CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

JACK

 

HE WAS BUILDING A MODEL. It was one of the things that kept him busy. Before he’d found the model of the WWII Jeep untouched in the back closet, he’d been studying a fascinating book he’d found at the local thrift store. The thrift store was one of his few regular outings. You never knew what you’d find. The heavy tome, published in the 30s, was simply titled Minor Surgery. Jack liked to cut things, so he’d snatched it up.

Irony, or maybe fate, made it so the book fell open to the pages for circumcision. Jack had a moment where he considered picking up some men. Circumcision looked interesting.

He knew he was good looking in an unconventional way. Tall and wiry with a shock of dirty blond hair and dark brown eyes. He always called himself skinny, but the men who had hit on him in the past said “lanky” or “lean.” He embraced it.

It was flattering to be wanted but men did nothing for him. Looking at the illustration of the simple surgery, he’d thought maybe he was wrong. At least in this case.

Some of the photos excited him, and since he tried to only masturbate once a week at most—for physical well-being—he’d put the book away and found the model. Idle hands were the devil’s playground, his mother said. Whatever the hell that meant.

Casey was lying by the front door and he suddenly sat up straight. That made Jack pay attention. Part of why he had Casey was as an early warning system. However, it could just be that Casey was giving him an early warning of a possum or a coyote or a raccoon. All things that Jack didn’t care about.

He waited for a few beats and realized he was holding his breath.

Nothing happened, so he returned to his glue and his tiny plastic piece he was trying to put into place with a pair of tweezers.

He was about to set it where it needed to go when someone pounded on the door and he jumped.

“Goddammit,” he muttered. It was only when he set the piece down on the desk that he realized what this meant. He had an unexpected visitor after darkness had fallen. Unannounced.

Who?

“Could it be her?” he murmured to himself. The thought that his new neighbor might have shown up to visit him made him shiver all over. It was the closest thing to what other people described as excitement. He only really felt what others told him they felt when he was about to get caught doing something, or getting away with something.

This was neither, really, but closer to the former. Caught doing something. Because if it was her, he’d have to make a split-second decision. Bide his time or react.

Another knock and Casey didn’t make a sound. He only banged his tail against the hardwood floor and waited.

“Coming!” Jack called just loud enough to be heard.

He went to the door feeling like he was electrified. It was an adventure, wasn’t it, not knowing who was on the other side?

He was both surprised and not surprised when he opened it to find Callie standing there. Leaning. Heavily. Her body seemed propped up by the door jamb.

“Jaaaaaack,” she said.

The waft of alcohol hit him in the face. He had to stifle a groan. Drunk. And back. The “back” was the worst part.

“What’s up, Cal? Casey has all the food a growing dog would need.”

His mother said he was good at camouflaging himself. That he blended in with regular people.

“I want to know why you don’t like me.”

“I—”

She took a step forward and he instinctively took a step back. Which effectively had her in the house. Damn.

She took her small white finger and dragged it from the neck of his tee to the place where his navel rested beneath. Jack felt a confusing twist in his gut and lower. He both hated her touch and relished it.

“It’s not that I don’t like you—” he attempted.

“So, you do like me?” She leaned precariously forward and Jack had to raise both hands and grab her upper arms to arrest their movement. Otherwise, they were going to smack faces.

“No, Callie. I don’t. I’m sorry.” He was losing his patience. That electric feeling had turned to a dull, heavy lead ball in his belly.

“Are you gay?”

He thought of the surgery text, thought of the circumcision illustrations, thought of his interest. He considered telling her yes to get her gone. But then ended up shaking his head.

“Nope. Just not interested in a relationship right now, I guess.”

She grinned up at him, still pushing herself against his hands so he had to continue to ward her off. She leaned forward very suddenly and her small hand found its way into his waistband so she was gripping his belt buckle.

“We can just fuck, Jack. We don’t have to have a relatibleship—” She stumbled over the word and then snorted. “Re-lay-shuh-ships—” She enunciated carefully and still messed it up.

“No. You need to go home.”

She pressed on, trying to kiss him.

He sighed. He’d lost his manners. He put his big hand over her face and pushed her back. Hard enough to make her stumble, not hard enough to make her fall.

“Jack!” she wailed.

“I said no,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot,” he said, laughing.

She came at him so fast he had to react, not think. He clotheslined her and she went down on her ass on the hardwood. That would have been one thing, but her head snapped sharply against the wall and he watched as she went lights-out. Her big blue eyes rolled back in her head and the room went dead silent.

“Good,” he said. “Now I can fucking think.”

Casey thumped his tail.