Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

ZANE

“Where’s your head at today, brother?” Johnny asks, elbowing me at the long dinner table where our family is sitting down to eat together for Thanksgiving lunch.

“Just work, sorry.” I stare at the text from Dayra and click my phone shut, shoving it into the pocket of my suit.

“It’s Thanksgiving. Work will still be there when lunch is over,” my mom chastises from two seats down.

“Yes ma’am,” I concede, putting my hands in the air.

“I’m all done. No more phone for the rest of the day.”

My mom’s eyes widen in shock but then she gives me her thousand-watt smile of approval and shovels a bite of green bean casserole into her mouth.

“The game’s on in twenty minutes! You better eat quick!” Jane, my sister, yells from the doorway.

“Get in here and eat with your family!” my mom demands, giving her a death stare. Jane runs back to her chair and sits down. One thing about Mom, you eat as a family and everyone is welcome.

This is the first Thanksgiving that there isn’t a stranger present. She’s forever finding someone who is in need for the holidays and inviting them to our home. We’ve met so many amazing people who have fallen on hard times, and Mom keeps in touch with almost every single one of them to this day.

As a single mom of three, I don’t know how she did it. But she did. She has always been the best mom and the best woman with a big heart, but a stern voice. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone and she’s wicked fast with a flip-flop.

Dad passed away when Jane was only a few months old and I was only a little over a year. Johnny was three and he only has one memory of our dad. Jane and I are Irish twins, with me being born in June and her the following May. That’s why Mom and Dad thought it suitable for rhyming names. Zane and Jane. They thought it was adorable. Jane and I? Not so much.We suffered so much torment in grade school over having matching names. Christmas has never been my favorite.

Growing up without Dad had an impact on me, but every Christmas something bad happened. Whether it was my favorite dog dying or finding out that Mom had cancer, Christmas time has brought more bad than good. If that makes me a Grinch, then so be it. I get in the spirit for Mom’s sake and for the family, especially the little ones, but I’d almost rather take a beating than participate in the Christmas cheer.

Jane rushes everyone to finish eating because the game is coming on and Mom lingers to clean up the table. I’m the last one in the dining room and begin helping my mother pick up half-empty trays of food from the table.

“You don’t have to do that, baby. Go watch the game with your brother and sister and nieces and nephews.”

“It’ll still be on in a few minutes. It’s just starting. Besides, you always clean up behind the family.”

“That’s what mothers do.”

“Well, today you get a helping hand. I’m not allowed to look at my phone anyway, so may as well make myself useful,” I joke, carrying three trays to the kitchen.

“Oh, stop. I didn’t say you weren’t allowed. You’re grown and you pay the bill. I simply don’t want it out at my dinner table, especially on Thanksgiving Day.”

I shake my head at her and grab a spray bottle of cleaner and a washcloth. I wipe down the table and toss the cloth into the hamper in the laundry room.

“How did I get so lucky to have such a great kid?” Mom asks, pulling me to her side.

I press a kiss to the top of her head. “You taught me how to be a good man.”

She smiles a gentle smile and lingers with her head leaned into my chest for a moment before she returns to cleaning up the kitchen. Cheering erupts from the living room and I know that the Bears have scored.

“Go on, you’re missing the game.”

I laugh and duck out of the kitchen. In the living room, Jane, Johnny, both of Jane’s sons, her husband Derek, and Johnny’s wife Isabel are all sitting around the tv, yelling.

“‘Bout time you decided to join us!” Johnny shouts, throwing his hands up at the tv.

“Someone had to help Mom clean up.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, Momma’s golden boy to the rescue.”

Mom hollers from the kitchen, “I heard that!”

The room erupts in laughter as Mom enters from the doorway. Thanksgiving Day has been the same in this house every year, for as long as I can remember. My dad was a huge Bears fan and my mother has instilled it into the three of us that we are also huge Bears fans.

Jane took it the most serious, attending every game she could as a teenager and watching every single game on tv. The day is filled with so much joy that I almost forgot that I hate the holidays. Almost.

When the game is over, Johnny and I retrieve the Christmas tree and decorations from the attic and we all spend the evening putting up the tree and decorating while drinking eggnog. Well, they drink eggnog. I drink rum with a splash of eggnog. It’s killing me not to check my phone. Not that I expect a text or anything. Hell, I never even responded to Dayra earlier. Which is fitting for the way that I treat her. I’ll admit, I’ve treated her not so well for the entirety that I’ve known her.

