“Well, that might explain all these charges.”
“They’re not my charges!”
I shrug. “They’re not mine either. I’ve been here for less time than you! Besides, there’s a video store in town. They have an adult section. You could rent a few and save yourself the money. Or, like you said, you could browse the free sites instead of paying all this money to watch the on-demand stuff. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.” I toss the papers at him, and they scatter on the ground at his feet.
When he bends to pick them up, I close the door and lock it.
By the time I’ve gathered my shower supplies, he’s gone. Thankfully.
I head to the house wearing my nightshirt so I can pick a non-campfire-scented outfit to wear to the office. It doesn’t take me long to shower and get ready for work.
On my way through the kitchen, I pour myself a travel mug of coffee and nab one of my mom’s famous homemade granola bars. She wraps them individually so they stay fresh. I toss the Saran into the garbage and notice the mountain of tissue sitting on top.
And then it dawns on me.
Those charges have been building for a while now.
And the recent uptick seems to correspond quite nicely with the amount of time my brother has been laid up with a broken ankle.
I set the coffee on the counter and head for Billy’s bedroom. He doesn’t answer when I knock, which isn’t much of a surprise, since it’s only six forty-five.
I open the door, cautiously, with one eye closed and the other one squinty, on the off chance he’s sleeping naked or something.
Thankfully he’s not. He’s lying on the bed, mostly cover-free, wearing a pair of boxers. He’s always been a wiry guy, but instead of filling out in his twenties, he stretched and got even leaner.
His mouth hangs open, the black eyes from the airbag deploying in his face during the accident now faded to green. He looks almost childlike while he’s sleeping. For a moment I’m sad that this is where he’s ended up and that I’ve had to come home, too, as a result. We weren’t exactly close, but we didn’t fight all the time. Except when he was getting up to no good and I was saving his ass. I couldn’t help him this time, though.
I spot his laptop on the floor beside his bed. I pick it up and sit down on the chair in the corner of the room, piled high with laundry that, based on the smell, needs to be run through the washing machine. It’s password protected, so I hit the number one four times and press enter. I roll my eyes when it lets me in. It’s also his phone password.
I click on the internet icon and find it linked to Bee’s Knees, which is the name I gave Bee’s connection when I set it up years ago. Somehow my brother has managed to figure out the password and tap into her internet, which has always been better than ours. She wanted to be able to video chat with her favorite grandson, and she liked watching YouTube videos about figure skating and those shows where people dance and stuff.
Next I go to my brother’s browsing history. As expected, I find multiple hits to the on-demand account associated with Bee’s cable provider. Several a day, in fact. I guess Van had a right to be pissed, since it’s my brother who’s been racking up charges. I poke Billy’s shoulder. He makes a disgruntled noise and bats my hand away.
I snap my fingers beside his ear. “Hey, wake up. I need to talk to you.”
“Time is it?” He rubs at his eyes and cringes, probably having forgotten that they’re still bruised.
“Time to stop hacking into Bee’s cable so you can watch porn.”
“Huh?” He blinks a bunch of times, panic flashing across his face.
I drop the laptop on his bed, his browsing history on display, and give him the middle finger. “Rule number one: always clear your history, dumbass.” I hold up my pointer finger beside the middle one. “Rule number two: four ones is the most obvious password in the world, and it’s your fault if people hack into your phone and steal information.” I hold up my pinkie so I’m giving him the shocker sign. “And rule number three: don’t use our neighbor’s internet connection to watch freaking porn. It’s a wonder you haven’t rubbed your dick off with the amount of whacking you must be doing.” The thought makes me shudder.
“Porn is the only good thing left in my life, and Mom and Dad canceled the good cable package. Besides, her internet connection is way better than ours.”
That this is Billy’s defense is not particularly surprising, but it is annoying. “You owe our neighbor a grand.”
“What? No way. That’s insane.”
“So is the fact that you ordered enough dirty videos to rack up that kind of bill.” I grab his laptop off the bed and head for the door.
