by Krista Wolf
Hey, the little voice in my head reasoned. They offered first.
Besides, I didn’t even know they’d follow through on their promise to do anything at all. They could move in all their stuff, laugh in my face, and refuse to do jack shit. In all likelihood, I couldn’t even evict them. I’d be stuck.
“Damn,” I grunted, clenching the steering wheel. “That had better not happen.”
Talking to myself during my commute was my favorite time of the day. I got to speak my mind without being shot down by Garrett, or questioned by any one of a hundred students. It was the purest form of free thought.
I finished breakfast — a dry, crunchy granola bar — and turned through the University’s entrance. Two huge rows of elms lined the main avenue. Students milled back and forth, moving like colorful ants from quad to quad. Classes were in full swing. The chill of fall was a crisp snap in the October air.
“You? Fix up a house?”
I could still hear Garrett’s hollow laugher. Taste the cynicism dripping from his smarmy, know-it-all voice.
“What the hell do you know about repairing anything?”
It was stupid of me to even tell him. Nearly as stupid as living with your ex-husband, almost a year after getting divorced.
Just thinking about the whole situation made me grip the steering wheel even tighter. We’d separated, split up, divorced… and yet there I was, still in the home we’d made together. Only it wasn’t a home anymore. It was more like a prison. Just one of the many reasons I’d taken this side project, so I could spend as much time as possible not getting into it with him.
“You barely fix anything around here,” he’d laughed. “Look at this place. It’s going to hell in a handbasket.”
Hell in a handbasket. Of all the overused phrases he regurgitated several times each week, this had to be one of the worst.
“That’s probably because I hate this place,” I’d told him.
He’d scoffed at me for that. “You used to love it.”
“Not anymore.”
We’d been together five years, married for three. As far as I knew, everything had been going great. We’d bought a house, adopted a dog, even talked about having kids. Then, over dinner one night, Garrett simply announced he wasn’t in love with me anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s just how I feel.”
It was like getting punched in the gut. Hard.
The best part was that in the very next breath, my not-so-loving husband also told me he wanted to see other people. Effective immediately, apparently upon completion of dessert.
“So you’re fucking someone else,” I remember snarling. “Obviously.”
He denied it of course, but I knew he was. And the more I pressed, the less he tried to hide it. First there was Debbie, the girl he worked with. After that came Melissa, followed by some other tramp I never got a name for, and then finally his current girlfriend, Chastity.
Yes, that’s right. Chastity.
You really couldn’t make this shit up.
At first I tried throwing him out, but he flat out refused. He wasn’t leaving “his house,” no matter how much we didn’t get along anymore. We slept in separate bedrooms while the details were worked out, and the details went quickly since we had no assets, no children. But the more we lived together while being apart? The more furious I became. And the more I hated being around him.
“You can always leave,” he’d tell me with a shrug. “You don’t really like this place anyway.”
I was immediately defiant whenever he made the suggestion. As if in leaving, I was somehow surrendering something. Losing, even though there was nothing left to lose.
Besides, I just couldn’t afford a place of my own. Not as an adjunct. Not until I got hired full time.
But maybe, after saving all the extra money I was getting paid for renovations…
I turned into the driveway of the old frat house and instantly stopped short. A huge metal container took up most of the driveway. It was already half-filled with garbage.
I was totally speechless as I parked my car along the curb and made my way across the overgrown front lawn.
“Who ordered the dumpster?” I asked incredulously.
“I did.”
I turned to my left and there was Hunter. He was dressed in pair of torn jeans and a tight white T-shirt. Or at least it used to be white. Right now it was covered — along with his face and arms — in a powdery layer of what looked to be sheetrock dust.
“Ummm… well, thanks.”
“No need to thank me,” he said. “The house needed it. Besides, my uncle’s still billing you for it. He runs a construction company not far from here.”
“Oh.”
“I got you a discount though,” he added. “Friends and family. That sort of thing.”
I nodded appreciatively. “Very cool of you.”
“Like I said, the house needed it.”
We both turned as Colin and Brandon walked out of the open front door. Colin had a bag of garbage dangling from each hand. Brandon however, was carrying something much, much bigger.
“What the hell is this thing anyway?” he asked.
“Looks like the bigger half of an entertainment center?” I offered.
It was enormous, much like him. As we watched, Brandon walked straight to the edge of the metal dumpster and heaved the thing over the side. It hit the bottom with a resounding CLANG, shattering like driftwood and sending up a big cloud of swirling dust.
“Uh, should you really be carrying that on your shoulder?” I asked hesitantly.
“No,” Hunter jumped in. “No, he really shouldn’t.”
“But—”
“Dude, no buts!” cried Hunter. “You’re on a football scholarship, remember? Imagine you tore your shoulder just now. Over some stupid entertainment center, three decades old!”
