| |
MY FISTS POUNDED IN quick bursts against the door.
I had driven from the lawyer’s office as fast as I could, but I was worried that at any second, the horrific realization of my father’s last hurrah might come crashing down upon me.
“Tommy!” I shouted, banging again. “Open up!”
Still nothing.
With my luck, he was out cartwheeling, or car racing, or trombone-making, or whatever other harebrained notion he was chasing after this week. He could be on a Howard Hughes bender, holed up in his closet learning Flemish. Or just as easily, he could be in the middle of a desert somewhere, having chased a solar eclipse.
The sky was literally the limit with Tommy Murphy.
“TOM!” I yelled again. Tom, not Tommy, to emphasize the urgency of my plight. “Open the door!”
My eyes locked on his motorcycle, propped lazily against the side of the house.
“I know you’re in there!” Bits of plaster began to shake away from the frame as I continued my assault. “Why the heck is this thing locked, anyway? TOMMY!”
“Just a second!” called a frustrated voice from inside. “We’re trying!”
Trying?
For a minute, that actually threw me enough to make me pause.
“Not to quote Yoda or anything, but when it comes to doors, there is do or do not. There is no try. What the heck is going on in there? Are you on uppers again? And who exactly is we?”
Before I could get a response, the door creaked open, seemingly of its own volition. I took a tentative step inside to see Tommy standing against the far wall of the living room. The second he saw me, he burst into wild, beaming applause.
“It’s no big deal.” I tucked a lock of hair casually behind my ear. “I come in and out of houses all the time.”
“Not you, narcissist.”
He pushed past me and knelt beside the front door.
It was only then that I noticed the contraption attached to the handle—a long coil of rope attached to a wire with a lever on the end. It was only after I noticed the rope, that I saw the goat standing on the other side.
Tommy knelt in front of him, all smiles, ruffling his thick coat like a dog.
“That’s well done, Leopold. That’s very well done.”
My eyes closed in an automatic grimace, and I stepped to the side, waiting for him to finish. I didn’t know what was stranger, that Tommy had decided he would ‘get a goat for the house’, or that he insisted on speaking to it like a grownup.
“I took him to your clinic and got him examined and shots,” he said. “Why weren’t you there?”
“I was out late. Overslept. I called off. So uh, you’re training Leo to open the door?” I eyed the rope with reluctant curiosity.
“Leopold, not Leo,” Tommy corrected, giving the goat one final pat. “He’s not as informal as you and I. And yes—I’ve been training him. Not the easiest thing to do with you pounding away on the other side—poor thing was afraid to go near it.” His blue eyes scanned me quickly up and down. “Where’s your bra?”
It never ceased to amaze me—the lightning quick, yet completely inexplicable workings of Tommy’s brain. He’d been like that since we were kids. Always the first to pick up on something. Always the first to get bored by it and move onto something else in his mind—so that when you asked him a question about the first thing, he answered regarding the second.
Most people found it hard, if not impossible to follow.
Fortunately, I was not most people.
“Actually, it’s a bit of a long story.” I dropped my purse on the floor as Tommy sank back onto the couch—noticing the coffee stain on his shirt for the first time, and discarding it on the floor beside him. “I lost it between an oaf and a mattress with Pokémon sheets. But nothing happened. And I swear I didn’t know that the guy still lived with his parents.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, I had breakfast with them.”
He laughed.
I sighed. “I got lonely and went home with someone just to talk and watch movies with. He never hit on me once. I took the bra off because it was cutting into me when I was trying to get some sleep.”
“He didn’t hit on you? How could he not? You have sheets of raven-colored curls that fall down your back, sparkling hazel eyes, full plump lips, and long legs that go on for days.”
“Thank you for the complement. He did say that he was attracted to me. But he wanted us to become good, solid friends first, then maybe we could go on a real date.”
“So he’s old fashioned?”
“Yeah. And maybe that’s what I need. A nice guy who wants to take things slow. Maybe he’s perfect.”
“If he didn’t live with his mommy and daddy and have kid sheets.” Tommy then cocked an eyebrow at me. “Is Pokémon still a thing? Should I know what that is?”
“It’s more than a thing. These days you can hunt them for real... well, virtually real.”
