The Spark (Carolina Connections Book 2) Page 8

  He seemed to have lost his mind because he proceeded to do just that and practically bust a gut in my passenger seat.

  “If you’re going to piss yourself, I swear I will pull over and punch you in the throat.” He held his index finger up, indicating he needed a minute. “Seriously, out of three hundred million sperm, you’re the one who made it? It boggles the mind.” And that just sent him off again.

  Mom was working an evening shift at her waitressing job, but I decided to come in the house instead of just dropping Jake off, hoping to check in with her. We were relieved that she’d made it to work without comment and especially without trying to stop by the hospital again. I was hoping the information Jake had dropped on her last night was making an impact, but it would be nice to see for myself.

  Walking into our childhood home rarely made me think of my father anymore, but that had changed in the last few days. All I could see when I walked into the little duplex now was the stained and time-worn carpet in front of the recliner where my dad used to settle his clay-encrusted work boots and then complain about dirty floors later. And the mirror above the entry table with the crack in the corner from when it had fallen during one of his tirades, only to be picked up and repaired by my mother that night. Then the wobbly oak table in the kitchen where Jake and I had bitten our tongues so hard we’d nearly drawn blood in our attempts to refrain from back-talk as the old man had hurled thinly veiled insults and criticisms.

  I could see him plain as day in the farthest chair, his hair combed back, a full plate in front of him and a can of Old Style in his hand. “Joey Walker, now there’s a great kid. I’ll bet you money his father is damn proud of that one. Did you see that pass he threw last night? And I noticed he doesn’t do too poorly with the ladies either, huh? Did you see that cheerleader he was cozying up to after the game? Hooey!”

  “Do you know him?” he’d asked me. “What am I saying?” He’d then chuckled. “Of course you wouldn’t know a guy like that.” His focus had switched to my brother. “Jake, you know him. Maybe if you put in a little more effort at practice you’d get more playing time like Joey, huh? That is some kid. Pass the potatoes, Mary.” Mary, of course, being his nickname for me.

  My trip down memory lane was interrupted by Jake as he stepped in front of me. My eyes snapped from the table to focus on Jake and the IPA in his outstretched hand.

  “Nah, man, I gotta drive home in a bit.”

  “Suit yourself,” he replied and dropped onto the sofa. At least that wasn’t the same couch from our childhood. I’d finally gotten our mom to agree to a new one last year when the springs on the old one were literally pushing their way through the threadbare cushions. This new one wasn’t fancy, but she’d let me buy it for her and at least I didn’t have to risk my nuts being cut off when I sat on it.

  She was always touchy when I tried to fix things up at her house, insisting that it was fine as it was and she didn’t want me spending my money on her. Since I work in construction, though, I’d been able to make some improvements to the place using spare pieces from other projects. That was how she’d gotten a new foyer floor and kitchen countertops. The kitchen floor I’d had to pay for out-of-pocket, but I didn’t tell her that. I just wanted her to have something nice for once in her life.

  “Damn, it’s weird being back,” Jake said as he took a swig and looked around.

  “How long has it been anyway?” I let my sudden moodiness spur my comment, knowing full well how long it had been and just wanting to hear him say it. I began to pace the small room.

  Oblivious to my mood, Jake replied, “I think it’s been over a year—Christmas before last maybe?”

  I just grunted in response.

  “What crawled up your ass all of a sudden?” my brother asked, trying and failing to pull off a casually amused expression.

  “Oh, I don’t know—maybe just a bit tired,” I said through clenched teeth. The room was starting to feel claustrophobic. I wanted to pick that old recliner up and throw it out on the curb. Fuck, what was wrong with me?

  “Oh, just spit it out—I knew this was coming anyway so go ahead.” Jake tossed an arm out in invitation.

  “Don’t try to make it sound like I’m having some kind of teenage hissy fit—if we’re going to talk about who the grown-up is in this room, I think we both know it sure as shit isn’t you!”

