Simple Man (2 page)

He shot her an expectant look.

She huffed and glared at his friends. “Alone.”

He didn’t feel like dealing with her drama at the moment, already picking up on her self-righteous tone. “Sorry, sis, I’m sort of entertaining at the moment.” He pulled the last beer from the rings and cracked it open, allowing the plastic to drift to the floor.

“Yeah, I can see I’m interrupting a great meeting of the minds here.” She turned to his friends. “Go home.”

“Hey!” Duce cried. He was still eating pizza.

“Don’t talk to my friends like that. This is my place, not yours,” Shane snapped.

Her jaw clenched. “Shane.”

“Hey, Noel, how come you never come around anymore?” Sims called from his spot on the floor where his gaze was still drilled into the TV. His arms swung with animation as he played war on the game screen.

“To do what? Watch you losers knock out last year’s record holders for most  brain cells lost in one sitting?”

“More like record holders of awesomeness,” Sims quipped.

“Yeah, that’s what Tracy said,” his sister commented dryly. Tracy was an acquaintance of Noel’s—one Shane approved of. She and Sims had something going for a while, but Tracy bailed on account of Sims needing to
“grow the fuck up”,
in her words.

Noel rolled her eyes. “Did you cross those enemy lines in your game yet, big winner?”

Sims actually put down the controller and gave her a wounded look. “You’re mean.”

“Whatever. Tracy’s my friend and, unfortunately, after she wasted two years on your ass, I’ve had to do insurmountable damage control. You and I aren’t friends.”

Sims stared at her as if trying to process what she’d said. Shrugging, he went back to his game.

 “Shane, can we please talk?”

He plopped back onto the couch. “Talk.”

She shifted from foot to foot. “Not here,” she begged, growling through ground teeth.

He shrugged, hefting a bowl of stale chips into his lap and sifting through for the best ones. “This is where I am.”

All of his life he’d done his best to be there for Noel. This new attitude wasn’t doing it for him. When had they gone from friends to enemies? He wasn’t any sort of expert on raising little sisters—never claimed to be—but he supposed he was trying for what might be called tough love. It sucked, because it went against his nature not to jump to her aide. That’s all he’d done since she was little.

Noel was going through a stage—an ugly one—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. She was an adult now. He figured she’d figure it out and go back to being cool sooner or later. Sometimes he really missed chilling with her, but this person, this bratty girl he didn’t know, he wanted nothing to do with her.

There was a ruckus coming from the small kitchen across from the couch. Beer exploded from a can and Duce and Russ started hollering and cracking up as they mopped up the foamy spill with a rag.

“Jesus Christ, Shane, how do you live like this?”

She had a lot of nerve, especially when she hung out in the ghetto with bunch of drug dealing pricks who only managed to have the nicest phones and shoes as a result of criminal acts. At least he and his friends made honest livings. “You don’t like it, there’s the door.”

The stereo was suddenly jacked up, bass trembling through the house. “This song’s badass!” someone yelled.

Noel gave Shane an exasperated look as he drained his beer. Duce passed him a bottle of Jagermeister and he took a long swig. Tucker came out of the bedroom along with a huge cloud of skunked air.

Shane returned his sister’s glare. “You gonna just stand there all night with a stick up your ass?” His vision blurred as he shifted, making room for Tucker.

Why couldn’t she just go back to being the sweet girl she was six months ago? He was tired of worrying about her. She never stopped by anymore unless she wanted something from him. His days of bending over backward for her were over. She talked to him like he was a pile of shit. He didn’t expect admiration, but he’d been a pretty  good brother and didn’t understand how she could judge him so harshly.  What made her so perfect?

Duce bumped into Noel and splashed his drink down her jeans. “Sorry, Noel.”

She growled. “Shane.”

Shane listened in as Tucker told Sims what Lisa had said. She was coming over. Sweet. “She bringing friends?”

“Shane.”

Russ turned from whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “Is she bringing Holly Big Tits?”

“Shane!”

Goddamn it.
“What?”

His sister looked beyond pissed. Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared about ready to cry. “I need four hundred dollars.”

