Lucky For You

by Jayne Denker

  Will shot Cam a death glare while he shook out the plate he’d just rinsed. His mother had a really nice dishwasher, but she didn’t trust it, so Will volunteered to be on cleanup duty this afternoon. Meanwhile, his brother was once again lounging nearby, picking at the platter of leftover brownies instead of picking up a towel and helping out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Congrats—you get the ‘weird’ trophy for the day.”

  “Okay, fine. I don’t want to make this about me; I just wish you’d told me about it when it first happened, not under duress after the fact. How come I’m the last to know?”

  “Actually, I think Burt Womack is going to be the last to know, but only because nobody gets close enough to him to share any gossip. I think he’s getting stinkier,” Cam mused, referring to Marsden’s most unapologetically eccentric—and unwashed—resident.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “No, wait—he does know. Said something to me about it the other day at the car dealership, when he came by to see if we had anything we could give him for scrap. So yeah, you are the last to know. Sorry.”

  “Sorry? That’s all you’ve got?”

  Cam sighed and broke off another corner of a brownie, tasted it, gave up. “These are terrible.”

  “Mom made them.”

  “Well, then.” He pushed the platter away. “Look, it wasn’t intentional. It’s just . . . you’re always so busy with work, taking all those shifts, preoccupied with your policing . . .”

  “‘Policing’?”

  “Your police duties, whatever.”

  “I just want to pick up some extra cash.”

  “And taking extra shifts means you don’t have time to try to have a life. How convenient.”

  “Again, changing the subject.” Will shut off the water and turned to face his brother squarely, his hands dripping into the basin as he rested them on the edge of the sink. “We’re supposed to be talking about you and Summer.”

  “I’m all talked out.”

  “Well, yeah, after having heart-to-hearts about it with every member of the family except me.”

  “I’m sowwy I huwt your feewings.” Before Will could block him, Cam flung his arm around Will’s neck and gave him a vigorous noogie. “Okay, let’s go to Beers. Get me drunk enough, and I guarantee I’ll spill about this whole thing. Or are you working again tonight?”

  “No, I’m off, but you know I don’t go out drinking in town. It makes everybody uncomfortable.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that if you hang out at the local bars once in a while, people would relax around you?”

  “I don’t have a problem relating to people in town, nimrod. I mean when I sit down on a barstool, everyone thinks I’m watching their intake so I can bust them for DWI later. When, in reality, I just want to have a freakin’ beer.”

  “Fine. We’ll go wherever you want.”

  “Even Whalen?”

  Cam’s eyes got round and he backed away two steps, hissing. “Evil.”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  “You are so buying.”

  “Okay, here’s your beer. Your second beer. Now start talking.”

  Will slid into the horseshoe-shaped corner booth after plunking down another bottle in front of his brother, who immediately grabbed it and downed half of its contents before answering.

  “Not yet.”

  “What the . . . how many beers do you need?”

  “I don’t see you drinking much.”

  “That’s because I’m driving.”

  Cam glanced up as the door opened, grinned, and pushed Will’s second, untouched bottle closer to him. “Now you’re not.”

  “Oh no . . . why did you invite them?”

  “I needed moral support.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “Hidey-ho,” Gabe bellowed, cramming himself into the booth and pushing Will farther in.

  “How’d you get hold of that one?” Cam asked Gabe, indicating Jesse, who remained standing, looking skittish.

  “I jumped him and threw him in the trunk. I figured this was an all-hands-on-deck kind of deal.”

  “I appreciate the support.”

  “I, um, can’t stay,” Jesse said, fidgeting, and Will knew his brother’s sudden change of plans was because of him. It was likely Gabe hadn’t told him Will would be there; if he had, Jesse never would have agreed to come along in the first place.

  “Quit it, you loser,” Gabe ordered. “You’re here now, and I’m not driving you home till we’re done, so sit down and drink, would you please?”

  The youngest Nash hesitated. “Who’s buying?”

