Eddie: Grime Doesn’t Pay: The Brothers Grime, book 2

by Maxfield, Z. A.

  “I see.” Pam smiled at them both.

  “Yes, but I also don’t want him here, if that makes sense,” Andrew admitted. “I hate for him to see us like this.”

  “I understand.”

  “He hasn’t even been inside yet.”

  “I know what to expect.” Eddie had gotten tired of being discussed as if he wasn’t there.

  Andrew said, “I just don’t want you wondering when my book collection is going to get out of control, or if I’m going to start finding it hard to throw empty bottles away.”

  “This is going to be a real worry for you,” Pam observed, “isn’t it? That you might follow in your father’s footsteps.”

  Andrew eyed Eddie, nodding.

  “We can work on that, if you like,” she told Andrew. “You have my number.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” She glanced at her watch, then at Eddie. “Do we have any kind of an ETA on your partner? We can probably make some preliminary plans while we’re waiting.”

  “It will take at least ninety minutes for Gabe to get here with the Grime truck. The rest of my crew will be here when they can. Someone will bring the hauler later, so it would be best if we set up staging areas.”

  “I’ve asked Reese to show us everything, starting with the yard because that’s what we’re mandated to have done by Monday. We can do that while we’re waiting. Would that be all right with you?”

  “All right,” Andrew agreed. “Let’s get started.”

  “Let me get some masks and gloves from the car,” Eddie offered. At Andrew’s unhappy expression, he said. “I’d feel better if we had them, just in case.”

  “That’s very thoughtful.” Pam nodded.

  Andrew relented. “All right. Thank you.”

  The four of them, Pam, Eddie, Andrew, and Reese worked together quietly until Gabe arrived with the Grime truck. They’d set up a staging area: the grass on one side of the driveway was for recyclables, the grass on the other was for donations, and the concrete was for actual garbage bags. Andrew, Eddie, and Reese were bringing out the first bags of recyclables from the yard. The things being kept would be boxed and restaged in the yard until they cleared enough space in the garage or— Eddie wasn’t sure what they would eventually do with the “inventory” Andrew’s father had acquired. They all had enough to do without worrying about that just yet.

  Andrew was grim-faced but stoic. He’d walked into a massive cobweb and lost his shit until he’d yanked off his shirt and forced Eddie to go on spider patrol in his hair. Between that and the clouds of dust and feathers and God knew what all that wafted into the air with each item they moved, Andrew had graduated to gloves, a mask, and safety glasses.

  Skippy jumped down from the truck with a wave. “Lucky you called before Kelly Ann could drag me to the swap meet.”

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Eddie walked over and helped Skippy unlock and open the back of the truck.

  “It’s not like we’ve got lives or anything.” Gabe came around the truck hunched over to head butt Eddie, who caught him and turned the move into a hug.

  “Come and meet Andrew.”

  Skippy and Gabe exchanged glances. Gabe said, “Finally. The famous teacher we’ve been hearing about.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” They followed Eddie to the garden gate, where he could see Andrew struggling with a carton full of empty jars. “Andrew, I want you to meet my friends.”

  “Okay.” Andrew put the box down and dusted his hands off even though he wore gloves.

  Eddie wrapped his arm around Andrew’s shoulders. “Andrew, this is one of my partners, Gabe, and this”—he gave a nod toward Skippy’s imposing bulk—“is Skippy.”

  “Glad to meet you finally.” Gabe offered to shake hands. “Eddie’s kept pretty mum about you.”

  “He has?” Andrew shook Gabe’s hand while giving Eddie the stink eye.

  Skippy bared his teeth in what Eddie recognized as his teasing smile. “He thought we wouldn’t figure out why he was dressing up and slapping on his nice cologne to drop his niece off at school.”

  “You dressed up?” Andrew asked. “You mean you don’t normally wear suits to work?”

  “I wear suits,” Eddie hedged. “Sometimes.”