“What?” He tickled Leopold’s hairy chin.
“Don’t trouble yourself about it, dear. You’re far too busy training your goat.”
“You should be happy I got a pet.”
“I meant to get a bird or a cat, something low maintenance.”
“You don’t like goats?”
“Actually, goats have charming personalities and I adore them. I take care of lots of farm animals. But they can get destructive. And they’re lots of work. I’m not sure if you could handle one, really. Maybe you should’ve looked into this more, Tommy. Goat hooves have to be trimmed on a regular basis you know.”
“But I’ve got you to help me, right?”
“Overgrown nails can make it very difficult for a goat to get around, so you have to take this seriously.”
“You’ll do it for free, right? And then you can teach me?”
“Giving a goat a pedicure isn’t the easiest thing to do.”
“How hard can it be?”
“It’s really not fun at all. You have to strap the goat into a milking stand and give it lots of feed to keep it happy. Then lift each foot in turn and scrape it clean with a foot pick, and trim the nails with a very sharp pair of pruning shears. All the while, bending at an awkward angle and trying simultaneously not to cut yourself with the clippers or get kicked in the face.”
“I can handle this,” he said.
“You should’ve started with a cat.”
“I took the goat because Ted Johnson passed away. Nobody wanted the poor thing, so my heart went out to it, and I stepped in. They were going to put the goat down!”
I sighed. “Your heart was in the right place. Don’t worry. Between the two of us, we’ll give him a great home, and he’ll be well taken care of.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I petted the goat and he seemed to love the attention. “But you can’t lock me out.”
He peered at the door contemplatively, before returning his eyes rather shamelessly to my chest. “So, the bra, you couldn’t MacGyver some chewing gum contraption to retrieve it like you usually do?”
“No, I couldn’t. It was the mermaid bra as well. And now it’s gone.”
He shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry you lost your lucky bra.” Then he brightened. “Want me to go back and get it for you? What’s the guy’s name?”
For the second time that day, I blanked. After breakfast with the never-going-to-be-in-laws, I should have just written it on my hand.
“Oh shoot, I just had it... Um, like Barry? Or Larry? Gary?”
“Chris?” Tommy guessed.
“Yes! That’s the one!”
He nodded wisely, stretching out his legs and leaning his head back against the arm of the sofa. “Mermaid bra—wow. End of an era.”
I nodded silently.
“Also, my dad died.”
Tommy’s eyes flashed up as the rest of the room froze.
“...oh.”
* * *
FIVE MINUTES LATER, we were standing in the back yard out back, staring out over the quiet pond with a bottle of whiskey held between us.
“To Arnold Garland.” Tommy held the bottle to his lips, before offering it out to me. “He could be quite grumpy. But we all loved him.”
“Hey,” I downed a shot and turned to him with a glare, “show some respect—the man’s dead. Say something good, okay?”
Tommy gave me a cursory glance, but his eyes twinkled at the blue sky. “He sure loved his pet snake, Lizzy...”
My mouth fell open and he winked, spilling a dash of liquor ceremoniously on the ground for the departed, before hastily wiping splashes off the goat.
“Sorry Leopold, I didn’t see you there...”
An involuntary giggle escaped my lips, and just like that, I felt better. “He did love Lizzy. Gave her way more attention than he did me.”
I knew I would. It was the very reason I had come here, to my best friend’s house. Before trying to call my mother again, even before returning to my own house to replace my missing clothes. Tommy and I just got each other. We always had. Since we were three years old.
Remember that night in jail for adolescent stupidity? Remember the prom? That was all with Tommy. I don’t think I had a single childhood memory that didn’t have him in it. It was always the four of us. Me, Tommy, my best friend Lily, and Tommy’s older brother Dylan. We were inseparable back then. And even now—even though Dylan moved away—the three of us ran this little town like our own private clubhouse.
We were the golden kids—all grown up. Everyone loved us. Everyone knew us. No one could be angry with us. Or if they could, they couldn’t stay angry for long.
My father was the only exception.
And when it came to my father, Tommy was an expert.
To say that Tommy Murphy and Arnold Garland didn’t see eye to eye, was like saying that Attila the Hun had a bit of a temper problem. It simply didn’t do it justice.
