by Emily James
I sit on a stool at the island. I’m starving and it smells so good.
“Thanks for the pancakes,” I say, wondering if maybe Dad asked him to bring me food. “You’re not going to stop by every morning, are you?” I cringe at how ungrateful I sound.
Will chuckles, “No, Amber, I won’t be cooking you breakfast every morning. Is your coffee okay?”
I stare down at my untouched coffee and explain that I don’t drink coffee. Will pulls a face when I explain I prefer tea, the English way. “You should try it, it’s the best.” I smile, thinking of Mum. I inhale the pancakes, stopping only to add more syrup. Will watches me shovelling them into my mouth with the grace of a pig at feeding time, “You sure enjoyed those pancakes,” he grins.
“Just missed a little,” he says, wiping at the corner of my mouth with his thumb. The gesture is too sexy and catches me off guard. I’m not sure if he intends it to be a flirting moment, but I balk off the stool unprepared for his physical contact. My knees are unstable and I stumble. Will grabs my hand to support my incompetence. “Whoa there, are you okay?”
“Just taking my plate to the sink,” I mumble and use my hair as a veil to avoid his eye contact. I need some space from his close proximity. “About the driving lesson, it’s honestly unnecessary. I’m really quite a good driver.”
Will holds his hand on mine and my face turns to meet his piercing blue eyes.
“You ever drove in two feet of snow, on the wrong side of the road, during a blizzard?”
I shake my head in reply. I mean, who does that?
“Then you’re having at least one lesson. I’ll let you know if you need more,” Will walks over to the backdoor, then stops and turns to me, “And to be certain…” Will reaches up to the wall cupboard and opens it. Puzzled, I wait for him to finish, “I’m taking the car keys,” They jangle as he slides them into his pocket, “You’ll get them back just as soon as I’m certain you’re not as dangerous with a car as you are with a paring knife.”
“Hey, give those back!” I yell, furious that he took them, “You —Will Denver, have serious issues with keys, you know that?” I huff, like a petulant child.
“Yep.” His grin is enormous and casts deep dimples on his cheeks. I can’t help but grin a little in response. “Gotta get to work now, I’ll pick you up tomorrow around nine.”
“Will, you can’t do this!” I yell after him as he opens the door, “I’m almost out of milk!”
The door slams and Will is gone.
Irritated, I head upstairs to get dressed. Who does he think he is? Although, despite having just got out of an abusive relationship, this act doesn't make me feel like it stems from control. It makes me feel that Will is looking out for me, and it makes me wonder if he isn't such a bad guy after all.
* * *
My phone beeps a text message from Roxy: Hey bitch tits. On my way.
I resist the urge to climb into my warm bed and pull the covers over my head and walk across the room to open the curtains. Daylight floods the room and I view the street below. The house opposite has a kennel out front with a chocolate brown German Shepherd, penned in by a chain metal fence. It must be home to the source of the howls that kept me awake last night.
I thumb a text to Dad to ask about the dog across the street. His reply comes straight away: Plenty of guard dogs sleep outside. But I’ll have a word with the owner once I’m back.
* * *
Roxy parks her ancient black muscle car on the street and impatiently blasts on the horn. She must not have liked her chances of safely getting her car up the drive. Most of the snow is cleared from the driveway, but there are still icy patches for me to navigate, and I skid down the drive like Bambi on ice until I reach her car. Roxy opens the passenger door for me and I climb in. She's wearing thigh high boots and a long leather jacket, a look only she could make work. Next to her, I’m entirely boring in jeans and a hoody.
“Hey, bitch bag, how’s life on the outside, with all the normal people?” She whispers ‘normal people’ using her fingers as speech marks, inspecting my clothes she adds, “Damn, aren’t you freezing?”
“It’s too quiet. I think it’s going to take some getting used to, I’m even missing your snoring,” I wink, keeping the mood light, “And yes, I’m freezing. I need you to take me shopping, not tomorrow though, I have a stupid driving lesson —long story. We better get moving or we'll be late.”
“Onwards to the funny farm,” Roxy hollers, causing us both to cackle with laughter.
