Chapter 21
twenty-one
PRESENT DAY
brANDON
Saturday night, the doorknob on the Sandersons’ front door turns easily, just like old times. I don’t remember the first time Tuck’s mom, Heidi, said that I shouldn’t knock anymore, but that level of acceptance was never lost on me. I step across the threshold, brushing snow from my leather jacket.
The hallway creaks the same as when Tuck and I would run down it when we were boys.
Then Heidi would yell that we were disrupting the girls’ violin practice, and we needed to cool it or go outside.
But it was almost always her husband’s fault, either by chasing us or trying to teach his son a football play.
The series of events that followed were almost always the same: Heidi would get mad at Eric for instigating, then Eric would justify it because “well, Brando’s here, and Tuck and I can’t run this play by ourselves.
” He’d then coax the frown off her face with a flirty comment, and the whole routine would end with a gross kiss that Tuck and I would run screaming from.
The formal living room near the front door is vacant. Patterned couches and arm chairs line the pale blue walls, and I can’t remember a time when this space was ever really used. The Sandersons’ floor plan is like a mullet: business in the front, party in the back.
Which is exactly where I’m heading.
I turn the corner at the end of the hall into the wallpapered family room filled with people.
Tucker’s entire family, my mom and her boyfriend, Chaz, and a few of my mom’s realtor friends are grazing around long tables covered in food.
It seems like almost the whole neighborhood showed up this year.
“Aloha!” Heidi’s five-foot frame pops up out of nowhere, and she brandishes a Hawaiian lei at me. I laugh, bending so she can loop the bright plastic flowers around my neck. “Glad you could make it!”
I return the hug. “Couldn’t miss the annual Sanderson Luau.”
Her hazel eyes shine behind her thick tortoiseshell glasses.
“What better way to brighten up dreary January than with this?” She twists back and forth, making her grass skirt rustle over her blue jeans.
Her auburn hair sticks out at odd angles beneath her crown of flowers. “Eric!” she hollers. “Look who’s here!”
Eric’s brown eyes light up when they find me. “Brando! You made it!” He strides over wearing a gleaming coconut bra over his oxford button-up, like he barely got home from the office before throwing it on.
I laugh as he claps me on the back and pulls me in for a hug.
“Mr. Sanderson,” I say. “You’ve never looked better. New bra?”
“Sure is.” Eric fists his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “Fresh coat of lacquer and everything.” His bald head shines as he gives me a toothy smile.
Heidi sidles up to him in her grass skirt and fits herself against his side. Eric isn’t exactly tall, but he looks massive compared to his tiny wife. Together they could certainly be featured in a “Wilderness Over Fifty” advertisement, outdoorsy as they are.
Tuck bobs through the room, brown hair especially messy today. I swear, if the guy would just use hair product, he probably wouldn’t have been single all these years.
“Gross, Dad. Put those away. Brando didn’t come to get his eye poked out.”
“That’s true. Wouldn’t want any injuries.” He claps me again on the back. “It was great to see you, son.” He turns and edges through the crowd like he’s got a bomb strapped to his chest.
I follow Tuck to our usual recliners and sink into the dark blue leather. It smells perfect: like lemon cleanser, Heidi’s home-cooked meals, and game nights.
“Work suck yesterday or something?” Tuck reads my tired sigh.
“You have no idea.”
Yeah, work was crazy. I made about fifty cold-calls to potential donors. Talking to people doesn’t drain me, though. If anything, putting my charm to the test is actually quite fun. No, my workday with Kate in our tiny office isn’t the reason I’m cracking my knuckles.
It’s the scavenger hunt event that came after.
I can’t stop replaying that lightning strike by the elevator, that brief illumination of Kate’s laugh and recklessly blown kiss. I watched her break out of her act only to fade away again once she rejoined what’s-his-nuts. Not going to lie, it hurt more than I thought it would.
“Work sucked for me, too,” Tuck says, his sullen tone at odds with his usual playfulness. I’ve never heard him complain about the bioenvironmental engineering company he works for.
“Why?”
“Got laid off.” He ignores my shock, hunching over his knees and inspecting his hands. “Well, my department got laid off. Sooo I’m probably gonna have to backpay you my portion of rent once I find a new job.”
I wave my hand. “I’ll cover your half. What happened?”
“A project for one of our clients wasn’t panning out, and it got too expensive. They cut the project. Once they realized they didn’t have enough work, they cut us too.”
“What was the project?”
