9 Reed
“Shit, I’m sorry man. I didn’t see Callie standing there,” Jake mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s fine, man. It’s hopeless.”
“Fuck, really?”
“We were just going over the best friend shit again when you came up. She’s permanently friend-zoned me and there just doesn’t seem to be a way to get around that.”
Fuck, it hurts saying those words, but it’s past time I recognize it and admit it. Today is proof of that. I love Callie—even if that sounds crazy.
“Women, man. There’s no understanding them.”
“Says the man that has the woman he’s loved since the fourth-grade grieving over him because he was an asshole and broke up with her.”
“We want different things,” he mutters.
Jake is older than me, although he’s in the same class. He somehow managed to fail first grade. I never asked why, and he never volunteered. It makes me an asshole, but I was glad because that meant we were in the same classes growing up. He’s been in love with Katie Smith since the fourth grade when she called him a jerk. They’ve been together off and on since that day, too. It’s always been kind of a foregone conclusion in Macon that they’re going to get married. Then, Jake had to shock the whole damn town—but most notably Katie—by breaking up with her. Everyone has been wondering what happened, but I know. He loves Katie, but rodeo is in his blood.
“You mean you want to go traveling on the circuit and Katie never wants to leave Macon.”
“Yeah, man. I’m not ready for kids. Fuck, I’m not even sure I want to finish high school.”
“If you don’t finish high school your momma will set your head on fire,” I tell him. Momma Ryan is a force to be reckoned with. She can suck the air out of the room, but she also loves fiercely. The sun rises and sets on her family—and somehow that includes me in her eyes, making me damn thankful.
“She’ll get over it if I start raking in money from the circuit, Reed. Shit, she’s killing herself scrubbing toilets for other people. My mom deserves better than that,” he grumbles. “You’ve seen me at the local events. I’m good. I can do it. I know I can.”
I nod because I’m pretty damn sure he can. I also know that if he quits school and leaves Macon in the dust, it’s going to hurt his mom and Katie. If anything equals the love Jake has for being on the back of a bull, it’s his love for Katie and his mom. So, hurting them means he’s going to hurt himself.
“You could go with me, you know.”
“I was not made for the back of a bull, Jake,” I laugh. “These hands are too delicate.”
“Asshole. I meant you could leave Macon with me. C’mon man. You sing and write music better than anyone on country radio these days. You need to be in Nashville.”
Okay, so I recently let Jake see me play and maybe I did get up the nerve to sing one of the songs I’ve written about Callie. It took a lot of courage for me to do that. Of course, I swore him to secrecy first. I don’t know why I keep it all a secret—other than the fact my dad and brother always make fun of me for that shit. I haven’t even played for Callie. I’ve barely mentioned to her that I play music.
“Boy, is that a dream. What am I supposed to do? Move to Nashville and walk into a record company and tell them to sign me up?”
“Sure! Why not? Or play at that Bluejay Café, like they always do in the movies.”
“That’s Bluebird, ding dong.”
“Ain’t that the nickname you gave Callie?”
“Yeah, maybe because being with her and playing there are both just pipe dreams,” I mutter.
“Dude, hit the road with me. What the fuck do you have here?”
“Jake—”
“Not a fucking thing,” he growls, and other than Callie, there’s really not much. He’s right about that.
“Can you give it a rest today? It was a rough fucking night and the last thing I want is you harping.”
“Shit, your dad pull his shit last night?”
“Yeah, he tried to whale on Mom and when I got in the way, he came after me. Wanted the keys to my truck.”
“That motherfucker,” Jake growls.
“Yeah, that’s one word for him.”
“That how you got that bruise?”
I automatically look down at my arm. I wore long sleeves today to hide the bruises on my arms. The bastard only made them there and on my ribs. I don’t know if he did that on purpose to help hide shit, or if I just got lucky. “Yeah,” I mutter, pulling my sleeve down on reflex.
“Where was Mitch?”
I shrug. “Somewhere getting drunk, probably.”
“Damn,” Jake whistles. “He’s getting quite a habit, Reed.”
I could laugh. Jake doesn’t know half of it, but I let it go.
“We better get to class,” I mumble.
“How about we hop in your truck and skip the rest of the day?” Jake suggests. I look at the school and back at him.
“Jake—”
“I mean, if you’re afraid this hunk of junk can’t take the backroad out of here….”
“You’re an asshole,” I laugh. “Get in and shut up,” I tell him, shaking my head. Screw it, my head is fucked up anyway. Having Callie in my arms felt like heaven—even if when she jumped in my arms, I went backwards from the pain it caused my bruised ribs. Having her reminds me that she wanted to be my friend was the last thing I needed today, however. For once, I’d just like to be good enough for someone I love.
Just once.
10 Mitch
There are days when I’m forced to admit that I have more of my father in me than I want. Today might be one of those days. I watch as that chick, Callie, runs into Reed’s arms, and I feel the jealousy building. He’s so proud of that fucking truck. It’s a rolling piece of junk.
I crouch down into a squat, letting my hand move through the grass as I watch him. Callie’s not really my type. I like chicks with more tits and less brains. My brother has gone fucking nuts over her, though. For whatever reason, Callie hasn’t let him in. I’m not sure why. In my experience, all girls give it up pretty easily if they think they’ve wrapped a man up. The way she’s looking up at him, I can tell she likes him, too. If my brother gets between her legs, he’ll be hell to live with. He already gets everything. Mom thinks Reed hung the fucking moon. He can’t do wrong in her eyes. I thought trying to keep her from getting the hell knocked out of her by Dad would make her look at me different. Instead, all she can do is look at me and tell me I’m just like my old man.
I guess I am, because right now, I’d like to ram my fist in my brother’s face. I asked to borrow his truck tonight to take Vicki Sue to the lake. Little fucker wouldn’t let me. Instead, he acted like he was hotter than shit and lectured me on saving my money instead of becoming a drunk like our old man. Fucking asshole.
He thinks he’s so much better than me.
It might be time to bring him down a peg or two. I take out my knife and let the sun shine down on the blade. It reflects on it, becoming overly bright. Little brother wants to look down on me, maybe it’s time I meet his expectations.