Chapter Eleven - Steamy Sirene

THE SUN HAD long set by the time I got my dinner order. Bulging bags in hand, I walk through the door as four men look at me. Cheddy and Brie stand near the gutted shelves while Roq's behind the counter with crossed arms. Far at the back near the register is Cam, who gives me a tender smile.

Sadly, they're all dressed.

"I've got dinner," I call out.

"Pizza!" Cheddy shouts and dives to take the bags from me.

"Uh, tacos."

"Tacos!" He doesn't miss a beat, nor does his exuberance dim as he pulls out takeout boxes of tacos, burritos, chalupas, and anything else I thought they'd want. Cheddy rolls back the paper and is about to take a bite when he asks, "Do I like tacos?" Rather than wait for an answer, he dives face-first into dinner as the other men slip in around him.

With a more dismissive touch, Roq picks an enchilada platter for himself. "We woke alone," he says from the side of his mouth.

"The taco place was swamped. I think there's a festival happening a few blocks away." I try to collect my fallen hair from a collapsing messy bun.

Brie doesn't take out his food but peeks over at me. "You're wearing the same blouse," he says.

"Oh." I brush my fingertips across the pale green neckline. "You did such a wonderful job washing it I thought I could give it another go." There's also the fact I brought seven days" worth of clothing and am at the point of either finding a laundromat or turning my underwear inside out.

I dig out the specially wrapped food and hand it over to Brie. "Here's your bean burrito."

A grin rises across Brie's lips and he bows his head. "It looks nice on you," he whispers then chows down, refusing to make eye contact.

I can feel the last one staring at me with a hundred questions. Probably the first being how he woke up here and not, say, on my motel bed.

After Cam changed to his meltier form, I put a ‘Do Not Disturb' sign on my door, tucked him into the mini fridge, and went to sleep. It was nerve-wracking to carry him in my purse, always on the lookout for a peckish mugger. But I got to the store an hour before sunset, placed him on his clothes near the others, and went off to find dinner, leaving them all none the wiser.

"You did not sleep in the apartment?" Roq says, the simple question loaded with an accusation.

"How do you know?" I ask, trying to dance away from what he's not saying.

"I went up to check to make certain you were all right."

"You did? Why?"

He coughs and nervously pushes his glasses back up his nose. "We…would not do well for you to fall ill. Having to find yet another owner of the shop would be…problematic. That is all."

"Oh." I didn't think it was cause he cared, right? Of course, he doesn't like me. That's crystal clear. "The apartment is…gross, so I stayed in my motel for another night. I brought some things to help clean it up and I thought I'd spend the night doing that."

Cam licks his lips and glides closer. "Why don't I—?"

"Brie can help you." Roq stampedes over Cam's obvious intentions to be alone with me. He glares over his shoulder at Cam who drops his arm. "You have molds that need to be emptied and sterilized."

"What about me?" Cheddy asks. Hot sauce dribbles from the side of his mouth. I touch my cheek in the same spot and he scrunches his brow. "Got an itch? Ooh, it could be mold on your rind. I got that once right across my bum. Took me weeks to—"

I sweep my finger down his cheek, blotting away the hot sauce. Cheddy's ribald tale of rind mold pauses. Looking me in the eye, he lunges forward and sucks all of the Tabasco clean off my finger. "Whew! That's…" Cheddy breathes deep, his earthquake voice dropping to a breeze. "…spicy."

My heart's beating like a timpani falling down a staircase. Where are the extra packets of hot sauce?

"You have to help me move the wheels into the cellar, remember?" Roq interjects.

"Oh, yeah." Cheddy grins wider, then he drags streaks of red sauce back through his dark blond hair. "Should be fun. Maybe, when you and Brie are done, you can join me. One time, I carried ten wheels at once."

"Then you tripped and dropped them all, spoiling five hundred pounds of cheese."

"It was fine. You just had to cut off the ends. Those are for the dogs anyway," Cheddy says to Roq's deep exhaustion.

I keep darting across Cheddy's physique hiding below the giddy goofball. Five hundred pounds on a whim… That's um, very impressive. Almost as impressive as his pecs that start to dance up and down. "I'm bored. Let's get to work. Come on, Cam!"

Before Cam can say a word, Cheddy grabs his arm and drags him toward the basement. Cam gives me a whispered, "Sorry" before he vanishes down the black hole. I brush the tip of my tongue over my lip thinking about our kiss on the bridge.

Roq lingers, arms crossed as he pivots from watching Cam then me. "I don't remember him making it back last night. Yet he popped up behind me. That's rather curious."

"The world's a strange place," I say and dive for the bags of cleaning supplies and linens. "Are you ready, Brie?"

"Yes, yep. Uh-huh." He skitters past Roq but momentarily pauses to bob his head before leaping in front of me to hold open the door. A girl could get spoiled with all of this chivalry.

"When you're finished up there, Brie, I expect to see you in the cellar for a meeting."

