2. Calvin

CALVIN

W ith dinner out of the way, Bonnet and I head up to the rooftop to watch the sunset and take care of a few of the community garden tomato plants. When the apartment residents first started this garden, I rolled my eyes at it. Digging around in the dirt has never been my thing, but after a while, I found it meditative.

It also feels good to be needed, even if the ones who need me are my cat and a handful of plants. After watering some of the dry soil, I set the watering can down only to find someone sitting on the ledge on the other side of the roof. My heart lodges in my throat when I realize I've been whistling this entire time, which is embarrassing, but it doesn't seem like the man has even noticed my presence.

"Hey, you okay?" I call over to him.

I don't recognize the guy, in his baggy black t-shirt and wavy blond hair that catches in the wind. He looks over his shoulder and lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, and I notice the sunlight reflect off a small piece of jewelry in his eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says. "Why?"

Bonnet hugs my legs in a figure-eight motion, and I lean over to pet her between the ears.

"No reason. Just curious," I say. Visitors aren't uncommon in the apartments, but they're usually accompanied by a resident. Maybe he's new. "Did you just move in?"

The man's brows knit together. "No. Just visiting a friend," he says. "He'll be up soon."

Right. I regard him with a small smile and glide my hand across Bonnet's smooth fur. She purrs loudly as she loops through my legs again, and the man watches her, his head tilted to the side.

"Cute cat," he says, and leans back on his heavily tattooed forearms that I can see peeking from underneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. I don't have any tattoos. Never even considered getting one, considering how skittish I am about pain. And needles. And the possibility of contracting diseases. I know that reputable tattoo shops in the city are hygienic, but nah. Tats would look ridiculous on me, I'd wager. They suit this guy, though.

I nod at the man and say, "Thanks. Her name's Scotch Bonnet, but I just call her Bonnet. Sometimes Bonnie."

The man opens his mouth to reply, but then the door to the roof swings open and another guy, one I also don't recognize, steps through. This guy is broad-chested and muscular and has an enormous beard. He also doesn't look like someone I'd want to fuck with. I scoop Bonnet up into my arms and cradle her as I walk back to the tomato plants, trying to look busy.

"Kyle, let's go," the man barks. And then the blond man—Kyle, apparently—jumps to his feet to join the bear-like man at the door. The new guy doesn't even spare me a second glance before stepping back out through the door, but Kyle smiles at me, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the dying sunlight as he steps past us.

"Later, Bonnet," he mutters before putting two fingers between her ears to scratch lightly. Then he scrubs a hand through his hair and meanders to the doorway lazily, clearly not in any hurry, before disappearing through it. Huh. That was different.

I look down at Bonnet and peck the top of her head. She purrs again as she squints up at me, like she's just as confused by the interaction as I am. "Yeah, I don't know, girl. That was weird."

The next morning, as I'm going through my routine before work, my phone rings just as I step out of the shower. I throw a towel around my waist and pad across the living room, getting water everywhere. Dammit, who could be calling me at seven in the morning? It's too early for this shit. When I grab my phone, I don't even bother to check the caller ID, too stressed out by the fact that I'm practically naked and soaking my apartment's carpeting just to get to the dang thing.

"Hello?" I ask in a clipped voice.

"Hey, brother. Haven't had your coffee yet, I guess?" Elvis's voice asks from the other end. He sounds … surprisingly awake and cheerful. Stifling a groan, I stalk over to one of the kitchen chairs and slump down onto it.

"Most people don't call before nine, Elvis," I say. Bonnet trots into the room, hugs my bare, damp calves, and then has the audacity to sneer up at me like I forced her to get herself wet. "What do you want?"

Elvis snorts. "A little rude, don't you think?"

"Rude is calling at the asscrack of dawn. Get on with it, El."

There's a long pause on the other end. Long enough that I wonder if the call dropped.

Then Elvis clears his throat and says, "So, I need you to come to the bee-keeping guild meeting with me tonight."

I blink. Okay. Whatever I was expecting him to ask for, it definitely wasn't that.

"I'm sorry, what? I must still be groggy and in need of caffeine, because I thought you just asked me to come with you to a beekeepers' guild meeting," I say as I hop up off the chair and make my way over to the coffeemaker to get it set up.

"Yeah, I did," he says, followed by a sigh. "Sorry, man. I know you don't like bees and shit, but I really need you to do this for me. I have no one else to ask, and you're smart. Like, really smart. I figure if anyone could pick this stuff up fast, it'd be you."

I know what that means in Elvis speak. It means "I actually asked everyone else I know, and they all said no, so you're my last resort."

Scooping the coffee into one of the filters, I look down at Bonnet and quirk an eyebrow. She tilts her head at me. "Yeah, still not following. Why am I going with you to your club meeting? And for the record, it's not that I hate bees, it's that I dislike all insects. I don't have it out for bees in particular."

Elvis chuckles on the other end, but he sounds nervous. "Yeah, so there's this girl I'm really into, right?"

I roll my eyes and shove the filter into the coffeemaker, then press the button. Within seconds, the machine fires to life, and the soothing aroma of coffee permeates the room. Like magic, I begin to feel like a normal human being again. "There's always a girl, but go on."

