Page 64 of Bring You Back

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re off to a great start.” She smacks at me, her smile back, and I laugh. “In all seriousness, you are,” I assure her. “You took a step, and that’s a step closer.”

She nods. “I know. But how many more steps?” Her stare pleads, defeat in her voice again. “Mrs. Wright made it sound so easy.”

“First of all,” I begin, “Mrs.Wrightisn’t always right. Second of all, she should be fired for trying to convince younotto go to college.”

Reyna laughs. “She didn’t convince menotto go. She gave me ‘something to consider’ and I considered it and made the choice myself.”

At least she’s owning it.

“But I don’t know, I thought … I’m talented. I have what it takes. Itshouldbe easy.”

“You are talented, and you do have what it takes,” I reiterate. “Which is why it’s hard. It’s always the deserving who have to struggle.”

My words hit close to home, for us both. I wouldn’t call myselfdeserving, but I know what it means to struggle.

“The fight will be worth it,” I assure her, and me.

It occurs to me that Reyna will be staying here, in Bellsby. Julian always had plans to stay in Bellsby. My own plans to attend college with my brother have been shattered by a car crash, nothing for me anymore beyond Bellsby.

However our little three-some ends, we’ll still be here, together. Lovely.

Reyna smiles at me, holding my stare with an appreciative softness. “Thanks.”

I nod and start heading for the door, feeling claustrophobic under this roof, under Reyna’s big, hopeful eyes, the sounds of Hootie & the Blowfish still drifting through the rooms.

“I gotta jet, but … we’re okay,” I say as more of a statement than a question.

“Getting there,” she half teases, and I chuckle, hand around the doorknob. “And I’d still like for you to work with us.” I pause and she stands taller, all traces of earlier melancholy vanished. “I still have to put in a word, but. . .”

I smile, knowing I’ll need the money. “Let me know.”

I leave, inhaling a deep breath, letting the fresh, salty breeze stimulate my lungs.

15

Screwdriver

Julian

Just leave, I think as the bathroom door shuts behind me from where I’m sitting on my haunches at my bedroom door. I’ve been dealing with Banks all morning and into the afternoon, along with this damn hangover, and I just want some peace while I install my new doorknob with my coveted lock. It’s a simple push button. I convinced myself not to get too crazy when I was tempted to purchase a padlock.

“I hate surprise shits,” Banks announces to the hall. “I’m just trying to piss. I got shit to do.”

“So does your ass,” I say as I yank out the last of the old nails and toss it at my feet.

He stops next to me. “My fingers smell funny.”

The screwdriver slips from my grip in my disgust, and I give him a hard look. “Did you wash your hands?” Before he can answer that, another question shoots out of my mouth at the sight of toilet paper dangling around his neck like a scarf. “Why the hell are you wearing that?”

He runs his fingers over it with a shrug. “I got bored.” He stares down at me like I insulted him as I stifle a laugh. “And duh. It’s that nasty ass soap you have. Smell it.” He shoves his fingers in my face and I jerk back, my head colliding with the wall. Soap or shit, I’m not taking any chances.

“I know what it smells like, man.” I rub the back of my head, then slap his wrist to get his hand out of my face.

Soft rose.Camille’s been using that scent for years. I smell it every time I shower. I try to avoid it by showering first so it’s not as strong, but my late starts find me breathing her in while trying to wash her away. And if Banksisusing it to clean his hands, Camille doesn’t need to find out. She’ll kill him.

I might kill him. Right here.Forher. And the thought of him smelling like her is just. . .

“Stop using that soap,” I tell him, yanking up the screwdriver. “Start using the bathroom inyourguest room.”

---