"Of course. Anything you say, Roq." Brie takes half of the bags from my arms and skedaddles to the ladder. I pause, watching Roq. He cleans up the remains of the fast dinner, but—before heading to the basement—he lingers by one of the pictures on the wall. I can't see what it is until he moves on.

The photo from when I was five wearing a yellow tutu and tights is slightly tipped on the wall.

"Violette? I can't get inside," Brie shouts.

"Coming," I cry out and dash up the ladder to join him.

Rather than battling the gremlin, I leave the door open. It also helps to air out the two-decade build-up of dust, dead moths, and mildew. I try to duck my nose into my shirt while laying out all of the sprays, sponges, and brushes I bought at a bodega.

Brie's gone wide-eyed, his mouth partially ajar as he drops his bags and stares around the room. "It's so much smaller than I expected."

"You've never been up here?"

"No." He blushes and shakes his head. "Roq handled all of the business."

Roq. I'm getting rather sick of hearing about or thinking of him. With that smug way he crosses his arms like he's some pristine angel judging me just because I nearly…

My mental rant crashes into a wall as I catch Brie staring at me. Oh shit. Did I say all of that out loud too? I can't remember. Say something else. Anything?

"I hear you like books."

Brie winces and shakes his hair in front of his eyes. "Some of them. On occasion. Just as a way to… Yes."

"What's your favorite?"

"Oh, I couldn't pick. For a time, I was really into those crime serials you'd find on newsstands."

The what on the what?

"Cam got me a box of spooky stories, but I kept scaring myself reading them by lantern in the cellar. One small knock behind the bricks and it was total goosebumps."

Okay, put a pin in something knocking behind the bricks, but most of my attention falls on Brie. He's smiling, his cheeks pinked with excitement instead of embarrassment, and he keeps sliding his hair behind his ears as he talks.

"Right before we were… Before, I had a bunch of action books. Average man goes to Mars and fights off monsters. Brave explorer tames the wild jungles. I'd read them to Cheddy while Cam and Roq silently pressed the whey out of curds. Of course, he'd shout with every cliffhanger chapter, startling Roq who'd go damn near green."

Brie chuckles at the memory while I would be absolutely terrified of scaring or enraging the giant man. Shaking his head, Brie picks up one of the sponges and a spray bottle. He starts to scrub the encrusted sink without me asking. "I haven't had anything new in a long time. But, that's okay. There's a lot of work to be done."

"Is that why you became a clerk?" I choose the bottle of Febreze and attack the mattress. Opening the nozzle as far as it'll go, I spray with wild abandon. There's not a lot to do about the yellow stains beyond closing my eyes and pretending they aren't there. "Easier access to books?"

"Ah, no. It was decided for me by my father. He is…was not a man to be easily crossed. Have you ever read a tale of the Vikings?" Brie asks me and I nod. "Those pillagers would mess themselves if they had crossed him."

I waft my hand closer to the mattress and wince at the stench of stale cigarettes and salt. After unscrewing the top, I place my finger over half of the opening and anoint the mattress in Febreze. The power of Christ compels you, odor demon!

"That sounds like Roq," I say, not expecting a hand to touch my elbow.

Brie's electric blue eyes tear me to pieces and he shakes his head hard. "Nothing at all like Roq."

"He orders you around. He decides what you do. Where you live."

"Roq protects us for our sake. He has his reasons, we all do. He can be a bit of a challenge, I know."

"A challenge? I've talked to the broad side of barns that were more personable," I say, hoping for a laugh. When it doesn't come, I spit out fast, "I don't actually talk to barns."

"No, I understand. He takes a lot of warming up, and he can be rather…"

"Fussy? Demanding? Inconsiderate? Terrifying? Cold?"

"Fastidious," Brie says.

"Oh well, if you're going to show off your fancy vocabulary, I'll have you know I can use a thesaurus too."

Rather than shrink back, Brie laughs. "He can also be a complete pain in the ass."

We both get to work trying to unclog drains, scrape off decades of grime, and air out the place. Brie braves the horrors of the bathroom while I close my eyes and hand him whatever he asks for.

"Scrub brush, bleach, scalpel."

I pause with my hand halfway inside an old toolbox we found under the sink. Brie jerks his arm through the curtain.

"Best I can do is a box cutter," I say, placing it into his waiting palm.

He leans out through the curtain enough I can see him inspecting the blade coated in rust. "This will do," he deadpans and returns to whatever horrific surgery awaits inside.

"How's the patient looking, doctor?" I ask.

"I think…I think Mister Toy Let shall make a full recovery," Brie declares, his voice singing with joy. It's so infectious, I'm tempted to linger but there's a lot more to do. I shake out a tablecloth I found on deep clearance and lay it over the peeling card table. With my palm, I test the mattress to find it's mostly dry and unearth the sheets I snagged. All those years of coupon clipping and digging through old junk piles to make ends meet are paying off.

I unroll the fitted sheet when a loud clank breaks from the bathroom. "Oops," is followed by gushing water. "I'm gonna need a bucket!" Brie shouts. I turn to find one when the waterfall stops.

"Never mind," he declares before tugging open the curtain. "We're good."

