Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“I’m not gonna do anything with your sister that she doesn’t want done to her,” I say.
His head pops up. “You can stop talking any minute.”
I frown. “You should be glad it’s me and not some random dude around town. You’ve always said no one here is good enough for her.”
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to hit on her. No one here is good enough for her and neither are you. And don’t give me any crap about her being grown up. She’s my baby sister, she will always be my baby sister, and she’s your sister too because you’re supposed to be my brother.” He shakes an angry finger across the roof of the car.
I have zero fraternal thoughts toward Emma, that’s for damn sure. “So if I married her, would you refuse to come to our 25th wedding anniversary party because she’s still your baby sister?”
He swipes an arm across his forehead and adjusts his hat, contemplating my question for a few seconds. “Guess it depends.”
I blow out a frustrated stream of air. “I was going to ask you to explain, but I think it’s only going to piss me off.”
He doesn’t get to respond because at that moment Emma comes careening to a stop in front of the house.
“Men fucking suck,” Emma spits out as she slams the door to her Neon Leaf.
Frank’s eyes bug out. “Not all men.”
She whirls on her brother. “All of them, including you”—she jabs her brother’s chest—“and you.” Even I’m not saved.
“What’d you do?” snarls Frank. He throws down his rag and starts toward me.
Emma shoves him—not very well—backward. “He didn’t do nothing. He’s just existing just like all you penises.”
“Bad day at work?” I guess. Emma’s an EMT. She’s bound to see shit that hurts her spirit including men beating up women.
“Is Melody okay?” Frank interjects. His brain went from Emma’s bad day to Melody being injured, and I don’t know how he got there.
“She’s fine as far as I know. Why? You hear something? Because if you did, it didn’t come from me,” Emma warns.
We both blink at her in confusion. She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m not all there today.”
“I’m going to check on Melody.” Frank reaches over and pulls Emma’s purse off her shoulder. “I’ll put gas in your car on the way home. And you”—he points to me with Emma’s bright pink purse shaped like some kind of oyster gripped in his hand—“you stay in the basement.”
I bust out laughing both at his ludicrous demand but also because he just looks funny as hell in his half-soaked navy blue T-shirt and the pink seashell purse waving at me.
Emma mutters a disgusted “Men” before heading toward the side door. I ignore Frank since I know his attention is distracted and catch up with Emma before she enters the house.
“Come on.” I capture her hand in mine. “Let’s go for a walk. Your momma is napping. She cooked all morning and then had to supervise Frank and me. It was tiring work.”
“I bet.” Emma heaves a sigh. “Fine. I should let off some steam before I go inside. I don’t want to worry Mom or Dad.”
“You can tell me,” I invite, tugging her down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. I don’t let go of her hand. It’s a new experience for me—walking hand in hand with someone. I like it. I like it a lot.
Emma’s silent for a long time, but I don’t speak. She’ll talk when she’s ready. We walk down the sidewalk under the canopy of trees that have grown big and thick over the years. Small ranch houses much like the Charles’ place sit back from the road. One has a flagpole out front. Another one has a basketball hoop in the driveway. Yet another has a profusion of flowers and bushes. Emma’s town is a nice one. You could raise a family here, pass dishes between the neighbors, hold cookouts in the backyard.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That I’d like to live here. It’s quiet, but there’s still a lot of life in this town.” I point to the kid’s bike that’s lying on its side next to a pair of roller skates in the middle of the sidewalk. We make a detour onto the street and then back on the pavement. “I’m a city boy. I grew up in a high-rise. My playground was on the 14th floor where the pool and fitness center were. There was a game room, a party room, and even a movie theater, but there wasn’t any community there. No one used it. Everyone went to their private clubs and did their own thing. People here have connections.”
“Not all connections are good.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She clenches her jaw. “Wish I could but it’d be a violation of confidentiality. Plus, it’s a delicate situation. Just know it has to do with a bully.”