Lost & Found: Contemporary Reverse Harem

by Serena Lindahl

  Manny is playing with his keys while he stands behind our jacked-up Dodge Ram. Our parents gave us a choice: share a more expensive vehicle or get two cheaper ones. We’d gone with the sharing. “So, I’ll see you all tomorrow, right?” he asks, but he’s only looking at Senya.

  “In class, I guess.” She shrugs. I know he’ll text Apollo and me later. He gives us all a final look before slipping into his fancy car.

  Aric salutes and holds out his fist for a bump. Apollo and I oblige before he turns to Senya with a raised eyebrow. Aric always knew how to get what he wanted out of Senya. She’d look petty if she turned him down, so she fist-bumps him before he turns away with a grin. Before he gets to his bike, he looks back. “I’ll bring another helmet to your house before school tomorrow. I know some extras are hanging around the shop.”

  Senya’s cheeks color. “You know the rules,” she calls after him.

  He just waves and nods, leaving my brother and me to stare after him.

  “What are the rules?” Apollo asks.

  She shrugs, not meeting our eyes. When we don’t move, she looks back in exasperation. “Are you taking me home or not?”

  Apollo gives me a look and we do a quick rock-paper-scissors to see who’s going to drive. It’s such a habit with us every time we drive anywhere that we don’t even notice Senya is watching us with a twinkle in her eye. We’ve taken turns that way since we were old enough to understand the rules. Apollo wins and slides behind the steering wheel. I open the passenger door and wait for Senya.

  “Need a ladder, Pixie?” My brother asks as he leans over to look at her.

  She growls at him like a cute little puppy and pulls herself up. I can’t stop myself. I lift her in myself, forcing myself to pull away before I really take note of how narrow her waist is and how warm and soft she feels. If I think about it, I’ll be popping another woody and trying to hide it all the way to her house.

  Apollo studies her before he puts the truck in gear. She’s retreating into herself like she doesn’t want to touch either of us. My brother and I act in tandem like usual, sprawling until our thighs are resting against hers and our shoulders are brushing. We like to push the boundaries, and we like touching her.

  “So where are we going?” my brother asks.

  Senya bites her bottom lip; at the same time, that little metal bar clicks against her teeth. The smell of lavender is even stronger in the small space, and I sit forward to cross my arms over my lap. It’s going to be a long ride.

  Chapter 9

  Senya

  If I thought sitting between the brothers at the library had been difficult, it was nothing compared to sitting in the front seat of their nice truck. They have a crew cab, but the boys haven’t gotten any tidier as adults. The back seat is filled with gym bags, books, and sports stuff. I’m surprised the whole cab doesn’t reek like dirty gym socks.

  I bite my lip as I consider what to tell them. I have to go to the food pantry, but I might have to do that tomorrow instead. As much as I hate to admit it, I shouldn’t ride with my helmet strap like it is. I may be reckless, but I’m not suicidal. Making up my mind, I mutter my address. Apollo motions to Orion, and the other brother reaches over me and punches the address into the GPS that’s built right into the dash. It’s a good thing you can’t see neighborhoods on GPS maps. I almost imagine ours as the dark spot in our otherwise bright city.

  “If you’re going to know my address, you need to know the rules just like Aric,” I say as Apollo pulls out of the parking lot. He’s a steady, sure driver and I feel safe with him behind the wheel. Orion might have been a different story. He’s far more likely to want to have fun than follow the rules.

  “The rules that Aric knows?” The tone of Apollo’s voice hides something that sounds suspiciously like jealousy.

  I ignore it. Not going there. “Yes. One, never walk into my apartment building with or without me. If you ever come to my place, text me and I’ll come down. Second, don’t tell anyone else where I live. Third, I don’t want your pity.”

  “Why can’t we go into your building?”

  I’m surprised Orion focuses on that one more than any of the other ones, but it goes hand-in-hand with the third one. From the outside, the apartments don’t look as bad as they do on the inside. And…“My mom has a thing for younger men. I’m protecting you.”