“Hey! Where are you going? That’s mine!”
“Not anymore it isn’t. It’s collateral until you cough up the money to pay Van’s cable bill.” I slam the door closed behind me and run into my dad on the way through the kitchen.
I can hear Billy swearing a blue streak from his bedroom.
“What’s going on?” Dad takes a tentative sip of his coffee.
“Other than your son having a porn addiction, nothing much.”
He sprays hot coffee on the counter. “What?”
“I’m taking care of it. We should get going. I have a conference call with a new lumber company outside of town at eight. Harry suggested them.”
“Right. Okay. That’s good. Is that Billy’s laptop?”
“Yup.”
“Well, I guess that explains why he’s screaming like you’ve lopped off a limb.”
I shoot him a look.
He mumbles something about moody kids and follows me out to the truck. He doesn’t balk when I take the driver’s seat, happy to sit back, relax, and enjoy the bumpy ride to the office at the edge of downtown.
“Are you serious about Billy having a porn addiction? Is it something I need to talk to him about?” Dad rubs the back of his neck, his face flushed with discomfort.
The only time either of my parents mentioned sex when I was growing up was to tell me not to have it. I told them it was easy for them to say. They’d grown up together and got married at sixteen with the consent of their parents. Which is incomprehensible to me. At sixteen I was barely capable of keeping my room clean and handing my assignments in on time, let alone running a household. And sex is one of the very few activities that’s free and entertaining when you’re a teen living in a small town.
I went to the clinic in the next town over with Tawny and Allie, got myself a prescription for birth control pills, and made Tucker wear a condom anyway. Turns out that was a good idea, since he had a habit of hooking up with other girls on the side—usually while we were on a break, but not always.
“If you want to embarrass the hell out of him, sure. I get that he’s bored, but there are a million other things he could be doing besides ordering dirty videos all day. I think the bigger problem is that he managed to hack into Bee’s internet and cable because it’s faster and racked up a thousand-dollar bill.”
“A thousand bucks? Isn’t internet porn free?” Dad’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head.
I cock a brow. “Not when you’re ordering specific movies on demand all the time.”
“Geez.” He runs his hand through his hair again and blows out a breath.
“So I confiscated his laptop until he coughs up the money. I’m assuming he must have something in the bank, since he lives with you guys and works a full-time job.”
“You’d think. Boy doesn’t seem to have your money sense. He’ll do well for a while, socking it away, and then boom.” He snaps his fingers. “He’ll get an idea in his head that he wants something, and all of a sudden his savings disappear. That’s how we ended up with the dirt bike, the ATVs, and the IROC-Z in the garage.”
Billy has always been on the impulsive side. It’s why he’s ended up in trouble so much, but he’s taken it to a whole new level of impulsivity lately.
“He has to have
a grand, though, don’t you think?”
“Usually his paychecks are gone by the time they hit his account.” Dad shrugs, not because he’s apathetic, but more that he’s at a loss. “At least we did good with you, right?”
I give him a small smile. “Yeah, you did good with me.” But it makes me sad that so many people have already written Billy off as a screwup, and I wonder if I’ve taken to the narrative, too, and whether we’re making it impossible for him to feel like he can clean up his act.
When we get to the office, I head to my desk, fire up my computer, and get ready for my conference call while the guys load the trucks in preparation for the day. By nine thirty I’ve managed to work out a deal with a new local lumber supplier with tiered pricing that includes deeper discounts as we reach order thresholds. It’s a great step forward.
Once I end the call, I hop in the truck and head to town so I can pick up a few things we need in the office, including dusting cloths and a lamp for my desk. The fluorescent lights are brutal and give me a headache. They were the reason that I hid behind a baseball cap in high school most of the time. That and I couldn’t be bothered to style my hair most days. Now I just pull the curls up in a ponytail to keep them out of the way.
