8. Sienna

EIGHT

SIENNA

I take a break from working. My back, arms, and neck are killing me. Genny worked right alongside me the entire time. The only break either of us took was to eat, drink, or a bathroom break. As much as I wanted to look at my phone every spare moment, I didn’t.

“I’m done for the day,” Genevieve declares, dropping her paint brush in a cleaning solution. She has paint splotches all over here hands and face. I’m probably not much better with the wheel spinning and adding more clay to the mix when needed.

“I think I will be, too. We have time, right?” I ask, worried about when the pre-order will be dropped for the fall line of coffee mugs.

“Yep. This whole week is yours. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and if the customers revolt, I’ll handle them.” This time, it’s my eyebrows that lift to my forehead. “Okay, fine, I’ll make a statement online. There’s no actual having to carry a sword or anything of the sort.”

“I’d buy you a sword and shield if it came to that and slay the dragons right alongside of you.” Through thick and thin, I’ll always be there for Genny, and without a doubt, she’d do the same for me. She’d conquer her fears of large crowds and public speaking in order to help me.

“Right back atcha. Let's clean up. Also, your phone has been going off non-stop. Might want to check that out.” For a moment, worry consumes me. Amos doesn’t really care for texting. He’ll call, and Genny knows to interrupt my work should a call come through.

“Shit, alright, let me clean up a little first. No use in ruining a perfectly new phone again.” I’m still on Amos’ cell phone plan. He refuses to let me go out on my own. He goes as far as to say Mom and Dad would have us on their plan till the end of time. The only problem I’ve had is my tendency to break my phones, and I’ve yet to let the cat out of the bag on what I’m doing with Genny. Soon enough, I’ll spill the beans. The only reason I haven’t yet is because this is the first big launch where a pre-order is necessary. We’ve finally broken even on what we’ve spent to get started, and besides the basics of the warehouse and monthly overhead, we’re making money. Which means it’s time for me to really talk to my brother .

“Yeah, another phone issue might be pushing it. I’m not sure how you’ve managed to be allowed to have insurance on any phone at this point,” Genevieve points out. Are three phones in less than a year bad? I feel like in high school, kids were getting new phones left and right because of an accident. Sure, I’m an adult now, but until I started making pottery, I’ve been pretty successful at keeping my phones till they died.

“Now you sound like Amos.” I’ve had to do some quick thinking on how I’ve managed to ruin phone after phone. Luckily, riding my horse, Lucy, helped come up with one excuse. The other two, well, that’s an entirely different story. I sat through a long and lengthy lecture just last month about how I need to be more careful. It’s Amos’ way of saying he cares, but he’s also still a big brother at heart.

“Stop bringing up your brother if you don’t want me to drool over him.” Genny rolls her eyes and acts like she’s unaffected by my brother. I’m sensing something is going to happen between them if, you know, my brother could ever quit being such a workaholic.

“Nope, I’ll bring him up as often as I want.” I stick my tongue out at her and then head to the restroom to wash my hands. I’m antsy as hell, wanting to grab my phone and see what all the fuss is about. Except another conversation isn’t what I want, and I need my phone to be operable now more than ever. The minute Genevieve puts our store to live again with the pre-orders shipping out, I’ll need to step in and help.

I step inside the small room, flip the light on with my elbow, and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is up in a sloppy bun, there are bags on top of bags under my eyes and I have so much clay mixed with water all over me I look as bad as Genny in the mess department.

“Get it together, Sienna,” I tell myself as I go about cleaning myself up a little bit. The water turns from muddy to clear. My leather apron helps keep my clothes clean. I’ve also learned to wear jeans and a tank top to keep the mess to a minimum. Once I deem myself good enough, I whip my apron over my head and hang it on the hook where Genny’s will reside next to it once I’m out of the restroom. She has more of a clean-up process than I do with paints and brushes. I tend to keep the wheel as wet as possible, going as far as placing a tarp over it for less hassle in the morning.

“Trade you,” Genevieve says, barging in with my phone in her hand and done for the day.

“Thanks.” I don’t bother teasing her saying a girl could be peeing or pooping. We’re that close we’d think nothing of it. Either one of us would plop down on the tile floor, have a conversation, and carry on like it’s normal.

“No problem.” Her red her is up in a giant hair clip. She has gorgeous thick curls, and yes, I’m insanely jealous because mine is stick straight.

I look down at my phone. There are two alerts, one from Trey and three from my brother. I open Amos’ first, thinking something is wrong or he needs me to head home fast. Instead, it’s completely different.

Amos: Hey, Sie, got a minute?

Amos: Guess not, so I’ll lay it out here. Heading out for a week or so. Don’t worry about the farm. I’ve got it covered. We’ll talk more when I get back, and no I’m not sick or getting any testing done.

Amos: Fucking hate texting. Love you, sis.

Well, I guess that’s that. My brother needs to get away. He deserves to live a life that isn’t one living for our family. No one would blame him if he decided to sell off the Ellison farm, but instead he and Trey are expanding, adding more work instead of lessening his load. It’s bad enough Amos gives me the least amount of chores to do. I shoot off a text back.

Me: Alright. I love you and wish you had told me this morning. But I get it. You deserve time away, too. Enjoy and check in when you can .

Amos more than likely won’t reply, so I back out of his text thread and go to Trey’s.

Trey: Sure. I’ll come to you around 7?

The butterflies take hold in my lower belly, my core clenches in desire, and the cold air does nothing to calm my pebbled nipples. One text, and I’m a blazing inferno. God, the things Trey does to me. I start texting, trying to come up with the perfect thing to say. I erase one message, start another, just to repeat the process. Maybe I should ask Genny what to say. No. I’m not doing that. I can do this. It’s like riding a bike or like riding Trey. “Okay, stop, you can replay those memories while showering,” I mutter beneath my breath. I decide to keep it short and sweet, nothing too over the top or long.

Me: Sounds good. See you then.

I take a deep breath and hit the send button, stare at the screen and wait a moment to see if he’ll reply. When he doesn’t respond, I put the phone in my back pocket. Damn, he and Amos are two peas in a pod. Neither of them likes anything to do with technology, especially cell phones.

“Hey, Genny, heading out. I’ll open tomorrow, though,” I holler through the building, only pausing to hear her response .

“Alright. You’re closing, too!” she replies. I let out a laugh. Genevieve is all talk. Even when I close, she stays with me to shoot the shit.

“Sounds good, love you.”

“Love you, too. Send me details after your meeting with Trey.” Clearly, she more than glanced at my phone, the little meddler. I don’t respond, instead let my laughter do the work for me. I’ve got just enough time to get home, hop in the shower, and scarf down a bite to eat. Trey will be over before I know it.