by Olivia Chase
“Hey Len, how’s your kid doing?” another guy, Grant, asks. “Did he start chemo yet?”
Last week, we found out that Len’s son, who’s only twelve, has leukemia. The man deeply loves his kids, all five of them—he talks about them all the time. Truth be told, it kinda irritated me at first, because no one in my neighborhood gives two shits about their offspring. I’m unused to it, felt like it was even bragging a little.
But hearing the stories he tells, the way he cheers about their successes, chipped away at me. Warmed me. He’s genuine in his affection.
Len sighs, his face falling, and I turn around to see him as he says, “He’s having a hard time with it. Finished his first round, but he’s puking everywhere and lost a bunch of his hair.” His eyes are sad, and he clears his throat and digs into his pocket to grab his smokes. “Doc says he’s a trooper, though.”
“Sorry to hear that, man,” Grant says. “Fuckin’ shame. It’s wrong when kids get sick like that. But they’re resilient. He’ll get through it just fine, you’ll see.”
Len gives a stiff nod and then walks off to the smoking area.
“His hospital bills gotta be piling up,” Dan says. He starts laying more mortar down, slapping it in thick strips on top of the bricks we just added.
“Maybe we can pitch a few bucks his way,” I say. “I don’t have any kids, so I got some extra money. Can’t imagine what he’s going through, dealing with a sick kid on top of strained finances.”
The other guys nod in agreement about my idea, murmuring about how we can get a fundraiser together to help his family out, and warmth spreads through my chest. I turn back around and start working again, a small smile on my face.
It took me a little while to get the guys to stop outright ignoring me. If they didn’t know my family directly, they had heard of us…and as expected, it was all bad info. So when I came to work on my first day, I got a lot of the cold shoulder. Even a few open glares. No one spoke a word to me.
But Randall made it a point to come out every day and talk to me, check in. Eventually, after a week or so, a couple of others guys started coming around, too. I think they realized I wasn’t going to be a dick, and if Randall accepted me, it might be okay for them to, as well. Then they started inviting me to hang out after work.
Since I don’t like being home now, given the ever-increasing tension between me and my brothers, I agreed, going to various bars or diners around town, bowling alleys…hell, I even went to a driving range last weekend and tried my hand at golf. What the fuck.
I barely know who I am anymore. The thought makes me laugh. If Butch had caught me with a driver in my hand, and I wasn’t using it to wail on someone, he’d mock me mercilessly for my defection to the pussy side of the tracks.
Butch wouldn’t give any of these men the time of day. He’d be more likely to steal their wallets than shake their hands. And he’d be missing out, because they’re actually good people. Despite my reputation, which was rightly earned, I’m being accepted here, treated like one of them.
I’ve never had that before.
I kinda feel…respectable. Responsible. I’ve been socking away money in my bank account, as much as I can. Since I get up so early, I don’t see my brothers…and I get home when they’re out roughing people up or whatever shit they’re still doing. It’s better this way.
“—gorgeous redhead I’ve been seeing,” Dan is saying. “Took her out to dinner last night.”
That gets my attention. My pulse speeds up. “Oh? Who is she?” Please Jesus God, don’t let him say Claire. I can’t stand to think about him dating her. Or anyone dating her, for that matter.
After sneaking out of my bed before I woke up and sending me a text telling me sorry, that it was all a mistake, I haven’t heard from her since. I tried to call her and text her. No response.
I can’t stop thinking about that morning in bed together, before she ran off. The way her voice sounded in the darkness, the way her body felt, how her sweet pussy tasted as I made her come.
It’s driving me insane.
“Some girl I met in the grocery store a few weeks ago. Her name’s Jenny.”
My pulse goes back to normal. Thank fuck. “There’s something about redheads, isn’t there,” I say, trying to sound casual.
Dan must hear the emotion in my voice. He shakes his head in sympathy. “They fucking grab you by the balls when you least expect it.”
They sure do. I keep my face even and try to put all my focus on the job at hand. But I keep thinking about Claire’s hunger that night, how I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I felt between us was real.
But then, perhaps I’m wrong—because she left and wants nothing to do with me again.
No matter what I try to tell my stupid brain, I fucking miss her. And I’m torturing myself, because I can’t understand what the hell went wrong this time. She won’t even give me a chance to show her how I’m changing.
I just can’t seem to let her go, and the pain eats away at me, even in my best moments.
“Wanna get a beer after work?” Dan asks. “I’m bored as fuck. Jenny’s out of town for a business trip. There’s a place I’ve been wanting to try. Outlaws—have you heard of it? Used to be a total dive bar, apparently, but they’ve cleaned up their reputation.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. My cousin runs it.”
“Oh, awesome. They serve food, right?”
“Yup. It’s pretty good, too. The key lime pie is amazing.”
We square up details to meet at Outlaws. The whole time, I’m kinda laughing to myself. Won’t my cousins be surprised to see me like this, a working stiff, having a beer like a regular guy and not scaring the customers.
Also, it’s not a bad idea to check in and make sure my brothers aren’t fucking with them behind my back. Because if they are, I’m going to rain hell down on them. They’ve shut me out of all their plans, which is good, but it also means I’m out of touch.
