Brothers

by Tess Oliver

  Jesse walked in immediately after. He stared at both of us for a second and then brushed off whatever he was thinking.

  "Two things." He held up two fingers as a prop. "First, Sundance and Roxie are coming over tomorrow night for a game of Strip or Shot War." He opened his mouth to continue, but I interrupted him.

  "Did you say Strip or Shot War?"

  "Yes. It's a game we all invented."

  "When we were very drunk," Zach added.

  "Second, or two, or whichever—" Jesse pointed at me. "I saw Junior down at the hardware store, and he told me he would love to find someone to sing at the bar on the weekends. He said amateur hour just isn't working out, mostly because everybody sucks up on stage. He said you should come in for an audition this afternoon before the bar opens."

  "No, I don't think so, Jesse. Tell Junior thanks for the offer, but I'm not that good."

  "Bullshit," Jesse said. "He said the gig would pay a hundred fifty a night and five percent of the night's tabs. Sounded like a pretty good deal to me."

  I leaned back against the couch. I could feel Zach's gaze on the side of my face. "I just can't. Can I?"

  "What would Lolly tell you to do?" Zach asked.

  I turned to him and then back to Jesse, who shot me that disarming smile that made the word no impossible.

  Zach's question repeated in my head. I could almost picture Lolly standing directly in front of me, with her hands on her ample hips and her dark brows knitted together saying 'Joey, don't take your talent for granted. Use it. Make your life better with it'.

  I sighed. "Fine, I'll audition, but when Junior realizes that I'm not a good fit, we never mention it again."

  20

  Zach

  I'd gone in to help Joelle find my mom's easel and then spent time with her looking at pictures. I'd lost my enthusiasm for work after that. The stretch of time had been short, but as always, enjoyable. Any time spent with Joelle was enjoyable. But several things had happened that had thrown me off enough that I skipped heading back out to the shop.

  I had no fucking clue that a picture of Sage, a stupid posed picture with us dressed in formal wear, clothes that never suited either of us, would have felt like a kick in the gut. But it had. Once I knew that Sage was gone for good, I'd pushed pictures and letters and anything else that would have reminded me of her into the back of my closet. I couldn't toss the stuff but hiding it from plain sight had helped me deal with her leaving. Having Joelle next to me had helped me brush aside the feelings the picture had awoken. The past was in the past, and I just needed to leave it there.

  I hadn't given it much thought when I pulled Joelle into my lap, except I knew I wanted to hold her. Of course, my cock had plenty of other ideas, especially when she moved her perfect round ass against me, but I'd kept a lid on my erotic thoughts. The trip down memory lane, complete with pictures of Mom and Dad, helped squelch those thoughts fast.

  Then Jesse came home, and my first thought was that I shouldn't be holding Joelle in my lap. She sensed the same thing and had moved quickly to the cushion next to me. I knew damn well that Jesse and I both couldn't get enough of Joelle, whether it was talking to her, laughing about something silly or debating something that each of us had an opinion about. And I knew there was so much physical tension between us, I could have cut a slice of it out of the air, shoved it in the forge and pounded it into a steel blade. Still, somehow, maybe from not wanting to mess up what we had together, we'd managed to keep things running smoothly. But now I realized that was because Jesse and I were tiptoeing around each other when it came to what we both really wanted. And what we both really wanted was Joelle.

  Jesse honked his horn. I grabbed my coat and headed out to the car. I climbed into the backseat. Joelle sat in the passenger seat glancing at some lyrics she'd printed off Jesse's computer. She looked pale and nervous, and suddenly, I was feeling bad for talking her into this.

  I reached forward and placed my hand on her shoulder. "You doing O.K. there, Slick?"

  She nodded but didn't say a word.

  "You'll be great," Jesse said as he pulled out onto the road.

  "Maybe you guys should just stay in the car while I sing." She folded the paper up and put it in her coat pocket.

  "We could," I said, “but wouldn't it be better to look out at familiar faces when you're up on stage?"

