by Vivian Ward
“It’s original all right,” I say, rubbing my chin. “I’ve thought about renovating it, but I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” She asks, rolling onto her stomach.
Propping her chin on top of her folded hands, she looks up at me. Her big sky blue eyes look like that of a baby doll. As beautiful as she is, she could be a model. Her olive complexion and blond hair don’t match her eyes, but it’s a gorgeous combination.
“I don’t know if I should remodel the house or not,” I smile down at her, looking into her gorgeous eyes. They’re such a contrast to her hair and skin. “Do you wear contacts or are your eyes really that blue?”
“Contacts, and don’t try to change the subject,” she giggles, clasping my hand in hers. “Why don’t you know if you should remodel the house? I bet it’d look fantastic with a little work.” She glances around the room. “Okay, a lot of work, but you do construction, right? You should know how to do most of it—if not all of it—yourself.”
Sighing, I kiss her forehead. “I know, but it’s a time thing. Plus, if dad gets out of the nursing home, I don’t know what he’d think coming back home to a house that doesn’t look familiar to him.”
She blinks, “Your dad’s in a nursing home? I didn’t know that.”
Nodding my head, I say, “He’s been in there for about four months. He hates it there, but there’s nothing I can do. His strokes crippled him, and he requires a lot of care. I’d practically have to quit my job to take care of him full time, and I can’t do that.”
Lying back on the pillows, she stares at the ceiling with me. “What if you got a different job? Maybe where you didn’t travel so much? Surely, there have to be jobs around here that you could work at and make a decent wage.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know. It’s a big responsibility. What if something happened to him and I didn’t know what to do? And who would take care of him while I’m at work all day? There are too many what-ifs, you know?”
I’ve played out different scenarios in my head, but none of them would ever work. Sometimes things are what they are, and you can’t change them no matter how much you’d like to.
Chapter Nine
Penny
I didn’t realize that Mason has so much on his plate. When we first met at the bar, I thought that he and Lucas were a couple of carefree bachelors, but I see that isn’t the case at all.
“What’s Lucas’s story? Does he have parents? What’s his life like?”
“Lucas?” he laughs. “He’s as wild as they come. His dad owned the construction company and passed away, and he never really knew his mom. She was in an accident when he was a boy; I think he was about nine-years-old, so he never really got to know her very well and doesn’t have many memories of her.”
“His dad left him the construction company?” I ask.
“Handed it over to him, actually. We started running it together, and since he doesn’t really have anything to tie him down, he decided to expand the business and take it on the road.”
“But you still have your dad? Why would you go with him?”
I get that they’re best friends, but I don’t understand why Mason would leave his dad behind.
“Without boring you, Lucas needed help, and at the time, my dad was fine. He was retired, doing his own thing. I figured it’d be good for me to learn a trade, so I jumped at the opportunity. He’s grown the business quite a bit. We only travel to a few states, but he gets calls for job bids all over the country.”
“Why doesn’t he take them?” I ask.
Mason sighs, obviously annoyed by my questions, but I want to know the answers. I want to understand where they’re both coming from.
“Because I like to come home as often as possible to see my dad. I know what the statistics are for life expectancy in nursing homes. If you’re a nursing student, you should know that it’s not good.”
“To be fair, I’ve only just started school, but I’ve heard what you’re saying is true. I’m sorry if I’m prying, but I like you and wanted to know more about you.”
He wraps his arm around me, pulling me to his chest which is solid muscle—probably from working in construction.
“You’re not prying, sometimes it’s hard to talk about.”
We lie there like that for a bit, just wrapped in each other’s arms in silence.
“You know,” I say. “If you’re up for it, I could go with you to visit your dad sometime.”
“You want to visit my dad? Why?” He asks.
“I don’t know, just to say hi and see what he’s like. You don’t have to take me, though.”
He laughs, “I’ll take you tomorrow. Hell, it might make him happy to see me with a girl for once. I’ve never introduced him to anyone that I was….,” his voice trails off.
“Seeing?” I ask.
“Yeah, seeing,” he smiles at me. “You have a way with words, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” I bite my lip.
I want to ask him what we’re doing or what he’d like from our relationship, but I’m afraid that he’ll say nothing. He’ll say he doesn’t want an actual dating relationship because he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to date girls, especially if he’s never introduced anyone to his dad.
But I do feel somewhat honored that he’s willing to let me meet his dad and introduce me as….his friend? I don’t know what he’ll introduce me as, but I’m glad that he’s taking me.
“You want a beer?” He asks. “I’ve still got some cold ones in the fridge that we haven’t drunk yet.”
“Sure,” I say, scooting out of the bed with his sheet wrapped around me as I begin to gather my clothes.
“Here,” he tosses me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “You can throw these on so you’re more comfortable if you want.”
I glance at the t-shirt and frown.
He rolls his eyes. “It’s clean, it’s not the same one that you used earlier. I did a load of laundry before you came over, so it’s safe,” he laughs at me.