There was something about her the first day she arrived at Harper & Harper Associates. Mark hired her without my input and from that moment, I felt like she tried to slip under the radar. To get in without my approval. Then when I met her, she was so smug and she was actually good at her job and that made me despise her even more. Because she was supposed to be terrible and I was going to fire her, but instead she’s amazing at what she does and our numbers went up immediately once she started managing our social media and all the rest of our advertising. She’s a fucking genius and that gets under my skin like you wouldn’t believe.

I did feel two feet tall when she busted her ass in her office yesterday because of me. Then I drank too much and let that guilt weigh on me and when she wouldn’t answer to let me know if she was okay, I had to see her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. And when she opened that door wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts, it short-circuited my brain. I’ve never seen her in that little clothing and I was outraged at how it made me feel. I almost forgot that I can’t stand her and her smug little fucking face with her dimples and those perfect hips.

I shouldn’t have even been driving but I was an obsessive, crazed man and I needed answers. Was it illegal to locate an employee’s address from the company files? Probably. Did I give a fuck? Not a single one.

“Are you partaking in Black Friday shopping?” Johnny asks, quirking a brow in my direction.

“As soon as you do,” I counter. He flips me the bird and I laugh as Mom smacks him upside his head.

“ Ow !” He rubs his head and ducks away from her.

I stifle a laugh as Mom plops on the couch between us. Her greying hair and the fine lines by her eyes remind me that time is passing quickly. She still has so much life and spunk that it’s hard to imagine she’s gone through an entire season of fighting breast cancer two years ago. She’s so strong and resilient and I find myself clinging to the moments I get with her a little more-so than I would have before her diagnosis. She’s been in remission for a year and says she feels great, but I still worry.

“It’s getting late and I’m about to go get ready for my bed. This old gal is exhausted from cooking and cleaning up after you heathens all day.”

“Hey, I helped clean!” I shout.

“And I helped cook!” Johnny interjects.

Mom laughs and shakes her head. “Yes. You did. Now go on, get. I’m done with you today.”

I kiss her cheek and Johnny does the same.

“Since Isabel, Jane, and the kiddos are shopping, wanna grab a few drinks at Scotty’s Place?”

“You know I do,” I say, following him out of the front door. Scotty’s is the bar we’ve been going into since we were way too young to even get in, much less drink. But being Johnny Moore’s Boys got us into a lot of things we wouldn’t have normally been in, trouble included.

“Meet you there?” I call from the running board of my truck.

“Yep!”

Scotty’s Place is packed for Thanksgiving night. Everyone must have been tired of their families today. I don’t blame them. Most families aren’t as welcoming as mine, something I learned over the years from friends in school.

Johnny grabs us a seat at a table by the old-time jukebox and I grab two old fashioneds and sit down. It’s what we drink when we’re here. It’s what we’ve always drank. Ever since ol’ Scotty himself told us that was Dad’s drink of choice, we didn’t have a choice. It’s nostalgic, to be sitting here. We haven’t been here in years. I usually leave Thanksgiving after we decorate and head back to the city to return to work.

I just wanted to spend a little more time with Mom this year and I couldn’t turn down a trip to Scotty’s with my brother, for old time’s sake.

Johnny slips me a five-dollar bill. “Jukebox?”

I take it and slip it in the jukebox, flipping through the cd’s inside. I know most of the numbers of our songs by heart, having played them enough over the last fifteen years. Old Violin starts playing through the speakers and Johnny raises his glass in a toast.

I clink mine to his and take a sip, sitting down in my chair again. The chatter in the bar is loud, but the music is louder. There aren’t many familiar faces in here anymore at all. Most of the old timers that we knew and spent time with here have long since passed, only a few remaining and they don’t come out after dark anymore.

“Times sure have changed,” I say, setting my glass down on the table.

“Yeah. But nothing ever stays the same for long.”

The front door opens, sending a cool blast through the bar. I look over and nearly choke on the cherry I’m chewing on. Dayra. Fury instantly encompasses me. I’m angry at just the sight of her. In my place. What is she doing out here? Why is she here? My face heats as my anger grows and I turn my attention back to my brother.

“Damn. She’s kinda hot,” Johnny says, staring at Dayra.

I glare at him. “Aren’t you happily married?”

Johnny raises a hand. “Hey, I was just saying. I can look.”

I want to storm over there and tell her to leave. To get out. She haunts me every day at work, she’s not allowed to plague me in the one sacred place I have. I sigh and polish off my drink.

“Next round’s on you,” I bark.

Johnny rises and gives me an awkward look before grabbing my glass and walking to the bar. I can’t help myself, curiosity getting the best of me. I scan the bar for Dayra. She’s sitting next to a man and a woman. The man looks to be around her age, maybe a bit younger, and they favor a bit. I wonder if they’re related. The bartender is smiling and laughing with them and I wonder if she’s been here before. She seems comfortable here.