  "Good point," she said. "Maybe you should come inside. But then I might be even more nervous if I see you guys. So maybe you should stay in the car."

  Jesse reached over and took hold of her hand. If I tilted my head just right, I could see his hand wrapped around hers. I don't know why I stared at his hand over hers, but I did.

  "Look, why don't you decide when we get there," Jesse said. "The bar doesn't open up for another twenty minutes, so it'll just be Junior, his cousin and few of the servers. And if you want Zach and me to come in, we will. If you don't, we'll stay right outside in the car."

  By the time Jesse had pulled his car into the Petty Thief parking lot, Joelle had changed her mind a dozen times. She'd also taken the lyrics in and out of her pocket enough times to finally rip the paper in half from use.

  Jesse turned off the car and looked at her. "I can't remember where you last ended this. Do we go or stay?"

  "Stay." She pressed her hands down in front of her. "It'll probably only take a few seconds for Junior to know this was a silly mistake." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the two halves of the lyrics, glanced at them and shoved them back in her coat. She didn't say another word or look at us as she climbed out of the car and shut the door. Then she reached for the handle, opened it and popped her head inside. "Are you guys coming or what?"

  "Yes, absolutely."

  "Coming right now."

  Jesse and I both reached for the door handles and assured her we were on our way. We climbed out and walked with her, at a snail's pace, to the front door. I'd gone back and forth in my mind, wondering if I should let her know it was all right to skip the audition. She seemed beyond nervous, and I hated seeing her like that. But then I worried that she might regret not trying this.

  I looked over at Jesse. He looked far more confident that this was going to work out well. I had to give him credit, no matter what the situation, he was always the glass half full guy.

  Junior was pulling chairs off the tables as we walked inside. His cousin, Greg, and another guy with spiked up hair were sitting at a table. The floor was slick from being mopped. We stepped lightly across the wood planks to stop any dirt from falling off our shoes onto the newly cleaned floor.

  "There you are." Junior approached us and smiled at Joelle. "Wasn't sure if you'd come, but I'm glad you're here. I'll get my dad's guitar. Hey, Greg, Mike, this is Joelle."

  Joelle waved at them and turned back to Junior. "Actually, can I spend a few minutes alone with the guitar in your office?" Some of the color had returned to her cheeks, and she seemed a bit more relaxed. "Every guitar has its own personality. I just want to get to know it first. A little alone time, if you don't mind."

  Junior laughed at the alone time line. "Sure thing. I'm sure Dad's guitar won't mind either." They disappeared into the office.

  Jesse and I pulled up chairs at a table close to the small square of linoleum designated as the stage. I sprawled out over the chair, and Jesse did the same.

  He tilted his head my direction. "I can read your mind, big brother," he said. "You think it was a mistake to push her into this."

  "I never said that. Maybe you're reading your own mind because you did push."

  "No, I think she'll do great. That was the most adorable few fucking minutes ever. No stay. No go. I want you both to stay in the car. I need you two to be there, or I won't be able to sing one word." He lowered his voice back to his own. "Guess she wouldn't have done that if we weren't really important to her."

  "Yeah, I guess so. Of course, if she gets this gig, she'll make enough to move out and live on her own." It was something that had be
en scratching at the back of my brain since Jesse mentioned the generous pay. Even just five percent of the tabs could be substantial on a crowded night.

  Jesse faced me. "Why do you think that? Do you think she wants to move out?" It seemed the possibility of Joelle leaving us had never crossed my brother's mind. But now that I'd put the seed out there, his glass was a little less full than before. He sank back against the seat, chewing on the idea while we waited for Joelle to sing.

  A light strumming sound came from the office as Junior opened the door and walked back out to the bar.

  "Where is the old man?" Jesse asked. "Haven't seen him in weeks."

  "Spends most of his days fishing and avoiding this place. Says it's just too noisy and too much work for him. He's basically passed the reins to me for good. That's why I came up with this music performance idea. My cousins have been bugging me to play on stage, but they've lacked a decent singer. My cousin is an online marketing whiz. He thinks he can double the weekend crowds if we let neighboring towns know we're offering live music."