  He scratched at the side of his dark scruff. “I’m sorry, okay! I was eighteen. All I could think about was getting the hell out of that man’s house before I killed him. Don’t you remember what it was like to be eighteen? We’re all selfish idiots at that age.”

  I stopped my pacing and stared at him with incredulity. WTF?!

  “Yes, Jake. I do remember what eighteen was like—clearly our experiences were worlds apart. You ran off to ‘find yourself’ and I was stuck here!” He opened his mouth to interrupt but I was on a roll. “My eighteen meant taking care of mom and making sure she took her meds every day—making sure she made it to work so she could keep a roof over her head and not lose her insurance. It meant sticking around town working full time and taking classes at community college because God only knew what would happen if somebody didn’t stay here to keep an eye on things. That’s what it was like to be eighteen, Jake,” I spat.

  Jesus, it felt good to get that out, but I simultaneously felt like kind of a douchebag—this was practically ancient history and I was indeed starting to resemble a teenager throwing a hissy fit.

  Shit.

  I slumped next to him on the couch, the fight having left me entirely.

  “Exactly how long have you been waiting to say that to me?” He shoved my arm.

  “Oh, only about fifteen years. Not long.” I sighed.

  “I’m sorry, little brother. I know it’s no excuse, but I was a young, selfish asshole who couldn’t see past the immediate future. If it’s any comfort, I regretted signing up for the Marines about thirty minutes into boot camp.”

  “Maybe a little. Wait, I thought you liked the Marines?” I turned to him.

  “I don’t think anybody ‘likes’ the Marines. I did end up learning a lot and it helped me grow the fuck up, that’s for sure. I should have come home after. I should have helped you watch after Mom. I just didn’t know how to make it up to you and then I kept putting it off, telling myself you were always better at this shit anyway. I know it was stupid.”

  “Fuck,” I swiped his beer. “You’re here now. And you seem to be able to get through to Mom a hell of a lot better than I can.”

  He grabbed the other beer I’d refused minutes earlier. “That’s because I’ve spent the last several years honing my skills at charming older women.”

  “Don’t. That just sounds disturbing as shit.”

  “Asshole.” He shoved me again.

  “Dickhead.” I shoved him back harder and managed to push him off the couch.

  I knew I was stronger than him.

  “You’re gonna have to get to the gym here in town if you want to keep up with me, big brother.”

  Just then, the front door opened and our mom walked in, spying me on the couch and Jake sprawled on the floor. She smiled. “Isn’t this a nice surprise—my two boys hanging out together. It feels like old times.” She seemed to be in a good mood.

  “Hey, Mom,” we both said simultaneously, making me feel like we were indeed kids again.

  “How was work?” Jake asked, picking himself up off the floor, trying not to spill his beer in the process.

  “The usual—it was fine.” She set her purse down on the entry table and turned back to us. “Oh, and I got the strangest phone call. It was from the girl who was with you at the hospital the other day—Fiona?”

  Oh shit.

  “What did she say?” I was afraid to ask but did anyway. It was like pulling off a bandage—better to get it over with quickly.

  “It was the oddest thing. She invited me out to lunch.” She had a small smile on her face, obviously recalling the details o
f the conversation. She let out a little laugh.

  Interesting.

  “Anyway, we’re going out on Wednesday.” She walked toward the kitchen, calling out behind her, “You boys need a snack?”

  “Always,” replied Jake.

  I stayed silent, too preoccupied with what Fiona could possibly have said to not only draw such an unexpected reaction from my mom, but to get her to agree to lunch with a complete stranger.

  I knew Shortcake was a witch.

  Chapter Ten

  The A-Team Ain’t Got Nothin’ on Me

  FIONA

  I was like frickin’ Hannibal from the A-Team. This plan was coming together like a mo-fo! I wasn’t lying when I said I liked a good project—it’s one area where my list-making abilities come in super handy.

  Even before the Beckett boys had left Laney’s house, she and I had schemed out a solid strategy. The plan was to call their mom, whose name we learned was Kelly, and invite her to a welcome-home dinner for Jake that we were planning to host. Who doesn’t love an excuse to eat yummy food and drink wine while making new friends in the process? Naturally, the true purpose of the call was to lure Kelly into spending some of her free time with us, therefore keeping her mind off her husband and her ass out of his hospital room.

