The Good Brother

by Nia Arthurs

  “For what?”

  “For finding her.”

  I shuffle my feet. “She kind of found me.”

  “At least she had somewhere safe to run to.” He glances over his shoulder at Reece. “I’ll be outside. When you’re done, I’ll take you home.”

  Ben starts to walk away. I open my mouth to invite him to stay and enjoy our air conditioning when Tanya blocks his path. “Where are you going?”

  I run to Tanya before she does something embarrassing. “Ben, this is my best friend and co-owner of the salon, Tanya.”

  “Hey.” Ben lifts his chin in acknowledgement.

  Tanya reaches out. Her hands point toward his hair. “May I?”

  He shrugs.

  She runs her hands along the top of his brown locks while my jaw drops.

  What is she thinking?

  “I know the perfect style for you, Ben.” She leans in until their foreheads touch. “Do you trust me?”

  “I…”

  “Perfect.” Tanya whirls him around. “Since you’re Harry’s brother, we’ll give you a cut. On the house.”

  “Uh…”

  Tanya takes advantage of Ben’s indecision and tugs him into a chair. She sashays to my side and whispers, “Go ahead.”

  I stare at her. “What do you mean?”

  Tanya winks and then saunters over to my client. “Mrs. Wilma, you look fabulous. Shall I finish you off while Logan deals with someone else?”

  My client chuckles heartily. “I have no problem with that. In fact, I find everything going on quite entertaining.”

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Tanya teases. When she notices that I haven’t moved, she shoves me. “Hurry up.”

  I walk woodenly over to Ben and select a pair of scissors. Our eyes meet in the reflection of the glass. He looks slightly pale. “Wait, I thought the other one was going to do it.”

  “Sorry. The other one chose me. So here I am.”

  “Are you going to cut all my hair off just to get me back?”

  “For what?” I smirk. “Climbing into bed with me this morning?”

  “That wasn’t my fault.”

  I swing the cape we use to keep hair off our customer’s clothing around his shoulders. Ben must have showered sometime after I left. He smells woodsy. The scent lingers in his skin so it must be a body wash.

  And… what am I thinking right now?

  I shake my head to clear it and dig my fingers into his hair. He moans softly and then his eyes fly open. He winces. “Sorry. Involuntary reaction.”

  “Sounded voluntary to me,” Tanya calls from all the way across the room. I swear that woman has alien antennas embedded inside her head, but they only come out when she wants them to.

  Ben ducks and rubs the back of his neck. He glances at me and asks softly, “Is she always that…?”

  “Lovely? Enchanting? Beautiful?” Tanya yells.

  He lowers his voice. “Annoying.”

  “Hurtful!” Tanya cries.

  I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

  Ben smirks at me.

  The next time I slide my fingers through his hair, he keeps quiet. I lean down. “In case you didn’t know, Tanya’s trying to push us together. But if we fight her, she’ll get even more adamant. So all I’m going to do is trim off the edges and leave your hair as is. That okay with you?”

  He nods.

  The bell over the door jingles again. Sara enters with Hilton right behind her. I didn’t even notice when she left the store.

  “Hey.” The couple migrates to our side of the salon. Sara offers me a smile. “We had to tie Tango up somewhere far away from humanity.”

  “So… Mars?” Ben arches an eyebrow.

  “Very funny.” Sara slaps his shoulder.

  Hilton lifts his hand. “You have any other openings, Logan?”

  “We don’t serve married men here,” Tanya yells with a mischievous grin. “But single men like Ben are always welcome.” Tanya pauses with the flat iron and sends Ben a pointed stare. “You are single, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on, Tanya.” Sara laughs. “How do you expect him to say anything else when Logan has a pair of scissors in her hand?”

  “She’s right.” Mrs. Wilma chuckles.

  Reece bounces up to us. “Hello, Miss Sara. Mr. Hilton.” She pins me with her grey eyes. “I’m finished with the floor, Logan. What else did you need me to do?”

  “The magazines. When you’re finished with that, Ben will take you home.”

  She nods. “Are you coming over tonight?”

  I cut another lock of Ben’s dark brown hair and say casually, “Yeah. I was actually thinking of living with you two for a while. If that’s alright with Ben.”

  He sputters and turns around so he can stare at my face. “What?”

  “I think that’s a great idea!” a voice shrieks from across the room.

  I frown. “No one’s talking to you, Tan!”

  “To be honest, I think it’s great too.” Sara pats Ben’s shoulder. “Logan’s awesome at organizing, cooking and looking after Reece.”

  Geez, she doesn’t have to make me sound like a mail order bride.

  “It’ll only be for a few weeks.”

  “I like it.” Reece wraps her arms around my waist.

  Ben rises and tears his cape off his neck. His blue eyes burn with anger, but his voice is eerily still when he says, “Logan, can I talk to you? In private?”

  The silence in the salon is thick. Every eye follows us as I lead Ben to the office. His jaw clenches and his eyes are hard. I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out what I did or said to offend him.

  He can’t be that against my moving in? Can he?

  “I’m against you moving in,” he says.

  I blink. Wow… just like that.

  “It’s unnecessary.”

