17. Connor
Connor:
Sullivan is going to try and get the younger Kensington brother on board now but it’s too early, don’t let him.
Lisa:
What is this, my first day? I already took the contact information out of his Outlook. Go away.
Connor:
Can someone please explain this to me?
*6 photos*
Celeste:
Mon Dieu! I can’t believe she’s let you clean!
Chuck:
A man dreams of this, you know. The day his little girl finds someone who can help her get her life on track.
Jess:
It’s just a pantry, Dad. ??
Chris:
THAT’S A PANTRY???
Scott:
I thought Connor got caught up in some sort of post-disaster convenience store situation.
Chris:
You know there are entire families who don’t have enough to eat, right Jess?
Connor:
I’ve been here for 45 minutes and still haven’t seen an actual shelf yet.
Dad:
I’ve seen this on those hoarding shows, everyone, she might be afraid. Approach with caution.
Celeste:
Sweetheart we will never let you go hungry.
Scott:
Wait, are those Doodle Cookies in that third picture? They don’t even make those anymore!
Alyssa:
Ari takes really good care of her toys, Connor, do you want me to bring her by to help organize?
Jess:
You’re dead to me, all of you.
Connor:
I appreciate your offer, Alyssa, but this is no place for a child.
“This sounds like a really terrible idea,” Chris looks at me across the tennis court with disdain while he dribbles the neon yellow ball repeatedly, a nervous habit he’s always had. Bounce bounce. Or maybe he just does it to drive me insane, that works too.
“You’re just mad she didn’t ask you to be the party date,” I roll my eyes.
He points his racket at me, “That’s only partly true. But mostly I’m concerned as her older brother.”
“You’re my older brother.”
“Which is why I’m concerned.” Bounce, bounce.
“Maybe if you served the damn ball you’d make more sense.”
He thinks about it for a second before throwing the ball in the air and wailing it to my side of the court. We volley back and forth for a while before I score on him.
“Love-15,” I call.
“You know, I actually think getting you out of the office and into something semi-social is a really good thing,” he continues. “In fact, I can’t think of anything better for you. But you don’t know Jess anymore, she’s been through a lot of shit.” He serves the ball fast and I miss it right away. “15-all,” he says.
“I know she’s been through the wringer. Her ex-husband was an asshole?—”
“Is an asshole,” he corrects.
“Is an asshole. And she works with a bunch of people trying to set her up constantly. I think she just likes the security of knowing that I’m not a crazy person and I’m not going to be a dick to her.”
“And what happens when she realizes that you’re just going to bail on her the first second your sabbatical is up?” he asks as he serves again.
“She understands the whole situation,” I grunt during the game play until that bastard beats me again with a short swing. “Yeah, yeah, 15-30.” He barely waits for me to get back to my spot on the court before serving again. I decide that if I argue with him between swings instead of between points, it might help me win. Whether I’m trying to win the game or the argument, I’m not sure. Probably both. “Listen, Jess is a smart woman. She’s not a kid or a wounded fawn, okay? We talked about it for a while and she was more worried about me than anything else. I ended up having to convince her it’s a good idea.”
“What?” Chris straightens up and doesn’t even seem to care that the ball just whizzed right past him.
“30-all,” I smile.
“What do you mean you had to convince her? What did you do?”
My smile falls and I furrow my brows. “Dude, calm down. What got your panties in a twist so fast?”
He grabs another ball, but not without taking his eyes off me. And then he dribbles it again. Bounce, bounce. “I think she’s filled her quota of guys trying to talk her into things she may not want to do.”
It’s a very rare thing for my brother to get as serious as he looks right now and it’s enough to give me pause. We volley back and forth in silence as my mind starts to work out what exactly he means. He has to be talking about Alex, right? Did Alex push Jess into doing things that made her uncomfortable? Did it get physical? I’ll fucking kill him myself.
“30-40,” Chris calls, bringing my head back into the present, and the ball I very clearly missed.
“Did he hurt her?” I ask him. I’d already asked over Thanksgiving and gotten a half-assed response but now things feel different.
“I’m not going to go into everything, she can tell you if she wants. But just know that it was seriously fucked up and she may not be as understanding of your little agreement as you think she is.” He whacks the ball towards me in a serve that definitely feels more aggressive than necessary.
But the thought of Jess being in a subservient position to that piece of shit just makes me answer with a gorilla swing of my own. “Look,” I grunt. “I may not know all the details of what she went through with him, but I know what she’s going through at work. She told me about it over dinner the other night and it sounds like a nightmare.” I still can’t imagine anyone in my office being that invested in my personal life.
“I thought I told you dinner the other night was a bad idea?” Chris asks, expertly backhanding the swing I thought would win me the point.
“I didn’t listen. Showed up with pizza and beer.”
“Wait, what?” Ah, that gets him. He swings and misses.
“Deuce,” I grin smugly. “And yeah, she said she needed my help and I want to help her.”
Chris rolls his tongue between his teeth and I can’t quite tell if he’s irritated with me or just thinking over the implications. He’s not even bouncing the ball. “Why do you want this arrangement so bad?” he finally asks before serving without warning.
I’m ready for him, though, and the game continues. “Look, initially it was just because, for the first time, I’m being forced to look at something outside of work, and Jess is great. I always had a crush on her, you know that.” Yeah, yeah, I’m underselling my feelings here. But I can’t put any blood in the water for Chris to sniff out.
