“You don’t have to be such a baby about it. I said I was sorry, like ten times.”
“I’m not being a baby; you dropped a two hundred and fifty pound solid wood dresser on me!” He didn’t actually drop it; more like it slipped, but we should have had another guy to help us. Apparently, this dresser was my great grandparents’ or something, so it’s fucking heavy. I like to rile him up. For as big of a guy as he is, he’s actually a sensitive prick.
Aside from the occasional squeak of the brakes, silence fills the cabin of the truck the rest of the hour and twenty-five minute drive. I feel like we’re kids again, having a silent contest. He’s pissed at me when I’m the one who was slammed with the dresser. I’m not really mad, I get that his hands slipped, but that shit hurt.
The silence is fine with me, though. It gives me time to think about how to get Char to open up to me.
Box after box is unloaded into his first floor studio apartment, silent treatment still in effect. We avoid eye contact as we carry the dresser to his bedroom. I accidentally push a little harder, making him stumble. Smirking, I do it again.
“Stop that shit. Jesus, man,” he yells at me.
“How’s it feel to have all this wood shoved at you?”
“For the last time, Travis, I said I was sorry! I told you I’d take bottom. If you would have taken top, I would have been the one with the huge piece of wood slammed into me, and I wouldn’t have to listen to your dumb ass!”
“I didn’t want top! You’re more flexible than me!”
“Next time, you don’t have a choice, you’re getting top, and I’ll take bottom so the wood hits me!”
“Would you two like to be alone?” My dad’s booming voice filters through the room, and we both drop the dresser, muttering profanities. He and our mom are in the archway, both shaking their heads. Dad in his wheelchair, and Mom with her skirt and cardigan, like always. Her short hair shakes with laughter, and she grabs Dad’s shoulder for support.
“He dropped a dresser on me!” I shout.
“I said I was sorry!”
We argue until a firm ‘smack’ upside our heads echoes around the empty room.
“Jesus, Ma,” Brandon and I both say, rubbing the backs of our heads.
“I thought my two grown sons, one a detective and the other a firefighter, had outgrown these childish arguments.”
I try to defend myself, since I’m always the one in trouble, even though he started it, but the ‘Mom look’ she shoots in my direction has me snapping my mouth shut like I’m a kid again.
“Now, tell me what happened, so we can talk through it.”
“Nah, it’s all good. Right, bro?” The last thing I want is to get into a talk with my mom. We’d be here all day, and someone would end up crying. She has a way about her.
“Yeah. We’re good.” Brandon’s fist taps mine a little harder than necessary, and I pat him on the back with a little too much force.
“Good, now that that’s settled, let's unpack.”
God, nothing like feeling like a kid again.
While unpacking, my mother glares at us when Brandon and I continue to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other. We eventually stop, and she pinches our cheeks. Once everything is unpacked, we order a pizza.
“You ready for this, son?” Dad asks Brandon.
“I was born ready.”
We all laugh at him, and Dad and Brandon talk shop while I help Mom throw all the garbage away.
“What’s with the long face?” she asks in the kitchen.
“Huh? Nothing,” I lie. She won’t buy it.
“Liar. What’s wrong?” Her concern is touching, really, but I am not about to tell my mother my relationship problems. “Is it a girl?”
“Ma, I’m not talking about this with you.”
“So, there is something going on.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But it’s fine, alright. I got it.” I smile and give her a kiss on the cheek.
“She must be pretty special.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because ever since Tammy, you’ve been closed off. In order to open yourself back up again, this girl would have had to help you realize you’re allowed to move on from your past.”
Damn, she’s good. “You think so, huh?” I tease.
“I know so. Is she the reason you decided to drop the construction job and follow your dream?” She smiles proudly at me, and I nod in response.
“Yeah, Ma, she is. She’s the reason for all that and more.”
We say our goodbyes, and after folding my Dad’s wheelchair in the car, I meet my brother in the truck.
“You still pissed about the dresser, or is something else going on?” Always inquisitive, it’s no wonder he made detective so fast. First Mom, now him. I guess I suck at hiding how I feel.
“How do you get someone to talk to you, even though they don’t want to?”
“Depends.” He shrugs. “Usually find their weakness and use it against them.”
“But I don’t want her to tell me under false pretenses.”
“So, it’s a woman? That’s a whole other ball game.” He whistles, and the strumming of his thumbs on the steering wheel indicates his mind turning. “What’s she hiding?”
“I don’t know; something bad, something that changed her. I don’t want to push too far too fast and have her close me out completely.” Blowing out a breath, I lay my head on the seat rest.
“You’ve gotta outsmart her. Ask questions and make her think it’s the answers you’re looking for, but really it’s her body language you’re after. See if she maintains eye contact or blinks a lot. Does she stutter or answer too fast? Those little clues can help get a perspective of the situation.”
An idea pops in my head, and I instantly know how to get the upper hand.
“Thanks, man.”
* * *
With a plan in mind, I walk to the entry door and press the buzzer for her place. After Brandon dropped me off Sunday night, I was so tired and sore, all I did was take a shower and fall into bed. I worked forty-eight hours straight after that. We had calls all night, so I didn’t get much sleep. I went home so I could get some shut-eye and change my clothes. After a quick run to the store, I take my chances showing up unannounced. Her sweet, smooth voice fills the intercom.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me. Travis,” I add, not sure if she recognizes my voice.
An ear piercing buzzing is the only response I get so I turn the knob and walk up the four flights of stairs to her door. She’s wearing grey yoga pants and a bright yellow tank top. I stumble when I recognize the shiny blond hair flowing in sexy waves past her shoulders. The smile that forms on my lips is automatic. She looks so much more like herself, so fucking beautiful.
“Your hair.”
“Yeah, well, I like my natural color better.” She shrugs, and I follow her inside, kicking the door shut behind me as I set the bags on the floor.
My body moves of its own accord, and I grab fistfuls of her silky hair and slam my mouth to hers. She lets out a yelp and puts her hands on my chest, grabbing my shirt. Our lips meld together and I lift her a few inches off the ground so I can carry her to the couch. Nothing about this kiss is neat. It’s hungry and fucking hot. Her legs bump against the armrest, and I fall with her on to the couch. Her soft body under my hard one does nothing but turn me on even more. I pull away and look into her eyes, panting.