  “Says who? You clearly know nothing about raising a child so—”

  “Clearly? So you’ve deemed me unfit after meeting me yesterday?”

  “I’m being cautious.”

  He raises his chin. “You don’t trust me.”

  “We just met! Of course I don’t trust you.” I throw my hands skyward. “Why is this such a big deal?”

  “Why does everyone think I won’t be able to do this? Is the word ‘screw-up’ tattooed on my forehead? Is there a law that says I can’t be a good stand-in father?”

  “Do you even want to be?” I challenge him, storming closer.

  He falls silent.

  “What were you doing when Reece ran away? How long did it take you to even remember she was supposed to be in the house?”

  His cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t think she would just leave.”

  “I’m moving in.” I stand my ground, hands on my hips. “Try and stop me.”

  I hear Ben breathing hard and then he whirls around and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter Nine

  Ben

  “Are you angry with me?” Reece asks, chewing on her bottom lip like it’s taffy. She’s standing in the middle of the living room, her hands clasped together. “I’m sorry for running away. I won’t do it again.”

  “While I appreciate that and I hope you keep your promise,” I give her a stern look, “that’s not why I’m angry.”

  She seems relieved and jumps into the sofa. “Is it Logan then?”

  Just the sound of her name sends my pulse spiking. And not in a good way. I haven’t even decided if I’m going to stick around or not, but having Logan scream about how she doesn’t trust me is insulting.

  “Is she usually that nosy?”

  Reece nods. “Dad says Logan is our guardian angel, that’s why she’s always around.”

  “Really?” I’m starting to wonder if Harry might have had feelings for Logan too. Or maybe his definition of ‘guardian angel’ was seriously screwed up.

  “Why don’t you want her to live with us? She’s my friend.”

 
“You wouldn’t understand.”

  Reece presses her lips together. “Try me.”

  I glance at her, surprised. “Are you sure you’re just nine years old?”

  “I’ll be ten in two months.” She arches both eyebrows.

  “Good for you.”

  A low growl travels from her stomach to my ears. She smiles in embarrassment. “I’m hungry.”

  “So I gather. Should we order something?”

  Reece giggles. “You sound like Dad.”

  “Remember the story about your dad and I getting in trouble after blowing our money on takeout?”

  Reece nods, her grey eyes bright.

  “Buying takeout everyday was my idea.”

  She laughs. “No way.”

  “Apart from eggs and toast, I’m no good in the kitchen.”

  She tilts her head. “Then what are you good at?”

  “I like to draw,” I say casually and reach for their landline. “What do you feel like eating?”

  “Fried chicken,” Reece says.

  I make the order, with some guidance from my niece. After I hang up the phone, I turn to Reece. “I’m pretty sure that guy just called me a bad word in Chinese.”

  “Maybe. You did change your mind a lot.” She shrugs and holds her hand out.

  “What?”

  “Can I see your drawings?”

  I hand the phone over. “I’m not that good.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Reece kicks back and flicks through my gallery. I’m almost certain she won’t stumble on any picture her little eyes shouldn’t see—since I lock most of my explicit photos with a password—but, just in case, I linger around the sofa.

  After a few minutes, she hands the phone back to me.

  I chew on a fingernail, realizing I’m nervous to hear her opinion.

  Her expression is grave. She says nothing.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  Suddenly, her eyes widen and she yells, “You’re amazing!”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “I’m not. You’re so good. Is that what you do? Do you draw cartoons?”

  “No, I... I’m between jobs.”

  “What does that mean?”

  It means I’m a bum. “I’m unemployed. I haven’t figured out what I want to do yet.”

  Correction: I haven’t given in to Dad yet. He wants me to chain myself to a desk in the administration ward of the hospital.

  My path’s been set for me since the beginning of time. No matter what, our family’s involvement in the hospital is a given.

  Harry became a doctor because of Dad.

  I was given the business track.

  Even before I entered college, I had a cushy job waiting for me. Which was fine and all. If I wanted to live a miserable, boring life.

  I’ve been avoiding Dad and begging for more time before I start at the hospital, but it’s putting off the inevitable. I’m not strong enough to tell him I don’t want to be a businessman, and I’m not crazy enough to try and make a career out of art.

  I’ve never been poor and the thought of living without my car or my apartment is truly frightening. The starving part of the ‘starving artist’ gig is what puts me off.

  So I’m in a limbo, running from the job I don’t want and too scared to create the job I do.

  But that’s a lot to explain to a nine year old.

  “How about we watch some cartoons while we wait for the food?”

  Reece agrees and we spend a relatively calm afternoon watching television and stuffing our faces with chicken so flavorful it’s like a party in my mouth.

  I’m starting to think Harry didn’t come to Belize for the view of the Caribbean Sea or the beautiful women. He came for the food.

  Definitely the food.

  “This is boring.” Reece wrestles the remote from me and changes the show. I protest when she puts on a princess cartoon, but she only wiggles the remote in my face, refusing to heed my pleas.

  A few episodes in, I hear snoring. I press ‘PAUSE’ and turn to Reece only to find her sprawled on her side of the couch. She’s fast asleep, limbs going every which way and mouth hanging open.