He snorted. He’d like four hundred dollars too. “What do I look like, Western Union?”

Four hundred was pretty steep for his pockets. He could probably hit up a friend for a loan, but he didn’t trust her. She’d asked for money a few months ago—money he needed to pay bills—but Shane gave it to her. He figured she really needed it. A week later he saw her new tattoo. There was no way he was going to enable more dumb choices.

Her cold eyes narrowed. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I need the money.”

For someone asking for that much money she was sure going about it in a bitchy way. “Uh, sorry, I’m broke.” He turned to the television. “Let me try, Sims.”

His sister’s glare burned through him as he took the controller from Sims.

“Shane, I’m pregnant.”

Everything stopped. The room grew suddenly silent. Someone even shut off the radio. He turned to her in slow motion. His twenty-one-year-old sister glared at him like a petulant twelve-year-old.

He swallowed multiple times, giving his brain a moment to connect to his mouth. “What?” he whispered.

Her jaw worked as she raised her chin. She gave him the same conceited look she’d had since she was five, clearly thinking she was better than him. “I’m pregnant and I need four hundred dollars to take care of it.”

“You’re pregnant,” he rasped. “Who the fuck is the father?” His skin weighed like granite on his face as he scowled, a million thoughts racing through his head at once. This was his baby sister. After their twisted upbringing he couldn’t help the paternal reaction he suffered at the idea of someone knocking her up.

She dropped her gaze to his filthy floor. “He’s not important.”

Oh, he’d kill the bastard. “Maybe to you. Who the fuck is it, Noel?”

She met his gaze head on. “I don’t intend on telling him, so I don’t intend on telling you.”

A low whistle came from one of the guys. “That’s messed up,” Tucker commented. “A guy deserves to know.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Shane hissed. “You’re gonna tell me who he is and then I’m gonna get my bat and go kill the fucker.”

“No, Shane—”

“No?” He laughed derisively. “With the company you’ve been keeping, I can only imagine the piece of shit that did this to you.” Pregnant? Fuck! What about her future?

She drew back as though he’d slapped her. “Like you’re Captain Responsible. You live in a fucking dumpster.”

“My dumpster. You don’t see me knocking on doors asking other people for hundreds of dollars to clean up my messes. Jesus, Noel…” He wanted to hug her and talk it out, but neither of them was in the right state of mind.

And she wanted to get an abortion… that wasn’t a decision to rush into. He’d never felt more unprepared to handle a situation in his life. Well, that wasn’t completely true. He never expected his parents to both die so suddenly. Would he ever catch a break?

Her lips tightened and she blinked. Her blue irises shimmered in the dim, smoky lighting. He needed to know who the father was. Someone was going to have to man up here. “Who’s the father?”

“It’s none of your business! Can you just give me the damn money? I won’t ask again.”

“Oh.” He made an expression of feigned panic. “Won’t you? Won’t you ask me again for four hundred dollars?”

“You’re an asshole,” she whispered.

“Rather be an asshole than some douche that knocks up a young girl and can’t be held responsible for his own mess. You better produce a name if you expect anything in return from me.”

He was pissed. She had some nerve coming in here acting superior and what not, begging for money, knocked up with some loser’s kid. Fuck, she was his baby sister. He didn’t want to think of her having sex, but what the hell…she was pregnant! She’d been his responsibility for too long. Someone needed to answer for this. She had her whole life ahead of her.

He was totally unprepared when she lunged at him. Open palmed slaps rained down on him over her shrill screams and cries.
“You fucking asshole!”

“Yo!” One of the guys finally ripped her off of him. Sims. His gangly arms restrained her wild blows as he held her back and dragged her to the door.

“I hate you!” she screamed.

Shane dabbed his thumb to the corner of his mouth. When he drew it away blood showed on the pad of his finger. Her words hurt more than anything else. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me? What’s wrong with you? I’m your sister!”

And he was supposed to protect her! He was furious with her, furious with himself, furious with the bastard that knocked her up, furious with the entire fucking world. But this shit was unacceptable. She was acting insane. His head was pounding and the words left his mouth before he could reel them back in. “Get the fuck out of my home. Go ask your loser baby daddy for money. You’re his problem, not mine.”

