I find myself much more interested in knowing which woman I’ve been messaging back and forth during the last seven days. And her avatar of a damn Labrador dressed like a hippie is no help. What the hell is up with that?
“You officially have my attention, Lawrence Thorn.” But which one are you?
I can’t decide. All three are good-looking but I think I’m drawn most to the blonde. Always had a preference for a fair-haired beauty.
I wonder if he has any pictures of her in his photos. Can I refrain from looking and allow my morbid curiosity to remain unsated?
For once, I want to reply to Lawrence but I’m clueless. How would Stout respond? Would he say something about his sister’s two hot friends in bikinis or would that be off limits? I have no fucking idea. The rundown he gave me about Lawrence is useless.
A streak of blue moves past my office door. “Porter?”
He almost instantly appears in my doorway. “Hey. I didn’t know you were here. Thought I was the only one in the office today. What’s up?”
“This.” I hold up Stout’s phone. “I know you’re busy but I need help. I don’t have any idea how to respond to the texts Stout’s sister has been sending.”
Porter comes in and falls into the chair across from me. Unkempt and looking like total hell. Much like Stout appeared when he slumped in that same chair a week ago. “What’s been your approach so far?”
Only one word adequately describes my strategy. “Vague.”
“Yeah . . . that’s not gonna fly with Law. She’ll know something is up for sure; she’s tight with Stout. As close as any siblings I’ve ever seen.”
“So he wouldn’t ignore her texts because she’s being pesky?”
“Never.” Shit. I’ve already messed up.
“I’ve been avoiding her.” A lot. He told me to respond like she’s my sister. That’s what I would do if I had one bugging me.
“That’s a definite red flag. Those two have been through a lot of shit together. He’d never leave his sister hanging.”
This is fucking hard. “Stout and I talked about his relationship with Lawrence, but he couldn’t prepare me for everything.”
“What does her last text say?”
“Having a brewski with K & I at Tybee. Wish you were here. Miss you.”
I turn the phone around so he can see the picture. He smiles but doesn’t seem nearly as enthused as I was. “Lawry, Ivy, and Kelsey take selfies of themselves drinking our beer. They send them to Stout all the time. It’s sort of like a where has your beer been game they play with him.”
“Who is who?”
“The redhead is Kelsey. The brunette is Ivy. And the blonde is Lawrence.”
I wouldn’t have chosen the blonde as his sister. “I would have picked the brunette if you’d asked me to guess.”
“You can’t tell it in that picture since she’s wearing sunglasses but they actually look a lot alike.”
I don’t see it. “She’s a hot chick so it’s hard to imagine her looking like Stout behind those glasses.”
“Don’t let Stout hear you say anything about her being hot; he won’t like it. Never mind she’s the older one. He’s super protective of her. And vice versa.”
I’m realizing in this moment how little I know about Stout. “Aren’t most brothers protective of their sisters?”
“Yeah, but not like them. Those two had a rough start in life. I’m not sure about all the details; they don’t talk about it much. But it was bad enough child protective services took them from their parents. They were in foster care for a while. I think they were maybe around ten and six when the Thorns officially adopted them.” This gives me a little more insight into why he’s so desperate to not worry or disappoint his sister.
“I’ve never heard him mention a word about any of that.”
“You wouldn’t. Lawrence and Stout never talk about their birth parents. In their minds, the Thorns are the only mom and dad they have.”
Shit. After hearing that, I feel bad for ignoring Lawrence. She doesn’t deserve to worry about her brother, especially because I’ve been acting like an ass who didn’t have time to be bothered by her. “Help me come up with something to say to her.”
“Let me think a minute.” Porter closes his eyes and rests his head in his hand. He stays that way a few minutes before his eyes pop open. “I got it. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
I type as Porter dictates. “Looks like fun. Wish I were there with you instead of here working my ass off for the festival this weekend. By the way, tell K & I they’re looking insanely hot. I’ll call when I get caught up at work. Love you.” I tack on three heart emoticons to the end of the sentence. I feel like a puss. I’ve never texted hearts to anyone. I didn’t even know my phone had those on it.
I reread the message and hit send. “Done.”
I understand Stout’s guilt about placing the double workload on Porter but what the hell was he thinking when he assigned this task to me? I’m not cut out for this. He should have given the job to Porter anyway. It makes so much more sense for his best friend, who actually knows Lawrence, to be the one communicating with her.
