Chapter 13 Going Home #4
She was a little peculiar. She’d fired off a bunch of personality assessment questions and then concluded he was Pisces.
She wasn’t wrong, but the whole idea of summing a person and allocating them to a star sign was a bit far-fetched.
He didn’t complain, though. It was a nice distraction from the melancholic tension in the house.
So her parents were great. The situation was bearable.
What wasn’t okay were these mongrels he had to deal with.
Two boys and three girls, ranging from about three to eight years old.
Kids weren’t his favorite thing in the world and the five of them were only solidifying his resolution to never reproduce.
The boys were noisy and quite bratty, but they kept themselves entertained with toy cars and a variety of foods containing sugar. Tyler wasn’t a parent, but even he knew that kids plus sugar equaled hell on rails.
The girls, on the other hand, were unreasonable and more than a bit annoying.
The little one in particular was a real bother.
There were eight ladybugs on her dress. Eight.
He’d counted it three times, but she insisted there were thirteen.
Unnecessary arguments had always been his pet peeve and her insistence to argue a matter where she was clearly wrong was infuriating.
He’d been involved in take-overs, knocked heads with domineering business owners, but no man he’d ever tackled in the boardroom had this unfaltering resilience.
She had ceased the squabble when Jordan’s mother came in only to immediately resume it as soon as Jessie left the room.
“Eleven…twelve…thirteen,” she said. “See? There’s thirteen ladybugs.”
I’m so done with this. “But you’re counting those twice, Makayla. There’s only eight.”
“I said there’s thirteen.”
“Eight.”
“Thirteen!” She stomped her foot impatiently and her tiny hands curled into tight fists like she was about to throw the first punch.
Oh, bring it! She was pushing him and he was ready to go toe-to-toe with this girl. “Unless you have a degree in math to back up that statement, listen to the adult in the room. Eight. Only eight.”
“Ugh!” Did this brat just roll her eyes at me? “Okay,” she said with a frustrated huff, finally accepting defeat. And then in a very bi-polar turn of events, she looked up at him and gave a smile that just about melted him inside. “Do you like it?”
“What? Your dress?”
She nodded, her big blue eyes so wide and innocent, it brought a grin to his face before he could stop it. “I do. It’s a very pretty dress. I really like it.”
“I like you.” She gripped the cushioning of the sofa and, with a great amount of effort and a lot less finesse, she pulled her small body onto it. She threw her short, chubby arms around his neck and his nostrils were submersed in the smell of candy and…dirt.
So awkward. Sooo Awkward!
His body stiffened. He wasn’t really sure about the specific rules relating to contact between adult males and much smaller females, but it seemed like something he could get shot for. And they had guns.
“You shouldn’t hug strangers.” He subtly pushed her away to a non-shooting distance and focused on the cartoon on the screen.
In the time he’d become the unwilling babysitter, they had gone through two episodes of this crap and it was becoming a little ridiculous now.
He knew it was fictional and thus a little suspension of belief was necessary, but what the hell were they teaching kids these days?
It was unrealistic. Ducks and mice couldn’t talk and a car definitely couldn’t run on gumballs.
“I don’t know how you watch this,” Tyler said to Makayla. “I, for one, have spotted several loopholes already.”
“What’s a loophole?” she asked innocently.
“Like how does that thing know exactly which tools to have every episode?”
“Because he knows.”
The simple response was a further indication that she couldn’t be saved. This stuff was warping her mind. She couldn’t even see reason anymore.
“Hi.”
Tyler turned to see a tall man standing at the entrance of the living room. He walked in and extended his hand. “Max.”
Brother number one. Okay. Not so bad. He was a little shorter than Tyler, skinnier too. No need to be intimidated.
“Tyler,” he responded, giving his hand a firm shake.
“You’re pretty passionate about cartoons.”
Tyler had to fight the urge to throw his hands up. “I dare you to find any sort of logic in it.”
The boys didn’t seem to care, but the girls quickly gathered around Max and their excitement to see him showed in their hugs, kisses and giggles. The oldest – Madison, if he remembered correctly – got out a small, plastic case and Tyler’s breath caught as she opened it.
Pink! So much pink.
He watched in horror as they began painting Max’s face with all that pink.
Glitter eye-shadow was generously applied to his eyes and pasty lipstick was smeared over his mouth.
