ALWAYS (A Wolfe Brothers Novel) (3 page)

Cam collapsed onto his ass. “How the
hell do you do that?”

Jags crouched and bounced on his
haunches. “It might have something to do with all the pussy I get.
It doesn’t leave room for aggression, only peace, a peace I am more
than happy to transfer to you.” Jags offered his hand. “Do we have
a deal?”

The deep blue returned to Jags’ eyes.
His stepbrother was back to himself, minus the freaky
shit.

Cam grimaced. “I don’t know how to
live.”

“
I’m going to teach
you.”

“
I don’t like the sound of
that.”

“
One year.”

Cam sighed.

“
Please.” Jags nodded at
his own outstretched hand.

Jags didn’t wear his emotions on his
sleeve. He showcased them in neon flashing lights. His unearthly
compassion might as well have been stamped on his forehead. He
wasn’t an open book; more like a 3D IMAX blockbuster.

Jags waggled his fingers, urging Cam to
accept his hand. His eyes glimmered with moisture. “One
year.”

Cam laced his fingers behind his neck.
“I don’t want to cause you any pain.”

“
Hearing you nearly blew
your head off, blew a cannon through the center of my chest. It was
kind of painful. Now stitch me up. Accept my hand and give me one
fucking year.” Tilting his head, he flashed a wide smile, teeth
clenched, like a child forced to smile for school
pictures.

Cam shook Jags’ hand and clapped him on
the shoulder. “Brothers.”

Jags curled his fingers around Cam’s
forearm. “Always.”

Chapter Three

Four days and nothing. Cam hadn’t heard
from or seen Jags. Normally, they spoke two or three times a day
and if not, he’d surely get an in-person visit. What if he was
sick? Had he been in a car accident?

Cam crossed the cavernous living room
into the kitchen. He washed his hands and dried them on his jeans.
Pressing his palms on the yellow cracked counter, he hung his head
and sighed.

Until now, he hadn’t realized how much
he took Jags’ visits and phone calls for granted.

Dammit!

As he slid his phone from his pocket
and dialed Jags’ number, he heard the unmistakable rumble of Jags’
loud exhaust. He pressed the red oval ending the call.

His stepbrother bounced through the
door and entered the kitchen. Cam leaned back, his ankles crossed
and his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind
him.

“
You need a life too.”
Jags yanked open the refrigerator.

“
Get me one.”

“
A life or a
beer?”

“
Never had a life,” Cam
said. “Just need a beer.”

Jags retrieved two bottles, shut the
door and popped the caps. “Sit. We need to talk.”

“
I hate when you say
that.”

Jags set the bottles on the table,
turned a chair and straddled it. Balancing his chin on the chair
back, he said, “What? That dreaded four-letter word?” He cupped his
hands around his mouth. “Talk.”

“
Shouldn’t you be at
work?”

“
I’m on my lunch
hour.”

Cam pulled a foil-topped dish from the
refrigerator. He put the casserole in the microwave, set the timer
and plunked down in a chair.

“
Is that the spicy chicken
and sausage casserole?” Jags asked.

“
Meatloaf.”

Jags rubbed his hands together.
“Fantastic.”

“
Talk.”

“
I think we should hire a
visiting nurse to help you with Gramps.”

Heat flashed through Cam’s body. His
pulse raced. A blinding headache blurred his vision. “No.” Cam
inhaled a deep breath, pushing the rage back. Rubbing his temples,
he said, “His mind slips further every day. Things you’d never
suspect, tip his world upside down, and a stranger wouldn’t know
how to deal.”

“
Like what?”

“
A game of checkers will
bring him to tears and only one thing will help. A shot of
Chivas.”

“
I thought that was his
and Mee Maw’s favorite game?”

“
Yup. He breaks down every
time he’s reminded of her. A year after she and mom disappeared, I
took down all her photographs and boxed up her clothes. He still
breaks down . . . just not as often.” Cam stopped rubbing his
temples. He grimaced and looked his brother up and down. “You’ve
lost more weight.”

“
I can’t shake the
nightmarish visions. I know it's something to do with Mee Maw and
Mom’s disappearance. Every time the vision comes close to
conclusion I black out.” Jags paused. A weak smiled formed on his
face. “But I’m getting closer to figuring it out. I know now that
two people were involved.” Jags pressed the heels of his hands
against his closed eyes. “As soon as I begin to feel Mee Maw’s and
mom’s suffering I snap out of it and then—”

“
Let’s not do this. I
prefer you conscious and alert not comatose.”

Jags blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
The bell dinged on the microwave. He wiped a tear from his cheek,
grabbed a fork and the casserole the plunked down at the table.
“Where were we?”

“
Checkers.”

“
Right,” Jags said. “We’ll
make sure they know not to play checkers with him.”

“
What
happens when he starts quoting lines from Richard III, or starts
singing
Chances Are?
I’ll tell you what’ll happen. They’ll try to
admit him to a loony bin.” He pointed. “Which I will never let
happen.” Cam gulped his beer. “Besides, we can’t afford it and I’m
managing fine on my own.”

“
He’s not even your
grandfather.” Jags leapt to his feet. “I can’t believe I just said
that.” He scrunched his long hair in his hands.

Years ago, the marriage between Cam’s
mother and Jags’ father melded their families. Biologically, Gramps
and Jags was no relation to Cam, but Cam loved them like family.
Until now, he thought the feeling was mutual. “Neither can I.” Cam
took another swig. He set the bottle down harder than he’d
intended.

Jags clapped Cam on the back. “I’m
sorry.”

Cam shrugged off the gesture. “You
could’ve called. You didn’t have to drive all the way over
here.”

