Big Man Next Door

by Penny Wylder

  “He's your brother, that's what you need to make him remember. It's not what you do, or what you say, or what you think. Family is family, blood doesn't change.”

  “We are all each other has, but it feels like I'm the only who sees that.” I feign a smile, exhaling a heavy breath. “Don't worry, I'll figure it out. For now I'm going to finish up the door, and then tomorrow I'll come back and sand and paint the areas on the ceiling.”

  Flipping into work mode, I move on autopilot. Fixing the door, I hand her the keys. “I'm going to go home, shower, maybe take a nap. Are you good for right now?”

  “Yeah, I'm good. I want to tune my new guitar.” Grinning, she bounces her brows.

  Forcing a smile, I say, “I'm really glad you like it.” Standing in the doorway, I hold the doorknob in my hand. “I'll text you later.”

  Heather leaves me alone for the rest of the day. I hear her tune her guitar, singing softly in her apartment. I can't focus on anything. Lying in bed, I toss and turn, unable to even get a few minutes of sleep.

  Napping isn't in the cards right now.

  I know exactly what I can do to get my mind off my brother. I can fix some shit around here.

  Working with my hands has always been a godsend. It relaxes me, it helps me clear my head. Gathering some stuff from the basement and my truck, I fix a few broken light fixtures in the hall, re-secure the handrails, and stabilize the stairs.

  Giving the rail a few good pulls, it's sturdy enough to pass even the toughest city inspector. Looking up, I see a couple of loose trim pieces dangling down from the ceiling, and a few holes scattered across the walls.

  Grabbing the ladder, I climb up, sticking a cluster of nails between my teeth. Pressing a nail to the wood, I strike it with the hammer and miss completely, crushing my thumb instead.

  “Fuck!” I call out, shaking my hand hard as if that will stop the throbbing.

  I never miss a nail. I'm frustrated, but it's not at the missed nail or the stripped screws I'm dealing with, it's at my brother. We should have never let this place fall apart the way we did. I know we made a decision years ago, but our decision put Heather's safety at risk.

  And I regret it. I regret ever allowing her to live here like this.

  I lose myself for the next few hours in more repairs. I fill the holes and sand them smooth. Now I'm adding a clean coat of white paint to the walls. This place is already unrecognizable, and I've hardly done a thing. Everything's been cosmetic, easy shit that any homeowner can do without a professional.

  Standing on the ladder, I'm covered in blotches of paint. There are smears on my arms and speckles on my hands and face like freckles.

  “Hey,” Heather says from beneath me.

  “Don't get too close, this wall is wet,” I say, not bothering to look down.

  I'm stuck in my own head. Even all this work hasn't been enough to make me stop thinking about my brother. There's this feeling of betrayal that I just can't shake. No matter how much I feel what I'm doing is right, I still feel like I stabbed him in the back.

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Giggling, I see her fiddling with her hands from the corner of my eyes. “So,” she says, her voice upbeat, “I was able to get a gig tonight down at Newby's. I'd really love for you to be there.”

  Stopping what I'm doing, I take the time to finally look at her. “Newby's, that's a better place for you.” I don't want to dismiss her. I know how much she wants to make her music dream come to life. But even I can hear the lack of enthusiasm in my voice. “So, good for you.”

  Heather doesn't acknowledge the tone I'm giving her, but if she slapped me right now, I would deserve it.

  “Yeah, they had someone cancel, and called me to fill the open spot.”

  “It's more your scene, I think you'll do great there.” I try to sound more positive, it's weak, but hey, at least I'm making an effort.

  She smiles coyly, biting on her bottom lip. “I'll do better if you’re there with me.”

  Pulling her bottom lip in, she nibbles on it. It's fucking sexy as hell. Her lips are a pale pink, shiny from a layer of gloss. Her lashes are coated in thick black mascara, making them stand out. The shadow on her lids makes her eyes pop like a firework in the pitch-black sky.