  “Will,” Cam informed him immediately. “Gabe, let him out of the booth. I need another one too.”

  Will sighed. He could leave now, while he was still sober, and avoid this whole thing. Or he could get drunk in a dive bar in Whalen with his brothers, even the one who hated him, and leave the driving to Gabe, who always stopped at one beer, the mature, responsible pain in the ass. He picked up his own drink and sat back.

  “Get what you want,” he told his brothers. “I started a tab.”

  “Okay, no,” Will argued, dimly realizing his words were slurring a bit. “You do not get to bail on your two-year marriage just like that. Over what? Nothing.”

  “’S not nothing,” Cam insisted. “There’s all this . . . little shit. And some big shit. Biiiig shit—you don’t know.”

  “You’re not giving it enough time,” Gabe said, calmly and clearly. “You’re still newlyweds, for God’s sake, and what nobody tells you is it’s not just the hearts-and-flowers phase, it’s also the vase-flinging phase. You’re still adjusting to each other.”

  “Listen to your oldest brother,” Will said, nodding. “He’s the only one of us who has a successful relationship.”

  “Because I’m the wisest. And the best with women.”

  The other three brothers groaned—even Jesse, who’d loosened up after his fifth beer—and Will threw a wadded-up cocktail napkin at him.

  Then Jesse interjected, “Hang on. Me and Ronnie have been together since, like, middle school.”

  “Not successful, and not continuous,” Will said immediately. “Fail.”

  “Fail? Look who’s talking—the only one of us who hasn’t even had a girlfriend. Like, ever.”

  “I have lots of girlfriends. I just don’t have time for, you know . . . long-term stuff. I’m busy.”

  “Chickenshiiiit,” Cam sang.

  “Plus I’m picky.”

  “Which does not explain . . . what’s the latest one? Kyra?” Gabe said, slurping the last of his soda.

  “I thought we were here to talk about me,” Cam grunted, waving at the bartender for another round. The bartender ignored him.

  “I can’t believe we’re talking about this at all. Whatever happened to guys just getting hammered without talking about feelings?” Jesse muttered.

  Will pushed his way out of the booth to get the beers himself. Ignoring Jesse’s comment, he said to Cam, “I’ve heard all I want to hear about you. In fact, now I’m sorry I asked for the full explanation. You’re going to throw away a good thing with a great woman like Summer, and for what—”

  His brother snorted. “She ain’t that nice. I could tell you some stories that’d curl your hair nastier than it is already.”

  “Yeah? Gimme one. Go on.”

  Cam hesitated. “Go get the beers. By the time you come back I’ll have a good one ready to go.”

  “You won’t,” Gabe said calmly, “because even Summer’s worst isn’t gonna cut it. I think it’s all on you, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Shows how much you know, Mister Perfect, taking care of the kids and running a business and coaching Little League and giving your wife foot massages, all in the same day.”

  “Yeah, see, what I do? That’s good. If you’re making fun of it, I can see why Summer’s lost patience with you.”

&n
bsp; Will left them to argue about husbandly duties and headed for the bathroom. Even he knew Gabe was doing marriage right and Cam wasn’t. He hoped Cam would see the error of his ways instead of defending his selfish worldview—it was what made Cam . . . Cam, after all—and losing his new wife in the process. Maybe a miracle would occur and Gabe would get their brother to wake up in the time it took Will to take a piss and pick up the next round.

  But when he got back to the table with another soda for Gabe and three more beer bottles hooked in his fingers for the rest of them, the conversation had completely changed. All three of his brothers were laughing uproariously, and Will had a bad feeling (based on an entire lifetime’s worth of experience) that it was at his expense. Being the quietest and most serious of four boys had always left him wide open to ridicule, pranks, and general mayhem when they were kids . . . and just because they’d all gotten older didn’t mean he stopped being the butt of their jokes. It had only lessened because he’d learned never to turn his back on them for a minute, if he could help it. But this time it wasn’t his name he heard bandied about.