  Skippy nudged Gabe and muttered, “When we’re going to a funeral.”

  Gabe added, “Or if we have to testify in court.”

  “I see.” Andrew nodded. “Does that happen often?”

  “Not really. Only if we find something the CSI guys missed. A shell casing or whatnot,” said Skippy. “It’s like no one takes pride in their work anymore.”

  Andrew shrugged. “The police must have a million things they look for. I’m not surprised they miss something occasionally.”

  “I’m not talking about the cops. I’m talking about the doer. How hard is it to police your brass? That’s just fucking sloppy. Shows a lack of self-respect if you ask me. This whole country is going to hell.”

  Andrew nodded again, politely. “It does seem to be—”

  “Skippy.” Eddie’s voice held a warning.

  “All right, all right.” Skippy picked up the box of jars Andrew had laid down. “But in my day, a guy counted off his shots and made sure he found every casing. In my day, we didn’t count on budget cuts and sloppy police work to do our job for us. We didn’t just assume overworked crime-scene techs would miss shit like that.”

  Eddie cleared his throat as Andrew digested this. “In the meantime, who else did you get hold of.”

  Gabe said, “Kim and the new girl are on the way.”

  “Janice.”

  “Right. Whatever,” Gabe said. “She’s free this afternoon. Kevin is at his family’s place out of town. Jack and Ryan are coming by at three.”

  “Ryan too?”

  “Yeah. You said you needed bodies; he said he’d help. That okay?”

  “Sure. The more the better. I called my family too. Joe and Ben are coming, but Cece’s at a wedding. Lucy’s the flower girl, so—”

  “Seriously?” Andrew gaped at him. “You invited your family?”

  “You need this yard done by Monday, right?” Eddie asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. I just—” Andrew shook his head. “I don’t want them to see me like this. You get that, don’t you? This is fucking embarrassing.”

  Eddie took a step back and pulled out his phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. Don’t panic. I’ll call and tell them not to come.”

  Andrew stopped him. “It’s not like I don’t appreciate their help, you know that, right?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m overreacting, but it’s—” Andrew took a deep breath. It was clear he was getting wound up, and Eddie felt like a heel. “I’m grateful, of course, but I can’t bear the thought that they’ll see us like this. They’re going to meet my dad like this. Is that what you want?”

  Eddie looked up and saw Pam and Reese watching from the backyard. Shit. Had Reese overheard? Probably, because he’d paled at Andrew’s words. Reese turned away and faded into the shadows cast by the trees.

  Pam walked toward them. “What’s up?”

  Eddie spread his hands apart. “I guess I made a mistake. I—”

  “Oh my God, would you stop? It’s not a mistake. I just can’t handle your family seeing us like this, okay?” Andrew grabbed the nearest thing he could find, a bag of two-liter soda bottles, and stalked past Eddie toward the side lawn. When Eddie tried to stop him, he shouted, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  Eddie stared after him.

  He’s right. I should have asked first.

  Chapter 19

  Andrew dropped the bag in the recycling pile near all the other bags of empty two-liter bottles. Christ. He’d completely lost it, but…

  Look at me. I’m wading through half a dozen years’ worth of trash.

  He’d dressed in crappy clothes. He was already filthy.
Already exhausted, and it was only the beginning.

  He knew Eddie’s brothers and sisters. He’d met Lucy’s grandparents. He liked them. When he thought about seeing the rest of Eddie’s big, loving family in any other circumstances, it was fine. He looked forward to it. He was prepared to love them.

  It was just…this. The shame was unbearable. How could they see this and not judge him. How could they see this and not wonder if he was damaged goods.

  “Deep breath,” Pam said from behind him.

  Andrew shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “You know when you said you worry about your future? Whether this behavior is something you’ll begin to exhibit someday?”

  He turned toward her. “Yes.”

  She took his gloved hand in hers. “One of the things we can predict is that keeping certain problems a secret will make them worse.”