Cut out of the life.
Freedom is glorious. I just wish I’d done this before.
The shift ends before I know it. Dan claps me on the shoulder. “Beer?”
“Fuck yeah. I’ll meet you there.”
I follow his pickup truck down the street toward Outlaws. I pull in beside him, and we stroll through the front door together. Jax sees me and stalls, giving me a wary look.
I raise my hand in greeting, and Dan and I take a corner booth in the back.
My cousin walks over, a couple of menus in hand, and drops them on the table. “Gentlemen. I hope you’re here to relax.” I can hear the unspoken warning—that I’m not going to cause any trouble.
“We want beer and food,” I say smoothly. “I was telling Dan how you guys run the place, and how good the key lime pie is.”
Jax nods, and I can see his shoulders lose a touch of their tension. “It’s incredible. Aunt Sylvia makes it. She’ll die before she shares her secret recipe with any of us.”
Dan laughs. “We’ll have to save room for dessert, then.”
We order two beers and wings to start, and then Jax leaves the table. Dan and I make small talk. I murmur small sounds of encouragement as he discusses Jenny and what she does. I’m not so good at this kind of thing, just…sitting and talking with other guys. Never really did that before. But I’m starting to get used to it.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Dan asks.
I shake my head, trying not to notice the way my pulse skips. “I fucked up with a girl I really like. You know how it goes.”
“Sucks, man,” he says. Our beers come, and we clink our bottles. “To women—the best and worst kind of torture out there.”
I give a light, but genuine, laugh at his toast. “You said it.”
I have a couple of beers with Dan and we continue to talk, mostly about work now. Smith gave me a courtesy nod from behind the bar. I figured he’d notice me here, but he can see I don’t mean any trouble.
“Hey, man, I’ll be ri
ght back. Gonna go talk to my cousin really quickly,” I tell Dan, and then I head to the bar.
“’Sup, Jamo,” Smith says evenly. He scrutinizes me. “Gotta admit, kinda surprised to see you here not giving us any shit.”
“Told you, that’s over. You haven’t had any problems, have you?”
He quirks a brow. “Wouldn’t you know? They’re your brothers.” He grabs a dirty glass from the bar surface and washes it.
“I’m…not in the family business anymore,” I say.
That gets him to pause. “Oh. Interesting.” Smith, a man of few words, but each word he says has, like, twenty words behind it.
“Just wanted to see how things were going for you,” I reply.
“No problems so far. Thanks for the heads up.”
I nod and step back from the bar.
“And Jamison?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
A little while after, Dan and I pay our bills and exit the bar. As we’re heading to our rides, he says, “Jenny and I are having a grillout this weekend. You should come by.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll bring some beer.”
He gives an easy smile. “Sounds great. I’ll get you the details tomorrow.” He hops in his truck and drives off.
I sit in my car for a moment after turning the key and muse over everything. I’m going to a coworker’s house. To fucking “grill out” like some regular working Joe normal.
If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be doing that, I’d have laughed in their faces. And probably punched them for spreading bullshit about me. But here I am, with real acquaintances. Maybe even friends.
There’s probably a shit-eating grin on my face, and I don’t care. I whistle a little as I drive down the street toward my house. When I pull in, I see that Zack’s car is in the driveway. I key the door and head right to the kitchen to grab a water.
“It’s a ghost,” my brother says from the living room. He strolls into the kitchen and eases into a seat at the table. “And the dead will rise and walk again,” he intones.
“Good to see you too, Zack.” I roll my eyes and pop the dirty dishes in the sink into the dishwasher. “Maybe you assholes could try cleaning up after yourselves once in a while.”
“Maybe you could hire a maid to do it for us, since you’re so fucking middle class now,” he retorts smoothly. He kicks his feet up on another chair at the table. “Or maybe we can just pay you to do our cleaning.”
I ignore him and rinse off a couple of plates that have sticky residue before putting them into the dishwasher. Zack is only a couple of years younger than me, but we’re very different. He’s a player, a guy who never takes anything seriously. But it didn’t bother me as much before as it does now.
Maybe because I’m realizing my brothers are going nowhere, spinning in circles, and I’m not in that cycle anymore.
I turn around and eye Zack, who’s casually looking at me, a smirk on his face. I’m seeing him through fresh eyes, and it’s sad. “Don’t you get tired?” I ask him bluntly.
He raises a brow. “Tired of what?”
“Of this life. Of being a fucking loser and blowing every day doing stupid shit.”
A flash of shock crosses his face. “What the fuck? You get out and suddenly you’re Mr. Righteous. Don’t forget, you came from here, and you helped us build what we have into what it is.”
“Yeah, I did. Then I realized that my life was being wasted.” I shake my head. “Grow the fuck up, Zack. You’re too old for this shit. Too old and too smart.”
Zack stares hard at me, a tick in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. “Fuck you, Jamison. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“Then I’m doing something right,” I shoot back at him. Anger heats my blood. God, he’s an idiot. They all are. And I was, too. “Stay the fuck out of my way while I better myself. If you want to live your life stuck in this shithole neighborhood and probably get shot while doing your thug shit, be my guest. But I’m not going to live like that anymore.” I stalk upstairs to my room and close the door behind me.