Now that he wasn’t carrying anything, I could see Brandon more clearly. And the first thing I couldn’t help but notice about him was that he was shirtless.
Oh my God…
The kid — no, the man standing next to the dumpster was the perfect picture of an Adonis. His chest was so big and well-defined he looked like an action hero. His arms so ripped with muscle, they seemed almost fake. Brandon stood there for a moment, his body barely heaving with the exertion of what he’d just done. He reminded me of the statue of some Greek God. Like he was sculpted out of marble.
“You’re right,” he said. “That was stupid.”
“Damn right it was stupid,” Hunter chastised him. “And another thing—”
“You’re bleeding,” I jumped in.
I approached him without even thinking. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a napkin from lunch and dabbed it against the upper part of one perfectly formed pectoral.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said, looking down. “No big deal.”
His hand closed over my own, swiping the blood away with the napkin. As his skin made contact with mine, I shivered involuntarily.
“From now on ask for help,” Colin said from behind us. “No more of this hero bullshit. If you get hurt and have to leave campus, Hunter and I are screwed. We’ll have to split the expenses two ways instead of three.”
Hunter scratched at his goatee. “Speaking of which,” he squinted my way, “how much do we owe you for renting this place?”
The question took me off guard. Especially since I was still savoring the masculine feel of Brandon’s big, calloused hand on mine.
“N—Nothing,” I finally stammered. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Bullshit,” said Hunter. “We have to pay you something.”
“Not a chance,” I said firmly. “You guys are helping me renovate, remember? That’s payment enough. The campus is covering the electric, and you guys can split up whatever other utilities you need. Do that, and we’re all square.”
Brandon smiled, his teeth looking impossibly straight and white. Colin, his shirt soaked t
o his flat stomach by sweat, put his hands on his hips.
“Well shit,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m pretty sure we’re gonna like you.”
Five
HUNTER
I loved watching her. The way she carried herself, the way her face lit up when she talked… hell, I even liked her smile.
But nothing was more attractive to me than her laugh.
The kitchen was still a mess, but right now it was warm and clean and well lit. After another few hours of scrubbing things down and tightening some screws here and there, there was room enough for the four of us to sit down around the old linoleum table and split a pizza.
“Thanks for the dinner invite,” Claudia smiled, helping herself to a second piece. “You guys really didn’t have to.”
“Well you looked hungry,” Brandon smirked. “And I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘dinner’.”
“I am hungry,” she said. “Or rather, I was. I haven’t eaten since—”
“The pieces of granola we caught you picking out of your hair?”
Claudia blushed, and she suddenly looked even cuter. She elbowed Brandon just as he got up to hit the fridge again.
“One of the many perils of eating on the go,” she explained.
“That’s not eating,” Colin countered. He wagged a finger in her direction. “Come by again once we’ve got everything set up in here. I’ll make you a real dinner.”
She laughed casually, probably not realizing how serious my fraternity brother actually was. Back at Omega Alpha, he’d done more than his fair share of the cooking. He could whip up some mean grub.
“Sorry about the appliances,” she said, glancing around. “I’ll talk to the University’s Housing Department tomorrow. See if there’s enough wiggle room in the budget for some new ones.”
“Even second-hand ones would be an improvement,” Brandon noted.
“We could probably sell these on the Antique Roadshow,” Colin quipped. “Raise some money.”
She grinned again, and I knew I was in trouble. There was definitely something about her. Something that spoke to me on levels I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Shit.
She was a genuinely nice person for one, but she also had a very no-bullshit way about her. In other words, she said what she meant and she meant what she said. I liked that. Probably a little more than I wanted to admit.
And she was beautiful too. High cheekbones, full lips, and a shrewd intelligence behind her emerald eyes. The whole time she’d been here, she’d listened more than she talked. She asked more questions than she answered. I also noticed she stopped at two beers, not three.
She was in control. I liked that too.
Enough already. Forget about it.
And how old was she? Twenty four? Twenty six? Not much older than us. And yet…
And yet it didn’t matter how much older she was. She was a professor. And now, apparently our landlord. Or maybe the University was our landlord, and Claudia was just the Super.
Whatever.
Either way, she was off limits. Colin had realized that right away, and so did I. We’d talked about that first night, after realizing how pretty she was. And after collectively warning Brandon not to go after her, too.
Still, after the couple of weeks the three of us just had? Looking at something pretty was a pleasant distraction.
“So you’re all from Omega Alpha?” Claudia was asking. “The three of you?”
“Yes,” Colin answered, leaning back in his chair. He jerked a thumb at me. “Actually, you’re looking at our Prez.”
“Ex-President,” I corrected.
“Oh yeah. Right.”
Omega Alpha wasn’t something I wanted to think about anymore. When the University Board’s decision came down, I’d fought it tooth and nail. Dwelled it on for days. What were we supposed to do? Not call an ambulance? We’d never seen the kid before; he was never even in our house. And yet they were more concerned with appearances than the truth, so they disbanded our chapter anyway.