  Not today beautiful, I can't be your cheerleader.

  “I've got stuff to take care of here.” Turning away from her, I dunk the paintbrush into a small bucket of paint.

  “You don't have to take care of everything at once. Maybe just take a quick break and come have a beer.” She stands quiet, and I know exactly what she's waiting for, but I can't give it to her.

  So, I give her the only answer I have. Nothing.

  “Fine, do what you want. Stay here by yourself all night sulking, and paint the walls that aren't going anywhere.” With her guitar in the case, she throws it over her shoulder and turns to leave. Looking back at me one last time, she says, “I go on at nine-thirty if you change your mind. I hope to see you there.”

  She probably doesn't realize, and thinks I just keep on painting, but I don't. I watch her leave. I watch her walk out the door, wishing I had shown her more excitement, wishing I had hugged her and kissed her and given her everything she deserved right then.

  But I didn't. I let her go without a fight.

  She doesn't deserve this either. She doesn't deserve to be pushed away.

  Dropping the brush into the bucket, I climb down the ladder, and wipe my hands off. I'm not going to let her down again, I can't. I did that once already.

  Showering, I clean the paint off my skin and get dressed. Spritzing some cologne on my chest, I grab my keys off the table and head to the bar.

  Heather is right, people do change. I'm not the same person I was when I made that pact with my brother. I was just an angry kid back then. I'm a grown fucking man now, who deserves to be happy.

  And fuck it, if my brother can't handle that, if he can't admit that we've done this all wrong, if he can't stand to see me happy, that's his problem. He can sit in turbulent limbo for rest of his life, but I won't stop from moving forward.

  Heather's shown me that. To grow, you have to move forward. To get where you want to be, you have to take risks.

  She was that risk for me, and this is my opportunity to show her.

  Walking into the bar, it's packed from wall to wall with people. There's a band already on stage, and a small crowd is forming in front of them. The music is blasting. Heavy drums and an electric guitar over power the mass of voices.

  Ordering a beer from the bar, I look out into the crowd, searching for her in the sea of people. From over my shoulder, I hear a voice I recognize.

  Turning around, I see my brother ordering a drink. His eyes connect with mine, and he takes a step back.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I thought you wanted to meet me for a beer?”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “But I got a text from you, it's right here.” He opens his phone and shows me the message.

  “Dude, I didn't send you that—”

  The music fades, and the lights dim. And then I hear her voice, forcing everything else around me to go silent. Her voice cuts through the air like a songbird, beautiful and strong. The spotlight shines down on her, making her glow like an angel. Her new guitar is glittering under the light.

  This feels different.

  The room goes quiet, all eyes are on her. And they should be, she deserves to be the center of attention.

  Her voice is sailing through the air as she closes her eyes and goes for it. She doesn't look timid; she doesn't look afraid or nervous. This is her moment.

  Everyone is in awe, their jaws dropping as she strums her guitar and pushes out lyrics that hit me in the chest like a fucking freight train.

  “And then the clouds open,

  full and drenching as they rain down.

  He's coming in from nowhere,

  a tidal wave of change,

  a rush of new, a breat
h of fresh air. . .”

  She's talking about me.

  I can feel it, I know it as the lyrics play out and it becomes more and more apparent that this isn't just a song. This is a song about her life changing. This is a song about how I was the reason for that change.

  Her eyes move across the crowd, landing on mine. She's singing to me.

  “You told me not to let the rain drown me,

  you told me to walk with my head high.

  You told me that life isn't set in stone,

  and now I can see the light.”

  Smiling, I catch a small smirk from her as her eyes close again and she lets loose on the rest of the song. From deep within her lungs the words fly out. Heather's hand is moving up and down over the strings. She's perfect.

  And as her voice lowers to whispers, she lets her hand fall still. The room is quiet for a long second, and I watch her as her muscles stiffen with worry.

  Suddenly, the room erupts with applause. The crowd is hooting and hollering, throwing their arms up for her.

