by M. C. Cerny
14
Taylor Jane
Since the unholy shit storm, Hunter had been quieter than usual and scarce from the house. He missed our morning meetings where I went over the day’s projects and made updated notes on our progress. He thanked me for the new boots that arrived two days later from Amazon Prime, but otherwise it was silent on the home front.
Oh, he got everything done, but I felt like he either came really early or stayed late beyond everyone else to avoid me. It was frustrating, and I missed the typical banter between my best friend and me. I thought we might cross that threshold that had been dividing us all these years, but we were even farther away than before. The slow burn of want was stoking a nice little fire in my heart, but it was likely to burn out of control. Today, I decided I was done with his little temper tantrum.
I didn’t want to be a nice girl. I had a lot of not so nice thoughts and most of them centered on Hunter minus most of his clothes and the tight-fitting, good-looking jeans he wore every day, which both surprised and scared me a little. Since we were all committing so much to this project I figured we could use a bit of an ice breaker. Demolition was coming soon and with it who knows what kind of trials and difficulties. I had a really tight budget to manage and a number of rules to follow for submitting this house to the show on the HomeTV network. I decided a pre-housewarming party was not only necessary, but would help ease any tensions coming our way.
I looked for the perfect co-conspirator hunched over a set of pipes he was welding together. “Hey, Damien, can you help me unscrew that door off its hinges?”
He didn’t even question me, which was classic Damien. “Sure thing, what are we doing with it?” He whipped out a screw driver from his belt and twirled it in his hand.
I was surprised he still had his original eyes left in his head with all his reckless behavior.
“Well, I need it for the party tonight.”
“Ah, what party?”
“The one we’re having to celebrate halfsies.”
“Halfsies? That’s a thing now?”
“Yup, we’re halfway done with the project, so party time.”
He pointed to the door. “Thing looks pretty old, you sure it’s going to hold up? Seems a bit disrespectful for an old broad like this.” He eyed the door like a drinking game aficionado.
I bet he knew where I could find the perfect sawhorses to balance them on to.
“It’s an original door, but these grooves in the side tell me it’s been taken down before and likely survived worse.”
“Original door, huh? And we’re just gonna drink beer on it like a bunch of co-eds?”
“Yup, door probably came with the house a hundred years ago. It looks like a seasoned resident.”
“I wonder how the ghosts of renovations past will feel about it.” He murmured letting his hand pet the wood frame in reverence.
“See that candle on the mantle?” I shrugged over to a light blue and silver glitter carved candle. I bought it from the witchcraft and candy store in town called Bewitched. It was supposed to calm the spirits, and so far everything had been much better. No poop sludge, no woodland creatures, and no injuries on site unless you counted male egos the size of California.
“And how does Hunter the Carpenter feel about this little shindig, especially after the shit-monster attacked him?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Uh-huh.” Damien could sit with that while I continued looking for the power screwdriver to get this bad boy off its hinges quicker than his regular one. We had to take it down and clean it up anyway. Might as well break it in with some beer and TLC.
“The door will be perfect for good old beer pong and tonight that’s all I care about.” I was disappointed that Hunter wasn’t coming to the party. I knew he was pissed at me for something, yet again, so the show was going to go on with or without him.
I called Kristen and told her to get over here stat. She was the perfect best friend on the planet because not only did she show up twenty minutes later, but she had the back of her hand me down Subaru Outback loaded with alcohol and food from the grocery store.
“Damien!!!” Kristen banshee screeched at the top of her lungs, making the mirror I loved so much in the foyer rattle against the wall.
“Geez, you didn’t tell me you were inviting a poltergeist for the evening.” Damien and I looked at each other and the only answer I could offer was a smile and a shrug.
“Oh, please, I’m a succubus.” Kristen flitted into the house like a dark fairy Queen. I admired her ability to remain cool, calm, and collected with this member of the Hart family.
“She sucks something all right, rhymes with dick.” I slapped him hard in the chest.
“Stop it Damien.” Chastising him was pointless.
“See, it’s like you’re not even trying.” Her hands flew up in the air and she continued lecturing him. “Turn your hearing aid down if I offend you so much!” Kristen was still yelling at the top of her lungs, and we both watched Damien turn his hand over his ear, middle finger up of course like he was actually turning a hearing aid down.
Grabbing Kristen, I pulled her into the kitchen. “Come on, KC, we can set up things in here. Not too much trouble we can get into in the kitchen.” Before I could get her help setting up a makeshift table for food and drinks on a piece of plywood and two sawhorses, she’d already backed out in the hallway, half stomping up the stairs.
“Go empty out the back of my car.” Kristen was perched on the stairs, ready to go after Damien.
At this point I felt bad, but the two of them were constantly going at each other with no provocation.
“Can’t you do it yourself?”
Oh, Damien… I wondered how he’d survived this long without Kristen killing him or as Hunter suggested a few times politely, fucking him to death.
“You really want me to come up there, don’t you, Damien?” Kristen had her hands on her hips and her threat seemed extreme even to me, and I wasn’t on her shit list.