  The hum of the guitar grew louder. Junior looked back toward the office. "She definitely knows how to play. And I don't have to tell you two that she has the kind of looks that could draw in a good crowd. Guess we'll just have to see if she has the voice to go with it."

  "Oh she does." Jesse pulled around an extra chair and smugly propped his feet on it, apparently forgetting the seed I'd just planted.

  Junior walked to a closet in the narrow passage near the bathrooms and pulled out a stool. He carried it to the center of the stage. He grabbed the standing microphone that they used on amateur night from the corner and set it up in front of the stool. In the background, we could hear Joelle playing the guitar, apparently enjoying herself and possibly even forgetting that she was supposed to come out to sing.

  Junior walked past. "I'll let her know the bar opens in fifteen minutes."

  I sat sideways next to the table and drummed my fingers on it. "I wonder if she'll walk out here and tell us to go back to the car."

  The guitar stopped, and the office door opened and shut. I realized I could recognize her light footsteps on any floor. She had a way of walking that was graceful and airy, as if her feet barely touched the ground.

  Joelle didn't look at or acknowledge us as she headed to the stool. She stood there, facing away from us for a second as she stared down at the stool and ran her fingers along the chrome stand holding up the microphone. She lifted the guitar and turned around. Her eyes still seemed to focus only on the floor in front of her. She bit her lip as she adjusted her bottom on the stool.

  She placed the guitar across her lap and rested her blue sneakers on the bars of the stool. Her long lashes still covered her eyes. Jesse shot me a glance across the table. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. I wanted to walk over and take her into my arms and tell her she never had to be nervous in front of us. Joelle could do any fucking thing she wanted, and Jesse and I would still adore her. Like the world’s most enduring, hard core fans.

  Joelle's long fingers pinched the guitar pick, and she started to play. It was No Doubt's 'Simple Kind of Life' and from the second her lips parted and the first words flowed out, we all sat forward like the sound had some magnetic power. She finally lifted her lashes, and her brown eyes gazed out at us as she strummed the guitar and sang, every word, coming from her perfect lips.

  I glanced over at Jesse. He was in a trance, watching her like she was his angel on earth. It was just as easy to read Junior's thoughts, as he mentally seemed to be calculating the gold mine he'd just stumbled onto.

  Joelle had favored us with impromptu songs in the kitchen or when she was in the tub, since the first day, and we both knew she had an amazing voice. I had wondered if our admiration for her and the fact that she was utterly flawless had somehow blinded us, or in this case, deafened us so that, to our ears, it sounded great because it was coming from Joelle's lips. But I no longer had to wonder. Her singing voice was as phenomenal as the rest of her.

  I rested back for the first time since she'd started to sing. She favored Jesse with a long, intense gaze, just long enough to make my jaw clench with envy. But then she shifted her focus my direction. I relaxed and smiled back at her.

  The lyrics talked about a girl wanting nothing but 'a simple kind of life'. I looked across the table at my brother and then back at Joelle. It seemed that what we'd created between the three of us was anything but simple.

  21

  Joelle

  In between helping customers, I stood at the counter and jotted down all the songs I knew. Junior's cousin, Greg, had asked for the list so he could design a flyer, and he and his guys could work on the music. Sherry had given me the day before off because she knew I'd be running the shop alone today while she attended a political fundraiser with Anthony. There had been a morning rush, but once things quieted down I was able to clean and stock shelves. I'd even managed to wash the front windows and clean up the bathroom.

  I picked at the peanut butter sandwich I'd brought from home while I brainstormed my list. I tended toward soft and alternative rock, but I knew some country songs too. That was a bonus because Junior's cousin liked to play country.

  I had been nothing short of terrified to audition, but having Jesse and Zach there, giving that unflinching support they were so good at, helped me get through it. I found that once I began singing, it wasn't nearly as scary as I thought. Of course, singing in front of a crowd might renew some of the stage fright, but I was determined to do this and do it right. I could hardly believe how much my life had changed since I'd hopped on that boxcar.