Uncle John asked me to stop by the real estate office this week, and I figure I might as well get it out of the way. We have a good relationship with them, because they’re always letting us know when renovation projects are coming up on the market, and they send a lot of referrals our way. Anything on the north side of the lake is generally going to undergo a substantial renovation, and being the only construction outfit in town makes it easier to snatch up local business opportunities.
I’m crossing my fingers that I don’t run into Tucker, since I’m now aware he’s working for Pearl Lake Realty. I do all my running around and picking up of things before I stop at their office. Luck seems to be on my side, and Tucker is nowhere to be seen. I make small talk for a few minutes but do my best to get out of there as quickly as I can. My last stop is Boones so I can pick up lunch for the guys and, of course, apple fritters.
I’ve reached my truck when a very familiar male voice calls out, “Darlin’? Is ’at you?”
I deflate like a popped inner tube. Looks like my luck has run out. I plaster on a smile and turn around.
Tucker jams a hand into his black dress pants as he saunters down the sidewalk toward me wearing his signature smirk. He’s wearing a light-blue golf shirt, and despite the fact that it’s in the mideighties, he has a sweater tied around his neck like he fell out of a bad nineties movie. He’s completed the look with tan penny loafers, with pennies.
“Babe, look at you.” His gaze roves over me in a way that makes me want to immediately jump in the shower. He whistles. “Wow. The city done you good, huh?” He makes that twirl motion with his finger, as if he expects me to do a spin.
I’m wearing jeans, flats, and a company T-shirt, still two sizes too big because the ones I ordered for me aren’t in yet. There’s nothing sexy about my outfit, and there is no way I would ever do a spin for Tucker. Even if he paid me a million dollars. Okay, maybe for a million. But I’d want payment up front.
“Hey, Tucker.”
“That’s it? After all these years, all you’re gonna say is ‘Hey, Tucker’? How about a hug?” He opens his arms wide.
“I’m not a hugger, and my hands are full.” I hold up one of the take-out bags and use the other as a convenient shield.
“Uh-huh.” He leans against the truck, right over the lock. “I heard you were back in town. Finally realized what you were missing?” He winks.
“Still as smarmy as ever, I see.” I can’t believe I wasted two years dating this jerk.
He throws his head back and laughs, but when his gaze returns to mine, it’s colder. “You were always trying to be better than you were, Darlin’, and now look where you are. Back where you said you never wanted to be. You and I both know you’ll be under me eventually, even though you pretend it’s not what you want.”
I’d say I can’t believe what I’m hearing, but this is Tucker, and it seems as though he’s gotten worse over the years, not better. “First of all, my being here has nothing to do with you at all. In fact, you’re basically the reason I don’t want to be here. Also, sexual harassment much, Tucker? Who says that kind of shit? And aren’t you with Sue?”
“It’s not harassment if it’s the truth. And Sue and I are on a break.”
“A break? Is that still your way of justifying being unfaithful? You really are a piece of work, you know that? Clearly the only thing about you that’s changed is where your hairline starts.”
He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair. It’s not as if he’s balding, but he used to be so paranoid about it back in high school. His older brother already had a receding hairline by the time he was in his sophomore year of college, so Tucker has always been sensitive about it. Especially since he has a widow’s peak. “There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, this has been . . . disturbing. I have to get back to the office.” I glance to the left as a familiar black sports car parallel parks directly across the street from us. Awesome, as if this morning hasn’t already been an epic suckfest. The last thing I need is another run-in with my neighbor, in a public place.
It’s bad enough that I’m out here talking to Tucker where everyone can see. At least three locals have passed on the other side of the street, and there will undoubtedly be gossip. It wouldn’t be a small town if there wasn’t.
“Come on, Darlin’, don’t be like that.” He reaches out to touch an errant curl that fell from my ponytail, but I lean back to avoid contact.