“Fuck you, Shane! Fuck you! Mommy and Daddy are probably rolling in their graves looking at what you’ve become. You’re nothing but a fucking loser!”

Sims dragged her outside and the door slammed. Chest heaving, harsh breath panted past his bloody lip.

 “What the fuck?” Duce stared, pie-eyed, beside him on the couch.

Shane yanked the bottle from his friend’s hand and took a swig. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he growled at the burn working its way to his belly and swallowed another mouthful. He’d deal with this in the morning. He knew he’d somehow find the money she needed. But first he had to make sure she was one hundred percent certain of her decision. It was a life altering one she needed to really think about. Right now he needed to fucking escape. “Someone put the music back on and hand me my guitar.”

That quick, the music returned, his guitar filled his arms, and the evening continued as if nothing happened. But something had definitely happened. His worry for Noel seemed to sober him, but he couldn’t deal. He doubled his efforts to wash the nightmare of his life away with sour booze and forced laughter.

He drank until he forgot about his sister, forgot about her problems, and forgot about how accurate her words likely were. He
was
a loser. She needed him and no matter how pissed he was, he needed to help her. Problem was, he didn’t know where to get the money she needed or the first thing about babies if she decided to keep it.

* * * *

Shane’s body screamed in protest as he tried to twist in his sleep. Was something wet? He squinted into the dim filter of light streaming through the fallen venetian blinds. Duce slept, sprawled on the chair beside the flickering TV, a plate of something runny balanced precariously on his broad chest.

Shane’s back protested as he sat up. A waterfall of empty cans clattered to the floor causing his friend to grumble in his sleep. Shane gripped his head as he tried to find his equilibrium and fought the urge to puke. What time was it?

After digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets he reached into his pocket for his phone. It was dead.

“What time is it?” he asked Duce in a hoarse voice.

Duce started, sucking a snore deep into his lungs and coughing out of his sleep. “What? Is it my hit?”

Shane frowned and stood, not waiting for Duce to come around. His place was trashed, which was nothing unusual for, well, any day of the week. Jesus, who was gonna clean up this mess?

Shuffling on bare feet to the kitchenette he squinted at the oven clock. 1:32. Shit. It was already afternoon. “Duce, get up. It’s late.”

“I’m up. I’m up. I’m up.” He rolled onto his side, which was quite ridiculous being that Duce was around two hundred and fifty pounds and the chair he sat on was swallowed by one thigh alone.

Shane opened the fridge and pushed the straggler beers to the side. His fingers folded around an open Gatorade and he brought it to his lips, drinking greedily. Man, he was wasted last night.

His brain played over the evening and his gut twisted when he recalled Noel’s little visit. God damn it, he didn’t have the energy to deal with that shit today. But since their parents died, it had just been the two of them. He needed to figure out how to get her money, but first he needed to find out whose ass he needed to kick for putting her in her current situation.

He sighed. Noel wasn’t like him. She was smart. She was working on an associate’s degree from the community college and had some scholarships lined up for the next semester. These new friends of hers were fucking up her future and he needed to really sit down with her and make her understand they were no good. The tough love wasn’t working. He wished he was better at talking about shit like this.

They’d end up fighting—bad fighting—but rather than get frustrated and walk away angry again, he’d tough it out until she wised up. He loved her. She was all he had. He’d given up so much to make sure one of them had a shot at a decent life. It was a no brainer making sure she was the one. If she didn’t get away from those losers she’d end up just like them and all his sacrifices would have been for nothing.

“Come on, Duce, get up. I need you to give me a lift to Lakota.”

Duce opened his eyes, stretched, farted, and sniffed the plate on his chest. “What do we gotta go there for?”

“I need to find Noel. I gotta find out who’s responsible and then I need to kick someone’s ass. After that I gotta figure out a way to get four hundred dollars so she can fix this or figure out how to get way more money than that and convince her to keep it.”

“You think she’s gonna tell you? Dude, were you not here last night when she freaked? I think if any ass kickery is happening it’s gonna be your little sister kicking yours. She was fucking fuming when she left.”