  “Wait,” he interrupted. “What about Jordan?”

  “Nothing,” Jesse snickered, although Cam and Gabe were more than willing to talk.

  “Just, you know, recalling a few precious Jordan memories,” Gabe said. “She sure knows how to tie this town in knots.”

  Instead of pushing his way back into the booth, Will dragged a chair over from a nearby table and straddled it backward. “Aw, she’s okay.”

  His brothers ignored him.

  “Hey, what about the time she came back during the school year—what was it, when you two were in eighth grade?” Cam asked Will. “She was here about three or four months, living with Holly, right? Damn, I thought Mr. Phillips was going to kill her—or have a nervous breakdown!”

  Gabe nodded sagely. “It was the cow on the school roof that finally made him snap. I don’t blame him, really. There’s a limit to what even principals can take.”

  “Hey, nobody ever proved she actually did it,” Will pointed out.

  Cam snorted. “Like anybody else was capable of a crime of that magnitude.”

  “It’s not much of a crime—just a prank, really. What?” Will demanded, seeing Cam and Gabe exchange significant looks.

  “Nothing,” Gabe said with a knowing smile. “You’re just defending her an awful lot is all.”

  “Am not.”

  “Well, who can blame him? After all, she was his first love.”

  “Shut up, Cameroon.” Will hated himself for resorting to childhood nicknames, but he just couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “Kindergarten, right?” Gabe cried, the light dawning. “That was massive! The infamous caught-in-flagrante-delicto-under-the-Play-Doh-table incident. Shit, it was the only time this guy was ever in trouble. Not before or since!”

  Will could feel the usual heat creeping up his neck and suffusing his face. He wanted to blame it on the large amount of alcohol he’d imbibed, but he knew it was purely due to embarrassment, the kind that could only be dished out by family members who knew your deepest secrets. Grateful for the dim light of the bar, he cut his losses, stayed silent, and drank his beer.

  He could have tried to get back in his brothers’ good graces by turning the focus back on Jordan, telling them about how Walter had accused her of shoplifting, but he didn’t feel like buying his brothers’ approval at her expense. It bothered him that they were making fun of her when she wasn’t present to defend herself. Jordan already had the whole town ganging up on her; they didn’t have to join in.

  Dammit, the little flame of sympathy he thought had died that morning was flickering back to life.

  When he tuned back into the conversation, Cam was hooting, “The firecracker incident!”

  “I don’t remember this one,” Jesse said.

  “Well, no. You were too young.” Gabe shook his head, already laughing at the memory. “Jordan got chased down the street by Ray Dubois because she set off firecrackers in the middle of his performance on the lawn of the town hall. It was part of this ‘historical speeches’ summer series he was trying to get off the ground—with him playing each famous person, even Susan B. Anthony.”

  “Which one did she blow up?” Jesse asked.

  “Lincoln, I think.”

  “No. Benjamin Franklin,” Will corrected Cam. “Ray lost that ugly Franklin wig with the rubber scalp while he was chasing her, and Burt Womack stole it out of the gutter because he thought it was a prime bit of roadkill. Ray practically had to take him down bodily to get it back.”

  His brothers exploded with laughter, but Will only smirked. It was kind of funny, but . . . the more he thought about Jordan’s past, the more he worried about her present. And her future. Gabe was looking at him funny, so he tried to smile wider and not look too thoughtful about the whole Jordan subject . . . until Cam spoke up again.

  “Yeah, she definitely was a firecracker.”

  The tone of Cam’s voice made Jesse lean forward with interest. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

  “Ah, Jordan and I might have had a moment or two, back in the day. You know.”

  Cam was looking pretty pleased with himself, and suddenly the beer wasn’t sitting well with Will. At all. He slammed his empty bottle onto the table with a surge of force that surprised even him, lurched to his feet, and said bluntly, “It’s time to go.” His brothers protested, loudly, but Will insisted. “It’s late. Gabe has to go to church tomorrow.”

