by Xavier Neal
The counter causes him to chuckle. “That Ollie seems like a handful.”
I smile at the comment just seconds prior to Runt plopping down beside me. “She is. And so is our hog. My hands are always occupied.”
Scrappy gives him a short laugh. “You want a beer?”
My baby brother nods and adjusts himself on the stool.
“You’re late.”
“Four minutes.” Runt grouses, “Just. Four.”
“Late is late. You know that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Look, it wasn’t my fault. We had a meeting this afternoon, and it ran later than expected.”
After Scrappy places his bottle down and we order our usual, I ask, “Everything okay? Everything still going well with the merger?”
The brewery Ford owns, but Blake works for, was acquired by one of the largest names in the alcohol business. They not only loved the taste of my brother’s beer, but everything his company stands for. All the paperwork was finished late last year and like me, when the new year hit, new jobs were put into place for him and Blake. Seeing him happy…seeing his dreams make him successful makes me prouder than he’ll ever really know. We’re a supportive family, always encouraging and standing by each other, but I was the one back in the day who bought him the shit to brew his first batch. I was the first one to catch the gleam in his eye and have done my best to fan the flame from where I stand. Beer isn’t exactly my forte, most of it tastes like shit and takes too much to get drunk on, but I’d do anything to support my brothers. Anything. Their happiness always comes before mine. Always.
Runt gives me a quick nod of reassurance. “Yeah. Everything’s goin’ great! Sales are up. Wilcox Whiskey seems pleased with the acquisition so far. Pretty sure Blake loves his new position as head of promotional events.”
“Why wouldn’t he? He’s now getting paid to do his three favorite things for a living. Drink beer, party, and take fucking pictures of himself.”
By far the most narcissistic of us.
Runt lets go a short laugh. “That’s what the meeting was about. They wanted to go over what they have on the calendar for us as sponsors and discuss what they would like to fill the open space with. So far, we’ve got festivals along with a few beach concerts. They’re hoping they can get us a beer cart during at least one of the Hellcat’s games for the next season. That’d be a huge accomplishment for Runt’s Beer.” When there isn’t excitement in my eyes, he sighs, “The Hellcat’s are our NBA team here in Highland.”
“I know that.”
I didn’t.
My baby brother hides his smirk behind his beer.
“Hope they do,” I warmly state. “Can’t imagine a better beer to be drinking while watching a game.”
“The only game you like to watch is that weird one you and Ollie play together.”
“Hydra.”
He nods and tries to hide his jealousy.
I’m the only one out of the five of us who picked up the gaming gene. I prefer spending my downtime in an environment I can control with virtual people who don’t know dick about me, where I came from, or the fact that I am the ‘cowboy’ who fucking hates horses. Runt’s girlfriend and I have a lot in common in that department, which I know bugs him because he wants the two of them to experience everything together. It’s not like we exclude him. He just doesn’t feel the passion we do about the programming that goes into it or the graphics. He’ll never admit it out loud, but I think it makes him feel threatened. Which hurts the fucking most. I’d never stand in between my brothers and their happiness.
Once he’s had another sip of his beer he tries to steer the conversation back on track. “Blake’s pretty pumped about the beach concerts they have lined up.”
“Chicks in bikinis. Why would that surprise me?”
Runt’s grin returns. “Actually, he’s um….He’s got a girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” I choke on the beer I was swallowing. “Blake’s never-”
“I know. I know.” He surrenders a hand in the air to cut me off. “But this one is different. You’ve seen the pictures-”
“He takes pictures with everyone. Anyone . He once took a picture with labradoodle and claimed he had found the love of his life.”
“Yeah, well I’ve seen them together. I’m tellin’ you. It’s different this time, Oliver. He’s…changin’.”
There’s a distinct twinge in my chest. “You’ve met her?”
He slowly nods.
“And hung out?”
Runt nods again.
“Are you the only one? Or has the rest of the family met her too?”
His mouth bobs around yet he doesn’t reply.
“Am I the only one who hasn’t?”
The continued inability to respond forces me to shake my head. I try to wash away the building annoyance with another swig of beer.
“Oliver-”
“What is it about me, Runt?” My bite is much harsher than intended. “Why am I always…forgotten about? I was last to meet Dawn. I met Sienna two hours before the wedding-”
“Yeah but that whole situation was spontaneous-”
“I didn’t get to meet Ollie until you two were fucking moving in together ,” my tangent continues. “And now…now I’m the only one who hasn’t met the only girlfriend Blake’s ever had.”
“Oliver-”
“Forget it.”
“Oliv-”
“Drop it.” I finish the last of my beer, the bitterness of being the family’s most unwanted member still clinging to my throat. Casually, I lift my finger to let Scrappy know I need another. After he acknowledges my request, I turn my face back towards Runt. “Anything else new?”
He clears his throat and confesses, “I’m gonna ask Ollie to marry me.”
Fifty bucks says I’m last to know about this too.