  “I know that.” Andrew pulled away from her. “I just don’t see how—”

  “Holding on to shame can sometimes be at the very heart of our reluctance to make progress, don’t you think?”

  Andrew looked at his feet. His suede shoes were caked with dust. “So you’re saying I should be okay with my new boyfriend’s brothers coming over here to wade through my family’s crap?”

  “Okay might be a little optimistic. But did Eddie turn you away in disgust? He didn’t spring from a vacuum. You really need help. Can you trust me when I tell you the shame you’re feeling has no place in your life? We are going to get rid of that negativity and address all these problems without flinching. This is how I know you’re absolutely not going to have the future that’s worrying you.”

  Andrew nodded. He walked across the lawn to join Eddie. “Don’t call off your brothers. We need the help.”

  Eddie nodded at him. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”

  Andrew had to accept that it would be. It seemed he had to accept a lot of things.

  “I guess I overreacted,” he told Pam. “This isn’t how I live. No one will judge me for this.”

  “No one worth caring about will judge your father for this either. We’re just beginning here. We look at the problem. We tear it apart. We figure out how to fix it, and we do better later on.”

  “It’s that simple.” Andrew nearly winced at how sarcastic that sounded.

  “Sure.” She widened her eyes comically, and he liked her more for lying to him. She sang, “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  Andrew huffed out a surprised laugh and shifted the bag he’d dropped so it would line up with the others.

  The term rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic suddenly made perfect, awful sense.

  EDDIE TURNED AWAY to get something from the truck. He’d watched in total admiration as Pam talked Andrew off his ledge. Dr. Frost was really good. He knew Gabe was hoping they’d make some kind of business connection with her—that maybe she’d recommend Grime to her clients. If they proved to her they were as good at their jobs as she was, it wasn’t too much to hope for.

  He’d enjoy working with Pam on a regular basis. He liked the way she talked to Reese, and now that he’d seen her with Andrew, he liked her even better. Up until Andrew’s outburst, Eddie didn’t really understand what he was feeling. Eddie assumed he was embarrassed for Joe and Ben to see Reese’s house in its current state, but Joe and Ben weren’t going to judge Andrew. It wasn’t his house, after all.

  But when Eddie overheard Andrew’s conversation with Pam, he realized just how very painful this was for Andrew—the depth of shame he was feeling personally.

  Eddie’s presence, while helpful, even necessary, was exacerbating the problem. Anyone else with a truck and some guys would be preferable because then it wouldn’t be personal.

  Yet as Pam pointed out to Andrew—to both of them really, because she had to know Eddie was listening in—there was no place now for shame.

  Shame was what caused people to isolate themselves, to hide their problems instead of asking for help.

  With Andrew on solid ground again, Eddie sought out Reese and found him gazing down at several big plastic tubs full of paperback novels marked Detective Fiction.

  Pam’s voice was patient. “What I guess I’m trying to say is, some of these paperbacks appear quite used. Since these are not part of your more valuable inventory, perhaps you could consider donating them.”

  “No,” said Reese.

  “Okay, but these have been stored outside, and it looks to me like—”

  “I said no. Books stay. Period.” Reese crossed his arms.

  Pam went on, undaunted. “I realize you’ve drawn the line at books, but there are different types of books to discuss here. There are rare books, first editions and so forth, and hardcover editions, trade paperbacks, and pocket books. Paperbacks, unless they’re in good condition—”

  “These are in good condition.” Reese grabbed the lid off the box. “Even if they’re not pristine, these copies might still be worth something to someone who wants to read them. They’re books.” As if he was talking to a child, he said, “You don’t throw books away.”

  Even Eddie could see that some were faded. Some had swollen from inadvertent exposure to moisture. Some looked ready to fall apart where the binder’s glue was failing. They really weren’t in great shape, but he supposed he’d seen worse on people’s bookshelves or at the used bookstore. He really didn’t know what a book lover would buy and what they wouldn’t.

