climbed off me with a huge grin and then ran away again.
“You getting up, man?” I looked up. Another of my brothers, Robin, stood in the doorway, his shoulder resting against the doorjamb.
We shared this room, but he looked like he’d been up and dressed for ages.
Robin was seventeen. Then there was Jake who was fourteen.
“You were in late last night.”
“Yeah.” I sat up. My brain rolled around in my head like a pinball. I needed food and coffee. I pulled my T-shirt on.
“Mom’s checked your cell.”
“Great. I’m twenty-two, why the fuck is she checking my cell?”
“For the same reason you check ours. ‘Cause she don’t want you getting into trouble.”
“Like I’d have a chance.”
Robin twisted his lips in a grin that mocked me. I screwed up my face at him, saying whatever, as I stood and pulled my jeans on over my boxers, then ran my fingers over my hair.
“You look fucked.”
“Don’t copy my bad language. Mum ’ll smack you ‘round the ear for it. Do as I say, not as I do…” But I wished I had got fucked last night. Nearly.
I got another twisted smile.
Robin had grown out of idolizing me long ago, but we still got on, and we talked a lot, about everything. He rarely talked to Mom. But I kept him talking to me ‘cause I didn’t want him falling in with any of the gangs in our neighborhood.
I think if he did have any trouble, he’d tell me.
I did look out for them, my brothers. All my brothers.
When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my cell on the counter next to Mom. She was mashing potatoes to go with the chicken that stood on the side. Lunch smelt good, spicy. My belly rolled over––hunger giving it a bite. That was all I needed to cure my hangover––food.
“Justin.” Mom looked up at me turning her cheek.
I leaned down and kissed it. “Morning, Mom.”
“Afternoon,” she corrected, “And where were you, child?”
I rolled my eyes. “At Mr Rees’s party, like I was last New Year’s Eve. I told you where I was going. I told you I’d be late.”
I knew why she was asking––for the same reason I checked up on Robin, Jake, and Dillon. ‘Cause she didn’t want me caught up in trouble––but she ought to know, I looked after myself. I’d got to twenty-two and stayed out of it.
“Mom, give me a little line, I’m not a kid. Trust me why don’t you…”
She smiled, still smashing the potatoes. I caught up my cell and shoved it in my back pocket.
Jake was sitting on the sofa watching Dillon’s cartoons, with his arms crossed over his chest. He was in a bad mood––but then the kid was always in a bad mood. It was a rite of passage for boys his age to be shitheads. A rite I hadn’t had chance to claim. But Robin had gone through it and come out the other side… I had my fingers crossed for Jake.
He didn’t talk to me much, but he talked to Robin. I figured if I kept Robin safe, Robin would do the same for Jake.
I hoped.
Mom started dishing up. “Wash up and sit at the table.”
Dillon ran off to the bathroom to wash his hands, and Robin followed, to check he did it. Jake didn’t move.
“Come on.” Mom urged. She turned with a pile of cutlery in her hand. I took it from her and laid it out on the table. Jake still hadn’t moved as Dillon and Robin came back.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was staring at the TV. Dillon sat down and Robin moved to collect the plates, as Mom finished them off with corn. Jake still hadn’t moved. I went over and knocked his leg with mine. He looked up.
With my gaze and a nod of my head I told him to get the fuck up, asshole. Mom worked hard for us. She’d been on her own for years, since before Dillon was born, but we’d never gone hungry or not had clothes. She deserved respect––even if she was like a bloody stalker some times.
I wasn’t gonna lie and say it didn’t annoy me. It annoyed me.
But she was like that because Dad had messed her around for years. He was a waster, a woman beater and a drug addict. She’d kicked him out when I was a little kid. He’d been released from jail for the fifth time, and when he’d crawled back and knocked on our door she’d pointed a finger at him and told him where to go, then slammed the door in his face.
Now her single-minded mission in life was that none of us would turn out like him.
That’s why I gave her leeway ‘cause out of all of us, I was the one who knew most about the things Dad had said and done.
For the last few years I’d spent my life trying to make it all up to her, and make her life easy––and that was why I was on the same mission as her––to make sure my brothers stayed out of trouble––and turned out nothing like the man who’s DNA ran in our blood.
Jake moved, finally, ‘cause he knew I was getting pissed off, and there was no point in messing with me. I’d lose my shit if he pissed me off.
I wasn’t letting any of my brother’s grow up like Dad. I didn’t accept any of their bullshit. At least Robin had hit the point that he understood that. Jake? I didn’t know about Jake… He was the odd one out, but only ‘cause he was at that obnoxious teen stage. He didn’t know any better. It was just instinct at his age to think of himself first.
I wished I’d had that chance.
Justin
When I walked into the office my gaze honed in on Portia. She was sitting at her desk, with earphones in, typing up some dictation. Or maybe listening to her latest favorite song and pretending to type up dictation––I knew she did that. I walked past her. She didn’t acknowledge me, but I caught the color of her skin shifting up several levels of pink.
I smiled. Maybe if I’d been looking in a mirror it would have come out looking leery, but she didn’t look up at me, just stared at her screen, like two days ago her tongue hadn’t been in my mouth, and my fingers…
I walked over to the rack to strip off my jacket. Was she embarrassed about hooking up with me?
I turned and looked at her again. She was still staring at her screen with her fingers flying over the keyboard, but her face was nearly as red as the takeaway Starbucks cup sitting by her elbow. I wanted to laugh.
It looked like she was feeling awkward.
I wasn’t suffering. I had no complaints. I was super happy with the opportunity she’d given me… The girl was awesome, if a bit arrogant. But, shit, I’d never really had any expectation I could hook up with a pretty, money loaded, white girl like Portia.
On my way back, I swiped the usual no-nonsense ponytail she had her blonde hair confined in. One of her hands lifted off the keyboard. But then it fell and she didn’t look around.
Whenever I saw her outside work, her hair was always down. It had been down New Year’s Eve.
Her pretty red lip-gloss painted mouth, that had a natural perfect pout, stayed closed. Her lips were held tightly together as she focused on her screen, like