I offer him the best smile I can. “Congrats, Runt. She’s gonna make a great Shaw.”
And not just because she’s the only one who doesn’t treat me like a freak for not liking dirt under my nails or not knowing what the hell a ball hog is.
“If she says yes.”
“ When .”
A fresh beer is delivered at the same time he states, “Man, I hope she does. I can’t imagine a life without her.”
There’s a feeling I’ve never even come close to. A feeling I’m not sure I ever will.
“You know what? Enough about me. What about you? I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How’s your new job?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine?” He adjusts himself on the stool. “You seemed so excited when you got it.”
Tempted to tell him, I was until I realized I had no one to really talk about it with, I take a moment before answering. Forcing another grin onto my face, I simply shrug. “It’s just a job, Runt. Less hands on now. More paperwork.”
“But that’s good, right? You hate fixing shit.”
Wrong. And it’s a horrible feeling to have a family full of people who don’t know shit about you.
“The money’s nice.”
“You can buy more of those fancy suits you love.”
“Yeah.”
Runt gives me another nod. “How’s the whole online dating thing going?”
The smile on my face becomes genuine, wide, and completely involuntary.
“That good?”
I attempt to trample down the grin London always manages to bring, but fail. “Not exactly. I met a woman recently, but it wasn’t through one of the dating sites.” Scrappy places down our plates in front of us along with a bottle of ketchup. “We met at the high school reunion I attended.”
Runt shakes up the bottle before drowning his fries in it. “You reconnected with an old classmate. That’s interesting. Do I know her? Or…more likely her younger sister?”
“Actually, we didn’t go to school with her.”
He ceases moving the condiment covered fry closer to his face. “She just… crashed a high school reunion? That�
��s weird.”
“She went with a friend for moral support.”
“And left him for you?”
My casual shrug receives me a chuckle.
“You stole someone else’s date?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It sounds exactly like that.”
“The other guy was gay!”
“Gay guys don’t need love too?”
My mouth bobs around in a jumbled effort to reply until Runt’s laughing makes me realize his joke was for this exact reaction.
I clear my throat. “His boyfriend or husband or something couldn’t make it, so she tagged along.”
“Good friend. Well until the part where she ditched him for you.”
“She ditched him all night and the following one for me.”
Runt shoves the food in his mouth, and I try not wince at the blob that lands in his lap. “What!”
“We were raised near barns, Runt. Not in them.” My head motions for him to wipe up the spill.
He ignores the comment. “What the hell did you just say? You had a one nightstand?”
“No. We spent the remainder of the weekend together. Took her to the airport that Monday morning.”
His jaw cracks and exposes his half-chewed food.
“That’s disgusting. Chew and then comment.”
Quickly, Runt finishes what’s in his mouth, the disbelief dancing on his face filling me with a sense of pride to finally do something unexpected. “That….That….That’s not you .”
“But I did it. I enjoyed it. And I look forward to seeing her again when she gets back into town.”
“She not from around here?”
“She lives in Highland, but travels a lot.” Picking up my burger, I pour water on the conversation before it burns out of control. “It’s not a big deal, Runt. We had fun. We’ll probably have some more. Doubt it’ll be anything too perpetual. We’re… different . Like night and day.”
I have a bite of the burger to mask the taste of those words.
We are different. Too different for anything long term is what I convince myself of in between each phone call. However, the minute her voice hits my ears, I reassure myself how wrong I am. How maybe we can find a way to make something work for longer than a weekend or two. How I want to find what works for us. How the thought of letting her get away grinds this pain past my chest into the crevice of my soul. How ridiculous is that to feel about someone you barely know?
“Trust me, Oliver. That whole opposites attract thing isn’t bullshit. Mama was right-”
“Words best not said within her ear range-”
“-when she claimed a little crazy is needed in life to make it worth livin’. This woman, whoever she is may be the little bit of insanity you’ve been missing….”
An unusual feeling rolls over my shoulders, and I let the corner of my lip lift.
Honestly wouldn’t mind letting her burn my world down for us to rebuild it together. She’s already sparked the flame. She already makes the entire thing seem to glow.
All of a sudden, a shrill voice stuns our ears. Runt’s expression does its best not to grimace, but I catch it.
Carol Ann, his ex-girlfriend, a woman he dated on and off for over a decade, catches a glimpse of my face just as I steal a glance over my shoulder to assess where she’s going to sit. “Come on, Gary. Let’s go sit near the bar.”
While Runt does his best to pretend he’s not bothered by her incoming presence I know he is. He may be completely over her. He may be completely over what she did to him. He may be blissfully happy with his soon to be fiancé, but I know deep down inside regardless of whether he admits it out loud, it still hurts. We were there to share a beer with him the first time they broke up. I was there late night after late night when he would call a little drunk and pissed, or in other cases really drunk and heartbroken, convinced he would never be good enough. The damage she caused was palpable. Thankfully, Ollie didn’t mind picking up and mending the pieces the rest of us couldn’t.
