I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(75)

By the time I am out of the shower and dressed, I have myself convinced I’ll tell Kay everything, but not until she’s all settled in next door. One thing at a time, I remind myself.

Yeah, right, who am I kidding? I’m just stalling. But I’ll tell her, I will…later.

I run over to the apartment above the garage to make sure it’s all sparkling and clean, and then I head back over to my kitchen to make some breakfast. Well, I toast some bread and pour some orange juice. A cook, I am not.

Just as the toast pops up, I hear the shower start to run. I smile, realizing I like the idea of someone in the house with me. It’s been way too lonely around here. But, no, that’s not exactly right. What I like is that it’s Kay who’s in my space. With her, I like sharing. In fact, I like it so much a big part of me wishes she would stay over here in the main house with me and share my bed every night. But I know, for now, the right thing to do is let her have the apartment, and keep my mouth shut about moving in together. I remind myself we’ve only just established ourselves in an official relationship. I need to slow the f*ck down. But I can’t help it if I’m in a hurry to keep moving forward, I feel like I’ve known Kay for years. We’ve become that tightly woven.

I finish my toast and take my juice with me into the living room. I settle at the rolltop desk and turn on the computer. When I check e-mail I’m pleasantly surprised to discover my brother has actually done what he promised—he’s sent me some samples of his art, along with a picture of him and my mom.

In the body of the e-mail, he tells me the photo was taken last night, after Mom insisted he have a piece of the oversized birthday cake she bought him.

I enlarge the attached photo.

In it, Mom and Will are standing behind a table, a huge, heavily decorated cake in front of them. Will’s dark blond hair is longer than when I saw him a couple of months ago, and he looks like he’s really filling out, finally getting some muscles on his lean frame. He’s taller too. He’s got an easy half foot on Mom, which means he’s almost as tall as me.

I take a closer look at my mother; her smile is strained in the image. Guess Will had her stressing yesterday evening, same as yesterday morning. I have a feeling this trouble with my brother is only just beginning. I shake my head and move on to the next attachment, Will’s art.

There are two pages, pages from the comic book he’s supposedly putting together. From the illustrations in the panels, and the speech and thought balloons, I quickly gather Will’s story is an end-of-times tale. The action takes place in a war-devastated Las Vegas. The first couple of images depict several ragged, war-weary civilians wandering aimlessly along The Strip. Heavily armed, grim-faced soldiers stand posted in front of what’s left of the once magnificent and opulent resorts and casinos. The Luxor’s glass panels have been shattered and the turrets of the Excalibur are flattened. Fires rage everywhere. Cars sit abandoned on the road, vandalized, and stripped to the frames in some cases.

In the next several panels, Will introduces the reader to the hero of his tale, a man named Champion. Some soldier is barking for him to “move along.” These words are enclosed in a speech bubble, the font bold and jagged.

I take a closer look at the hero of the story. Champion is a tall man with defined muscles and a light-brown crew-cut. His primary mission appears to be rescuing scantily clad women in distress. In one panel, Champion saves a buxom blonde in a string bikini from the raised baton of a crazed-looking soldier who is about to punish her for breaking one of this new society’s rules. In the next panel, another woman, this one a redhead, and—I take note—even bigger tits, is trapped in a burning building. The hero rescues her as well. She hangs on to him, pressing her body to his with gratitude.

I chuckle at the subject matter, typical, testosterone-fueled teenage-boy fare. But I have to say, the art itself is fantastic. Will has developed into an impressive artist. The colors he chooses are bold and hold the eye, his lines are sharp and sure. My brother draws with a confidence I’ve never seen in him before. Maybe this is his calling.

While I am studying Will’s art, I hear Kay’s light footsteps in the background. I turn in my chair and give her a smile, then I ask her if she’s hungry. She says she’s not. My well-rested, satiated girl pads over to me. She wearing a cute, casual outfit—jean shorts and two tank tops, one black one over a white one.

When she reaches the desk, her eyes go to the computer. “Wow, did you draw that, Chase?” She leans in closer. “It’s really good.”

“It is good,” I agree, putting my arm around my girl’s waist, and positioning one leg so she can sit down on it. “But I didn’t draw any of it. This is all Will’s stuff. He sent it to me last night, but I opened it right before you came down.”

Her face turns to me, eyes wide. “He’s talking to you?” she asks.

I give her a quick nod and her arms are around me before I know it. “Oh my goodness,” she says into my neck. “Chase, this is so great. I knew he’d come around. I’m so happy for you both.”

She leans back so she can give me a kiss, a kiss that makes Will having been mad at me all worth it. After a prolonged return kiss from me, I fill my girl in on the events of yesterday. I explain why I was in such a bad mood during the early part of the day. I tell her all about Will’s “f*ck off” text when I sent him a happy birthday message. I admit my mom’s call asking for help with my brother’s bad behavior—when I’m thousands of miles away—brought me down further. Finally, I wrap up with Will’s call, explaining how things were a little tense at first, but then we just started talking. I tell her I think he and I may be making some real progress. Kay seems happy for me, but a little wary. My girl is worried for my heart, I know, which is why I feel compelled to share with her that Will asked me for money.