  I called her cell phone and happened to catch her on her way out of work. While the introduction was a bit awkward since I had to mention the hospital, I quickly glossed over it with my typical flightiness and moved right on.

  I may have inadvertently implied that her sons and I had known each other for longer than we actually had. Okay, I outright lied, but it was for a good cause! And I did know them through Nate, whom I knew through Laney—and something involving Kevin Bacon makes it okay. Speaking of Kevin Bacon, that dude has gotten scary skinny—eat a sandwich, man.

  Anyway, I asked Kelly about Jake’s favorite foods when he was growing up and then suggested that a few embarrassing photos would be a good addition, all while drawing her into friendly conversation.

  I wasn’t too surprised to find that she was a lovely woman with a good sense of humor. And I knew just how to make a mom of two grown men warm up to me. It involved a careful balance of both praising and insulting the shit out of her offspring. Every mom loves to hear good things about her sons while also understanding that a girl who is blind to their faults or is a pushover is never going to make the grade. Especially with those two beasts she’d raised.

  By the end of the call, I had secured a lunch date for Kelly, Laney, and me on Kelly’s next day off. She said a cheery goodbye after promising to bring photos with her. I was secretly hoping there would be a few embarrassing shots of Mark as well, but I didn’t ask.

  “And that’s how it’s done,” I proclaimed to Laney as I pushed the end-call button and set my phone on the counter.

  “I have to say I’m pretty damn impressed. You were charming as shit!”

  “What a lovely compliment.” I glared at her playfully.

  “You know what I mean.” She scrunched her eyebrows. “You can talk to anyone, and you’re never shy or anything—it’s really an extraordinary skill.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet. But you know it’s just because I’m so used to making a fool of myself that it doesn’t really faze me anymore. I just open my mouth and shit comes out.” I paused for a moment. “Wait, that didn’t come out right, did it? See? It’s true!”

  She laughed at me as Nate rounded the corner into the kitchen. I took a moment to admire him, as I often do, and oddly found myself comparing him to Mark. Had Nate’s arms gotten a little scrawny since the last time I saw him? No. Not possible—that was only a couple days ago.

  My mind wandered back to the moment in the foyer when I’d stupidly decided that an arm punch was a proper farewell to Mark. His arm was like steel and apparently I was starting to develop a steel fetish. I’d practically mentally undressed him right there in the foyer—how pathetic. And from the look he’d given me, I don’t think it went unnoticed. Damn. It must have been that story about his dog that got to me. Double damn.

  “What’s so funny?” Nate asked, pulling my attention.

  “Fiona,” Laney responded, still smiling at me.

  “Naturally,” was his comeback so I punched him in the arm. What was it with me tonight? At least Nate had the good grace to pretend it hurt.

  “So, I don’t really get it,” Laney said.

  “What? He insulted me so I punched him.” Did I sound a bit defensive?

  “Not that,” she said. “If somebody owed me a bunch of money, why would I try to kill them? Then I’d never get my money back.”

  Nate leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Not that I have any personal experience with this, obviously, but I’ve seen enough movies that some may consider me an expert.” Laney and I both rolled our eyes at him but he continued undiscouraged. “My theory is either they never intended to kill him—just hurt him badly enough to scare the shit out of him—or he’d been screwing them around to the point where they figured they’d just off him and take all his possessions. Then they’d at least have something—and they could go after people in his life for the rest. Obviously, that’s what has Mark and Jake the most concerned.”

  That all made sense, I guess. It also pissed me right the hell off—what had Kelly done to deserve even the threat of something like that? It made me even more determined to help them all out and to befriend her in the process. Us girls have to stick together, after all. Vaginas unite!

  There has got to be a potential superhero story with that awesome tagline! It’s a shame I’m not into comics.

