The Good Brother

by Nia Arthurs

  Reece notices me looking and turns to find what has my attention. She grabs the photograph and shoves it into my hand. “We went to the zoo with my class. I was just a kid then.”

  I arch an eyebrow. Unless I’m going blind, she’s just a kid now.

  Reece smiles fondly. “We spent all day walking around. Everyone wanted to be in our group because Dad made the tour so fun.”

  “He looks sunburned,” I observe. Harry always did get pink easily.

  She frowns. “He didn’t look like any of the other parents in my class. All the kids wanted to know if I was adopted.”

  I look at her and then at Harry’s picture. From what I’ve seen of Belize so far, the population is a toss up of blacks and Hispanics. Most of the Caucasians are tourists. So it makes sense that Reece’s friends would have questions.

  Since I generally shy away from deep conversations about race and politics, I’m not sure what I should say here. The way things work in the Caribbean might be different from the way they are back home.

  “Did you ever feel strange about that?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “About Dad?”

  I nod.

  “No. He was just Dad. I didn’t care what color he was. And anyway Dad says we shouldn’t judge people by their skin. We should judge them by their character.”

  “You’re a wise kid.”

  “Or maybe you aren’t a smart adult.”

  “Touché.” I straighten my shoulders. “This was a good talk. If Logan asks, tell her we bonded.”

  Reece giggles. Her teeth are tiny. She’s a cute kid. “You’re weird.”

  “I prefer the term ‘refreshing’ but I’ll let you use ‘weird’.” I wink.

  “I meant you’re not that bad.”

  “Thank you?”

  Reece’s expression turns serious. “Why didn’t Daddy mention you?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know. I’m sure he had his reasons.”

  “I miss him.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I want him to come home.”

  “I know, kiddo.”

  As Reece sobs quietly, I reach out. My hand lingers in the air. I pull it back. Stare at her bowed head and trembling chin. Move over to her. Move back.

  Why is this so hard?

  At last, I put my hand on her shoulder and pat it. “There, there.”

  She looks up and through a pool of tears asks, “What are you doing?”

  “Offering comfort.”

  “Oh.” She shakes her head and forces a smile. “I think I’m ready for those pancakes now.”

  “Yeah.” I slide off the bed and bow at the door. “After you, m’lady.”

  The smile turns a bit more genuine.

  I follow Reece down the hall and back to the kitchen thoughtfully. She’s a smart kid, and I get the sense that she can pretty much look after herself. I also sense that such laid-back parenting wasn’t what Harry had in mind when he appointed me her guardian.

  I could easily accept the title and leave Reece to her own devices, but I’d rather not disappoint Harry any more than I already have.

  “Hey, you two,” Logan says when we enter the kitchen. She slides a steaming heap of fluffy pancakes in front of us. “Eat up.”

  “Whoa!” Reece digs in like she wasn’t just bawling her eyes out a minute ago.

  Logan pours a cup of orange juice and hands it to me. “Want some?”

  I stare suspiciously at it. “You didn’t poison this, did you?”

  “With what?” She snorts. “If you don’t want it, fine.”

  When she tilts it to her lips, I grab it out of her hands. “I’ll drink it.”

  Logan puts her own plate on the table and spears a pancake. “Lydia called a few minutes ago. She’s coming over to discuss some details that you didn’t get to cover yesterday.” From the way Logan is arching both eyebrows, I guess she’s talking about the funeral.

  “Oh, yeah.” I cough. “The details.”

  Reece glances between the two of us. “Are you talking about Daddy’s service?”

  I freeze.

  Logan blinks rapidly.

  Reece chews with a thoughtful expression. “Dad always said he wanted his funeral to be a party. He didn’t want any black clothes or crying.” She sniffs but manages to hold her tears back. “Anyway, make sure it’s like that.”

  “We will,” I promise her.

  Lydia arrives after breakfast. I stare sheepishly at the floor while she makes her greetings. She smiles politely and doesn’t scold me until we’re alone in Harry’s office.

