Quadruple Duty

by Krista Wolf

  Another rumble, another set of headlights. My eyes went wide with concern, until a second truck pulled up — totally identical to Ryan and Jason’s.

  “Relax,” Jason said. “They’re with us.”

  They?

  Two more men jumped out, young and strong and capable-looking. Though they weren’t wearing fatigues, I could only assume they were from the base.

  “Big stuff first,” Ryan ordered. “Back to front. Davidson, pull the truck up to that second unit. Start there, we’ll finish this one.”

  One of the two men nodded crisply, and they both jumped back in their truck. I stared from Jason to Ryan then back again.

  “Jesus,” Ryan laughed. “Just look at you.”

  I was dusty, filthy, all covered in sweat. My hair was matted to my neck by perspiration. I could only imagine what I smelled like.

  “I haven’t seen you this dirty since the night before Kyle and Dakota left!”

  I laughed, remembering fondly. “Can’t argue that.”

  It was overwhelming, that they were here. Supporting me. Backing me up. Even calling in the calvary, so to speak. Like I was one of theirs.

  “I—I appreciate the help,” I began. “But you guys didn’t have to do this. Really. This was my problem, my fuckup. It was something I wanted to fix on my own.”

  Ryan, nodding the whole time, took hold of my chin. “Yeah, screw that.”

  Jason laughed as he pulled on a pair of gloves. “Think we’re letting our girlfriend have all the late night fun? Breaking and entering? Grand larceny? The look on your partner’s face tomorrow when she shows up here and finds both her storage units totally empty?”

  Both? Empty?

  “No no,” I said. “I’m only taking my pieces. And maybe half the ones we purchased together.” I shifted my gaze to the right, where the other two men were already beginning to load stuff. “In fact—”

  “Bullshit.”

  It was just one word. But Jason’s voice was so strong, so commanding, it actually made me hot.

  “What you mean, bullshit?”

  “I mean bullshit. You’re taking it all.”

  Ryan nodded, and his expression left no room for argument.

  “All of it? Even her things?”

  “Everything,” Jason said. “Every last piece, every last finish nail, every last splinter of wood left on the floor. We’re sweeping the place out, Sammara. It’s gonna be like the fucking Grinch who stole Christmas was here. No shit.”

  A chill ran through me. It was exciting, even thrilling, seeing him talk like this. Seeing him this angry about something, this passionate about fucking over the person who had fucked me.

  “B—But I don’t even have room for all of this,” I protested. “I only opened a single storage unit, and—”

  “And you can close that storage unit,” Ryan finished for me. “You have a warehouse now.”

  I looked at him like he was speaking in tongues. I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “A warehouse?” I blinked. “What warehouse?”

  “The one we rented you, ten minutes from home.”

  My mouth dropped open. Comically, Ryan reached out and closed it.

  “Fifty-five hundred square feet,” he said, “but we can go bigger as you grow. Front end office, just like your other one. In a secure office park too; security guards, gated entry, all that.”

  I was moved. Touched. Astonished.

  “A real nice place,” Jason added. “I’ve seen it.”

  “You picked it out!” Ryan said, hitting him with the back of one hand.

  “Only on the computer,” Jason shrugged.

  The night air filled with the sounds of grunting and groaning as the two strange men were already moving the heaviest pieces up the retractable ramp. They had handtrucks. Something I should’ve thought of.

  “Let’s get going,” said both my boyfriends at once. “None of this stuff is going to move itself.”

  We got to work... all five of us. And the whole time, I kept thinking about Jason and Ryan.

  It was sweet. Beyond sweet. They’d not only taken care of me, they’d done it with a swift, vindictive efficiency. They’d taken care of everything, even the warehouse! And as scary as it was, going into the whole thing blind? Somehow I knew I could handle the lease.

  Especially with the business all to myself. And all of Dawn’s pieces too…

  It took less than an hour, which was astonishing considering how much there was. Then we were back in our box trucks — me nestled snugly between Jason and Ryan — after having given my own truck’s key to one of the other men.

  In the end we didn’t take everything. In the middle of one storage unit I’d left Dawn a message: one very ugly, very hideous painted table. It was the very first thing we’d ever bought together. She’d loved it, I’d hated it, and somehow she’d overruled me.

  In retrospect, I should’ve seen the writing on the wall.

  “You really didn’t want that table?” Ryan asked.

  “No,” I laughed. “Not even a little bit.”

  “But she liked it?”

  “Yes.”

  “We could’ve smashed it,” Jason offered. “You know, add insult to injury.”

  “Nah,” I smiled. “Let her have something to start rebuilding on.”

  “Well that’s pretty much all she has,” Jason said, pressing something into my hand. I opened my palm. It was a thumb drive. “There’s your client list,” he said. “Hers too.”

  “Hers too?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “Oh, and the old website redirects to your new website now, too.”

  The hits just kept coming. “I—I have a new website?”

  “Yes and no,” he said, glancing at his watch. “But by this time tomorrow you will. Got someone else working on that right now.”

