Break You (7 page)

The closet to the room was neatly organized as well—broken-down cardboard boxes for shipping sat in one area, aprons she’d created hung on hangers, pillowcases were folded and pressed into perfect squares waiting to be sold. A clear three-drawer storage case was pressed against the wall; inside were scissors, tape, and loads of miscellaneous odds and ends tucked away. I loved this room.

“You’ve redone
everything.
” My eyes traveled around the room once more. “It looks great.”

“Thanks, I thought it was time,” she said. “One of the first things you have to learn when running your own business is that organization is key. I’m constantly improving my space and process to make things easier. With Tinley getting older and more demanding of my time, Brice being a prick about whether it’s an actual business or just a hobby, and my nerves being frazzled from taking on so much at once…organizing things makes it that much easier to get what I need to get done without wondering where I’ve placed something or if I have something that’s been ordered in stock.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said.

Tinley bounded into the room, carrying the picture she’d been working on.

“Aunt B, it’s done,” she said.

She called me Aunt B because when she was little, she hadn’t been able to say Blaire. Eventually she’d given up and shortened my name to one letter—B. It had stuck and I loved it.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” I took it from her little fingers. “I have just the place for this at home. I’ll put it on my fridge.”

Tinley grinned and ran out of the room. The sounds of a new show coming on the TV echoed down the hall, Tinley’s little voice singing along mixed in.

“So, how much did this cost you?” I asked. “Did Brice shit a brick?”

Bonnie’s face scrunched up. “What do you think?”

“He did,” I said flatly. My distaste for him leaked through my words.

“He wasn’t happy about it, but he wasn’t pissed or anything either,” she said. “I mean, he’s just worried about us not being able to pay the bills and stuff. Which is just standard, married couple arguments.”

She was backtracking. Bonnie hated it when me or our Mom started in on Brice. It wasn’t that Brice was horrible to her; it was the simple fact that Mom and I both agreed he didn’t see what she was worth. Bonnie was a diamond in that guy’s bucket of coal and he needed to realize that more. Not many women would put up with his shit… I wouldn’t.

“If you say so,” I said. Leaving it at that was what needed to happen, otherwise we’d start arguing and I wouldn’t get my time with Tinley and she wouldn’t get her break.

“How’s school going?” she asked. She flipped off the office light and started back toward the living room, where we could hear Tinley talking to the interactive TV show she’d been watching. “Are you ready for your finals next week?”

This was Bonnie’s way of changing the subject. She wasn’t as smooth as she thought, but I let it happen.

“Yes and no,” I answered. “I’m nervous, but I don’t think it’s possible to study any more than I already have.”

Bonnie moved to sit on the recliner and I flopped down beside Tin on the couch. Reaching out, I stroked her silky strands.

“What are you planning on doing for the summer?” Bonnie asked.

I had a feeling I already knew where this was going.

“Working at Cross Meadows five days a week, why?”

“Because your favorite little niece would love to spend a few days with you over the summer, I’m sure.”

“Like when? Are you and Brice going on a romantic vacation?” My jaw slacked—they never did anything.

She waved me off and rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, like Mr. Tightwad would allow that. No, I just mean maybe a day a week or a day every two weeks, so I can focus and get some stuff done without interruptions.”

Tinley rubbed her little hand against my knee as though she were letting me know she enjoyed me playing with her hair. “I’ll think about it and see what I can do.”

“Please, I’ll pay you,” Bonnie said.

“You don’t have to pay me. I’ll watch her for free. I just have to check my schedule at work and stuff first.”

“Thank you,” she said. “So, where are the two of you going today?”

That was my cue to leave so she could work. “The park.”

* * * *

Coldcreek Park was something that had evolved over the last few years. It started out as a jungle gym, four swings, and one monkey bar next to an overgrown walkway no one ever used. A few years ago our town elected a new mayor and he’d been all about physical fitness—which was how Coldcreek Park morphed into what it was now, a kid’s paradise. With six swings, five different slides of various sizes, a bridge, a fire pole, monkey bars, and a water feature—Coldcreek Park was the best. They’d even mowed the walkway and planted flowers and shrubs along it, which encouraged more people to put it to use.