Smiling, I say, “Okay,” and slip on his baggy t-shirt and very loose sweatpants.
Pulling the drawstring tight, I secure them around my waist and follow him into the kitchen. We’re about halfway through a movie when Lucas busts in the house, laughing and stumbling with a girl dangling from his arm. By the looks of her, she seems just as plastered as him.
“Hey!” he says, making his way over to the sofa. “This is Brittany. She’s gonna crash here tonight.”
Before Mason can respond, the two of them are playing tonsil hockey in the living room while Lucas holds her in an upright position because I doubt she can stand on her own.
“Do you need some help with her?” Mason offers, seeing that they’re both completely wasted.
“Nah, brother, you handle your business, and I’ll handle mine,” he slaps the girl on her ass. “We’ll catch you guys in the morning.”
The two of them stumble into Lucas’s room and slam the door. I’m not entirely sure what to make of the situation, but Mason acts as though this is normal.
“Does he always get that trashed when he goes out?” I whisper to Mason.
“Sometimes he doesn’t come home because he passes out where ever he goes.”
“Is he going to be okay? Are they going to be okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, they’ll be fine. Let’s watch the movie,” he says, turning it back on. “And you can crash here tonight, too, if you want.”
Smiling, I snuggle up to him and end up falling asleep on the couch.
The sun is beaming through the sheer curtains hanging on the window. I must’ve been exhausted because I slept like a rock. Glancing around the room, I realize that I’m no longer on the couch; I’m in Mason’s bed, but he’s nowhere to be found.
Walking out of the bedroom, I can hear him in the kitchen, shuffling things around.
“Good morning,” he says. “Did I wake you?”
He’s holding a brown paper bag filled with gro
ceries. I shake my head no.
“No, I just woke up. What are you doing? Do you need some help?”
“You have a seat. I’ll make us some coffee. While you were sleeping, I ran down to the corner store and picked up a few things. I bought some eggs. Do you like eggs? I can’t really cook worth a shit, but I thought you’d be hungry.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes.
“Move,” I say, pushing him away from the stove. “You start the coffee, I’ll start the eggs. How do you like them? Scrambled, over easy, or sunny side up?”
“You can do all of that?” he asks.
“Of course, I can. How do you want them?”
“I want the yolk runny so I can soak it up with my bread. Can you make them like that?”
I laugh. “Yes, I can make them like that. Should we ask Lucas and his friend if they’d like to eat?”
He stuffs a carton of milk inside the fridge and closes the door. “No, if he’s hungry, he can ask whatever-her-name-is to cook for him. We’ll have a nice breakfast with just the two of us.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’d like that.”
After I make our eggs and some toast, we sit together at his small kitchen table. Looking around the kitchen, I can tell that it’s in dire need of a remodel. It doesn’t look like the original wallpaper, but I’d bet it’s dated back to the 60s or 70s. It has an awful, faded floral pattern and is stained yellow.
“I was thinking,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Maybe after breakfast, we can go see my dad before we have to head out of town tonight for work? I like to take him something to eat when I can because the food there is terrible. Do you still want to go?”
I nod, “Sure, I can do that. What time are you guys leaving tonight?”
“I thought maybe we could go see him around noon and stay for a couple of hours. We have to start heading out around 5:00 so we can get to the hotel where we’re staying and get settled in. We have to be at the job site at 6 in the morning on Monday.”
Glancing down at my borrowed clothes, I think about how I need to get ready before we go see his dad. I don’t want him seeing me looking like a bum.
“That’s fine, but I want to run home to shower and put on something nicer before we go.”
He smiles at me. “But you look so cute in my clothes.”
“I look like a reincarnated rag,” I counter, laughing at myself.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “We’ll go over to your place, you can show me where you live, and once you’re ready, we’ll go see my dad.”
It never dawned on me that neither Mason nor Lucas knows where I live. Shrugging my shoulders, I agree.
“Okay, but I’m going to warn you up front: I take a long time to get ready, so be prepared to wait for a bit.”
Grinning, he says, “That’s fine. It’ll give me more time to check out your place.”
Chapter Ten
Mason
“I’ll try to make it quick,” Penny says after giving me a quick tour of her apartment.
It’s a cute little place and reflects her personality. There are lots of earth tones with splotches of bright colors mixed in to give it a warm, comfortable feeling.
These apartments were built about six years ago. The workmanship on them is complete shit. They pretty much slapped everything together, which is much of what they’re doing these days. Nothing is built of quality anymore. It’s like every company is out to make a buck and throw buildings together in a hurry; it’s the complete opposite of what Lucas and I do.
We take our time and do things right. There is no cutting corners or taking shortcuts. Our prices reflect that, though, and it’s probably why Hunt Construction does so well. Lucas’s dad instilled the value of doing things right when he taught him everything he knew; not many construction crews have that quality.
“No problem, I’ll just hang out while you get ready.”