Damien came to the top of the stairs, smirking and his arms crossed over his chest. “If I’m turning into your workhorse, I get to cop a feel.”
“Oh, please, I’ll run my fingers through my own hair and grab my own ass, jerk.” Which was exactly what Kristen did as Damien lifted a brow, watching her comb out her tangles and lift her boobs.
“God, woman, keep your broom stashed in the closet and I’ll empty the fricken car.” Damien came down the stairs, each pound of his feet louder than the previous one.
Kristen followed behind him, stopping in the foyer to stand with me. He went out into the driveway, and we watched him grab a box through my temporary lace curtains.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” Nudging Kristen, she smiled and turned her head toward me.
“Nah, he’s doing just fine.” Shrugging, Kristen went back to the kitchen to set a few things up.
“The ice can go in the antique tub. With some of the bottle and can drinks.” Thankfully, my tub was totally salvageable once we hosed it down after the incident. I held the door open, and Damien came up the steps, a large crate of alcohol in his arms.
“Your best friend is a real pain in the ass.” Damien set the crate down in the hallway and bent down to pick up a chain of garlic bulbs tied together like a necklace, handing it to me.
“And yet you both torment the hell out of each other. I wonder what I should make of that, Damien Hart. Someday, you two will grow up and wonder at all this wasted time you spent torturing each other.”
He snorted as I tapped my finger to my chin, contemplating, until Kristen chuckled from behind.
“Oh, you’re still here?” Kristen pointed to the garlic Damien handed off to me, and I looked between the two of them curiously. I wished they would take their quarrel somewhere else or bang it out like respectable adults our age.
Damien leaned in close, getting in Kristen’s face, smiling. “Wrong demon, sweetheart.”
“My mistake. I
thought you were the blood sucking kind. I’ll get the silver bullets next time.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, you two. Knock it off. At least for tonight, play in your respective corners and let’s have a good time. Look, see, all the alcohol in town, perfect for you two.” I brushed past them both and headed out to the car to get the next box of supplies for this evening’s gathering. I would never understand what drove those two to be so blood thirsty mean one minute and almost jumping each other in the next, not that either would admit to the latter fact.
15
Hunter
Occupied in my wood shop, I was cutting and sanding the spindles for Mrs. Eversham’s back porch. It was busy, methodical work and part of it made me wonder if I could repair the spindles on the porch of Taylor’s money pit. I already thought over how we could save some of the crown moldings in the old house and some of the lighting fixtures she said she loved so much. Surprisingly, I was going to be able to finish these much sooner than anticipated. My back pained me but stretching helped and after a half dozen text messages from Damien about this little party over at Taylor Jane’s place, including the reclaiming of an antique door for beer pong, along with a claw foot tub. I decided to see what trouble my best friend was getting herself into. Not that I cared in the least what she did in her free time, but someone had to make sure Damien didn’t set the place on fire.
Walking up to the house, black and orange caged construction lights were hanging in various corners like strange decorations, giving the house a strange illumination as I pulled up. I called Brittany to tag along. She was my buffer, and I regretted bringing her once she started yammering on and on in the truck on the condition of the house.
“Brit, chill, it’s a renovation project.”
“Yeah, but you said this girl isn’t even paying you.”
“No, she is paying me, but I’m not taking her money. She’s flipping the house and I like… helping her when I can. We’ve known each other a long time. Look, it’s a friend thing and you’re just going to have to accept it.”
Brittany was definitely going to be a problem and after tonight I doubted I was going to see her again especially after the incident at the bar with Taylor Jane.
Walking in, I found a few people I knew growing up whom Taylor Jane had convinced to help out on the project. Only she could get an entire community rallied behind her to flip this old house. There was a keg in the corner of the kitchen and the retro looking refrigerator that had seen better days looked stocked as well. I couldn’t find Taylor Jane, but that was no surprise, she was always a social butterfly. I did, however, hear her. She was in the living room, playing what looked like beer pong over a door that had been removed from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Peeling paint and sticky beer covered the surface. Firsthand knowledge made me think what a nightmare it was going to be to restore that door after tonight. I groaned, lamenting the destruction of such a beautiful old wooden door.
“Hunter!” Taylor Jane half yelled and half screeched at me, launching into my arms and rubbing her nose all over my chest. It felt too damn good for me to let her continue doing that and when she sobered up I hoped we wouldn’t have to talk about it. I greeted her with my customary grunt and she answered with a suspiciously intoxicated wink.
“Nice boots, cowboy.” Taylor Jane mimicked a southern drawl that reminded me of home, my mom, and everything comfortable it shouldn’t. She was definitely drunk. Damien walked in looking way too smug for my liking, watching Taylor Jane shamelessly smell me. Her little nose tickled the spot over my heart and I had to pull her away, fearful she might start to lick me at any second the way her eyes held this hungry glassy glaze.