“Okay, so what changed?”
“Nothing,” I reply simply. “All of that still applies. I had a good time with her and I want that to continue, like anyone would.” I slam the ball past him. “Ad-out,” I called.
The tension is thick now. Like there’s a lot more than just the winning point in the game that’s on the line.
“Plenty of women out there can keep you busy for a few weeks, little brother,” he gives me a sidelong glance. Bounce, bounce. “Women who know the score and aren’t going to feel clobbered when your office comes calling and you don’t remember their name anymore.”
“Clobbered?”
He shrugs and bounces the ball a-fucking-gain. “I watched Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown with Scott and the girls last night.” Bounce, bounce. “Women who won’t feel shit on, is that better?” He serves, but this time it feels different. Like if I can win this game, I can prove I’m not the usual dickface that Jess is apparently drawn to.
“Yeah, I know, but that’s not the point. Jess asked for my help. And when I’m around her, I feel like…I don’t know, I feel like I can be helpful. I can be fun again. Like I’m not just a suit who doesn’t know how to loosen his tie. It makes me want to really get to know her again. Make up for lost time.”
“Hmm,” is his only response.
Bounce, bounce.
“That’s impressive, man, but face it. There’s nothing you love more than work. Not anything, not anyone. The fact that you even have to get to know her again is testament to that.”
Something about that argument hits a nerve in me, and I snap. No more trying to talk, no more trying to prove myself. He’s going down on the court and then he’s going down in this debate. We go back to silently volleying, pouring our unspoken words into each swing. When finally, like some sort of superhuman comic book character, I summon every ounce of power I have and channel it all into my racket, connecting with the ball and letting out a primal yell at the contact before watching it bounce just inside my brother’s side of the net and too far out of his reach.
“Game, motherfucker,” I rasp.
We both walk slowly to the bench on the edge of the court and start guzzling water in between deep breaths.
When I finally recover a little bit, I wait for his eyes to meet mine. “Look,” I begin, “if I thought Jess wanted a real, intense, long-term relationship, I’d never pursue this. If I thought that this was going to be anything other than mutually beneficial or even more in my favor than hers, I would let it go. But…I wish you could have heard her, man. She was essentially just trying to give herself a pep talk while I was in the room. Honestly, even if I wasn’t pacing the floors dying of boredom, I would want to help her. She deserves to feel like she can enjoy a party without constantly being forced to talk to men who are thrown at her just because she’s single.
In fact, the thought of her talking to a bunch of men who don’t appreciate her brilliance makes my stomach turn.
Or worse, the thought of her talking to a man who does.
No. No, that can’t happen. I’ll be the only man she’ll need to talk to at that party. And for the immediate future.
Chris drinks from his water bottle but never breaks eye contact with me. When he’s done, he looks at me for a moment before saying what I’ve been hoping he’d say this whole time. “I know you’re a good guy, all right?” He has more to say, I’m sure, but at least his admission helps my muscles release a little. “And I’m not trying to compare you to the bottom-feeder she married. Like at all. I just…I was there front and center when shit went down a few years ago. What he did to her. How she reacted. She takes personal responsibility for everything—and I mean everything—that goes wrong in her life. She’s already starting to like you, I can tell. And I just don’t want her to think it’s her fault when you go back to work and can’t be there for her anymore. I’m kind of done being the Price in charge of workaholic clean up.”
I don’t fully understand what he means by that last statement, but I have a bigger question to ask. “So…she’s talked to you about me?”
Chris immediately backhands me across the face.
“What the hell?” I yell, nursing my cheek.
“That’s all you got from what I just said? I got downright poetic, that was some deep shit. And all you give me is a little schoolgirl response?”
“I thought you liked schoolgirls!” I open and close my mouth to loosen my jaw. Meanwhile, a couple walking past us to the next court over gives us a look that says they’re about to call Dateline on my brother.
“Outfits,” he calls to them. “Consenting women of legal age in schoolgirl outfits.” Then he turns to me, “You’re an asshole on so many levels.”
“Okay, okay, truce?”
He eyes me skeptically. I hold my hand out to shake on it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “And I’m glad you’re looking out for Jess because you’re right, I don’t see what goes on when I’m buried in work. Now that I’m actually getting to know her, I’m really happy she’s got people watching her back. But she doesn’t need a keeper, okay? Maybe she’s got some issues, but hell, we all do. I bet she’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for. She’s definitely prettier than her coworkers are giving her credit for. She’s funny, she’s smart, she’s so optimistic it borders on ridiculous. She’s probably the one who should look out for us.”
Even though Chris remains silent, something in his expression changes. “I’ll be damned,” he smirks. “You’ve got a legitimate thing for her, don’t you?”
“Fuck off.”
“The Tin Man has a heart, everybody!” he yells, drawing the attention of the same couple we literally just made uncomfortable. Maybe we don’t need to continue being in their line of vision. I punch him in the shoulder to get him to start walking (and as retribution for the earlier slap).
“Let’s get out of here, asshole. I’ll buy you lunch.”
“Free lunch, too?” he continues yelling. “This is truly the most glorious of days! What did I do to deserve such a brother?”
“I’m asking myself the same thing,” I mutter as we walk towards the locker room.
“AND you’re buying me a new racket in the Pro Shop? Oh, let this day last forever!”
It already feels like it has.