  “Where did you run off to yesterday?” she asks.

  “I went sightseeing,” I lie.

  She arches an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. I appreciate that about Lydia. She’s not the type that nags. Logan, on the other hand, she’ll just threaten bodily harm until her victim’s given up everything.

  “Since you weren’t around to confirm, I went ahead and set the funeral date. We’ve got four days to order flowers, send out death announcements on the local news channels, and post in the obituaries.”

  “Alright.” It all sounds like gibberish to me. I’ve never planned a funeral and I have no desire to do so now. I’m glad that Lydia is taking charge.

  She pulls out a small purse and flips it open to reveal a pair of fragile gold glasses. With careful movements, she wipes the lens and then places it on the edge of her nose. Next, she pulls out a book and a pen.

  Her watery brown eyes meet mine. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. And I don’t know why Harry never mentioned his family in the six years that I knew him. However, as a mother, I would want to know if my child passed away.”

  I bristle. “You want me to tell my dad?”

  “So you do have a father.” She leans forward. “And what about your mother?”

  “She passed.” My gaze lands on the floor.

  Lydia pats my knee. “I can tell by your expression that there’s a story here, but I’m not going to pry. At least not yet. Whatever happened between you boys and your father, he deserves to know about Harry’s funeral.”

  I think of Dad and Lauren prancing into the church I visited with Lydia yesterday. Imagine them sitting in the front pew and weeping over Harry’s body like they weren’t the people that drove him away from us in the first place.

  “I… don’t know if I can.”

  Lydia stands, her knees creaking with the movement. “The truth is… I looked you up online. I have the number for your dad’s hospital, and I’m sure I can get in touch on my own. But I think this is something you need to do.”

  “Lydia…”

  “You have until tomorrow. Call him.” She waddles to the door. “Or I will.”

  Chapter Six

  Logan

  “I’m sorry. Are you saying you slept with him?” Tanya yells for all of Belize City to hear.

  I clamp her wrist and drag her down the hall. On the bright side, our shop’s not open yet so the only people who heard her outburst are Clara and Yvonne, the two stylists we hired months ago.

  I don’t want them in my business either way.

  Tanya crashes into the office and stands amidst the boxes piled high on the ground. We’ve been so busy this past year that we haven’t gotten around to unpacking. Which is fine for now. We do most of our bookkeeping at home or around the cash register up front.

  “Look,” I close the door softly, “don’t imagine anything weird. We didn’t have sex.”

  “Are you sure?” Tanya’s black eyes glitter.

  “Yes.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Tanya,” I hiss, “we just met yesterday.”

  “You said he’s cute.”

  “I said he reminded me of Harry.”

  “Same thing.” She waves her hand.

  “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Alright. Alright.” Tanya captures my arm and swings it. “Geez, you’re not usually this wound up. I’m only teasing.”

  �
��I know. It’s just… I’m worried.”

  “About the mysterious brother?”

  “About Reece. This random guy showed up and because he shares her father’s blood, he’ll get full custody. I trust Lydia. And Harry. Obviously, he wanted his brother involved in Reece’s life, but I don’t trust Ben. Not yet.”

  “Why? What else did he do except keep you warm last night?”

  “Really?”

  “Sorry.” Tanya throws her hands up. “I’m done.”

  I lean against the desk, my eyebrows scrunched in thought. “The problem is… I’ve seen some red flags. Like the fact that he stumbled in drunk right after Lydia told him about Reece.”

  “Which is understandable given he just flew into Belize to find out his brother died and had a secret child. Not everyone can be as composed and put-together as you, Logan. Now if his drinking is a habit, I would be concerned.”

  “It’s not just the drinking.” I tap my fingers against the desk and stare into space, imagining Benjamin Duncan’s handsome face. “He has this vibe—”

  “What vibe?” Tanya leans forward. “The kind that makes you want to curl up in bed with him?”