"Not just any girl," he adds quickly. "Jules is … she's different. I really like her. And I've been seeing her for about a month. Anyway, she's, like, an expert at this stuff, and I'm trying to impress her. So I signed up for the guild so I could spend more time with her. The club is important to her, and I want to show her that I give a shit. But now I have my own hive, too."

Well, well, well. My brother, capable of caring about someone other than himself? That's a surprise. Another unfortunate side-effect of our father passing was Elvis distancing himself from his emotions. Whereas I went to therapy, Elvis did not, insisting that all he needed to feel better was a trip to a tropical island for six months. Imagine my shock when he came back with a tan and the same issues he left with, only more deeply embedded into his heart.

I lean against the kitchen counter. It's kind of sweet how much he seems to care about this woman already, and I can tell just from the tone in his voice he's being sincere. For once. Sighing, I nod along even though he can't see me. "I still don't see how I factor into the equation."

"I need you to learn the basics so you can take watch of the hive for a little while," he says.

I frown. "What? Why can't you take care of your own bees? I would think that's the point of the guild. Learning how to become a beekeeper and stuff."

"It is, but I have to go up to Lake Majesty for a couple of weeks for a seminar and team building retreat, and I can't leave the bees alone for that long. And we're all in charge of our own hives," he says. "The other keepers will help get you started, but they won't take over for you. That's the thing, I can't ask anyone else at the guild for this kind of favor. But you're my brother. So, I was hoping you could watch them for me. It won't be hard, I promise."

Quirking an eyebrow, I ask, "And why can't Jules just watch them for you? Isn't she the expert?"

"Yeah, she is, but…" He groans. "She works at the company with me."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "El?—"

"In a totally different department! I swear it isn't like last time! But her department is going on the retreat, too."

Bonnet's back, weaving between through my legs again. When I glance up at the clock above the fridge, I notice it's almost seven-thirty. Well past her breakfast time. Damn, he's had me on the phone for that long already?

"El, I need to get to work," I say. "But I'll think about it."

"Please, bro. I'll owe you one," he says before he drops the call. I look down at the phone and frown.

"Yeah. You'll owe me a lot more than just ‘one,'" I say out loud.

Later that night, I wind up at Mom's place, on the other side of the city behind the art museum. It's a lovely little neighborhood, much nicer than mine, with practically zero crime to speak of. Which means the rent is out of control. Our mother owns her home, though, and it's been paid off for a while. Must be nice.

When I trot up the stone steps of Mom's brownstone, it's Elvis who swings open the door to greet me. His smile is wider, more relaxed, than usual, and he's wearing a burgundy collared shirt that's actually tucked into his pants. I freeze on the top step, unsure how to respond.

He looks me up and down and blinks. "T-shirt and jeans again, Calvin?" he asks, then playfully punches me in the arm. Okay, something is definitely up. I tense, and that's when a young woman around Elvis's age steps out from behind him. She has curly black hair tucked beneath a yellow scarf, dark skin, and bright, pretty eyes. She's dressed in a yellow sundress and sandals. Adorable. Much too good for my brother, that's for sure.

Her face lights up when she sees me, and she holds out her hand for me to take.

"Hi!" she chirps. "I'm Jules. It's so nice to meet you, Calvin. I've heard so much about you!"

I take her hand and shake it, smiling down at her. Yeah. Definitely too good for my knucklehead sibling.

"Nice to meet you, too. Sadly, I haven't heard anything about you because I only learned about your existence this morning."

Jules looks up at my brother with a scowl, but there's a lightness in her eyes as she nudges him in the ribs. She's teasing him.

"Great, thanks, Elvis. Good to know how much you care," she says, but Elvis loops his arm around her waist and pulls her against his chest in an affectionate embrace, leaving me to stand there awkwardly. I pretend to clean my glasses while they kiss.

"To be fair, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me," I say. "Elvis never calls me. Otherwise, I'm sure he would have gushed about you. You seem nice. Too nice for him, actually."

Jules pulls away from my brother's mouth and barks out a sweet-sounding laugh. A pang of jealousy echoes within me. Not because I want my brother's girlfriend, as cute as she is. But just … something, I guess? I've never felt this lonely before. Not until I saw the way Jules looked at my brother after their kiss, that is.

Mercifully, our mother yells from somewhere in the house for Elvis to come back inside, and the two release each other. I look down at my t-shirt and jeans and sigh. Yeah, had I known it was going to be one of those kinds of dinners, I would have dressed up more.

"Come on, you have to tell me all about the work you've been doing," Jules says. "Your brother hasn't stopped yammering on about it all night." When I arch an eyebrow at my brother, he scratches his chin and makes a hasty escape down the hall.

Definitely bizarre behavior. Must run more tests. Need more data.

Thirty minutes later, Elvis is banging his fist on the table as tears of laughter run down his face. "I can't believe you put frozen peas on your dick!"

Our mother hisses at him from the other end of the table. "Elvis! Language! We are at the dinner table!"