  It’s not a joke. My mom is far worse than Chad when it comes to hitting on people younger than her. In some convoluted part of her brain, she’s still eighteen and pretty. Not only is it embarrassing, but it also makes me want to puke. Watching her come on to one of my guys? I wouldn’t eat for a week.

  We drive in silence until Orion shifts in his seat. He reaches out and twines his fingers with mine. His skin is so much warmer than mine. I stare in surprise, wanting to pull away but also not wanting to. Awareness settles deep in my stomach. There are two very hot guys on either side of me. My heart starts to beat harder. Why is he holding my hand and what does he want? I can’t handle questions. Not yet.

  “Thanks for not dropping the class, Pixie,” he murmurs in a low voice. His thumb brushes the back of my hand once and my breasts tingle in response. I pull my hand away from him before I full-on nip out and can’t hide it.

  “Whatever.” I scramble for a way to change the subject. “You guys share a truck?”

  Apollo nods and tells me about their dad’s bargain. I can’t deny I’m jealous. What I wouldn’t give to have a parent that could pay for even half a vehicle.

  “So what happens when just one of you needs it?”

  Orion looks at me and lifts one eyebrow; his golden green eyes sparkle. “Why would just one of us need a vehicle? We go to school together, we go to practice together, and we don’t have jobs yet.”

  “What about dates?” I blurt.

  “Maybe we share then too,” Orion murmurs. The implications almost have more of an effect on me than his touch did.

  “Share?” My voice squeaks annoyingly.

  “Yeah, like double dates and stuff,” Orion says, and I want to slap the smug ass. He knew exactly what my hormone-addled brain was thinking, especially since I’m sitting between him and his brother. Any girl would feel lucky to be in my place. But I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even think about it. They date cheerleaders like Britney and her posse, not nothings like me. And I don’t want them, I remind myself. I’m still telling myself that when they pull into the parking lot of my complex.

  The buildings are beige cinderblock surrounded by droopy yuccas. The grass has all died in the dirt around the front, the stairs to the second floor are almost rotted through, and air conditioning units stick out of every other window like strange control panels. The dumpsters are overflowing and all the cars have seen better days. Kids play in the dirt in the old playground, but the swings broke a long time ago. There’s only the skeleton of a swing set and a picnic bench now.

  Apollo leans over to look through the windshield. His mouth is set in a firm line, flattening his full lips. I elbow him in the ribs. “Rule number three,” I remind him.

  He looks at me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He and Manny have changed the most. I can’t read them as well as I used to. If I had to guess, I’d say it was more concern than pity, but I don’t need either. It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it. I’m not eighteen for four more months and there’s no way I can afford a security deposit and apartment with my part-time department store job.

  Orion opens the door slowly as if he’s reluctant to leave me here, but this is where I live. I hang off the edge of his seat and wait for him to step aside. He’s in the way. “Move,” I finally say when he just stands there.

  “Let me help.” He holds out his hand instead of grabbing me around the waist again, and I take it because the truck is almost twice my height. It’s a long way down and I end up smashing into him instead of landing nimbly on my feet. His chest is hard; I bet there’s not an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. I clench my
fists to keep from seeing if his abs are just as firm and step away before I do something stupid. I’ve had boyfriends but they never lasted long. If I’m feeling horny, I could find someone other than the guys I have more baggage with than an airline.

  “Where do you want your bike?” Apollo asks as I untangle myself from his brother. I motion to the area I’ve staked as my place. It’s too narrow for a car and there’s a phone pole right there that I cable it to as if it were a bicycle.

  Apollo’s flexing muscles show just how easy it would be to throw the bike into the back of a truck or a trunk. Sure, the cable isn’t foolproof, but I take what precautions I can. I won’t deny I like watching his muscles bunch and move while he easily maneuvers the heavy road bike. I never knew I’d be attracted to musclebound men, but it’s something more. It’s not just the muscles; it’s because it’s Apollo.

  “All right, see you later!” I attempt to get away as fast as I can.