  He didn’t know what he was saying. All he knew was he needed to get out of that bar, away from his brothers. A little of them always went a long way, especially when Cam started talking about his sexual exploits. Being married might have put a stop to his favorite hobby of working his way through the female population of Marsden and surrounding areas, but apparently that didn’t mean he couldn’t reminisce. Often. And loudly. At every opportunity. And their other siblings cheering him on just made it worse. Will had never managed to get used to Cam’s boasting. Those stories never made him admire his brother; he just ended up worrying about the poor woman Cam was gossiping about.

  It had always been like this, even when they were kids. His mother excused Will’s differences by labeling him “sensitive.” The kiss of death. What young boy wanted to be thoughtful, imaginative, and creative when he had three brothers who seemed to do far better in life by being brash, obnoxious, callous, and rude? So while Gabe, Cam, and Jesse had spent their time crashing their bikes (often into one another), skating through school with varying degrees of academic success, and then letting life sort of happen to them and accepting whatever came their way, Will was busy doing . . . other things. Like planning. Thinking. And, quite often, caring about other people’s feelings. Even Jordan’s.

  Especially Jordan’s?

  Good God. He definitely couldn’t let his brothers find out that he had a soft spot for the hellion. He’d never hear the end of it. Never-ending noogies, that’s what he’d get. Just like when they were teenagers, when he couldn’t express even a passing interest in a girl without inviting ridicule . . . and sabotage. How many times had they embarrassed the hell out of him by teasing him about a crush, and always in the vicinity of said crush? Interrupted his nervous phone calls when he was trying to ask a girl to the movies? Letting the air out of his tires on prom night—not to mention stuffing unwrapped condoms in his pockets, so they fell out at his date’s feet when he pulled out his car keys? Those heartless bastards swarmed when they scented blood, so over the years he’d learned to leave the bragging to the others and keep his private life private.

  Right now, that included his relationship with Jordan. Not that there was one, of course. But it was time to focus on rounding up these idiot Nashes and stuffing them into Gabe’s car before they started reading his mind.

  About halfway between Whalen and Marsden, Cam and Jesse passed out in the back seat of Gabe’s Subaru. Or they at least fell sil
ent, for which Will was grateful. Will rode shotgun, his overly warm temple pressed to the cool window, and was quiet as well. He could feel Gabe’s occasional glance, could practically hear the gears turning in his brother’s head. Gabe had always been too perceptive for his own good, especially when it came to his siblings, and Will didn’t want to encourage any speculating about him and Jordan. Instead, he closed his eyes and ignored his older brother.

  Will must have dozed off, because when the car slowed to the town speed limit of 30 miles per hour, he started and pushed himself upright. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he looked around and frowned. “Weird way to get home.”

  “Eh, small detour.”

  “I thought you took a leak before we left the bar.”

  “Not that kind of detour.”

  When Gabe turned down Maple Avenue, Will stiffened. He shot his brother a look, but Gabe stared straight ahead, watching the road. As if there was any traffic to pay attention to at this time of night. They rolled to a stop outside Holly’s house, and Will lost whatever patience he had left.

  “Dammit, Gabe—”

  “You wanted to check on her tonight, didn’t you?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t even know,” he rattled off in quick succession. Then he decided on an answer. “No. I’m off duty anyway.”

  “Let me ask you something. Is this,” he said, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head toward the house, “going to be a problem for you?”

  “What? No! Why would you—”

  “William.”

  Will growled and looked away. “I said no. I’m a professional.”

  “You’re also human.”

  “You’re making too big of a deal out of this.”

  “I’m just saying . . . the way you were reacting . . .”

  “It’s nothing, okay? I feel bad for her. Everybody in town hates her, and she’s stuck here for another month . . .”

  “And that’s all it is.”

  “Yep,” Will said grimly. “That’s all.”