The sweet scent of her body wash fills the apartment as I walk around stealing glimpses of pictures and look at her things. She’s very organized; it doesn’t surprise me that she’s going to school to become a nurse. There are numerous pictures plastered on her walls and on her desk of her with her friends and family. Books line several shelves suspended on her wall; various romance novels, medical books, and classics such as Stephen King and George Orwell.
A small bookshelf near her television is lined with DVDs and CDs. There are a ton of horror and romance movies; they must be her favorites because they closely match the books on her bookshelves. Thumbing through the jewel cases, I get a sample of her taste in music. It’s such an eclectic taste: modern rock, classic rock, some rap, jazz, and a little rhythm and blues. How can one listen to Eminem and Miles Davis?
“Just have to do my hair,” she calls from the bathroom.
Tempted to get a peek at her, I crane my neck, but all I can see is the steam rolling out of the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” She yells over the sound of her blowdryer.
Walking to her bathroom, I push the cracked door open and speak up over the loudness. She’s wrapped in a thick, white bath towel which hugs her body perfectly. In all my life when I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never thought I’d say a bath towel, but after seeing her in one, I’m strongly considering reincarnating myself. “I was checking out your place.”
She turns the hairdryer off and smiles. “Find anything interesting?”
“You mean besides your love for horror and romance books, or your eclectic taste in music?” I cock an eyebrow.
Grabbing her makeup brush, she begins to sweep powder onto her face. “What kind of music do you like?” she asks. “And don’t you read?”
I laugh. “Mostly rock, and no, I’ve never been much of a reader.”
Pulling out her mascara, she begins to coat her lashes. “What? How can you not read books?”
I shrug and push my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her and throwing her on the bed. Her cleavage is practically speaking to me with every arm movement she makes, and it’s very distracting.
“I hardly ever have time. Lucas and I work so much, and when we’re not working, we like to spend our time relaxing.”
She frowns at me as she lines her lips with a tiny pencil. “Reading is relaxing. There’s nothing better than crawling into bed with a good book and reading it until your arms get so tired and you’re falling asleep that it smacks you in the face.”
I can tell by her serious expression that this is actually a thing, and a vision of a book popping her in the nose flashes through my mind, causing me to laugh. “I’d love to see that,” I tease.
Rolling her eyes at me, she picks up her flat iron and begins doing her hair. “You wouldn’t laugh when it gave you a black eye.”
The steam coming off her hair makes me wonder how the hell she’s not cinching it off. That thing’s got to be burning the hell out of her hair. “Tell me about your music. You have such a wide variety.”
She shrugs her shoulders, spritzing some spray onto her hair before she runs her fingers through it. “I listen to different things when I’m in different moods. What’s your go-to music when you’re sad or angry or happy?”
“I guess it depends,” I say, propping myself against the door frame. “When I’m sad, I like to listen to The Fray, but if I’m pissed, I turn on Papa Roach, and when I’m happy, my choices vary. What about you?”
“I have something for everything,” she winks at me. “Let me go throw on some clothes and then we can get going.”
I turn the corners of my lips down in disapproval. “I like your towel better.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says, yanking the towel off of her as she walks over to her closet, giving me the perfect view of her ass.
“Such a tease,” I moan as she disappears into her closet.
Moments later, she returns wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a loose blouse. It’s simple but sophisticated and stunning. She could wear paper towels and look am
azing.
On our way to the nursing home, I stop to pick up some food for dad. Since I took him a sub sandwich yesterday, I opt for a pasta bowl from Fazoli’s because it’s another one of his favorites.
“You know, it’s really sweet of you to look after your dad like you do,” Penny says as we approach the entrance of the nursing home.
“I’ve only got one dad,” I say, pulling open the door for her. “And we only live one life; might as well make the best of it while we’re here this short time on earth.”
Nodding, she ducks inside and waits for me to lead the way to his room. As we make our way through the building, I wonder about her parents. She’s not said much about them, which makes me question what her family is like.
“Hey, dad,” I say, doing my best to sound chipper. “How are you doing today?”
He briefly looks over at me, turning his glance back to the television before looking at me again. Seeing Penny by my side, he raises his good hand and points to her.
“W-who, w-who’s this?” he asks.
“Hi, I’m Penny,” she says, extending her hand to shake his. “I’m Mason’s friend, and he’s told me a lot about you.”
Dad slowly takes her hand and shakes it, nodding with a smile on his face. “P-p-p,” he stutters.
“Yes, my name is Penny,” she smiles.
He shakes his head no. “No! P-p-pretty.”
She giggles and withdraws her hand from his. “Oh, thank you.” She looks up at me and says, “I can definitely see where Mason gets his good looks from.”
“Penny, this is my dad, Bill,” I introduce them.
“It’s nice to meet you, Bill,” she says.
Dad can’t take his eyes off of her. I’m not sure if he’s shocked that I brought a girl with me or if he’s admiring her beauty as much as I do.
“Here dad,” I hold out the food. “I brought you a pasta bowl. Do you want to go to the dining area?”
