Real Men Knit

by Kwana Jackson

  He was being a total ass, but Kerry smiled, the memory of the old shop’s proprietor seeping into her mind and telling her to give him this one. “You’d be surprised at what I’ve picked up.”

  Just then the front buzzer chimed, and they both turned at the interruption. Two men stood outside. They were light and dark, almost mirror images of each other. There was Lucas with his pale creamy skin, sharp nose, rosebud lips and heavily lidded, deep-set eyes, which most days he kept covered by either shades or his long bangs when he was not on duty at the local firehouse. Then there was Noah, his younger brother. Noah had about two inches on Lucas in height and was two shades deeper in color. Though he wasn’t a weight-lifting gym rat like his brother, he did his working out on dance rehearsal floors, so neither of the two were slouches in the body or looks department. The funny thing was that most people never put the two together as biological brothers even though they looked practically the same. Still, even in this day and age, their skin tone difference tripped many up and they placed the brothers as nonbiological just like Damian and Jesse.

  “It would seem your brothers are here,” Kerry said.

  Damian growled. “Why didn’t they just come around the back or use the residence entrance? What’s with ringing the bell as if this is some damned chateau? I bet they see me here.”

  “How about you let them in?” Kerry replied. “I’ll freshen up the coffee and bring out some of this food. Then I’ll go to the storeroom to take care of some inventory and get out of your way. You know, just to make things a little easier while you all, um, talk things out.”

  Damian nodded, and for a moment Kerry thought she might have seen his impenetrable facade drop. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

  “For what?” Kerry asked.

  Damian placed his hand across her forearm, the gentleness of his gesture oddly prickly. “For being here. And for always being here for Mama Joy. I know you meant a lot to her, and that means a lot to me.” He blinked. “Well, to all of us.”

  His out-of-the-ordinary tenderness put Kerry off kilter and she waved a hand. “No need to thank me. Mama Joy was good to me, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

  Damian nodded as, once again, Lucas and Noah rang the bell and now added a knock to the outside door. “Come on, open up,” Noah yelled. “You want us to wait out here all day?”

  In a blink, it was as if Damian’s wall came up as his eyes hardened and he groaned.

  “You better go and let your brothers in before they cause a scene, and I should get to work,” Kerry said, thankful for the interruption herself.

  Damian started off toward the front but stopped and turned back Kerry’s way. “And don’t worry, Kerry, we will definitely pay you for your time this week while we settle up.”

  His words—no, the way he brought up money out of the blue hit Kerry in the chest like a physical blow. She took a small step back and narrowed her eyes. “Did I say anything about money?”

  He looked at her, his expression slightly shocked. “No, you didn’t, but despite our circumstances and yours, rents still must be paid and lights must stay on. Besides, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t live on good deeds alone, now, do you?”

  Damn that Damian Strong, always bringing things down to the bottom line. Of course she didn’t live on good deeds alone. And she hated the do-gooder rep she’d acquired with the Strong brothers. But the one thing she’d learned over the years from working in the shop and seeing how Mama Joy ran things was that what she gave out usually came back, and whether Kerry was paid or not, she would make it, she guessed . . . well, somehow.

  Kerry gave herself a mental shake. Of course she would make it.

  Screw Damian and his stuck-up dollars-and-cents hard-ass logic. Yes, Mama Joy was suddenly gone, but Kerry’s life was still on track. She was going places. Besides the totally tragic and sucky unfortunate death of her mentor and sounding board, Kerry knew she still had ample reasons to celebrate. Or at least that was what Mama Joy would be saying right now.

  Kerry sure as hell didn’t feel it. But it was true there were reasons, slim as they were. She’d finally obtained her degree in children’s counseling and art therapy. She was working at the center this summer part-time but hoped for a full-time position as soon as funds opened up, which she’d been assured they would. Well, moderately assured. She and Mama Joy had happily talked about the day when she’d finally stop working in the shop for good. Though those talks for her were always bittersweet. She could admit now that though, yes, she loved working with the kids and, yes, enjoyed her work at the center, she never was in all that much of a hurry to leave the shop. It was as if she was torn between the wonderful warmth of the cocoon of Strong Knits and the reality that was the rest of the world that she knew she had to face but was never quite ready. Ridiculous, but there it was.

  She internally snorted. Now here it was. The world was here, right in her face, and she suddenly had no choice but to go out and deal with it, whether ready or not. Though, under the worst of circumstances now, she could see clearly that all those extra years Mama Joy had acquiesced and given her hours that fit easily with whatever school or part-time center schedule she had was not really for business purposes but most likely for both of their comfort. Fact was, they were just used to each other. Kerry would tease Mama Joy, saying she’d never truly get rid of her, that no matter what job she got she’d pay Mama Joy to let her show up and put in a few hours a week in the shop. Little did she know that Mama Joy would beat her out the door first. That wasn’t how it was meant to be. Mama Joy was supposed to always be there. Happy and in her shop, a sanctuary for them all from the outside storms.

  Finally, Kerry gave Damian a sharp look. “Like I said, did I say anything to you about money? Go and let your brothers in. We all have a lot of work to get through. There is plenty to get cleaned up and cleared out around here. No use in any of us wasting any more time than necessary.”