  “Wait.” Apollo has hardly spoken all night, so I look back at his one, firm word. His hand snakes out and catches mine. It should feel just like his brother’s, but his skin is more calloused and darker, like he spends more time outside during his workouts. “Are you safe here?”

  My jaw tightens. “That’s none of your business,” I bite out and walk away without another word, yanking my hand out of his grasp. With those four words, I’m reminded not to get too cozy with these guys, not to look forward to more, and not to enjoy them too much. My life is no longer so tied up in theirs that we don’t know where one of us ends and the other one begins. They don’t know who I am anymore. I can take care of myself. I don’t look back.

  Unfortunately, Mom isn’t still gone. She’s lying on the couch, our old, battered laptop on her stomach while she half-hangs off. She doesn’t spend much time in her bedroom, but I don’t really blame her. Our tiny rooms are like closets. If we hadn’t scored a corner unit, neither of us would have a window, either. Not that the window matters to her. The curtains are drawn in here and it smells like a skunk factory that got bombed with vodka.

  “Where have you been?” she asks the second I open the door, and I try to gauge her mood. Mom isn’t really a bad person. She’s depressed, addicted, and a magnet for loser creeps, but she usually doesn’t yell or hit me. I’m like an animated piece of furniture in her life who is occasionally useful – like a toilet or a refrigerator. The comparison almost makes me snort.

  “Had a school project.”

  “Did you get food?”

  “The strap on my helmet broke. I couldn’t go shopping. I’ll have some by tomorrow night.”

  She frowns like she’s wondering if this is a bad thing, and I wonder just how stoned or drunk she is. Thankfully, she doesn’t smoke cigarettes. I can handle the smell of weed over tobacco any day. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I freeze as I start locking the door behind me. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

  “Larry is bringing me food later.” Her tone is almost smug, like she’s happy she gets food and I don’t. My stomach grumbles. However, if Larry is the guy from the other night, I’ll happily starve to death before I accept anything from him.

  “Who’s Larry?” I ask slowly. The only thing that really sets Mom off is talking about her string of men. I learned back in junior high that her hook-ups are far more important than her daughter.

  She doesn’t respond. She’s partially asleep already, like we weren’t just having a conversation. I’m not sure Larry is the creep, but it’s better to be prepared. I gather everything I need for a night in my room. I don’t want to come out of hiding if I don’t have to.

  As I’m staring into the empty cupboards in our poor excuse for a kitchen, I chew on my lip. I should have stopped at the food pantry. There’s nothing. An old, half-empty bag of flour, a can of diced tomatoes, and some moldy bread is in the cupboard. I throw the bread away and consider the tomatoes as I look in the freezer and refrigerator. The latter stinks and I shut the door before Mom smells it and forces me to clean up whatever died inside.

  Thankfully, I think I have a granola bar in my emergency stash. I get some water, pee, and lock myself in my tiny room. There’s enough space for a twin mattress on the floor, several milk crates that hold my clothes, an old desk that’s falling apart, and a wooden chair. The windows and the bed are decorated with stuff from my dad’s house that I brought with me. The comforter and curtains in a pretty lilac color are faded now, but they’re all I have left. Mom wasn’t so good back when I first moved in. She tried to sell everything I brought from Dad’s because she was pissed that he hadn’t had a good enough insurance policy to set us up for life. I’d been kind of pissed about it too. There’d been some money, but funerals are expensive and we’d been a typical American family. The rest of the money paid off credit card debt. Dad and Maria hadn’t been well off, but they’d been happy. And we always had food.

  I plop down on my bed and take off my shoes, trying not to think about tonight as I dig the granola bar out of the bottom of my backpack. It’s all mushed up but still good. I want to forget about the boys, but I can’t. Their messages wait on my phone.

  SMARTYPANTS: Did you get home safe?

  GREASE MONKEY: Don’t forget that I’m bringing you a helmet. Don’t ride until I get there.