The car door closes on the other side of the street. I fight not to look, but my stupid head swivels, wanting the hit of eye candy as a reward for not kicking Tucker in the junk. Van’s wearing a threadbare T-shirt with the name of a band I used to listen to in high school written across his chest in faded letters. His jeans have holes in them. Not the expensive, strategic ones, but the kind that have been worn so many times, with so much love, that they’ve started to disintegrate. He almost looks like a local.
His gaze meets mine briefly before it shifts to Tucker, who’s leaning against the side of my truck, making it impossible for me to leave.
“Who’s that guy?” Tucker asks.
“Huh?” I reluctantly drag my attention back to Tucker.
“That guy.” He tips his chin toward Van. “How do you know him?”
I’m about to tell Tucker it’s none of his business, and that I don’t actually know him at all. Although I have seen his penis, and it’s far superior to Tucker’s, at least from what I remember in high school. But my neighbor heads directly for me, a look I can’t quite decipher on his face.
“Hey, Dillion, aren’t you a ray of sunshine on this gorgeous morning. Let me give you a hand with those, beautiful.”
He swoops in and grabs one of the bags right out of my hand. I’m so stunned, and frankly confused, that I don’t even have the opportunity to fight him on it. Now I don’t have a buffer between me and Tucker. At least until Van turns to Tucker and flashes him a megawatt smile. “Hey, man, so sorry to interrupt, but do you mind opening the door for Dillion? These bags are mighty heavy.”
Tucker’s brow furrows, as if he’s trying to figure out the dynamic. I know I am as well. “Uh, yeah, sure. You shoulda said something, Darlin’.”
I still don’t know what’s going on. But I manage to unlock the door, which Van swings open. He sets one bag on the center console and takes the other from me so he can do the same. “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth.
He drops his head, mouth right next to my ear. “Saving your surly ass from this douche; what does it look like?” His warm breath hits my neck and sends a shiver down my spine.
He moves back a step and winks, except it’s more playful than it is anything else. Which doesn’t make sense, considering every sing
le one of our interactions so far have been tense and mostly unpleasant.
I guess it wouldn’t take a genius to sense the tension between Tucker and me, especially with the way I’ve been using takeout as a shield and Tucker being his skeezy self, preventing me from getting in my truck. But I can take care of myself, and I don’t need anyone, especially Van, to save me. Besides, it still doesn’t answer the question of why he’d willingly intervene.
Van wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs the edge of the door before spinning around to face a confused Tucker. “My apologies, I should introduce myself. I’m Van, Dillion’s neighbor. And you are?”
“Tucker Patrick.” He holds out his hand somewhat reluctantly. “Did you say you’re Darlin’s neighbor?”
Van gives him a wide smile. “That’s right. I live right next door to this ray of sunshine.” He winks at me again.
Tucker’s eyebrows pull together. It doesn’t take much. He almost has a unibrow to begin with. “Next door?”
“Van is Bee’s grandson. He’s staying at her place right now, which is technically now his place.”
Tucker’s eyes light up like he won the lottery. “Oh yeah? You looking to sell? I’m in real estate, and I can get you great money for that place.”
I roll my eyes. Again. I remember Tucker hated when I would do that, so I add in an extra one to make up for lost opportunities. “Could you be any less chill? He can’t sell right now. It’s not even on the right side of the lake.” My phone buzzes in my purse. I rummage around until I find the device, happy for the distraction. I have no idea what’s going on right now, and I’m super confused by Van and his behavior. I’m even happier when it’s a message from Aaron asking when lunch is arriving because Uncle John is getting hangry.
“I gotta deliver lunch.”
Van steps aside and offers me his hand. I look at it, not sure what he expects me to do. Eventually I slip my hand in his palm, assuming he means to shake it, which is weird, but then so is this entire situation.
The second his hand wraps around mine, I feel like I’ve been shot through with electricity. And he doesn’t release my hand. He just keeps holding it. I look from our clasped hands to his face. He’s smirking again, and those warm maple eyes are locked on mine. He tips his head toward the truck. “Up you go, gorgeous.”
Love Next Door Page 8