  * * *

  Screw you, Damian, Jesse thought as he angrily tugged on his jeans and then pulled his T-shirt over his head. He was still fuming after a quick shower that had done nothing to cool his mood. Of course his brother would show up at just the wrong time and assume the absolute worst about him. That was always Damian’s way. Hell, that was everyone’s way when it came to him. They always assumed the worst.

  Jesse, the family fuckup. Jesse’s so lazy. Jesse has no ambition. Jesse the player. Well, that one maybe he had to own, but yeah, he knew how they each thought of him, and it wasn’t too highly. Jesse let out a sigh and slipped his feet into his well-worn Chucks. He ran his hand through his locs, untangling them as best he could, finally giving up and searching the top of his nightstand for a band to pull them back and out of his face. He didn’t need his more straitlaced brothers railing at him about his hair today.

  Letting out a long breath, he then sucked in deeply, preparing to go downstairs and face his brothers for the first time without the backup of Mama Joy as a buffer. For so many years he took for granted the calming strength of having her at his back. Though in many ways the Strong brothers were their own little mini crew. A source of silent protection from the ever-looming threat of all that could harm them: the system stacked against them, judgment, their race, police, gangs—the list sometimes felt endless. But Mama Joy was his true protection within the house, or at least he had thought so. Jesse snorted. Probably all his brothers had thought the same thing. Mama Joy had that way about her.

  Still, she was the one who got him. She was the only one who did. Understanding his creative quirks. She never judged or expected more from him than he was willing to give at any time. Jesse paused as he thought over what had just run through his mind. More than he was willing to give. Damn, he really was a selfish bastard.

  Swallowing hard against the image of Kerry that came up and swam before his eyes, Jesse fought against his emotions. But Kerry was
right in what she’d said in the kitchen—Mama Joy would be disappointed with how they were acting. How he was acting. It was as if nothing had changed and he was going about business as usual, disappointing her in death as he had all his life.

  He looked over at the baseball bat, now back behind his bedroom door. What had he been thinking anyway? Running downstairs in his underwear like some fool, then standing there in front of Kerry like a broke-down Calvin Klein model? Yeah, he knew it was only to mess with Kerry and get a rise out of her. But it wasn’t fair, and she didn’t deserve it. He was clearly being childish and deflecting from feelings he didn’t want to face. The thought of her teary and warm in his arms made guilt rise even higher. No, it wasn’t fair. Bringing his pain to her. No matter how close they were or how good and perfect she felt, Jesse knew it wasn’t right.

  Besides, Kerry wasn’t one of his normal hookups or even close to a potential hookup. No, she was different. She was more like family—well, as far as not being any relation could be like family. But then again, that was pretty much his whole family. Still, she didn’t deserve his teasing, not when she was there to help them. Kerry deserved better, and he knew Mama Joy would have wanted him to be better. Jesse let out a sigh and looked toward the hall stairs as he heard the sounds of what must be Lucas and Noah joining the fray. He swallowed, then stepped out into the hall and gave a glance to the closed door of Mama Joy’s room on the opposite end of the hallway. Better or not, it was time to face the music.

  Decisions must be made, and it was time for him to finally step up and take his place once and for all to be the type of Strong brother that Mama Joy always wanted him to be.

  * * *

  “Are you out of your damned mind?” Of course, this question that wasn’t really a question but more of a statement of fact was coming from Damian’s lips.

  “No, I’m not,” Jesse said, trying his best to stay calm. It would do no good for him to yell or, hell, show much emotion for that matter. Not when it came to sparring with Damian. Even though his decision and, he knew, even those of his brothers would be purely based on emotion if they ended up going his way.

  “In what world does it make sense to keep the shop open? Shit, Mama Joy was barely able to keep it hanging on all these years,” Damian said. “How she made do, we’ll never know, since she never shared her financial problems with us. Not even with me. But I’m sure a large part of it was from city grants, subsidies and some of her magic luck, which, now that she’s gone, is also gone right along with her.”

  Jesse thumbed his hand toward Damian and looked at his other two brothers. “See what I mean. An asshole. And worse, an asshole with no vision or faith.”

  “Oh, come on with that bull,” Damian said. “How far is some crap like faith really going to get any of us? Besides that, when have you ever had vision?”

  Jesse raised a brow and gave his brother a knowing look. “Really? I can’t believe you’re going there.”

  Damian threw up his hands. “You know what, I’m not. Because this conversation is ridiculous. The fact remains that none of us know anything about running this place. Not that we’d have the time even if we did.” Damian snorted and gave Jesse a side-eye. “All except you, that is.”

