One Bride for Five Brothers

Speaking of which, I need to get the hell out of bed if I'm going to be getting any breakfast before they get their hands on it. They’re like a plague of locusts, eating everything in sight.

But as I shuffle down toward the kitchen, I hear the voices. I think I’ve already missed my window and I'll be lucky to get a bowl of cereal before I have to get on that chainsaw issue.

“I'm sure she liked me better,” I hear Tom say. “Absolutely sure of it.”

“Fuck you,” Tim spits. “I had her thighs clamped around my hand so hard I thought she was going to tear it off.”

“Who are we talking about?” I yawn, shuffling toward the coffee pot. Fuck. They didn't even leave me a drop. Again. I rinse the vessel, frowning.

“New girl,” Tim grunts, chewing a piece of bacon like a German Shepherd. “Next door.”

My eyebrows go up. “New girl? Excuse me?”

Tom pops a piece of of bacon into his mouth just as I'm reaching for it. I have to clench my jaw to keep from swearing at them, because it would not be a good start to my morning.

They look at each other, pausing for just a second in that weird twin way they have, probably trying to figure out which one of them is going to tell me what's going on.

“In the Geller's place. That family we rented to just moved in yesterday. I can't believe you didn't see the trucks or anything.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“New faaaamily,” Tom enunciates slowly, like I'm hard of hearing or something. “Next door. Geller house. Dude. You should drink some coffee or something.”

I just take a deep breath and turn around, snatching a filter and the bag of coffee grounds off the shelf. In a few moments the aroma of coffee reaches my nose, promising me that I'll have some very soon, if I can only keep from murdering one of these guys before then.

“I think she's one of those girls that wears dresses all the time, too,” Tim mumbles over a mouthful of toast. “I love that shit. Dresses, little shoes, little hair ties.”

Finally, a cup of coffee. I stir sugar into it deliberately, then a splash of heavy cream. I take several deep swallows before turning back around.

They glance at each other, then back to me, each smirking knowingly like dogs that caught a rabbit or something.

“What's going on here?”

They both shrug.

“Did you just say something about a girl?” I continue, squinting.

“Naw, just let it go,” Tim says.

“Fuck yeah, there was a girl. She likes me best!” Tom adds.

Tim punches Tom hard in the bicep then turns back to me. He meets my eye for just a second then stares at the granite countertop. I suppose my disapproval is probably pretty obvious.

“It's probably nothing,” he mumbles self-consciously. “Pretty girl, though. Real friendly.”

“Exactly what do you mean by real friendly,” I asked pointedly. “What did you do? Tell me, exactly, what did you do?”

They look at each other for five seconds, then ten, until I can't take it anymore. I pound my fist on the counter, making both of their plates jump in place. Tim leans back, raising his hands defensively.

“Don't hulk out,” he scowls. “We didn't do anything to her. Not really.”

“Sure sounds like you did something,” I shoot back.

“Well, not really. Just a little… you know. Apple wine.”

My eyebrows go up. “Apple wine? Did you tell her how strong it is? How old is this girl?”