I even begged and pleaded with the kid himself. Maybe he was willing to talk to them, set the record straight. Unfortunately he was more embarrassed than anything else. So drunk he didn’t even remember where he’d started drinking. Typical freshman bullshit, only he’d taken it way too far.
Every time I pressed him, he kept telling me to forget about it. He wanted to put it in the past. And yet… he’d wrecked our fraternity. Thirty-two guys — no, brothers — sent in all different directions. Some of them now homeless, like us.
I looked around the kitchen. The mood had turned sullen fast. Thankfully Claudia recognized it quickly enough not to ask any more questions.
“Well I’m glad you guys are here,” she said cheerfully. “Thanks for the pizza, but I’ve really got to be getting home.”
“Boyfriend waiting up for you?” I suggested slyly.
“No. Nothing like that.”
She said no, but she’d hesitated. Like there was something right about what she said, but also something wrong.
“Husband then?”
This time her reaction was even more strange. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking.
“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” I offered, giving her a way out. “It’s none of our business anyway.”
“I’ve got an ex-husband,” Claudia said, with the hint of a sigh. “We divorced a year ago.”
Her sentence trailed off, like there was still more to it. The three of us stayed silent, hoping for the other half of the story.
“We still live together though,” she admitted guiltily. “In separate bedrooms, obviously. It’s… well, it’s complicated.”
“Is it a money thing?” Colin asked.
She nodded.
“Then it’s not all that complicated.”
All three of us knew financial hardship — not one of us really had two quarters to rub together. It was one of the reasons we’d been so grateful for the opportunity she’d given us.
“Hey, no worries,” I told her. “We get it. I can’t even imagine where we’d be right now if you hadn’t let us move in here. Probably in some shithole motel off campus. Or maybe sharing a couple of bedrooms in someone’s moldy basement.”
“Hell yeah,” added Colin.
I watched as her shoulders seem to relax. “Thanks guys. And thanks again…” she waved an arm around, “for helping with all this.”
“You should probably stop thanking us,” I said. “This is our home now, right? We’’ll make it nice.”
“Damn straight,” Brandon grinned. He pounded his big fist on the table enthusiastically. “We’re going to make this place shine!”
Six
CLAUDIA
It was dark by the time I left the campus. Which was fine by me, because any night I could avoid contact with Garrett was always a good one.
At first the breakup really bothered me, and a part of me had been sad. After all, we had history. We shared time. But as the months wore on, it became obvious we couldn’t even be in the same room together. Whenever he saw me, Garrett was constantly goading me into a fight.
“When are you leaving?” he’d ask. “Why haven’t you found a place yet?”
I’d wanted to get along with my ex — especially since we lived in the same home — but it was becoming more and more impossible. Luckily, his latest job had him working nights. Being on opposite schedules, we saw each other a lot less often these days.
As I pulled into my driveway, I froze. The lights in the kitchen were on. Living room too.
Damn.
I could still avoid him. If I came in through the side door, I could probably slip into the hallway and make it to my room. Maybe even without him knowing.
Gingerly closing my car door, I quietly entered the house. The first thing that hit me was the smell of coffee. Which was weird, because Garrett never drank coffee. Especially not—
&n
bsp; “Hi there.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling at the sound of a feminine voice. Chastity — I’d seen pictures on Garrett’s social media account — was leaning against my kitchen counter, drinking coffee from one of my favorite mugs.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
“Sweetie you know who I am,” she said coyly. “Don’t pretend.”
Sweetie? I couldn’t believe the audacity of this bitch! My jaw dropped open so wide, I could’ve swallowed a softball.
“You’re one of Garrett’s girlfriends,” I said, intentionally pluralizing. “I don’t even care which one. But what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?”
“Drinking coffee,” she shrugged.
“Drinking my coffee. Out of my mug.”
She shrugged again, this time with a cocky grin. “Yeah,” she chuckled. “I guess I am.”
I was ready to clock her. She looked pale and waifish, and on the unhealthier side of skinny. She was also, in my opinion, on the uglier side of the beauty spectrum.
Garrett’s lowering his standards, I thought to myself smugly. Either that, or she’s batting out of her league.
“Where’s Garrett?”
“Here,” came a familiar voice.
My ex husband stood in the doorway, shorts, T-shirt, barefoot. Obviously not dressed for work.
“I thought you had a shift tonight,” I said.
“No. I don’t.”
My gaze shifted to Chastity again, then back to Garrett. We’d made an agreement, he and I. One in which we wouldn’t bring other people around each other. So far I’d seen some evidence of women in my house, but he’d been discreet enough that I’d let it go. I on the other hand, hadn’t brought a single guy home.
Not that I had any guys to bring home.
“Whatever,” I sighed, still angry. I was more mad about her using my coffee maker than anything else. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
