my skin. There was no point. They’d still be red. And they’d stay red until Joe was done and gone and I could actually settle the hell down for God’s sake.
I wasn’t sure why I was so worked up over him. It wasn’t like he’d shown any interest. Quite the opposite, in fact. The tone he used spoke of blatant disinterest, if you asked me, and all kidding aside, I was pretty sure that he had been trying to kill me earlier now that I thought about it.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I was never so appreciative of the difference a few degrees could make. I downed it then picked up another before making my way back out to the moody man who was re-wiring the light in my foyer. Even if he had attempted to kill me, I was still determined to mind my manners.
“Water?” I asked, holding out the bottle. My heart rate picked up as he took the three short steps down and then turned to face me.
“Thanks.” It was more of a grunt than anything.
Grabbing the bottle from my hand, the callused pads of his fingers just grazed the tops of mine. I shot him a shy smile as he brought the bottle to his mouth and sucked the water down in three large gulps. I must’ve looked like some sort of freak standing there staring up at him.
An escaped drop of water dripped from his lip and rolled down to wet the edge of his beard, and I reached out to wipe it away, startling when his hand shot up to stop me.
My heart skipped as his rough fingers wrapped all the way around my wrist. My insides ran cold, heating back up with the warmth of his breath as it rolled off his bottom lip. Holding my hand stea
dy, his thumb rested over my pulse point. I could feel it racing. And if I could feel it racing, so could he.
“You’ve got …” I pointed, attempting to reach out just a little further. “Just there …”
I barely felt the dampened bristle of his facial hair before he let go and backed away.
Lifting my gaze, I truly saw his eyes for the first time outside the black eight-by-ten picture frame hanging on Mona’s wall. And she was right. They weren’t the same. Troubled and tortured, the shade had darkened, their shape narrowing with fury. It rolled off him in waves, knocking me back as he turned and stomped out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Chapter Three
The days following that embarrassing event were awkward and uncomfortable, but only for me it would seem. Joe, on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered, freely traipsing in and out of my house like that moment between us never happened.
To my immense joy and also my dismay, he was always the first to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. He took it upon himself to find things here and there that needed fixing. Before I knew it, I had clean gutters, the leaky roof was mended and the old porch swing had been rehung. I was lounging on it, nibbling on the last of the cheese puffs and granola bars when he pulled up that morning.
Parking in his usual spot on the grass, he wasted no time climbing out and making his way toward the porch, trusty toolbox in hand.
I hid my gawking behind the empty bag of cheese puffs, appreciating how he’d obviously dried his jeans on high heat the night before. The faded denim pulled at the tops of his legs with every step he took, the tightness accentuating the nice tone of his thighs. I decided right then and there I preferred when he wore the white T-shirt. It made his tan stand out, plus I could sometimes see through it when he stood just right in the sun.
“Morning,” he grunted out as he walked by and right on through the open front door, not waiting around for my delayed reply.
“Good morning,” I pretty much said to myself as I wiped the orange crumbs from my tank top and followed him under the guise of throwing away my trash.