“Is he checking in with you today?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know what time.” It’s already after two so I expect soon.
“You know, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make a three-way call with Lawrence. The pay phone number wouldn’t show up on her caller ID if you make the three-way connection via cell phone.” Damn. I can’t believe neither of us considered that before Stout left a week ago.
“That’s a great idea.” It takes the pressure off me for a while.
“I assume he’ll be calling you on your phone?”
Maybe. “We didn’t discuss it but that would be my guess.”
“No big deal. He can make up something about why he’s calling from your number. She won’t think anything of it, but I’d suggest he call you on his phone next Sunday so she sees his number.”
“Good idea.”
Porter’s eyelids look like they weigh ten pounds each, he’s struggling so hard to keep them open. So he finally gives in. “You should go to your office and grab a little shut-eye. Even an hour would help you feel refreshed.”
Porter jerks at the sound of my voice and opens his eyes. I’m pretty sure he just nodded off. “Can’t. Got too much to do.”
He gets up with obvious sluggishness and stretches. “I’m all good as long as I’m up and going. I’m due a second wind any minute now.”
“Whatever you say. But don’t exhaust yourself to the point you’re shit for the festival.” As I’m already short one partner, I can’t afford for another to check out on me too.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be in top shape next weekend.” I feel bad for him. He’s under a ton of stress.
Porter stops in my doorway when I call out his name. “I’m not a brew guy but let me know if you need help with anything. I’ve had orientation and can follow directions.”
“Thanks. My new assistant starts in the morning but I’ll give you a shout if I need an extra hand.”
“Have you met him yet?”
“No but Molly thought he was the best candidate for the job.”
Molly has an amazing bullshit meter. That means she also has an affinity for hiring good employees. “She’s not steered us wrong yet.”
After Porter’s gone, I return to work on the inventory numbers, but my eyes keep darting to Stout’s phone every few minutes. It hasn’t alerted with an incoming text but I press the home button to check anyway. We’ll say it’s for good measure instead of an eagerness to see a message from the lovely Lawrence.
She caught my attention and now I’m getting nothing. That fucking sucks. I’m the one waiting for a response.
I can’t concentrate on the numbers so I convince myself it’s a good idea to scroll through Stout’s old texts with his sister. I need to learn how I should reply to her in the future. That’s the only reason I’m doing
this.
Within minutes, I learn two things about Lawrence Thorn: she has a colorful sense of humor and enjoys a good laugh. In fact, she’s quite funny.
I’m still running through the texts between Stout and Lawrence when my phone rings. Don’t recognize the number so it has to be Stout. “Lucas Broussard here.”
“Hey, Tap.”
“Stout. I’m glad to hear from you. How’s it going?”
He sighs heavily. “Can’t lie. This week’s been shit.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“At least my counselor is easy on the eyes.”
I take another look at the photo of Lawrence. “Yeah. A pretty woman is always a plus.”
“I’m doing better than most people in here.”
“You’re in with hardcore addicts?” That doesn’t sound like the right place for someone like Stout.
“Yeah. No way I’d be doing this if I had another reasonable choice. Good news is I’ve been thinking about ways to expand the company. But we’ll talk about that when I’m back at work.”
“Cool.” I’m not the ideas guy but eager to hear his thoughts. Stout and Porter are always ahead of the game. I’ve known that since they pitched their own marketing ideas on unique branding for Lovibond.
“Enough about this shit. Tell me how things have gone with my sister this week.” Well, fuck. Don’t want to discuss this.
“You know how much I hate texting.”
“What does that mean?” His voice is stern.
“I may not have responded to a few of her texts.” Or a lot.
“How many is a few? ’Cause I’m doubting you mean three.”
“I don’t know. Ten?” That’s probably greatly underestimating. “Maybe fifteen max?” Or twenty.
“Tap,” he growls. Yep. He’s pissed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how close you were with your sister until Porter told me a little while ago.”
“Is Lawrence freaking out?” I don’t think sending a picture of you and your friends at the beach drinking beer constitutes freaking out.
“No, but she has called and left several messages asking you to call her back. I think it would be a good idea if you did.”
“I’m not doing that. I don’t want this number to show up on her caller ID.”
“It won’t. We’ll call her three-way. My number will be the one to show up. Tell her you had to use my phone. If she calls back, she’ll get me, not some random person walking by the pay phone. Next Sunday we’ll do it again but use your phone. After the festival though.”