  I roll my eyes. I’ve been taking care of myself for five years. Did they think they could just shove themselves back into my life? I throw the phone down beside me. I hate to admit that they’ve already wormed their way in – a little. Orion’s smooth voice and laughing eyes, Apollo’s steady silence, Aric’s sweetness, and Manny…

  Manny’s not the same boy I grew up with. When Dad first married Maria, I was scared of the little dark-eyed boy who was less than six months older than me. He’d been an angry toddler. He didn’t share, he loved throwing things, and he hadn’t known what to do with me as the other kid in his house. Dad and Maria explained that he got frustrated because his brain was so smart he couldn’t communicate his needs with his limited language. Instead of making me feel stupid, Dad made me feel special. It was my job to help the angry-eyed boy. So I had. It got easier when the other boys joined our little neighborhood gang. The twins were always up for pranks and Manny loved how active they were. Now, Manny seems like he’s regressed. The anger that had been mostly resolved throughout our childhood has returned.

  I sigh as I arrange my math homework on my bed. His dad and stepmom are rich and he has everything he could ask for. I don’t know where his anger comes from, and it scares me. He may not have had my life, but he has some of my demons. Even Aric, who had some rough years when his mom left and his dad got laid off, didn’t seem to have the same pain and anguish as Manny.

  I pick up my phone and stare at it. Do I text them back? If I do, it gives them a little bit of power – like I’m giving them permission to pry into my life. But I don’t want Manny to worry, and I hate myself a little bit for that. He wasn’t there when I needed him most. His dad took him and his new family away for two years before moving back to town. I’d reached out to him and he hadn’t responded. That broke me, even more than the hell I was going through at home.

  SENYA: I’m home.

  I don’t add that I’m home safe. That’s up for debate as I hear the front door open and Mom coo at whichever masculine voice joins her. My eyes dart to the door, double-checking the locks. Someone jiggles the doorknob and my body freezes.

  “Senya? Do you want food?” That’s the voice my mom uses when she wants someone to think she actually cares.

  “No, Mom, I ate at school!” I yell out before creeping to the door and putting my ear against it.

  “You shouldn’t let her lock the doors under your roof.” The voice is the same as the other night. My body shudders involuntarily, gooseflesh rising on my arms. Mom mutters something noncommittal. It’s too much effort to argue with me, and she knows I’ll argue.

  When I fall asleep, it’s with my old Swiss army knife under my pillow and one eye half open.
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  Chapter 10

  Aric

  Dad is sitting in the kitchen alone when I wake up. I pause to look at him as I pour myself a cup of coffee. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and out of habit, I search the kitchen for empty bottles. He’s been sober for two years now, but we all know it will only take one thing for him to tumble over again. He barely holds it together. I didn’t see him at all last night. I’d gone straight from the library to work. My boss kept me late because we had a sudden influx of repairs.

  “What’s up, Dad?” I start hesitantly. We used to be close, but his drinking years always hangs between us. I might never forgive him.

  “Oh, hey son,” he says like he just saw me. I glance at the clock before sitting across from him. He looks sober but also sad.

  “What’s going on?” I ask again.

  He finally meets my eyes. He’s still a good-looking guy, just worn down by life. His hair is starting to disappear, but it’s the same sandy blonde as mine. His beard frames a thin face and his blue eyes match mine. He’s kept fit because he always works manual labor. After he got laid off from the factory, he did construction and finally settled into bricklaying apprenticing. It pays all right, but it’s hard on his body since he wasn’t super young when Mom had me.

  “Don’t you have to go to school?” He seems to shake off whatever funk has hold of him and rises to pour himself another cup of coffee. A smashed pack of cigarettes sits next to him, and I can smell them on his clothes. He only smokes enough to stink when something is bothering him.

  “I have a couple minutes.” When he still doesn’t say anything, I push. Dad was never the emotional one in our family. He couldn’t bear to talk things out. The AA meetings have helped, but he still has a hard time talking to me. He doesn’t think it’s manly. I think he’s an idiot. “Dad. I’m not leaving until you tell me. Something is obviously wrong, and…”