  “But you see, you only have so much space. So it’s necessary for you to make a hard choice. I’m asking what would happen if you donate these. They could still be read.”

  “You don’t understand.” Reese shook his head. “You don’t know how a book lover feels about his collection.”

  “I think I do, Reese. I believe you love your books very much. But are they worth losing your home over? That’s what I mean about choices.”

  “And I’m telling you”—he poked a finger at her—“I am not willing to part with books. Got that? You have no idea what this means to me. It’s like a sacred trust.”

  “Dad.” Andrew put his hands out in a calm-down gesture. “We understand. Books are very important to you.”

  “Every single one of these is a memory. Your mother and I spent years in that bookstore. I can still see the hand-lettered signs she made, remember? Detective fiction had a little foil magnifying glass, and romance had the sparkly hearts. The books are part of our history. They’re a legacy. You can’t possibly understand what they mean to me, and—”

  “I understand exactly what you mean, Mr. Daley.” Eddie searched out Gabe’s gaze. “No one understands what you mean better than I do.”

  “Eddie.” Pam watched him carefully. “Tell me what you mean by that.”

  “These books are sacred to Reese because every story represents a family memory. I understand what he means by that because I remember exactly how it felt when I realized I would never, ever be able to hold a book in my hands and simply read it.”

  “Wait. What?” Andrew’s head snapped around toward Eddie.

  “I’m profoundly dyslexic.” Eddie’s gut tightened as if he expected a blow. “I could no more sit down and enjoy reading the words on those pages than I could leap off a cliff and fly. I look at books and see my failure. My disability. All the things I can’t do because I can’t read the way you can. It’s pretty easy for me to see how a man could look at the same thing and see all the good things in his life.”

  “You can’t read?” Andrew asked quietly.

  “I can read if I have to. I’m glacially slow at it, and it makes my head pound like a kettledrum. I get frustrated easily. I lose patience. I lose the thread of what I’m reading, and I have to go back and start over again and again. That’s why I use text-to-speech and listen to audiobooks.”

  “The menus,” Andrew muttered. “That’s why you don’t look at the menus in restaurants.”

  “I can read a menu. I can recognize the word for salmon or salad, but I hate it. Every
time I try, it reminds me that I’m stu—”

  “Knock it off,” said Gabe. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not stupid.”

  “Is it better that I’m only defective?” Eddie lowered his gaze.

  “Eddie.” Pam narrowed her eyes. “You’re just wired differently.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved that away. “I’m a special goddamn snowflake. My point is this: books represent something intangible to both of us. I understand that, better than you can imagine. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Reese nodded. Eddie didn’t like the pity he saw in Reese’s eyes, but they shared a moment of real understanding. Real insight. Eddie was glad his secret was out if it helped Reese understand he wasn’t alone.

  Everyone has demons.

  “The thing is,” Reese said, “some of these books are out of print. The authors are long gone. Who will get to read them if we don’t preserve them? Every book is an opportunity for a human being to live beyond their time on earth, and I just can’t be the one to…to…”

  Pam’s eyes widened. “I see.”

  “You don’t.” Reese shook his head. “I need these. I need to keep them. I could pack them better, but they stay. There’s a poem by William Butler Yeats. Something like ‘All the words that I utter / And all the words that I write / Must spread out their wings untiring / And never rest in their flight / Till they come where your sad, sad heart is—’”

  “‘And sing to you in the night.’ I remember that poem,” said Andrew.

  “Books are sacred.” Reese sighed heavily.

  “Yes, they are.” Andrew went to his father and wrapped his arms around him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t understand, Dad.”

  Pam watched Andrew and Reese. She waited until they broke apart, until Reese had Andrew by the shoulders and was smiling for a change. “Reese? Would you be willing to leave these here and come have a coffee with me? We can continue this discussion with Andrew while Eddie works on the recyclables and trash in the garage. I think I have a suggestion that will solve both our problems.”

  Reese hesitated. He asked Eddie, “You’ll leave the books alone?”