I watch her take a seat with her date at the table closest to us.
The moment she seems settled, I turn my attention to my brother and say loudly, “I am so happy for you, Runt!”
His eyes widen in confusion.
“I can’t wait to officially call Ollie my sister in law!” There’s a surprise squeak from over my shoulder but I keep my eyes on his. “She’s perfect for you, Runt. Best thing that could’ve ever happened to you!” When there’s another I increase my tone a little more and drop my hand onto his shoulder. “Scrappy! Can we get two more beers over here?” With a gleam in my eye, I glare her direction and state, “I wanna toast to my little brother getting to marry the woman of his dreams .”
The angry screech she releases forces Runt to smirk while shaking his head.
Carol Ann shoots her body back up and begins tugging her date back towards the front door. “Come on, Gary…We need a more romantic atmosphere.”
“Try TGI Fridays three cities over,” I suggest and raise my half empty beer in the air.
Once they’ve successfully fled, Runt lets out a triumphant chuckle. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did.” A warm smile crosses my face. “Not only for all the shit she put you through, but because no one fucks with my little brother.” I give his brown hair a tussle, and he instinctively flinches away.
“Quit,” he complains as Scrappy places two fresh beers in front of us.
“You really gettin’ married?” The old man asks.
“If she says yes.”
“ When ,” the two of us correct him in unison.
Scrappy raises the shot of whiskey he poured for himself. “Cheers!”
I lift the beer I’m almost finished with, and Runt lifts his fresh one. Together we repeat, “Cheers.”
The three of us all toss back our alcohol, yet afterward Runt gives me a gracious nod as if thanking me for saving our meal from being ruined. I offer him one back and try to push away the antagonizing annoyance he has never acknowledged the fact that I would save him from anything if I had too. None of my brothers have ever acknowledged the lengths I can and do go to for them. It doesn’t matter that they forget about me or hate how I dress different or how I vote for us to watch action movies with hackers rather than cowboys from the ‘60s. They’re still the most important people in my life and always will be, even if I’ve never been that to them.
I make my way across the plush, green grass and around the pool for the set of doors that open into the kitchen area of the main house.
Being thirty and still living at home isn’t as disgusting or irresponsible as people deem it. At least it isn’t for me. Financially it is the only decision that makes sense. The amount of days I am on the road compared to the amount of time I spend held up in the seldom used by anyone else guest house, would be considered sad to most people. It’s a fantastic thing I’m not most people. Hotel rooms have always been more home than home. Ugly truth is, that’s always been the case for my life. From before I was born, I was traveling the world and passing non-practice moments by in luxury suites. As time went on and I grew up, everything increased exponentially. I spent most of my younger years homeschooled by private tutors and then from thirteen until I graduated we established an at school attendance when home, and by email or internet connection when not, mentality. Constant chaos and travel is all I’ve ever known. It sings to my soul. and I love to serenade it back.
The moment I step foot inside there is a distinctive gag of disapproval. My head snaps to the left to see my half-sister glaring at me.
There is not enough holy water in existence to battle the demons inside of my siblings. Even Satan would ask for them to be escorted from the premises.
“Speak to each other,” my mother sweetly encourages from where she is enjoying a glass of red wine next to the island.
“Loser.”
The unloving childhood nickname causes me to sarcastically smile. “Bratn
ey.”
“You’re looking unusually trampy this evening,” she sneers. “Perhaps you’ll finally be able to find a poor pathetic member of the male species to move you out of our father’s guest house.”
“That’s how you were raised to operate your life. Not me.”
Unfortunately, it’s the absolute truth. Britney and our other sister Tabatha, the oldest, were both results of groupie sex gone wrong. While my dad has always been very responsible with his money, investing in things of importance rather than frivolous shit like his fellow teammates, the same couldn’t be said about his dick until he met my mother. Both Britney and Tabatha’s moms were one nightstands who were hoping to hook their claws into the money bag dream come true he was, but he wasn’t interested in them. They weren’t worth glancing away from his career goals for, not even once he found out they were pregnant. My mom? He actually fell in love with her. Hard. It wasn’t prolonged, and it didn’t take years to cultivate. He says he saw her blue eyes, she fed him a smile, and he felt the grace of God push them together. When they started dating he hated being away from her so much he convinced her to not only quit her job, but to travel everywhere he went with the team or for business. She watched practices. Cheered almost courtside at every game. Was on his arm at awards and banquets. By his side as he expanded more permanently outside of just playing basketball. Keeping her within arm’s reach at all times didn’t even stop once he found out she was pregnant with me. He never entertained the idea of keeping us put up in a home while he continued his career. No. He wanted us everywhere with him. A family that moves together stays together became his mantra. Britney and Tabatha’s mothers constantly used them as leverage, requesting more money for him to spend more time with them, which is what wedged the gap in their relationships and what lead to him supergluing me to his side.