  “He’s right,” Lucas piped in as he pushed back and got up from his seat at the large farmhouse table, on the way snagging another one of the muffins that Kerry had put out. So very Lucas. He would not be goaded into rushing his words and instead took the long way around. He pushed back his bangs, which had grown long over the past week, with Mama Joy’s death and the funeral arrangements. Jesse knew he’d trim them soon before going back to work. He watched as Lucas leisurely walked around the display of new yarns that Mama Joy had set up in the corner by the front window the week before last. With his muscular but still trim firefighter frame, Lucas could barely fit around the tight display and had to take it sideways. Still he looked comfortable as he picked up a skein of marled wool in shades of blue and held it up, inspecting the various tones, giving it a caress before placing it back in the basket. He took a bite of the muffin in his other hand and looked at Jesse as he chewed. The long, dark, assessing stare gave Jesse not a clue about which way his brother would go. Finally, Lucas spoke. “Come on, Jes. Though it sounds like a nice idea in theory, Damian is right.”

  Shit. Not the way Jesse was hoping.

  “None of us really know anything about the shop or the day-to-day running of it. This was Ma Joy’s domain,” Lucas said, using the sweet endearment that the four of them sometimes called her, before he continued, “and pretty much just our pass-through on the way upstairs to our living quarters.”

  “You mean our home?” Jesse countered, and watched as Lucas’s jaw tightened. “You know as well as I do that this place has been way more than just a pass-through. And even though you’re at the firehouse most nights now, you still pass through here plenty. We all do.” Jesse turned toward Damian. “You included, whether you want to admit it or not. It’s not like you totally gave up your room-slash-closet. But using it as just storage space, I’m sure, makes giving it up easy for you.”

  Damian glared. “Of course giving up our home isn’t easy. How can it be an easy decision?” For a moment Jesse thought he may have seen a flash of pain come across Damian’s features. “But how can it be considered our home without her?” They all fell silent and the air went impossibly still. Damian shook his head. “No, it’s too much. And I don’t think you can handle it. She could barely handle it. You would be in for some really hard work, pretty much for the first time in your life. And we each have our own lives. We can’t be here to bail you out when you fuck it up.”

  Jesse clenched his fists. “I’m not going to fuck it up.”

  “How do you know?” Damian countered. “Do you know how many businesses fail in a year?”

  “But this is an established business with a built-in clientele and reputation.”

  “And I’m coming to you all now saying we could sell and have cash in hand. There are already buyers who have been getting in touch with me,” Damian countered.

  Jesse shook his head. “Really? It’s been one day since the funeral and you expect us to believe that? You really are the worst. Are they getting in touch with you or are you getting in touch with them?”

  Damian glared at him. “Believe what you want. You will anyway. You’ve always been a dreamer and in your own head. Mama Joy went along and fed into that, but it’s time for it to stop. Buyers have been getting in touch with me and Mama Joy for years. And like back then, I wouldn’t entertain them, because doing so would feel like betraying Ma by turning my back on you. So how about you shut up and listen for once.”

  “Okay, this is getting a little off topic, and we need to calm down,” Noah said by way of cooling the room.

  Jesse breathed deeply. Noah was right, and he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with Damian. He also knew he had to get it together and get ahold of himself. It was time to change tactics. Letting go and overplaying his hand would do him no good. So instead he focused and mentally centered himself before standing.

  “Come on, Noah,” he said changing plays and switching brothers. Noah thought differently than Damian and Lucas. He always had, though he traveled a lot now as a professional backup dancer and was about to go on tour again. He’d only recently gone in on a sublet, and Jesse knew he didn’t want to lose the assurance their home here gave him. Just like his brothers, Noah still kept the bulk of his memories stored in the fourth-floor space he shared with Lucas. Looking into Noah’s eyes, Jesse could see how torn he was. If Jesse had any real shot, it was probably through getting Noah on his side.

  “Noah, you get what I’m talking about. You know how important the shop—this space and our home is.” He decided to add a little hard reality to the emotional side of things. “Not to mention, you’re only subletting now. You”—he looked at Damian and Lucas then—“as
well as all of us know that there are no guarantees in life. Your tour will be over pretty quickly. Apartments, rents and landlords are unstable as shit. Do we really want to give up on our home so easily?”

  There was a satisfying grunt from the Damian corner of the shop with that one, and Jesse continued his campaign on Noah.

  “Hell, half your skill, talent and control you learned from Mama Joy here knitting.”

  Noah shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. I do have some talent of my own.”

  “Of course you do, but you were able to focus it because of what you got through her. That you can’t deny. Now, how can we just let what she built go so easily?” Jesse watched as shame clouded over Noah’s face. He afforded himself a breath of relief as he looked at each of his brothers. “We all learned valuable lessons from Mama Joy in this very room, and everything she taught us made us who we are. It helped center me and fixed the focus problems that I had in school.”

  “Yeah, too bad it never helped focus you on any sort of career path,” Damian quickly countered, his voice full of snark.

  Jesse sighed. “Seriously, do you list ‘professional shithead’ on your Tinder profile? Because if not, you could be sued for false advertising.”

  “How about I come over there and show you just how much of a shithead I can be?” Damian snapped back.

  Lucas stepped between the two of them. “Enough. We don’t have time for this. Decisions need to be made.” He looked at Jesse. “Listen, Jes, I get what you’re saying. And keeping the shop open, I know, would mean a lot to Mama Joy. But I really don’t see any way that can be done. Noah’s got his tour, Damian’s got his work, and I’ve got my schedule at the firehouse.”

  “And?” Jesse asked.