“What’s she been drinking?” I looked over at Damien, who smiled wickedly and recalled one time in high school we’d both gotten awkwardly drunk. I learned that I got painfully horny, and Taylor Jane got even more social and touchy-feely. Neither was a combination we needed to revisit tonight as adults. In fact, my raging dick was going to be a problem since I couldn’t peel her off me right then without her falling to the floor.
“A little of this and a little of that.”
“Why isn’t Andy here mixing drinks?” I asked.
Andy would have at least tapered the liquid poison now coursing through my private dancer’s system.
“Couldn’t get away from the bar tonight. Something was up with David.”
David was the other Easton brother and a fellow Marine who served multiple deployments. We didn’t serve together but I had an idea of what he was struggling with. Damien didn’t help by setting up another game on the doorframe and inviting folks waiting to play to take over their spots.
“Gosh, you’re pretty.” Taylor Jane wiggled herself around Damien to look at Brittany standing in the doorway, her eyes slightly unfocused and words slurred with a happy note.
“And you’re interesting.” Brittany said to Taylor Jane shot with a cutting look at me and rolled her eyes, walking away. It was weird how Brittany had this crazy jealous streak a mile wide and Taylor Jane just soaked it all in, rolling with it. Damien offered to take Taylor Jane from my grasp, but I shot him a look of my own and held on to her, weaving our way to the far side of the beer pong table.
“Stop dancing for a moment, please.”
Her hands were like tentacles seizing me. Sighing, her hands grabbed my T-shirt again, pulling herself flush against my chest for a painful second time in mere minutes. “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me.” Taylor Jane pouted and it would have been cute if she hadn’t said it loud enough for Brit to hear and I wasn’t so conflicted right now.
I shouldn’t be afflicted, affected, or conflicted by her in any way, but a slow groan coming from me told a completely different story I wasn’t ready to acknowledge, like ever if possible. Taylor Jane is my best friend. She is my life. I must master my attraction to her as I master my life. My old Marine creed was doing nothing to tamp down my stupid cock, who begged for her attention like a puppy. I swore she could have kicked me and I would come back again and again. If anyone knew about the dynamics of abuse it was me.
“Honey, she’s not my girlfriend.” Avoidance, yup, that was what I was working with. The less I had to explain myself to my best friend the better right now.
“Ooooh! One of those then!” Taylor Jane jabbed me in the ribs, earning a grunt.
I rolled my eyes this time because I felt wrong answering my best friend about Brittany. She had nothing to do with us, and yet I felt like she did with whatever had been going on lately.
“How much have you had to drink, honestly?” I shook her gently to bring her wandering attention over the room back to me.
“Uh, I dunno.” She was squinting like a one eyed pirate, and I was waiting for a smartass comment to tumble from her pink lips I should not have been looking at. This was not how I pictured the night going… at all.
“Jesus, Taylor Jane. You puke every time you get drunk.”
For a split second she actually looked contrite before swaying into another song filled smile from the radio playing inside the house. Red Hot Chili Peppers where signing, “Under the Bridge,” and I regretted shaking her earlier. She would puke and I would be the idiot cleaning up after her.
Annoyed, I tucked her messy hair behind her ear, the wild curls tangling around my fingers, and my heart. I didn’t know if it was bad I knew this about Taylor Jane or that I’d experienced it one too many times growing up with her. This girl couldn’t hold her liquor worth a damn.
“Dami is my pershunal bartender.” More slurred words leaked from her cherry pink lips and I would kill my cousin later.
I cupped the back of Taylor Jane’s head to get a good look in her bottomless blue eyes, holding the rest of her body up comfortably against my side. Yup, definitely drunk, and definitely a hangover tomorrow. It would be a miracle if she didn’t throw up at all. My head shook on its own, disapproving.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of….” I dragged her from
the living room to the kitchen. “Let’s get you some water, and find a place to lay you down.”
“But it’s my party, Hunter….” Taylor whined and pulled back to stomp her foot. Holding back my irritation, no longer amused, I partly hoped she did throw up some of this alcohol, preferably before I put her in my truck.
“And I’m telling you the party is over for now, at least for you anyway.”
She was way too inebriated to be left on her own, and I didn’t want her staying in the house alone, possibly hurting herself or falling down drunk on what was still a construction site deep in progress. Hell, we shouldn’t even have people over here for this social event. We were breaking a few laws somewhere and all we needed was that damn cop who had a hard on for Damien to be working tonight and showing up.
Pausing, I looked for my wayward cousin. “Damien. I regret to inform you that you are in charge. Party’s over, folks… and put that damn door back up when you’re done. It’s a friggen antique.”
A chorus of whines followed and I lifted Taylor Jane over my shoulder to carry her outside, praying her stomach didn’t heave all over my back. I felt the heat of her little body perched up on my shoulder and I had to fight back a smile as I turned the corner, almost knocking my date—the one I’d technically brought down.
“Party’s over, I’m afraid.” I left the explanation hanging in the air between my charge’s moans and Brit’s exasperated pout. I couldn’t even say I was sorry that we were finally going.