“You know, I’m the married one…” Johnny trails off, setting a glass down in front of me.

“And?”

“And you’re not. And you’re staring at that beautiful girl like you want to go talk to her.”

“I don’t.”

Johnny eyes me suspiciously. “Whatever you say, bro.”

I spend the next hour trying and failing not to look over at Dayra. She hasn’t seen me yet, and I intend on keeping it that way. The couple that was with her has left and now she’s sitting at the bar, drinking alone. I watch as some drunk asshole wanders up next to her. I can’t tell what they’re talking about, but he takes a seat next to her and she doesn’t seem bothered by him. I expected her to be bothered. But she isn’t.

He’s ordering drinks and she accepts. I stare on as they talk and he keeps making her laugh. I want to drag him away from her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“You sure you don’t want to go talk to her?” Johnny inquires again.

I sigh. “I’m sure.”

“You know her or something?”

“Yeah. Or something.”

“Is she someone you dated?”

“Fucking Christ, Johnny. What’s with the twenty-one questions?”

“My bad. You just checked all the way out of this conversation when ol’ boy sat down next to her.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I should get out of here. It’s late and I’ve already had more than I should’ve.”

“One more?”

I laugh. Leave it to my brother. “Alright. One more.”

I grab the glasses and walk to the bar to order another round. I can’t help my wandering eyes as the bartender fixes our drinks. Dayra no longer looks as happy as she was when I was watching their interaction earlier and I wonder what transpired.

The guy is leaned in close to her now, whispering something in her ear. She looks unamused at whatever he’s telling her then she shakes her head no. He says something else and she says the word no.

I’m only a few seats over from where they sit at the corner of the bar and I walk over, where I’m only one seat away from them. Dayra looks to be drunk or buzzed at the least. Her eyes lull closed and back open slowly. She shakes her head no again. The guy grabs her by the wrist and she cries out in pain, trying to free her arm from his grip.

I take two steps and tap the guy on the shoulder. He turns around, glaring at me. “Can I help you, bruh?”

“Yeah. You have two seconds to let her arm go.”

“Or what?”

I don’t have time to explain what I’m going to do. I rear back and deliver a blow to his right eye. He immediately lets go of Dayra to grip at his face.

“You motherfucker!”

Dayra stares at me like she’s seen a ghost and I don’t have time to say anything before ol’ boy swings on me. He lands a punch to my cheek and I don’t even have time to react before Johnny knocks him out. The man turns into a statue and hit the ground.

Johnny shakes his hand. “Handsy motherfucker.”

The bartender calls for one of the regulars down the bar. “Hey, Marshall! Can you get Leon out of here? He done fucked with the wrong one again.”

“Sure thing, Dolly.”

Marshall makes his way down the bar and lifts Leon up underneath his arms and drags him out the front door. The music is still playing but the entire bar is staring at us. Dayra is still sitting on her barstool, staring at us.

“Dayra, look, I’m sor?—“

“Thank you,” she says, cutting me off. I stand there, staring at her. Words evading me.

“That guy was being a jackass,” Johnny chimes in. “Hi, I’m Johnny. Zane’s older brother.”

Dayra takes his hand. “Dayra. I work for Zane.” She slurs her words, confirming that she is indeed drunk.

“What are you doing out here? Did you drive?”

“My aunt lives up the street. I’m staying there tonight because I knew I’d be drinking. My aunt drove me. Dolly’s going to bring me home.”

Satisfied with her answer, I turn and walk away, needing to be away from her. Johnny lags behind, talking about God only knows what. Probably grilling Dayra about how we know each other and her working for me and how terrible of a boss I am. I grit my teeth and retrieve our drinks and sit down, sipping mine more aggressively than I have been. My fist hurts already. Johnny sits at the bar next to me and grabs his glass.

“I knew you were lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you you knew her.”

I exhale loudly and take another swig of my old fashioned.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t just say that from the start. Had to be all secretive and mysterious about it. Not only is she hot, but she’s actually nice. What’s your deal?”

“She’s just…not for me. I don’t even like her.”

“Could’ve fooled me the way you’ve been staring at her and swung on that guy for her. I haven’t seen you defend a woman’s honor since…”

“Shut it, Johnny. I wasn’t defending her honor. I would’ve done that for anyone.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything else for a few minutes. Then, he polishes off his drink and slams it on the bar.

“You’re a miserable fucker.”

And with that, he leaves without another word.

Maybe I am.