Elvis snorts, dabs at his eye, and straightens in his chair. "Oh, sorry, Mom. I meant balls."

Jules slaps my brother's arm and shoots him the look . The one our mother has perfected over the years. The very same one that always manages to get Elvis to shut up.

"Stop it, El. You're being gross," Jules scolds him, then she shoots me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Calvin. That really does sound awful. But in all seriousness, are you okay? Did they have someone with medical training around to check to see if you needed to go to the hospital or anything?"

I shake my head, my cheeks burning with the intensity of an inferno. It's bad enough that Mom even brought up the incident in front of Elvis, but in front of new company? Company who looks like she's probably going to be sticking around for a while? There's nothing I want more than to shrink down to the size of one of those frozen peas and roll away underneath the table.

"I'm fine, but thanks for asking. And no, they didn't have any first aid or anything like that."

Elvis's eyes meet mine, and one of the corners of his mouth curls up. I glare at him, and he claps a hand over his mouth to keep from snickering. How did this immature asshat manage to get a girlfriend, anyway? Add it to the Seven Wonders of the World, I guess. Let it be eight.

With our pot roast devoured and plates clean, the three of us clear the table for Mom and get her settled into the living room for her nightly television-watching ritual. She loves a good trivia show before bed, and it's nearly nine o'clock already. The day flew by in a blink. Dinner turned out to be more fun than I thought it would be, thanks to Jules.

When I step out onto the front porch, Jules follows me and closes the door behind her.

"Hey," she says in a soft voice. Clearly, she doesn't want anyone inside to hear us. "Did Elvis talk to you about the guild?"

I pretend there's a smudge on my glasses and take them off to clean them with my shirt. Right. The bees. I'd nearly forgotten between the pot roast and the conversation.

"Uh, yeah, actually. But I'm not sure I'm going to be the right person for this," I say, and bring a hand up to rub the back of my neck. Why am I like this? Always so nervous when talking to someone new? Even my palms are sweating, and yesterday's embarrassment in the outfield comes creeping up over me in a sickly wave. Yeah. That's going to haunt me while I'm lying awake at three a.m. for the next thirty years.

Jules shakes her head and says, "No, no! In fact, I think it's the opposite. I like your brother a lot, but he can be … not the most responsible guy on the planet, I'm afraid. He makes up for it with his sweetness, though."

I let out a snort. "My brother? Sweet?"

None of his past … yeah, no, I can't call them girlfriends. Elvis doesn't do girlfriends. He does one-night stands and friends with benefits. None of the women he's slept with in the past have ever had anything nice to say about him, so this takes me completely by surprise.

Jules smiles at me, then hops up to perch on the porch railing. "I know, I know. When I joined the company two months ago, I couldn't imagine talking to the guy, let alone going out with him. But when he asked me out, I said yes, and … here we are. A month in, and I'm not sick of his shit yet. What about you, though? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Frowning, I shake my head. "No. No girlfriend. Just a feisty, fluffy white cat named Scotch Bonnet."

Jules laughs. "Oh my goodness, what an adorable name! I love it. You named her after a pepper?"

"Yeah," I say, scratching at the stubble on my throat. "She's the only girl in my life, besides Mom."

"There are a ton of cute girls at the beekeepers' guild, by the way," Jules says, and her nose crinkles with a hint of mischief.

Oh, no. Eager to end this train of thought before it can leave the station, I inch toward the steps.

Jules laughs again. "Don't worry. I'm not going to set you up. Just … please. Come over. I'd love to get to know my boyfriend's brother a little more."

I stare at her long enough for her cover to crack, and she lets out a soft groan. "Okay, fine. That, and your brother really, really wants you there."

Wait, what?

"He's been … working through some things. Don't tell him I told you this, but he also just wants to spend more time with you. As brothers," she says.

Okay, when she puts it that way … it's a little difficult to say no. I scrub a hand through my hair and nod. "I want to. But… isn't it on the other side of the city? Even without heavy traffic, it's still a forty-five minute drive."

Jules's expression turns pensive for a moment. "Right. That would be an issue, yeah. We don't want you to have to come all that way just for this." A beat passes between us, and a lump forms in my throat. This is awkward. Jules gives me a reassuring smile and says, "How about this? You have that rooftop garden at your apartment, right? The one you were telling us about at dinner?"

I nod, curious where she's going with this.

"I'm partially in charge over at the guild, so I have a lot of pull. I'll tell the guild master the situation and we can move Elvis's hive to your garden. How does that sound?"

I scratch my chin lightly. It's hard to say no when she's making it so convenient, so I nod. "Sure. That sounds doable. Thanks, Jules. I can still come for a meeting or two, though. Just to get the basics down."

Jules's smile widens as she pulls her phone out of her dress pocket. I didn't even know dresses had pockets. "Perfect! Yay! Oh, this is going to be so much fun, I promise, Calvin! I'll grab your number off your brother, and I'll send you the time and place, okay? One of the meetings is tomorrow night. Is that too soon?" She looks up at me and winces.

I shake my head. "Nah, that's fine. I'll be there."

What else am I going to do on a Friday night, anyway?