  Heather's smile beams as her cheeks blush and she bashfully covers her mouth. Taking a bow, she waves at the crowd with a glisten of a tear in her eyes. Climbing down off the stage, she disappears behind the stage.

  “She's really good, Ian,” my brother says as he steps up beside me.

  “She absolutely is.” Turning to face him, he gives me a smile.

  Grey orders a couple beers and passes one to me. “I get it.”

  “Get what?” I ask, taking a swig of the drink.

  “What you see in a girl like her. She's special.”

  “Is this an apology or something?”

  “It's a truce.” Holding out his beer, I clank mine against his. “But next time you want to take on a job like the apartment, tell me. We both know I'm better at this stuff than you.” He gives me a teasing smile and laughs into his beer.

  Elbowing him in the ribs, I shake my head. “If that was true, I wouldn't be the one doing all the work.”

  We both bust out laughing, and he gives me a brotherly hug.

  “Hey, it looks like you guys made up,” Heather says, coming up beside me unexpectedly.

  “Yeah, it seems we had someone playing Dr. Phil.”

  She tips her head back and laughs. “I couldn't stand to see you guys that way.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Grey says, hanging his head ashamed. “I'm really sorry you had to see me like that. It was wrong, and not your fault at all.”

  “Don't worry about it, it's fine.” Softly tapping his arm, she looks at me. “It's easy to tell how close you guys are. You shouldn't ever let anything come between that, whether it's a property or a girl.”

  Grabbing her by the waist, I pull her in and kiss her. I can't believe this woman did this for us. She's selfless, a giving person who thought about someone else without a second thought.

  Kissing her with everything I have, I want her to feel exactly what I feel. I want her to know without a doubt that she's mine and I'm hers. There are feelings flowing through me that I've never experienced before.

  My heart is pumping hard and fast. Every muscle in my body is warm, buzzing from head to toe as our lips lock tight. “I love you,” I say into the kiss, letting the words flow into her mouth.

  “I love you too,” she says back without pause.

  It's crazy what she's given me in such a short time. It's as if I've been reborn. Everything is different. The way the lights glow, the way the air smells, even the way the beer tastes.

  Brighter, cleaner, crisper. I'm amazed.

  “Excuse me?” a man says, coming up to us and holding out his hand. “I'm Steven Bringham.” He's looking at Heather, his hand extending directly at her.

  She takes his hand warily and shakes it. “Hello, I'm Heather.” Touching my arm, she introduces me and my brother. “This is Ian and Grey.”

  “Hey guys,” Steven says, acknowledging us. “I saw you perform, and I just want to say you were incredible.”

  “Thank you.” She smiles big. But there's still reservation in her grin. She's not used to getting this type of attention. “I really appreciate it.”

  Sticking his hand into an inside pocket on his blazer, he pulls out a small card and holds it out to her. “I work for Diamond Records, and I'd love to take some time and introduce you to some people. Your voice is absolutely stunning.”

  She's holding the card, her hand slightly shaking as she glances between him and the card. “Is this real? Are you serious right now?”

  “Dead serious,” he answers with a laugh. “I get that question often actually. But my number is on there, give me a call this week, and we'll set something up. Does that sound good to you?”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you.” Her eyes beam with excitement. It looks like she's trying to keep it together, doing her best to not scream in his face or jump up and down like a kid on Christmas.

  “Awesome, I hope to hear from you soon.” Steve shakes her hand again, and leaves.

  Heather instantly flicks her eyes to mine as she pinches the card between her fingers. “Did that just really happen?”

  “It did.”

  “Pinch me.”

  “No, I'm not going to pinch you.” Chuckling, I shake my head no.

  “Holy shit, Ian.” Her voice is edgy. She's trying to keep calm. “This is insane.”

  “It's not insane, Heather, it's exactly what you set out to do, and you deserve it.”