I hear stomping, and then my door is pushed open by Zack. “Let yourself right in,” I say sarcastically.
“Do you really believe you’re any better than us? Really?” There’s anger in his eyes, but there’s also a flare of hurt. “Because it used to be that we all stuck together. That we had each other’s backs. But now you’re gone, and it’s like you’re not even part of our family anymore.”
I sigh and plop on the corner of my bed. Zack stands in the doorway, his arms crossed. “Bro, at some point, you gotta take honest inventory of your life and see what you’re doing. It’s time for us to let the illegal shit go. You have skills that can get you a job.”
“Where I can make minimum wage like every other fucking jagoff out there? Go work some shitty job and wish every day that I was independent, not chained to a desk or whatever? Why the fuck would I want to do that?”
“Because there’s nowhere to go from here,” I retort. “This is literally as good as it’ll ever get for you. Are you happy, living in a house with all of your brothers because no one can afford to live alone? This is your big dream for yourself?”
“You don’t know shit about my dreams.”
“You’re right. I don’t. Because Butch told all of us what our dreams are supposed to be. Living hard and making sure we fuck over everyone else before they do it to us.”
Zack leans against the doorframe. “The thing that you seem to forget is we never had the same chances everyone else did. All we had was each other. Or at least we used to until you decided to quit on us. Why not do what we’re good at? Maybe we’ll never go anywhere, but at least we’re not depending on anyone else.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get it. And I don’t know how better to explain it to you.” This is exactly the mindset our whole family has, that I had until recently. I’m not going to be able to change him. I’m just wasting my breath.
“What a disappointment you turned into,” he says quietly, as if in disbelief, then leaves my room, closing the door behind him.
I stare at the beat-up wooden door, take a hard look around my room. I’m never going to be truly free of all this bullshit until I get my own place. Being around it is going to cause more and more issues between all of us. And frankly, I’m fucking tired of not having my own apartment.
Time for me to get out of here for good. I’m both excited about the prospect and a little uncomfortable, to tell the truth. I’ve spent the last decade taking care of my brothers, raising them, running the household. Everything is changing, and I know they’re pissed at me. But they won’t listen. They don’t want to.
And I can’t carry them anymore.
I’m done.
I grab my phone and do a search for apartment listings in Rock Bridge. Might as well get started tonight. Maybe this weekend I can go view a few places. The faster I can get my ass out of this house, this neighborhood, the better.
A couple of places are potential prospects, with good room size and a reasonable rent. I can get used furniture from secondhand stores. I’ll make a home of my own. And if it means my brothers never want to see me again, then I guess that’s just the way it’s going to be.
Claire
I walk through the boutique where Rebecca works and ooh and aah over the new inventory.
“You have to try this on,” she declares, holding up a filmy white dress that you can practically see through.
“You’re insane. Have you seen me eat?” I joke. “There’s a reason I wear a lot of dark colors.”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop being so stodgy. Try this on. When I saw it, I had to order it, and I had you in mind.” She shoves it at me and points me toward the dressing room. “Do it now, bitch.”
“Is this how you talk to all your customers?” I grumble as I stomp into the dressing room.
“Only the stubborn ones,” she shouts at me through the door.
I sig
h and strip down to my bra and panties. “You’re lucky I’m wearing a nude set today, or else you’d get to see a side of me you haven’t seen since high school.” We used to have sleepovers at least once a week back then.
I slide into the dress. The fabric is soft and whispers against my skin. When I check myself out in the mirror, I realize that she’s right. It’s gorgeous and perfect for me. It hugs my curves just perfectly, accentuates my bust, and skims above my knee with a lovely flare at the bottom.
“Shit,” I say.
She laughs. “You’re getting the dress, aren’t you.”
“Yes, dammit. It’s stunning.” I take it off and put it back on the hanger.
“Do I know you, or do I know you?” She’s smug, and I guess I can’t blame her. She nailed it.
Rebecca rings me out—with the friends-and-family discount, as usual, and bags my dress. “We meeting later tonight for cocktails?” Rebecca bats her lashes at me. “Please, pretty please?”
“Duh, of course.” I buss her cheek and head out of the store, down the sidewalk. Rebecca’s store is located in a pretty populated area. On her side of the street are doctor’s offices, a jewelry store, and an excellent ice cream shop. Across the street is the hospital. I’m reminded of being there before, when I first talked with Jamison, and my heart gives a funny skip.
I keep hoping that this strange emptiness I feel without him will fade away, but it hasn’t. Everything reminds me of him still. I have to trust Rebecca when she said it’ll get easier. But when?
He hasn’t tried to contact me anymore, and it hurts terribly, even though I’m the one who never got back to him after he texted and called.
I parked across the street and down a bit, so I cross at the crosswalk and pace down a couple of blocks, my dress draped over my arm. There’s a loud whirring sound from beside the hospital as construction is being done. I hear voices and see a group of men working on the building’s exterior.
One man takes off his hard hat to wipe his brow.