  The bell on the door rang. Sherry walked in clutching a white bag. She held it up. "Chocolate chip cookies from this awesome bakery in the city." She was still wearing the nice, demure dress that she'd picked for the fundraiser. It had taken her forever to find a dress that would hide most of her ink and make her look, as she had termed, the proper, good wife of a politician.

  She dropped the bag on the counter, and I wasted no time helping myself to a cookie.

  I took one bite and made a long humming song to go with it.

  Sherry pointed at me. "See, when a bakery item causes sounds that are similar to sex sounds, then they are officially orgasmic. Right?"

  I covered my mouth to keep from spitting out cookie with my laugh. I swallowed and nodded. "They are right up there with great sex."

  Sherry glanced down at the list I was writing. "Sundance told me you got a nicely paid singing job at the Petty Thief. Congratulations. When do you start?"

  "Next Thursday. His cousin is getting the word out on social media and with flyers. Junior wants to bring in more people from surrounding towns. He seems to think live music will do the trick."

  Sherry took a cookie for herself. "He's right. Hopefully it won't bring in a lot of losers and troublemakers though. It's one thing for all the usual locals and patrons to get drunk and loud and obnoxious on a Friday night, but . . . well, you know."

  "You're right. But I'm sure Junior will keep track of the people coming in and out of his bar. He seems to be determined to make his dad proud and keep the place successful."

  Sherry walked over to her side of the shop and straightened up things on her work counter. "I guess if you're making all kinds of money, you'll finally be able to get a place of your own."

  Her words coasted across the room and smacked into me on my side of the store. In my mind, the extra money would allow me to start paying rent. I walked over to her side of the shop.

  Sherry looked up from her task and seemed surprised by my expression. "Oh, I just thought that's what you wanted to do. I just figured." She waved her hand. "Never mind. None of my business."

  "You think I should move out, don't you?"

  She turned and leaned her elbows back on her counter. I could sense that she struggled with what to say next. "You just left a bad relationship. It seems you might enjoy some independence."

  I sat on the ed
ge of the tattoo chair. "And? I know there's more. You're wearing that big sister look you get when you're about to lend me your wisdom."

  "God, that makes me sound so old." She glanced absently toward the window. "Oh, you cleaned the glass. Nice."

  "Sherry?" I prodded.

  "It's just, Tanglewood is a small, gossipy town, and when it comes to—"

  "Yes, I know. Gossip is that much juicier when it involves Zach and Jesse. It's kind of unfair, don't you think? So, the town is having fun imagining all the sordid things going on at the Coltrane homestead?"

  She tilted her head. "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  "What is going on?" She straightened. "No, you don't have to tell me. It's none of my business. But the nosy posies in town are dreaming up all kinds of stuff."

  "They should all worry about themselves then," I said sharply. "You know, I lived with Bobby, and I was totally loyal to that asshole because I thought that's what I was morally bound to do. And my neighbors waved and smiled at me as if everything was just peachy in my life. Even when I had a mark on my cheek that couldn't have been misconstrued as anything but a fist to the face. And yet, they still smiled and went on with their lives, thinking what a nice young, happy couple. So, I've tried the straight and narrow life, and, frankly, it wasn't all that great." I hadn't meant to cry, but the tears came before I could stop them.

  Sherry took hold of my hands. "You're right. It's nobody's business. Even mine. But I love all three of you, and I don't want to see anyone hurt."

  Sherry reached across her counter for a tissue and handed it to me.

  I wiped my nose. "We've got it under control." Even as I said the words, I questioned whether that was true. There were moments when it was nothing short of perfect, and then there were moments that seemed fragile, as if one small misstep could break the harmony. "I should get back to the register. The high school will be letting out soon." I stopped after a few steps, almost as if the conversation had made my feet impossibly heavy. "I'll think about moving out. You might be right. It might be good to try it on my own for a change."