“
You’re ten minutes from
work and if I called,” Jags sat down and shoveled more meatloaf
into his mouth, “I’d be eating a microwaved hamburger and cold
French fries in the cafeteria right now.”

Cam slouched and waited for his brother
to inhale more food than he and Gramps combined could’ve
eaten.

When Jags devoured the last bite, he
slid the dish away.

Cam asked, “Why a visiting nurse when
I’m handling things fine on my own?”

“
The plan was to get you a
life other than Gramps. You never leave here. You don’t work. You
don’t play. You don’t date.”

“
You know why I don’t
date.”

“
Yes well, that’s a fight
for another day,” Jags said. “Today, I just want to get you to have
a beer with me.”

“
We are having a
beer.”

“
I was thinking of a place
with pool tables, country music, and scantily clad ladies.” Jags
glanced around the room. His nose scrunched. “A place that smells
like stale beer and cigarettes, not old people funk.”

“
I don’t smell
anything.”

“
You need to get out more
than I thought.”

“
We’re done here.” Cam
strode to the doorway and with his back against the door jamb
propped a foot behind and crossed his arms over his
chest.

Jags brought his plate and fork to the
sink and nodded as he passed. “I gotta get back to
work.”

“
Jags?”

Pausing in the doorway, he looked over
his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“
I mean it,” Cam said. “No
visiting nurse.”

Jags winked and closed the door behind
him. “See you at six.”

“
Jaaaaaaags!”

# # #

Rane glanced at the room number and
back at the postcard. Approaching room 21B, he opened the door and
entered. The room housed five round tables that each sat six
people. A blue folder was set before each seat. A crisply dressed
man, probably the instructor, sat in a cushioned chair at the front
of the room.

Rane chose a table in the
corner.
His boss had requested he attend
the seminar. Star felt he needed to improve his communication
skills and be more social. Problem was he had no interest in making
friends. He valued privacy and solitude.

As the room filled with more people,
Rane used the complimentary pen and doodled on the back of his
folder. He sketched the face of the only person he’d ever loved—his
mother. Thin lips. Sunken cheeks. Pale complexion. The cancer had
stolen the sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her skin. He
scowled at his depiction of his sickly mother. Tightening his grip,
he stabbed the pen into the folder and scribbled over the
drawing.

To clear his mind, he approached a
nearby water cooler and poured himself a cup. As he sipped he
noticed a young woman entering the room.

Rane shook his head. Too fat. He took
his seat and studied the door, watching more people
arrive.

Another woman entered.

He shook his head. Too old.

The well-dressed man stood and stepped
behind a wooden pedestal. “Welcome to Successful Communications in
the Workplace. I’m Lorenzo Parker and I’ll be your instructor for
the next three days. Working amicably and effectively with others
can be one of the most challenging aspects of your job.”

A woman with shoulder-length brown hair
entered the room. She gave the class and instructor an apologetic
grin and took a seat near the front of the room.

“
Especially,” Mr. Parker
continued. “If you work with someone who consistently arrives
late.” He gave her a smile and turned his focus back to the room.
“Inside your folder, you’ll find a stack of papers, the first being
a questionnaire. I’ll give you twenty minutes to complete it.” He
looked at his watch. “And the clock starts now.”

Everyone removed their questionnaires.
The papers rustled in unison.

Rane’s focus drifted to the woman who’d
arrived late. Her name was Jewel Albright and she had made the
fourth, fifth and sixth grade a living hell. After searching for
years, a stroke of dumb chance had brought her to him. He should
buy a lottery ticket.

Four hours passed and he hadn’t heard a
word the instructor said. His mind raced with visions of all the
ways he planned to fuck her. Usually, he kept a woman for a month
or so, before handing her to his friend Kipp. But Jewel was
different. He may keep her for a while and make Kipp
wait.

Assorted breads, deli meats, cheeses
were brought in for lunch. Rane watched Jewel fix herself a plate.
When she passed him on her way back to her seat, she said, “Anybody
ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“
Thought I recognized
you.”

“
I’m certain we’ve never
met.”

“
No, I guess
not.”

The smirk on her face mirrored the
expression she gave him long ago, the day the bullies of the school
beat him, stripped him nude and tied him to the flag
pole.

Jewel was the first to
walk by, probably because her boyfriend Ajay had bragged about
their misdeed. When everyone else just chanced a brief look, she
stopped, pointed at his penis and laughed. Using a black Sharpie,
Jewel drew a down arrow on his stomach. Above the arrow, she wrote
‘
supersize me’.

After the sixth grade, Jewel and her
family moved away and he hadn’t seen her since. Not until today.
And as luck would have it, she didn’t recognize him.

Rane waited for everyone to get their
food before approaching the long table. Bypassing the meats and
cheeses, he filled his plate with three mini chocolate cupcakes,
two peanut butter cookies and one sugar cookie then carried his
plate to his seat. His hand hovered over a peanut butter cookie
then glided over a chocolate mini cupcake. Smiling, he selected the
sugar cookie and took a bite. The sweet goodness overloaded his
sensitive taste buds. He moaned.

My sweet.

Chapter Four

After sliding a tuna casserole into
the oven, Cam carried his beer to the living room and plopped onto
the couch. Reclining in his armchair, Gramps fought his exhaustion.
His lids shut and flickered open. Cam stifled his
laughter.

Outside, a door slammed. Cam brushed
the blue drapes aside and peered out the bay window. Jags waved as
he circled his truck and approached the door.

Fuck!

Without knocking, Jags strode through.
He crouched beside the recliner and rubbed Gramps’ balding
head.

Gramps rubbed his eyes and stretched.
He frowned. “Cam?”

“
Try again.”