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, Tan.” I flick her shoulder. “He strikes me as the love-em-and-leave-em type. You know? Like he doesn’t do responsibilities.”

  She rubs the spot and shoots me a look of annoyance. “What are you? Doctor Phil? How did you analyze everything about him after one day?”

  “Am I being too paranoid?”

  “Yes, but I don’t blame you. It’s a symptom from living with your parents. Remember how your dad never let you come to sleepovers or anything because he was scared something would happen to you?”

  I smile in memory. “He was a social worker. He’d seen the worse the world had to offer, and he didn’t trust anyone with me.” I nod. “That could explain why I’m being overprotective with Reece now.”

  “If you’re so concerned, why don’t you supervise Ben for a couple weeks then?”

  “Supervise?”

  “Offer to move in. Help take care of Reece. If Ben’s as immature as you say, then he won’t mind. In fact, he might kiss you in gratitude.”

  I glare at my best friend. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  She grins wide. “Nope.”

  “But… you might have a point.”

  Tanya blows on her long nails. “I do have my moments.”

  I try not to roll my eyes. “Let’s just get to work.”

  Tanya hooks her arm in mine as we return to the main room. She’s four years older than me, but she might as well be younger.

  We met in high school. I was her ‘little sister’ while she was the senior who was supposed to show me around. Tanya took her duties seriously and absorbed me into her friend group. When the rest of her social circle drifted away to college, our friendship deepened.

  Tanya, for some reason, likes that I’m a dry, sarcastic old woman locked in a twenty-five-year-old body.

  “Look at this beauty,” she says, spreading her arms toward the shop and taking a deep breath. “Smells like perms and hot combs in here.”

  “Are you okay? You know you shouldn’t be sniffing those hair chemicals.” I poke her in the side. “They’ll make you crazy. Or, in your case, crazier.”

  “Aren’t you excited?” Tanya asks. “Everything you see before you is ours.”

  “Technically, it’s the bank’s.”

  Tanya scoffs. “You just have to ruin it, don’t you?”

  I laugh and watch her saunter to the sinks in the corner. Tanya borrowed money from the bank to purchase the building while I invested my college funds into the machines and decorations.

  The result? We created the hottest hair salon and mani-pedi shop in Belize City. Or we will. When we’re not swimming in bills and can finally pay ourselves a decent salary.

  The colorful walls and high fashion posters are all Tanya. The clean, spare workspaces are mine. I like things neat. Orderly. Organized.

  The hair stations sit with baited breath, waiting for someone to make use of them. They’ll get their wish soon.

  Despite our massive bills, our store is doing well. The customer base Tanya built while she was doing hair in her apartment transferred to Curl Me Chic.

  Those friends brought their friends. Word spread and we had the skills to back it up. Tanya’s a boss at braiding. She’s got a natural inclination that helps her analyze a person’s face and decide what style will look the best on them.

  Since I actually enjoy studying and taking courses, I fly out once a year to attend cosmetology programs and brush up on my skills. No one in the entire nation of Belize can do a sew-in, weave, or partial wig like me.

  The salon’s speakers beep to life. An up-tempo number wafts through the store, setting the mood and sparking a mini-celebration. I glance up and find Tanya dancing freely.

  I’m glad I came in today instead of hanging around with Lydia, Ben, and Reece. As much as I love that little girl, my heart hurts whenever I think about never seeing her father again.

  But Tanya won’t allow me to mourn.

  She grabs my hands and coaxes me to dance. I watch her wiggle her hips and shake her booty, popping and locking like she’s not pushing thirty, still single, and swimming in debt.

  “Come on, girl!” She thrusts her fists to the ceiling.

  “Tanya…”

  “How long are you going to cry? You’re in desperate need of a cleansing dance sesh. Let’s go.”

  I bounce unenthusiastically.

  “Nah, I know you can do better.”

  Tanya releases me and whirls around, shimmying her shoulders and getting low to the ground. Our employees join her, moving like they’re in a club instead of an empty beauty shop.