  It was all too much, too incredible. I was so giddy I was practically delirious. I kissed Jason, then turned Ryan’s head away from the road and kissed him too. I kissed him so long we almost crashed, if Jason hadn’t laughingly taken the wheel.

  “You guys are the best boyfriends on the planet!” I screamed into the cab of the truck. Reaching down, I squeezed them each on the thigh.

  “Planet?” Ryan grinned. “More like universe!”

  Fifty-Four

  RYAN

  The restaurant was busy. Bustling. Every table was full, and it smelled absolutely amazing.

  But not nearly as amazing as she looked.

  “So I have a confession to make,” said Sammara. “In bringing you here, I have a few,” she paused adorably, “ulterior motives…”

  She was twirling her hair as she talked. It was something she did often, usually whenever she was nervous or excited. I don’t think she realized it though. That part made it even cuter.

  “Are they good or bad motives?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how you’re going to feel about this.”

  I could tell she was struggling. That whatever she was about to tell me was something she’d considered for a while. I couldn’t possibly imagine it being bad. Nothing about her was bad.

  “Alright, let’s hear it.”

  She looked stunningly gorgeous tonight. Maybe that was part of her whole plan. To look so good, so totally delectable, I couldn’t keep my mind or eyes or even my hands off her.

  Plus it was nice, being out just the two of us. Getting to monopolize our girlfriend for the evening. She’d also taken me to a steakhouse. The best one in the city.

  Hey, if you’re going to butter me up for something, she was doing a bang-up job so far.

  “Sooo?”

  She still hadn’t said anything. I was starting to get worried.

  “Sammara, you can tell me anything,” I assured her. “Especially in that dress.”

  She smiled, but I could still sense the apprehension behind it. I reached out and closed my hand over hers.

  “I… I want to prefac
e this by saying—”

  The waiter arrived, setting dessert down before us with two spoons. Some kind of salted-caramel lava cake. Probably have to do a thousand sit-ups just to get rid of half of it.

  Looked like it would be worth it, though.

  “I want you to be happy,” Sammara said.

  “I am happy.” I shrugged. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  “I know…” she said. “But I want to make sure there’s nothing… missing.”

  She reached down onto her bag and pulled something out. It was a folder. Now I really was confused.

  “This…” she said, removing a big glossy photograph, “is a picture of your mother.”

  She laid the image on the table, almost reverently. When I didn’t do anything at all, she pushed it across to me.

  “So?”

  I wouldn’t even look at the photo. Wouldn’t even give it the dignity of a quick glance.

  “Her name was—”

  “I don’t give a shit, Sammara. Her name is irrelevant.”

  Somehow, I’d snapped at her. It happened quickly, without me even realizing what I was doing. Like a reflex, or—

  —or a defense mechanism.

  I frowned. So much for the perfect evening.

  Before I could say another word she thrust a second photograph my way. I was already looking down this time and I saw him… dark hair, brown eyes. Beard. His hairline, his jawline… it was all the same.

  Almost exactly the same as mine

  “Gabriel Murillo,” she said without being prompted. “He’s 52. He lives only ten miles from where you grew up,” she said. “Over in—”

  “What part of this do you not understand?” I sneered. “How many times do I have to tell you I DON’T. FUCKING. CARE.”

  I was breathing fast now. I hated that. I happened whenever I got angry, and I hated getting angry.

  It made me angry to get angry… if that made any fucking sense.

  “Look,” she went on, “I understand that you’re hurt. Or pissed. Or you think you really shouldn’t give a shit.” She took my hand again. “But take it from me, Ryan. Family is important.”

  I shook my head. She wasn’t getting it.

  “You’re my family, Sammara. You, and Kyle, and Dakota, and Briggs.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes we are. But—”

  “But nothing.” I shoved the photos away. “I couldn’t care less if—”

  “Ryan look at him!” she cried, holding up the photo of my father. “He looks like you! Don’t you want to know what his life is like? What he’s doing? How he lives?”

  “No.”

  “What if you have brothers?” she went on. “Or sisters? Wouldn’t it be nice to connect with them?”

  Do I?

  I wanted to ask it. Suddenly I wanted to know very badly. She had it all there, in her little folder. The dossier of my old life.

  No, NOT your old life, I corrected myself quickly. The life you could’ve had…

  “If you have siblings, they never wronged you,” she was saying. “They never did anything. You could—”

  I pounded my fist on the table. I must have done it way too hard though, because people all over the restaurant were suddenly staring.

  “Who did this for you? Briggs, right?”

  She said nothing. It was all the answer I needed.

  “He’s an asshole,” I said. “He should’ve refused you, no matter how much you did to… persuade him.”

  She frowned visibly. It was a cheap shot and we both knew it.

  “He should’ve known enough to leave this alone.”

  “Ryan listen to me carefully,” she said. All the compassion was gone from her voice. Now it was just stern. “I never had the chance to know my parents as an adult. That opportunity was taken from me. All I have are fleeting memories, moments that have grown dimmer and further away every passing year.”

  She looked troubled by her own statement. I could see the pain there.

  Shit.

  I wanted to reach out to her. To assuage her, and make her feel better. To tell her everything was going to be alright.