Pulling into the gravel parking lot, I glanced into my rearview mirror just in time to see Tinley’s face light up at the sight of kids running through the sprinklers. Bonnie had dressed her in a little red-and-white polka-dot one-piece bathing suit that had a ruffle around its waist. It was the cutest thing.

Loading my arms with the bag Bonnie had packed that was jammed with what looked like the entire house minus the sink, and the lunch I’d gotten us on the way, I crawled out of my car. Setting the drink tray on the top, I opened Tinley’s door and let her out.

“Tin, we’re gonna eat first. Remember?” I asked.

She bolted past me and stopped on the squishy used-tire mulch they’d laid down. Struggling with everything in my arms, I made my way over to her. She dashed from where she stood to the covered pavilion near the water feature. It was like this every time.  I’d make it to where she was standing and then she’d dash away to the next area she knew I would go to. She had the park mapped out like that.

Flopping down half the crap I’d carried from the car, I handed Tinley her drink and started to dig through the large bag for her meal.

“Chicken nuggets and fries,” I said. I smiled at her and her face lit up. She eagerly held out her hands for the fast-food goodness I was about to fill her tummy with. My sister would kill me later, but the smile on Tinley’s face right now was worth it. “Your favorite Aunt B food.”

“Nuggets, nuggets!” Tinley shouted with a wide grin.

Squeezing some ketchup into the top part of the little cardboard box for her nuggets, I glanced around to see who all was here today. A girl I went to school with stood at the swings, pushing her little girl, who appeared to be around Tinley’s age, while she talked on her phone. It was always strange to see someone I’d graduated with playing with a kid of her own. I couldn’t imagine having such a large responsibility at this age.

A guy who was probably in his mid-thirties sat at the bench to my left, watching a group of three little kids play. I hoped they were his, because I would call the police in a second if I thought he was sitting here scooping out innocent little kids. Even in a town as small as Croldcreek, you still had to watch out for weirdos and perverts. I imagined it was that way anywhere though. A little girl with her water shoe half off ran up to him yelling, “Daddy, my shoe came off,” and put my mind at ease.

“So, what are you planning on doing first?” I asked Tinley as I took a bite of my burger.

“Water!” she said without a moment of hesitation.

Glancing over at the water feature, I took a nibble off one of Tinley’s fries and smiled. Water would have been my first activity too. There was a mass of colored bathing suits cramming the entire area, but not one kid looked like they weren’t having fun.

“Can I play?” Tinley asked.

She quickly finished her meal and downed half her soda before I could eat more than a quarter of my burger. The anticipation of fun must have been too much for her. I took the trash from her lap and dumped it back into the bag.

“Go ahead, you can play,” I said.

She raced off at lightning speed and darted straight through the first sprinkler, laughing. It was a great sound. It made me wish I could visit with her more often. She was growing up so fast. I took another bite of my burger and felt a warm breeze blow through the park.

“Aunt B, look!” Tinley shouted.

Shifting my gaze to her, I watched her run and jump through a sprinkler that put nothing out besides a slight mist. Tinley made a high-pitched giggle and turned around for round two.

“Fun!” I shouted back.

Pulling my phone from where I’d crammed it into the front pocket of the bag Bonnie had packed for Tinley, I decided I’d check my Facebook real quick—on the off chance Jason had posted up a new status. I never made it to scroll through my news feed, because there was a private message from him waiting on me.

So, can I pick you up next Saturday for drinks at Shooters?

I nearly choked on my burger. Jason Bryant wanted to pick me up on Saturday to have drinks at Shooters with him? Holy hell.

CHAPTER TEN

JASON

I’d only been on the road for an hour, but I was starved so I’d taken a minute to swing through a fast-food joint. While waiting in the never-ending drive-through line, I’d snatched out my cell and sent Blaire a message on Facebook asking her out next Saturday. A bar near the college wasn’t the best place to go for a date, but I figured it might make things seem a little less awkward and hopefully it wouldn’t be as noisy as the party had been.

Those were my thoughts anyway.