  They look so happy, so carefree.

  I let my knees bounce to the rhythm. Their laughter and shouts of encouragement are contagious. I close my eyes. Move my waist. Drop low when the bass does. Tanya’s shriek of laughter says I probably look like a fool, but I don’t care.

  I dance to the other end of the room, squeezing my eyes tight. If I open them, the spell breaks and reality will gain a foothold.

  So I don’t.

  My movements are unhindered, raw, energetic. All I can feel is the bass in my bones. The piano keying through my heart. The drums pounding a beat with my feet.

  Suddenly, the music dies.

  Silence descends like a guillotine.

  My eyes pop open. I find a man leaning against the counter, casually observing me. I straighten and push my hair away from my face. The man’s brown eyes find mine. They’re sparkling. His plump lips curve upward when he notices that I’ve seen him.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” he says in a voice as chocolatey as his skin tone.

  I look around for Tanya. My best friend is giggling with the girls behind the counter. Traitor.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that.” I chuckle nervously.

  “Actually, it was a pleasure.” He trots toward me and sticks his hand out. “I’m Anthony Young.”

  “Logan.” I pump his hand once and then pull away.

  He shuffles his feet. “I came to get a gift certificate for my mother’s birthday. She’s always moaning about doing her nails. I thought I could surprise her.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” I back away slowly. “Tanya, can you take care of Mr. Young? I forgot that I had to do something…” I spin on my heels and race out of sight.

  As soon as I’m in the relative safety of the office, I bury my head in my hands.

  How could Tanya leave me to humiliate myself like that?

  Ten minutes later, my best friend crashes into the room. I shoot to my feet and glare at her, wishing my eyes were lasers so I could do some real damage. “What the heck? You couldn’t warn me I had an audience?”

  “You were so cute. I didn’t want to stop you.” She laughs.

  “How long was he standing there watching me?”
<
br />   “Two minutes tops.”

  “You think this is funny.”

  “I think this is hilarious.” She bends over and slaps her knee. “The weird thing is, you left an impression. A good one. ”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anthony Young asked who you were and if you worked here. He looked interested, girl.” Tanya wiggles her eyebrows. “Who knows? You might have a new beau soon.”

  “The guy I had feelings for died so… I don’t think so.”

  “Puh-lease. Harry Duncan saw how much you cared for him and intentionally ignored it. He kept stringing you along so he could have his cake and eat it too.”

  “Stop it, Tan.”

  “Fine.” She throws her hands up. “I’m just saying. The best way to get over someone is to—”

  “Do not finish that.” I wiggle my finger.

  “I was gonna say ‘date someone else’. You nasty. What did you think I was gonna say?”

  “You’re annoying.”

  “And I love you too.” She blows me a kiss. “Now come on. We’ve got to open the store and our customers don’t want a sulky woman doing their hair. Smile for me.”

  I bare my teeth.

  “I didn’t say growl like a wild boar. Softer… softer.”

  I inch my lips up.

  “There we go!” Tanya pounces on me and drags me outside.

  As I work on my clients’ hair, I think of Tanya’s scolding. My relationship with Harry—if one can call our platonic interactions such—was special to me and every reminder that my crush was one-sided hurt like hell.

  The first time I met Harry, something inside me shifted. I can’t explain it.

  Before Tanya came up with her crazy idea of opening our own store, I was working in someone else’s shop. The moment Harry stumbled through the door, a desperate sheen in his pale blue eyes and a small, brown child in his arms, I knew I had to help him.

  He stood right beside Reece the entire time I braided her hair and held her hand. She kept squeezing his pale fingers and assuring him that no, the braids weren’t too tight and yes, she was comfortable.

  Every time they visited the store, Reece would ask for me by name and Harry would try to give me an extra tip for putting up with them. I kept rejecting his money until one night I grew bold and told him that if he wanted to thank me, he could cook me dinner.