  But I couldn’t.

  “Here,” she said coldly. “This is everything you need to know. Your mother is dead…”

  There was a pause as our eyes met. I didn’t know that part. I tried convincing myself it didn’t mean anything.

  “But your father is very much alive, and you have two half-sisters. They all live in Brooklyn.”

  Abruptly she stood up and slapped the folder to the table.

  “Throw it all in the garbage if you want,” she said. “That’ll be the end of it. I’ll never mention it again, Ryan. Ever again. I’ll make sure the others don’t either.”

  She dropped her napkin. Grabbed her bag.

  “But you might want to sit here alone for a few minutes, and consider otherwise,” she said. “At the very least maybe you could get some answers. Some closure. Settle the whole thing with enough peace in your heart that you can actually talk about this in the future, without getting all riled up.”

  At that she turned and walked away. I watched her go, my mind numb. Thinking nothing other than that her dress really was pretty.

  You’re an asshole, Dunham.

  Hell, my name wasn’t even Dunham. It was… Murillo? Shit, I didn’t even know anymore.

  Get up and go after her.

  I wanted to. I really did. I wanted to drop some money on the table and rush out of the restaurant and grab hold of her before she hopped in a cab and took off.

  But I didn’t. Instead I just sat there, thinking. Considering… just as she’d just said.

  The folder was sitting there on the other side of the table. Unopened. Untouched.

  Spoon in hand, I reached out and grabbed for the lava cake.

  Fifty-Five

  SAMMARA

  The next week was hectic, especially since I was essentially starting from scratch. I had a new business, a new warehouse — a whole new place in the world. I even had a new name: Universal Designs. Inspired by Ryan, of course.

  Ryan…

  He’d avoided me in the days after our encounter. As much as I wanted to go to him, I gave him some space. It was likely that I’d overstepped my bounds with him. That I’d used Jason to snoop on something I should’ve probably left alone. Even so, I was glad that I did it. We shared something of our childhoods, he and I. It was only because of that common bond, I felt like I could do what I did.

  In the meantime, I worked. I had utilities to set up. Accounts to open. A whole warehouse of inventory to catalog, and even a website to configure. In short, my new business needed everything from business cards to a coffee maker to a sign out front. It even needed some interior decorating all its own, but that was the fun part.

  Toward the end of the week, Ryan disappeared. He’d done that often in the beginning — sometimes even sleeping on the base when he was especially involved in a project — and he began doing that again now. It bothered me greatly, of course. But when I told Jason everything that had happened, he only shrugged and told me to give him time.

  The highlight of my week came when Dawn’s number showed up on my phone. I was sitting at my new desk, staring out at the bright blue sky. Enjoying my second cup of coffee of the afternoon, when I finally answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Mara!”

  “Oh, hi Dawn!” I said cheerily. “What’s up?”

  She was screaming so loudly I could only make out half of what she was saying. But considering the circumstances, I could piece together the rest.

  “You know Goddamn well what’s up!” she cried. “You STOLE from me! You took everything out of my—”

  “What?” I cried in mock surprise. “You think I stole from you?”

  “SAMMARA! DON’T GO GETTING CUTE ON ME OR—”

  “Dawn,” I interjected simply. “Shut up.”

  The other end of the phone was a wasteland of stunned silen
ce. I let it stretch on for a while before continuing.

  “I don’t know what you want, Dawn. Or what you’re driving at. But I no longer want to hear from you anymore.”

  As always, she completely ignored me. “You took everything!” she shouted. “EVERYTHING!”

  “Everything?” I smirked, remembering the table.

  “My storage units are empty!” she cried. “Tell me it wasn’t you! Tell me it wasn’t you and your boyfriends and—”

  I let her ramble on for a bit. The way she said the word boyfriends practically dripped with disdain. It was amusing though, in its own way. Especially now that I knew why she hated them all so much.

  “So it’s all gone?” I asked innocently. “You’re saying you walked into your place and everything had just been… taken?”

  “YES!”

  “Hmmm,” I said, casually sipping my coffee. “That sounds vaguely familiar.”

  I hung up, with probably the biggest grin of my life. Putting my feet up on my desk, I inhaled a deep, contented breath. Then I took another sip of my coffee.

  The phone rang and rang and rang. Each ring made me smile. Eventually I put it on silent. I let it go to voicemail, until even that was full, then deleted all the messages without listening to them.

  “Fuck you Dawn,” I said, watching the clouds go by.

  Fifty-Six

  SAMMARA

  Knock. Knock.

  It was almost midnight, but I was still awake. I was laying on my bed, working on my computer. Mocking up a few different layouts for what could be a mini-showroom.

  “Come on in love.”

  I hadn’t expected a second visit. Jason had been in earlier, and after shoving my computer to the side he’d been a very pleasant half-hour distraction. We slept together usually, his bed or mine. But tonight I wanted to stay up. Get stuff done.

  “What’s the matter,” I called over my shoulder. “Couldn’t slee—”

  I turned halfway, and there was Ryan. He was still in the doorway. Still wearing his jacket.