* * *
Therapy is the punch to the gut I expected it to be. I recount the day we got Mum’s diagnosis and the first time I met Tommy. He’d noticed me crying as I left Mum for a few minutes to go feed the parking meter. He was so kind back then; classically good looking with styled brown hair. I soon wondered how I coped before Tommy. Drip feeding the story to Bob made me recognise when things changed. The more I relied on Tommy, the more he took from me. Small things at first, like when my car stopped working and Tommy promised to do the repairs but then never got around to it. I then had to rely on him to get everywhere. Messages would be deleted and my friends would get irate when I missed important events, even though I’d never received the invitations. I tried to discuss it with him, but he’d minimise it, tell me I was paranoid and accuse me of not trusting him. Otherwise he would switch the topic to something I did that had made him hurt or angry and the conversation would always end the same, with me apologising to him.
Bob ended the session by telling me I’m making progress. I haven’t shared the worst yet. I don’t want my hand forced. Bob might make me tell the police, and if they didn’t believe me, my dad might not. He’s my only family and I’m tired of being alone. The worry that I won't be believed is never far away.
Mentally, I’m stronger, but I can't help but wonder if it’s just an illusion that the newly found distance between us is affording me.
* * *
I’m quiet on the journey home, mentally drained from my revelations.
“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you, drink some awful tea?” Roxy asks as she pulls up the handbrake.
“Nah, you get yourself home. I’m just going to get an early night,” I say, wishing sleep was that easy to come by, “Thanks for the lift though.”
“See you Thursday, same time?” Roxy asks and I agree. Who knows when I’ll get to use Dad’s car with Will policing it.
* * *
As I begin the perilous skate up the driveway, a car door slams and gives me a fright. I lose my footing and call out as my backside smacks on the ground. I’m winded and it takes me a moment to realise a stranger has hold of my arms, pulling me up from behind.
“You came down with one hell of a bang there. Gonna be a bruise on that nice butt of yours,” a male, scratchy voice says. He's so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath. I twist in his hands, not appreciating the invasion of my personal space. His hands move as I do, settling on my waist. I promptly remove them as I pretend to dust myself off.
“I’m Jed. I live right opposite,” he smirks, gripping my hand and squeezing it with his too smooth hands.
“How-dilly-doodly, Ned. You want to take your hands off my girl?” Roxy is at my side and piercing Jed with a look of poison. He removes his hand and takes in Roxy’s guarded stance. Yep, I think, you do not want to fuck with her, Jed.
“It’s J.E.D.—not N.E.D,” Jed tells Roxy in a light tone that doesn't quite match his cold stare.
Roxy gives Jed the I don't give a fuck eye roll that she tends to throw when she's readying for a fight. To diffuse the situation, I start to waffle, “Hi, um thanks for helping me up. I’m not used to the snow yet, I guess,” Jed's eye contact feels invasive, so I look beyond him to avoid his inspection. I notice his dog roaming sluggishly in the front yard.
“Hey, you’re welcome. What’s a pretty little British girl doing out here in the bum-fuck of nowhere?” His choice of words set me on edge, as does
the smell of cigarettes and whiskey on his breath. I prepare to make an excuse and leave, but his dog’s whining at the steel gate causes me to pause.
“I’m staying with my dad for a while,” I say, without mentioning he’s mostly out of town, “Is that your dog?”
“That stupid mutt?” He points over his shoulder, “She’s mine since my ex up and left me. Damn thing barks all the time, it bothering you?”
“No, no, not at all, she’s beautiful. I just wondered why she sleeps in a kennel.” Outside in the snow, I silently add, my jaw clenching at the cruelty.
“That bitch is Gizmo. Don't be fooled into thinking she's some cute little lapdog. Bitch sleeps outside since she bit me. Figured it was cheaper to make her a guard dog than paying to have her put to sleep. I’m a police officer and she keeps an eye on the place while I’m out saving pretty damsels,” he winks, and then laughs out tiny specks of spit.
Roxy responds to his slimy comments by making a loud and obvious gagging sound.
“Is she okay, even guard dogs feel the cold, right?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? She sleeps outside? Take that damn dog inside or I’ll call Animal Rights on your ass!”