I couldn’t remember how many times I’d run to Tommy’s house after having yet another explosive fight with my dad. He had actually stepped in between us on more than one occasion when things got too heated. Since he was ten years old, Tommy was the only person that my dad couldn’t seem to scare. No matter how much Arnold ranted and raged, the kid simply wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. As a ruthless litigator, it drove my father nuts.
Of course, scare tactics weren’t the only thing at which Arnold excelled. A particular memory from my junior year of high school floated to the top of my mind, and I reached for the bottle of whiskey with a small smile.
Even though I’d passed my permit test with flying colors, Dad refused to go out and teach me how to drive. According to him, unless I applied to one of the four law schools he’d been pushing, I was bus-bound until graduation. Naturally, I’d taken my plight to Tommy, who had taken me out driving the very next day after school.
He taught me on abandoned country roads in his own car—a recent birthday gift from his parents, and his pride and joy. Although I was a bit over-eager at times, he was a patient teacher, and before long, I’d mastered the swing of things.
When Dad found out, not only did he prosecute Tommy for driving a minor while on a provisional permit, but he used his connections down at the precinct to permanently impound his brand new car.
“So what do you want to do?” he asked, watching the sun slip lower and lower in the sky.
I seized the bottle with sudden certainty. “Forget about the pain.”
A little smile tilted up the corners of his lips. “It’s a plan.”
We wandered back inside and settled ourselves in the living room, passing the bottle back and forth until we’d slowly consumed it all. It hadn’t taken long for the stories to come out, the countless bizarre memories; and before long, the two of us were laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes.
“I totally forgot he did that!” I gasped, covering my face with my hands. “He actually cut your hair!”
Tommy shook out his golden locks with a smile. “I’m lucky that’s all he cut. After he found the cigarette butts we buried in the backyard? The man was insane.”
The man was insane.
Was. As in—past tense. As in—would never be again.
Because...my dad was dead.
All at once, a wave of emotion brought unexpected tears to my eyes. They spilled suddenly down my cheeks as I set the bottle on the floor.
Tommy glanced up from where he was lying on the couch, and his face softened instantly upon seeing my own.
“Come here,” he murmured, opening up his arms.
I climbed into them without a moment’s pause—laying down on top of him, resting my cheek against his bare chest as he stroked my hair and soothed.
It must have looked like quite the image, I guess. There was Tommy—looking like a golden god in nothing but a pair of low-hanging jeans and a smile. And there was me—braless and breathless.
When I say that Tommy, Lily, and I ran this town like a playground, one of the main reasons was because we looked the part.
Tommy was tan, muscular, and lean—with a halo of shaggy golden hair and twinkling, sky-blue eyes. He’d probably slept with over fifty percent of the girls in town, but none of them had what it took to hold him. He was pure charisma, eyes on the horizon.
Lily, on the other hand, was a fair-skinned, dark-haired little pixie with wide chocolate eyes and a face that could stop traffic. She was probably a good foot/foot and a half shorter than Tommy and me, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in searing wit. After college graduation, she’d returned to town and promptly become a dental hygienist.
Tommy estimated his level of attractiveness from the number of broken hearts and beer-stained phone numbers he left scattered in his wake.
Tommy used to say that the three of us should somehow combine our collective DNA to make a super-child to take over the world. Another shudder ran through my entire body, and he squeezed me tighter against his chest, holding me there with a gentle hand. His lips brushed tenderly against my forehead, and while I struggled to stem the tears, he rocked us slowly back and forth, murmuring random nothings to lull me back into a calm.
“I can’t—” I gasped to catch my breath, “I can’t believe he’s gone!”
“I know, honey,” Tommy breathed, kissing my forehead once more. “I know.”
In ninety-nine out of a hundred cases, there was no way such a friendship could ever work. Not between two such attractive young people in such constant close proximity. But Tommy and I were a special case. We always had been. Over the years, we hadn’t exactly taken on the brother-sister vibe, but we were family. Closer than family. Best friends. Not to say that we hadn’t slipped up and drifted over the line a couple of times—prom night being a prime example—but there was no one I trusted more. And there was no one else that Tommy relied upon.
We simply loved each other unconditionally and would do anything the other person asked. And let me tell you, as someone who was never quite loved that way before, there was something magic about it...