Gears set in motion behind his hazel eyes. He gets the same look before embarking on one of his crazy outdoor adventures.
“In layman’s terms, it’s an evolved aftermarket intake manifold for vehicles.
It increases airflow to the engine by thirty percent.
If that got paired with the enhanced catalytic converter I designed, the vehicle could, in theory,” Tuck warns, as if I’m about to combust from anticipation, “scrub more exhaust in the atmosphere than from just the vehicle itself. By sucking more air through my advanced system, it could reduce overall emissions by twenty percent.”
A thrum kicks off in my own chest. It’s impossible to sit in close proximity to Tuck’s enthusiasm without side effects.
“That sounds cool, man.” I grin, but the reality of the situation tamps down the corners of my mouth. “But the project got shut down?”
“Yup.”
But Tuck suddenly doesn’t seem too perturbed.
“What’s the plan, Tuck?” I sigh. I swear I’ve repeated those four words more in my life than any friend should have to.
“I’ve got two options, my man. Either I admit defeat like a wuss or I step up and try to fund the project on my own.
I have an investor already interested. Plus, the company withdrew the trademark when they cut the project.
It’s a risk, but if I reach back out to the client with it finished…
” Tuck’s got mountain peaks in his eyes.
“Cool,” I say, clapping his shoulder.
“Thanks.” Tuck grins, but it dims a fraction as he scans the room. “Sucks Julia didn’t make it this year. She’s with Dallas. Did you know they’re back together?”
I shrug. “So? That just means she’ll be single again next week. Julia’s smart. She’ll figure it out.”
Tuck’s expression lifts. “You’re probably right. She’d never listen to us anyway.”
“Hon! I didn’t see you come in!” Mom steps into my field of view, green eyes sparkling above a huge smile.
She has one of those faces that transform when they’re happy.
One moment, she’s contemplative with her deeply-creased laugh lines, then one twitch of her mouth and she’s brimming with mischief.
I skim my eyes over her, searching for any hint of disarray. Her dark jeans look like they’ve filled out some since I last saw her, and her Hawaiian shirt is crease-free. A healthy flush runs beneath her cheeks, and her eyes are bright and glossy.
My assessment snags on the man sidling up to Mom.
“Hey, champ. It’s good to see you.” Chaz, her boyfriend, is all dark, thinning hair with a layer of dormant muscle under his belly.
I often wonder if he calls everyone “champ” so he doesn’t have to learn their name.
Chaz shifts his gaze to survey the crowd as he takes a long pull of his drink.
The green umbrella jutting out of it pokes him in the nose.
I stand and give Mom a hug, resting my head against hers. Her wavy black hair is fluffy and freshly styled.
“Sorry I couldn’t come to dinner last week. Work’s been nuts,” I say.
She steps back and pokes me hard in the chest. “I hope you know I slaved for two days making that lasagna.”
I laugh. “It took you two days to figure out how to turn on the oven to cook the store-bought one?”
“Well, the first day might have been spent cleaning the fire extinguisher residue. I may have forgotten something was already inside when I preheated it…”
“How is the fire marshal doing these days? I don’t think I’ve seen him since the last time I ate dinner with you.”
She whacks my arm, but she’s grinning. “You are such a butt.” Mom slides her fingertips along the length of one of my hair strands. “You need a haircut, hon. This has gotten way too long.”
I duck out from under her hand. “The hair stays. It’s a part of my charm.”
“Ah, I see.” One quirk of her mouth and she’s up to no good. “Is there someone you’re trying to charm? Pray tell.”
“You know me. Always charming ‘em all,” I say dryly.
Chaz doesn’t look the least bit interested in our conversation, but he sticks to my mom like a retired football coach turned barnacle. I don’t have anything against the guy, but it’s impossible not to lump him in with the fifty before him.
Always the same type of testosterone trash. My mom’s love life has always been a revolving door of Brads, Cruzes, or Zekes. Like their own mothers knew they’d have limited capability of spelling more than one syllable.
My eyes skate from Chaz to my mom.
I want to soak in her delighted expression, but the logical part of my brain reminds me that it might not last. I watch her bask in the meager attention Chaz offers like an eight-year-old at a soccer game, and I can’t deny it’s a bit pathetic.
Frustration feathers in my jaw, but I force a smile.
If she couldn’t see her worth during the twenty-year parade of douchebags, why would she now?
“Oh! I almost forgot.” She clamps onto my forearm as she pulls me through the crowd toward the front door. “I cleaned out some of your stuff.”