  I managed to make it to Wednesday, the day of our lunch with Kelly, without thinking too much about Mark—or his arms. And by that, I mean I only thought about him a couple times in the shower and maybe a few times at work when I was supposed to be filing. Not bad at all. But even I, the queen of meaningless sex, could admit that this had the potential to become a problem. I mean, casually screwing someone who was part of your friendship network was a terrible idea. Even if that person happened to be hot and used to sing to his dog. I’d just have to try to remember how good he was at annoying me and then I wouldn’t want him at all. Yes—good plan.

  Technically I only had an hour for lunch but I was good at finagling more time here and there—it was one of life’s great mysteries why I got fired so often. Since Laney tended to actually follow her company’s policies, we decided to meet up closer to her office for our girls’ lunch.

  Venturing inside the little Italian bistro in my best skinny jeans and some killer Tory Burch wedge sandals, I spotted Kelly immediately and was suddenly struck by her resemblance to Jake—dark hair, olive complexion, and striking cheekbones. Kelly was also fairly tall, which obviously wasn’t saying much coming from me, and was quite beautiful now that her face wasn’t streaked with tears as it had been the last time I’d seen her.

  It was also clear to me that she was one of those women who didn’t know how to play up her beauty and spent very little time on herself. She wore old jeans, a cardigan that was two sizes too big, and not a speck of makeup. I sensed another project looming, and my Inner Fashion Maven cackled gleefully. Unlike Guilt, she was a wonderful house guest.

  Kelly hadn’t noticed me yet as she stood near the hostess stand gripping her purse while shifting on her feet.

  “Kelly!” I approached her with a welcoming smile. Her eyes turned to me and a gorgeous smile lit her face. What in the hell was this woman doing pining over a loser like her dickhead husband? I gripped her hand in both of mine. “It’s so good to properly meet you.”

  “You too, Fiona—thanks for inviting me,” she said a bit shyly.

  “Of course,” I responded and then looked around. “I don’t see Laney yet, but let’s go ahead and get a table.”

  She nodded, and by the time we’d been seated at a window table and handed our menus, Laney had arrived.

  “You must be Kelly,” Laney greeted, shaking Ke
lly’s hand.

  “Yes,” she smiled, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Laney. From all accounts, Nate is a very lucky guy.”

  Laney blushed a bit as she sat in her chair.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Nate gets lucky a lot.” I opened my menu.

  Laney sucked in a breath, but Kelly let out a laugh.

  “You’ll have to excuse her, Kelly. I would try to explain, but there is really nothing adequate to say.” Laney skewered me with her eyes. Anna Wintour was back.

  “Please, don’t worry about me,” Kelly replied with a small smile. “Until I talked to Fiona on Monday I hadn’t realized how much I needed a good laugh.”

  Laney reached out and touched her hand. “I’ll bet you do—I know you and your boys have been under a lot of stress this past week.”

  “Yes, well…” Kelly looked down at her lap, and Laney and I exchanged worried glances. We were supposed to be distracting her, not stressing her out. Shit. “All the more reason to focus on better things—like this dinner you’re hosting for Jake. It’s very sweet of you,” Kelly said, raising her eyes to us again. She fiddled with her water glass, almost knocking it over.

  Taking her cue to move on, I said, “Oh—did you remember to bring the pictures? I can’t wait to see!”

  Her expression immediately brightened and the tension in my gut eased. Kelly pulled an envelope out of her bag and handed it over to me. I leaned toward Laney so we could both have a look.

  Sweet mother of Judas Priest! We’d hit the jackpot.

  There were, of course, the adorable diaper shots and then the traditional toddler-holding-baby-brother ones. But then we hit the motherlode of blackmail material. Shot after shot of the brothers together, Jake usually in some pose with his chest puffed out or showing off his adolescent biceps. And then there was Mark—Mark wearing round, wire-rimmed glasses, hair a floppy mess, and weighing about as much as a Chihuahua, and probably with about the same size muscles too.

  By the time we got to the last photo—one where Jake had Mark in a headlock with Mark’s skinny little ass facing the camera—Laney and I were both in tears.