“She’s just kidding. Roxy, play nice with my neighbour please,” I send pleading eyes to Roxy to not make a scene. Jed seems to miss her antagonism as he checks out my chest. I cross my arms to cover myself.
“Don’t you worry, Gizmo’s just fine. Course, you can come keep me warm anytime you like.”
Bile rises in my throat and I turn to leave. Another whine from Gizmo causes me to stop.
“I wondered if you might let me take her out for a walk, with you being so very busy.” I play to his ego. If I can get some time with her then maybe I can check if she’s okay. Jed's nostrils flare and he doesn’t look keen on the idea, so I continue to try to persuade him, “You’d be helping me out actually. I don’t know the area and I’d feel safer, if I had company?”
“Hey, you only got to say if you want an excuse to come see me,” Jed’s smug face leers, “Her lead’s on the hook at the side of the kennel, with her muzzle. I can't afford to pay you, so don’t bother if you’re looking for cash.”
“I’ll do it for free, of course,” I smile, “I’ll see you around, Jed.”
Jed turns and walks across the road. Then, he turns back and calls out, “Not if I see you first, darlin’.”
“You have got to be kidding me. You do not want to bone that loser? Why were you so nice to him?”
“Ew. No, of course not, but my dad said there's no law against a dog sleeping in a kennel in the winter, so I guess I’m trying to negotiate a happy ending; one which doesn't result in you assaulting Jed the police officer.”
“Okay, okay, I get your point. What if we just kidnap the dog and set his house on fire?”
“Roxy, remember our deal. You’ll be less aggressive and angry and I’ll be ballsier. Compromise, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m Mrs Goody-Two-Shoes these days. Boring as fuck! Though, you got to start holding up your end of the bargain. That was not ballsy.”
“Hey, I challenged the situation and negotiated more favourable terms. It's a start, right?” I smile to myself, “Now get yourself home. The roads are treacherous, so let me know you got back safe and don’t start any fights on the way. Oh, and Roxy... thanks for having my back.”
“Always, Ambs.”
Chapter 9
Will
I pull up on the driveway a full twenty minutes late, thanks to damn construction work on the highway. I'm prepared for Cody to be pissed, sitting outside, freezing her butt off on the porch. But, she's not there. So I call Mrs Stevens the second I get in, “No, Will darling, she's not here. I dropped her off a half hour ago. Cody said she’d go wait over at Patrick’s.”
Damnit, kid wouldn’t listen if I taped her ears back. Pulling my work boots back on, I grab my bag and trudge back out in the snow and across the fence.
I pause when I get to Amber’s backdoor. I didn’t call ahead. I promised I’d call ahead. I’m torn between walking back through the snow to call her, or taking my chances by knocking the door. The decision is made for me when the door flies open and I’m greeted by a four feet tall, red-headed demon.
“Will!”
Cody’s smile lights up and it’s hard to stay cross for long.
“You’re late, but it’s okay. Amber made me British tea, it’s delicious.” Cody moves aside and lets me in, parking herself on the stool behind the island.
“Hey.” Amber looks up shyly from a huge mug as she takes a sip of her tea. She looks freshly showered, her hair dripping a path down her T-shirt. I look away as I notice she’s not wearing a bra.
“So, you met my sister, huh? I was held up by construction work —sorry,” I dipped my head as I apologise. I truly am sorry, because God only knows what Cody’s been saying in my absence.
“It’s no problem. Cody’s been telling me all about her football training.”
She smiles fondly at Cody and I notice the start of an easy friendship between them.
“Amber’s going to teach me to speak with an English accent. Did you know soccer is football and football is rugby in England? And, that pants aren't trousers, they're underwear and underwear are also knickers? What’s in the bag, Will?” Cody flies excitedly from one subject to the next, making it difficult to keep up with her questions.
“Football is not rugby! What the hell, Amber, don’t corrupt my sister with crazy talk!” I smile as I tell her, but worry flashes on her face. Looking for a subject change, I dump the bag on the counter and unload the milk, bread and pizza I picked up for her earlier. Suddenly feeling dumb, I mumble, “Just a few groceries,” I steel a glance at Amber who looks so shocked she almost chokes on her tea.