He seemed completely untroubled by this, allowing them to twist ribbons into his hair with nothing more than a sigh of submission.
“Where’s Danny, Uncle Max?” Madison asked.
“She’s back in LA,” he replied with a hint of sadness. “Promise I’ll bring her next time.”
He waited for the girls to finish before he looked over at Tyler. “You want a beer? Make all of this a little more…manly?”
“Sure.” Breaking the ice. “Pink is definitely your color, by the way.”
“Don’t think you’re safe.” Max laughed and left the room.
Was that a warning? It definitely sounded like a warning.
He looked at the girls then and they were approaching him like a pack of lionesses closing in on their prey. “I’m more into neutral tones,” he protested and even he had to admit he sounded scared.
They didn’t take the hint. The oldest one pounced first, smearing the icky paste over his mouth.
The middle one clumped glitter onto his eyes, so much it felt like it might be too heavy to open them afterwards.
And the world’s next great mathematician went straight for his hair, twisting and pulling until it was painful.
If he’d been there for any other reason besides a funeral, he would have screamed for help.
“There,” Madison said, stepping back and closing the case. “See how pretty you look.”
Pretty had never been a look he’d actively pursued but he appreciated the compliment. “Thanks,” he said with a wry smile. “I feel pretty.”
Max returned to the living room and chuckled. “Told you.” He handed him a cold beer as he sat down on the sofa beside him. “So what exactly are your intentions with my sister?”
He blurted out the response immediately.
“Nothing.” Liar! Liar! Pants on fire! He noted that his mind was still stuck in kid-mode and decided to add a level of maturity to his next words.
“We don’t have that boss-accountant sort of relationship.
” Apart from the fact that we rub against each other from time to time… Yeah…don’t say that.
Just when he thought he’d diffused the situation, two NBA players entered the room. Brothers two and three were just as tall but not as skinny. Tyler was officially intimidated now.
“Nice hair-do,” one said, shaking Tyler’s hand.
That wasn’t the impression he’d wanted to make, but they said nothing further about it. They introduced themselves as Dominic and Shane and sat down on the sofa on the other side of the room.
“Kevin still in his room?” Shane asked.
“Yep.” Max replied. “Don’t think he’s gonna come out anytime soon. Jo-jo’s with him, though.”
Well, at least that eliminates the possibility of meeting brother number four.
“Good.” Dominic sat back and threw his arm over the backrest. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.
I just hope she doesn’t say something stupid like she always does or she might get another nail in her log, but rather her than us, right?
” He turned his attention back to Tyler. “So are you Jordan’s boyfriend?”
Tyler groaned inwardly. For a second he’d thought he was out of the woods.
“I was just asking him the same thing, Dom,” Max said.
Tyler’s heart was beating erratically in his throat.
He was nervous and…very afraid. “We’re not…
” How’s the best way to say: I was using your sister to get my ex back and after a few dinners and some very inappropriate touching, I now kinda like her, but I’m still too confused to commit to anything.
Oh, but the fact that I can’t make up my mind on the matter doesn’t mean I won’t share a bed with her…
Yeah…don’t say that either. “We’re not…together,” he filled in after some time.
Dominic stood up, took the beer from Max’s hand, and sat down again. “It’s better you keep it that way, but just in case you change your mind, don’t say we didn’t give you a fair warning. If you hurt our sister, we’ll cut your balls off!”
Tyler’s brown eyes widened at the threat. He was quite attached to his balls and he didn’t feel that was really necessary.
“Dad has some shears in the shed we could use,” Shane chimed in to drive it home.
“You got that, Tyler?” Max said. “That’s the message we’re gonna leave you with. Balls and shears.”
Tyler let out a slow breath. Message received. Loud and clear.
* * * * *
Jordan paced outside the door of Kevin’s bedroom. She wasn’t ready to go in just yet. She had left the kitchen almost half an hour ago and she still couldn’t find the courage to face him. The imaginary sign on his door read: Proceed with caution. She’d put it there years ago.
Max had a violent temper and he threw punches without thinking.
But a few bruises were the only marks he left behind.
Kevin was different. He never resorted to physical violence.
Her little brother attacked with words; hateful, despicable words that could reduce even a strong woman like their mother to tears.
And that was him on a good day. He didn’t leave bruises on the outside.
No, he left his mark on the inside, holes that even time could not repair.