  Kissing her again, I pull her onto the dance floor. We spend the rest of the night dancing, drinking, celebrating this monumental night for her.

  And as I look into her eyes, and feel her hands on my chest, I know. . .

  Life can't be controlled. You either take a risk, or you don't. But if you never try, you'll never know what could have been.

  I took that chance, and it gave me the greatest gift ever.

  Her.

  Epilogue

  Ian

  Nine Months Later

  “Thank you,” I say, shaking the lawyer’s hand.

  “It's my pleasure,” he says, releasing my hand and turning to shake my brother's.

  It's done. The place is ours.

  We reached out to a property attorney, and after a few months of negotiations, the apartment building now belongs to us. Our father wasn't keen to the idea at first, he's a man who likes reaping the benefits without ever having to break a sweat.

  But we did it. We bought him out and we never have to deal with him again. That's a celebration of its own.

  Standing out front, my brother slaps me on the shoulder and laughs out loud. “It's over, that part of our life is done. And the best part is we won this place in the process.”

  “Yeah, it's a great feeling to be free of that man.”

  Grey holds out the keys, dangling them in front of my face. “I'm not carrying you over the threshold, so don't even ask.”

  “I wouldn't expect you to anyway. You're too weak. You ain't got the muscles for that.”

  Laughing, he drops his head into his chest. “Fuck you, man.”

  Unlocking the front door, I walk in and Grey follows. I can see it in his face, he's really happy with the progress so far.

  “Wow, this looks awesome. You'd never know it was days away from being condemned.”

  “Right.” Touching the railing, I point at the stairs. “Who knew the stairs were real oak under that shitty carpet. I mean, look at them.”

  Grey bends down and runs his hand across the glassy, lacquered surface. “It's unreal. What about the units? How much is left?”

  “Not much really. Some new appliances, a couple rooms left to paint, but overall, it's just about done.”

  “So, what's the plan then? Do we sell or rent?”

  Twisting to face him, I pull a folded piece of newspaper from my back pocket. “We rent, and then we buy the place five buildings down. It's a rundown office building. I say we do what we did here. We renovate and rent it out. We can build up this
part of the community, start making it better. What do you think?”

  “I think you're on to something.”

  “I hired a couple new guys, too. George and Tim. They'll start Monday.”

  We're going to need extra hands with all this work. And if we're going to be investing in the community, we might as well start by giving jobs to the people who live here. George and Tim currently live in one of the finished units. The two men are no longer homeless. And they have jobs now, starting Monday.

  Grey taps his chin as he opens the door on unit one and sticks his head in. “Beige was a good choice for the walls.”

  “That was Heather's idea.”

  “Smart lady you got there.”

  “Speaking of which,” I say, checking the time on my watch. “I got to run. I'm supposed to meet her in fifteen minutes.”

  “Go, I'll talk to you later and we can discuss the other property.”

  “Thanks man.” Giving him a slap on his shoulder, I leave the apartment and drive across town.

  Pulling into the driveway, I rest against the hood of my car and wait for Heather. Looking around, I'm really loving the neighborhood. There's space between the houses, with scattered trees and grassy yards, flowers in windows, and swings in the backyards.

  It's perfect.

  Her music career is starting to bud. She's been meeting with different agencies, and might be working with one soon. Diamond set her up with a woman who's going to help her develop her brand.

  Everything is falling together. It's almost too perfect.

  Heather pulls in the driveway. Walking to her door, I open it for her. “Hey, you found the place okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, it wasn't bad at all.” She climbs out and gives me a quick kiss. “This is a lot nicer than I expected Ian.”

  Taking her hand, I lead her to the front door. “Looks can be deceiving. What's that saying? Don't judge a book by its cover? It needs some updates and renovations inside.”

  “Did you show Grey yet? You think he'll go for buying this as a rental?”

  “I don't know. I mentioned the other building briefly this morning, and he didn't shoot it down. He wants to talk more about it, so we'll see.”