“Will, that's very kind of you, but I didn’t get to the bank yet.” Amber looks embarrassed and I wonder if maybe it’s a British, stiff upper lip thing.
“I had to go to the store, anyway,” I try to appease her and hope she’s willing to play nicely today as Cody doesn’t need to be around our weird bitching, not that she’d take my side anyway.
Cody sighs.
“Will is so bull-headed. What he meant to say was…” Cody changes her tone to sarcastic, impersonating me, “You are very welcome, Amber.”
“I like it better when you speak for him,” Amber says, giggling, and she relaxes against the backrest of her stool. I’m momentary jealous my sister is able to evoke such a pleasant reaction.
“Come on, Cody, time we were leaving.”
“I didn’t finish my tea yet, Will,” Cody pleads, flashing me her usual determined pout.
“Do you fancy a coffee while you wait?” Amber asks.
Cody interjects, “Fancy. That means you like, really, 'like' someone or something, in the Queen’s English. Bet you didn't know that, huh, Will?”
Amber's skin tone pinks up with embarrassment. It’s cute and if Cody wasn’t here I’d probably be all over that and throw a few innuendos right back. But she is here, so I just accept the coffee with a cocky, knowing smile.
I can tell by the face that Cody makes, she isn’t enjoying that tea one bit. To get my own back, I sip my coffee and pull faces at Cody, encouraging her to drink her tea before it goes cold.
“Amber’s going to braid my hair before school tomorrow,” Cody tells me. I try to object as I doubt Amber wants to be saddled with a seven-year-old and I'd put money on Cody having invited herself for her hair appointment.
“Only if your mother doesn’t mind, of course?”
“She won’t mind. Our mother’s dead,” Cody says matter-of-factly.
It's been just Cody and me almost all her life. It's all she’s ever known, and since she’s had to tell this story many times, she doesn’t register the look of shock and sympathy on Amber’s face.
“Dad died soon after of a broken heart. They were like Romeo and Juliet,” Cody says, recounting their version of the classic story that I to
ld her. I couldn’t stand to tell her that Mum lost the battle to an aggressive breast cancer when Cody was just eleven months old or that just over a year later Dad had a fatal cardiac arrest. Some stories are better told by Shakespeare.
“My mum died, too.” Amber looks on thoughtfully, her eyes moist.
I want to comfort her, but I know too well that a simple sentence won't ease the pain.
“It’s okay, Amber. You’ve found your dad now and Patrick’s just the best. He’s been looking out for me and Will our whole lives.” Trust Cody to find some comforting words. “And, I’ve got Will, and he’s pretty great too.” Cody laughs and adds, “Even if he is a bull-head who throws perfectly good pancakes in the garbage.” Cody rolls her eyes at me, to emphasise her point.
“Pancakes? Will brought…”
“Cody, come on,” I interrupt. “It's time we were leaving.” The last thing I want is either of them knowing I made a second batch for Amber.
“See you in the morning,” Cody chimes, as I despair of my annoying little sister.
* * *
Cody wakes up in an unusually good mood, buzzing with excitement to go and see Amber. Outside, the snow has let up unusually early for February, and if the temperature rises, I’ll be able to get to work on the main house, which puts me in a good mood, too.
Cody finishes her breakfast, and dumps her dish in the sink, and heads over to the table and packs up what’s left. “I’ll take these over to Amber’s; bet she’s starving this morning.”
I’m about to object but since Cody’s got a point, I don’t. Instead I make a mental note to take Amber to the store while we’re out later. Cody flings on her red jacket and hat and bids me goodbye, without the usual yelling from me to hurry for the bus.
I load the dishwasher, do laundry, and put the vacuum to use before making work calls. Winter’s always quieter in the building trade, especially around these parts. But, as I owe Patrick money for a business loan he gave me, after my ex took me to the cleaners, I need to get as many orders in as I can. It’s been a tough couple of years for Denver and Son but I am determined to get back on track and make my father’s business a success. When I finish my last call, I glance at the clock and wonder why I’m so unnerved.
