Don't Date Your Brother's Best Friend

“No junk food. No booze. And walk around the house a couple of times while I’m gone. I mean it,” I said.

“Maybe I can talk to your brother later, get him to come over and check your figures over.”

I nearly groaned aloud. “I don’t need Ryan to check my math, Dad. I was giving you final approval as the owner. The numbers are right.”

Back at the yard, I helped unload a delivery and inventoried it. I filled a couple of online orders to load in the morning for delivery and took another one by phone. The delivery business was really generating some orders, I thought proudly. Not that my father would ever acknowledge that without Ryan counting each board and nail first. I waited on a couple customers and called my friend Cat during a lull in business.

“Hey,” I said, “how’s life in the city?”

“Louder than home, but nobody’s up in my business all the time. How’s life back home? Does everybody down at the coffee shop know when you get your period yet?”

“Probably,” I laughed, “but I better have my brother check the calendar to be sure I’m reading it right.”

“Is your dad still on that? Look, Ryan checks his reflection, and that’s about it last I saw. Unless breaking up with Whitney has changed him.”

“It has, but not for the better. He was the best brother growing up, Cat. You know that. He let me paint the inside of the treehouse purple when I wanted to, and he taught me to ride a bike and helped me practice my multiplication facts when I was having a hard time. He was the best. And sometime in high school, he just changed. I was a bug and a pest, and he had his own friends and his own plans. I thought when I moved back, we could be friends as grownups, you know? But it’s all about him and his divorce and his promotion. Ugh, I did not call you to complain. I’m as bad as Ryan. Okay, good stuff… the delivery program at the lumberyard is going great and generating sales. I ran into Luke Maddox the other night at Cecil’s when I was out with the girls. He’s a fireman now.”

“That’s hot,” Cat said with a laugh.

“Shut up, he’s Ryan’s friend.”

“What does that have to do with anything? If he’s not a blood relative and he’s single, he’s fair game.”

“You should write a book of dating rules,” I teased.

“I would, but I’m selfishly keeping all my wisdom for my friends. Strangers can’t afford the price of the brilliance,” she joked.

“I miss you so much. Look, I may have to go talk to Jaycee at the hospital about getting more help with my dad because he’s slacking on rehab and the meds,” I said.

“Jaycee Willard? What’s the problem? I mean, she likes to talk, but this is patient business. Remind her that under HIPAA laws, you can sue her ass if she blabs. But in a friendly way,” Cat said.

“Yeah, friendly,” I chuckled.

“I have to go. Duty calls. We’ll talk soon, bye,” Cat said.

After talking to her, I did some restocking and made notes for one of the part-time kids to stock and sort bolts in the morning. She had a co-op class at the high school where she worked for me, and she’d been a big help. Needed a lot of direction, but unlike my part-timer, she actually followed instructions well. Max, my part-time clerk, came in on schedule, and I took off for the deli. I’d gone home at lunch but didn’t eat because of the trouble with Dad. I stood in the short line, made my order, and turned to take a seat. Luke Maddox was sitting at one of the rickety little tables eating. He motioned me over to join him. I took my plastic order number and sat down.

“Late lunch?” he said.

“More like second lunch. I went home at noon, but I got busy and didn’t eat. Now I’m starving,” I said. I stole the dill pickle off his plate and took a crunchy bite.

“Help yourself,” he said sarcastically.

I finished the pickle and stole some Ruffles. “God, those are good. Why do I never buy those at the store?” I said.

“Because here you get them on the wax paper in the basket with the sandwich, a little pickle juice on them, and it’s perfect. It’s the experience,” he said.

“I swear you can have some of my chips when I get my order,” I said, shoveling in more of his.

“I wouldn’t dare. I might lose a hand. Here, you can have the rest of them,” he chuckled.

When my order number was called, Luke snatched the plastic card and retrieved my basket of food and my sweet tea. I took a huge bite of my turkey club with bacon and sat back to chew happily. I held out a chip to him, and he made a big deal of taking it carefully like I was a lion in a cage who might bite him. I tried not to laugh with my mouth full.