  Just like Harry.

  There’s so much of my brother in her. She says exactly what she’s thinking in the most mature way possible, most likely a result of hanging with an old man for almost a decade.

  She’s also got a tendency to eat her food like it’ll be taken from her. Harry did the same thing. Mom was always ragging on him to chew before he swallowed.

  Reece is good-looking too, a side effect of being a Duncan. We’re all stunning creatures. It’s the curse of our genes.

  I can imagine the guys in her class will clamor after her as soon as they realize that girls aren’t carriers of cooties and…

  Oh Lord, the teenage years.

  Reece is cute now because she’s a kid, but how am I supposed to deal with her in a few years when she’s answering back and sneaking out to get felt up by some punk with acne?

  I grip the sides of my head. It feels like I’m about to explode from stress.

  “Calm down, Ben. She’s just nine years old. The teenage years are in the distant future.”

  But the seeds have been planted and they’re already beginning to sprout. Maybe I should ask Lydia to take her in. Or Dad if he wants the job. I am not equipped to handle a teenage girl.

  My head is still aching. I feel restless, but my usual stress relievers—alcohol and women—are no longer options.

  Instead, I spot a couple photo albums on the bottom shelf of the TV stand. I scramble toward them and flip through the pages.

  Reece’s baby photos give me a glimpse into her past. She looked a lot different back then. Her hair had a reddish undertone rather than the dark brown streaked with gold that she has now. Her eyes were so big they took up most of her face. At least she’s grown into them.

  The album’s first few pages are of Reece alone. The later images feature selfies with both Reece and Harry. My eyes get misty the more I follow along his journey into fatherhood.

  Man, why didn’t he tell me I had a niece?

  Since he’s gone now, I can’t confirm it, but I’m almost certain Harry evaded me in an effort to keep Reece’s existence a secret. If he’d been more upfront from the start, we could have spent more time together.

  We wasted so many years…

  I put the photo album down for a minute so I can compose myself. When the lump in my throat and the pressure behind my eyes disappears, I pull it out again.

  As I get to the more recent albums, Logan begins to pop up in the pictures. With frequency.

  Geez, didn’t she have her own family?

  Logan insists that she and Harry were ‘just friends’, but she’s there at every milestone—Reece’s birthday parties, Christmases, the school talent show.

  Were they dating secretly? Did she choose not to tell me about it because of Reece?

  The door creaks open and I snap the book shut, surprised when the object of my thoughts steps inside. Logan shakes her ponytail over her shoulder and drags a suitcase behind her. I scramble to my feet. She stops short when our gazes collide.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hi.” She drags the suitcase deeper into the room.

  “You came.”

  “I told you to try and stop me.” She slams the handle of the suitcase in. “Where’s Reece?”

  “Passed out in the couch.”

  She glares at me. “Passed out?”

  “Relax.” I slip my hands into my pockets. Logan is staring at me like I drugged the kid. “She’s sleeping. Food coma.”

  “Oh.”

  I study her face. She looks tired. I can imagine, given the number of customers in her salon.

  I was surprised when I stepped inside. Curl Me Chic looked like the type of place Lauren would patron—lots of colors, modern furniture, and bright lights. When Logan said she did hair, I never assumed it would be at a store so fancy.
Or that she would be a co-owner.

  “I… wanted to apologize,” she says.

  I glance up. “You’ll have to be more specific. There’s a lot you could be referring to.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Forget it.”

  “Hey,” I slide in front of her, “you can’t take back an apology.”

  “Says who?”

  I think fast. “Jesus.”

  Logan laughs softly.

  I smile at the sound.

  Silence descends between us, but it’s comfortable. Easy.

  In my head, Logan is Harry’s woman. I have no desire to impress her. And it looks like the feeling is mutual if our earlier interactions are any sign. I get the sense that Logan is fiercely loyal and a part of me wants to join the circle of people she would die to protect.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “What?” She cocks her head to the side.

  “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to trust you,” she says quietly, her gaze on her white tennis shoes. “My dad was a social worker. I heard stories of fathers, uncles, brothers, aunts, and cousins abusing children. I’m not saying you’d do that, but for my own peace of mind, I’d like to stay.”

  “I see.” It’s not the answer I was looking for, but at least it’s a glimpse into the way her mind works. In Logan-Land, everyone is a potential rapist.

  Noted.

  “Just consider it free help,” she tacks on quickly.

  “And if I say no?”

  “Why would you?” She peers at my face. “Are you saying no?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this guardianship thing, but hearing you doubt my ability to even try… it got to me.”

  She nods slowly.

  “It’s my job to keep Reece safe. As long as my niece is happy and cared for, you can stay.”

  Logan touches my arm. “It’s cute that you thought you had a choice.”

  I smirk at her back as she prances down the hall. That sass of hers is starting to become endearing.

  Since I have nothing better to do at the moment, I follow Logan down the corridor. When she stops in front of my room, I frown. “That’s mine.”

  She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “Not anymore. Consider this your eviction notice.”

  I follow her inside. “Then where am I supposed to sleep?”