If she agreed to go out and things went well, the next date would be dinner and a movie. I finished my cheeseburger, checked my Facebook, and nearly flipped a lid when I saw Blaire had seen my message already. She just hadn’t responded back yet. I waited for a while, browsing around looking at others’ stupid pictures and whiny updates they’d posted . Some people made Facebook such a drag. My heart began to race as a message from Blaire popped up on my phone.

I think I have to work. Sorry.

My head fell back against the headrest of my Jeep and I let out a long breath. Shot down. Either Blaire really wasn’t that into me, or else she was good at being vindictive and playing hard to get. I’d dealt with both before and in my experience, it was always the ones who played a little hard to get that were the keepers.

With a smile, I replied back:

If you change your mind, I’ll be the lonely guy sitting at the bar on Saturday night.

Instantly Facebook said she’d seen it, because she was “active now,” but she never replied back. Chucking my phone into the passenger seat, I took a swig of my soda and popped my Jeep into reverse. I’d given her something to ponder, and if she was the sweetheart from high school I still thought that she was, she’d respond back later tonight telling me that she’d be there. Maybe I was a dick for playing that whole guilt card thing, but what else was I supposed to do? I wanted a date with Blaire and I wasn’t above making her feel guilty to get it.

* * * *

It was nearly 8:30 PM by the time I finally made it to my apartment. It was a four-hour drive from Coldcreek, North Carolina to Dormere, Tennessee. I always took the back-road route. It broke up the scenery and cut down the straight-as-an-arrow highway miles to a bare minimum.

Central Ridge Apartment Complex had a total of five buildings, each of them marked with numbers and designated their own alphabet letter. Mine was 515 G in the second building. Why they started out with the number 515 I had no clue. The buildings were cookie-cutter—all a tan shade of vinyl siding on the top, fake brick along the bottom, and plastic-looking shutters at every window. They were fully furnished, adequately sized, and decently priced. Really, that was all that mattered.

Brian’s truck was parked in its usual spot, but not at its usual time. Normally Brian was a night owl, it was rare he was ever home before one in the morning. How he managed to keep up his grades, work, and find time to sleep baffled me. The dude was always on the go. But that was why we worked so well as roomies. We were hardly ever home at the same time to grate on one another’s nerves.

Cutting my engine, I climbed out of my Jeep and reached into the back for the duffle bag I’d stuffed with my weekend clothes. I headed across the parking lot and then through the breezeway toward the stairs. Taking a swig of my soda, I listened to the usual ruckus of the building with a smirk on my face. The couple in 515 E were at it again.

They were your stereotypical couple dealing with the love/hate syndrome. He’d call her a bitch and she’d smack his ass silly, they’d scream and shout, and then eventually the screams and cries of annoyance would turn to ones of pleasure as they made up, allowing the rest of us the satisfaction of hearing it whether we wanted to or not. Either the guy had some serious moves or else she knew what she liked and how to make it happen, because I was pretty sure no girl I’d ever slept with had sounded like that while I was going at it.

It had been about a month since I’d gotten any though, so maybe I’d forgotten all the noises I could compel a woman to make. If any.

Jogging up the stairs, I caught the stench of marijuana either seeping from beneath Cage Sanders’ door in F or drifting from his deck. Cage was a total stoner. The first time I’d met him was when I had been unloading my stuff and hauling it up the stairs to G. He had come out to lean against the banister and stare at me. The first thing I’d noticed about him was that he had a mass of dirty blond dreads. The second was that he wore a pair of cut-off shorts that were way too short for my comfort. And the third was that he’d had no shoes on. But it was the very first thing he ever said to me which stood out most: He’d asked me what my major was.

Shocked that would be the first question out of the mouth of a guy who looked like that, I’d answered with the truth and a lopsided grin, psychology, and then moved on. Cage had followed; he leaned against the doorframe of the apartment, lit the fattest joint I’d ever seen, and then asked me if I smoked. My answer had been “Sometimes,” because I figured a flat-out no wouldn’t put me on his good side. My answer must have been sufficient enough, allowing him to think I was a decent guy. Ever since then, he’d tried to get me to take a puff whenever I saw him. More often than not, I turned him down.