"Oh, no." He's drenched from head to waist. Fetid water drips from his hair and pools at his feet. "You're soaked."

Brie lifts his arms and rain pelts the floor. "Sorry about that. I'm making a mess."

My arms stuffed with towels, I make my way over to him. Brie tips his head down and I rough his hair up with one. "Maybe I should get out of here before I make this worse."

"Don't be silly. It's cold tonight. You'll freeze to…" Could they die if they were put in a freezer? God, that's a morbid thought. "Here." I leave one of the towels on his head and try to mop up his shirt. That poor thing bore the brunt of whatever happened to the toilet.

The water pressure was so high, it tore open the buttons, exposing his also drenched undershirt. "I, um, is this helping?" I ask, dabbing down his chest.

Brie pulls the towel off of his head, his damp locks nearly as dark as Cheddy's. They stick up like an electric hedgehog and he sighs. "This will be easier." Without a care, Brie unbuttons his shirt. It thuds to the ground with a soggy flop, and he pulls his undershirt over his head.

As he bends over to pick up his lost clothes, I'm entranced by the tattoos sweeping down his shoulder blades to his ribs. They're symmetrical on both sides of his body and look like a bird in flight without being a bird, if that makes any sense. Brie wrings both of his shirts over the sink, and I draw closer.

"Those are…" I nearly touch him but Brie jerks back and stares at me. He looks like a startled deer staring down the blue headlights of an alien spaceship. "Your tattoos are beautiful."

"Oh?" He digs into his shoulder to peer over it. "I nearly forgot they were back there."

"Do they mean something?"

"That I was easily misled in my youth, and I thought that pain equaled manliness." He graces the tip of his finger against the black line sweeping just below his shoulder. "They nearly killed me. An infection put me in bed for months. It's why I became a clerk instead of the sailor my father wanted."

"I'm…I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Brie smiles, twists his shirts for another wring, then lays them on the sink. "I would have hated it. All that salty air, fish, rocking back and forth in the sun. Blisters. Ugh."

He so easily assuages my awkwardness, I nearly smile. But I can feel sadness and regret entwined with the life that never was.

"A doctor," I say, holding my hand just above my heart.

"Hmm?"

"I was going to be a doctor. Was studying to be one. Pre-med. I didn't get much past sophomore year." The gremlin grew louder along with the whispers, people always noticing that I'd touch a doorknob too much, miss classes because I'd be in the bathroom for an hour washing. As the stress grew, so did the rituals. They ate up half my day until there was no time for studying or class.

I force on a smile. "Chemistry kicked my butt."

"Did you want to be a doctor?" he asks, turning softly to look at me.

I nod out of habit. I was so used to being introduced as Violette the future doctor that thinking anything else is drinking orange juice after brushing my teeth. "I don't know. No? My mom wanted it so bad. When I flunked out she was furious."

Brie jerks his head and walks back to the bathroom. I bite my lip to keep from crying. Way to kill the mood, Vi. Just keep dragging them down to your level as if they don't have problems of their own.

A loud grunt breaks from the bathroom. I brace for more water, but Brie walks out with a wrench slung over his shoulder. "I shut off the valve so it won't keep running." He drops the wrench to the ground and nervously rubs his hands. "I'm no good at this. At any of it. Cheddy could have gotten your toilet working so well it'd probably wipe you while playing music."

I chuckle at the idea until I notice the red in Brie's eyes. He takes a deep breath. "And the cheese. You'd think a man who turns into brie every morning would at least be able to figure out how to make cheese. Nope. No matter how many times Roq teaches me, I can't remember it all. In one ear and out the other. I'll forget the salt, or I'll over-stir it, or I'll leave the cheesecloth on while packaging it. Stupid little things. All I'm good for is cleaning."

Easing closer, I drift my palm near his bare shoulder. Brie's so focused on wringing his hands, I'm not certain if he notices. I grace just the tip of my fingers against his skin. His lips part and he sighs as I keep going. Past his sloping shoulders, I brush the nape of his neck and playfully bat around his soggy hair.

"At least there's no fish," I say.

Brie laughs so hard that he snorts. "Indeed. There are small miracles after all."

"What would you do?" I ask. "If you didn't have to be a sailor, or a clerk, or a cheese maker, or a fighter of broken toilets?"

"This is silly." He looks away and I slip in front of him, trying to chase his eyes.

"Come on. Can it be any sillier than cheese-men?" I ask.

Brie opens his mouth, his chest rising in anticipation. Then he licks his lip and stares at the ground.

"Is it a writer?" I ask, placing my hand on his other shoulder.

"No. Though, being paid a handsome stipend to read books would be nice."

It dawns on me that I'm very nearly hugging the half-naked man. All I have to do is slip my hands around his back and pull his bare chest to mine. Not that mine's bare. I've got clothes on. Of course.

Is it hot in here?

My nerves kick into high gear the longer I stand there, not knowing what to say or do. Should I let go? Slide back? Lean to the side for a friendly half hug so he doesn't…?

Brie glides his soft palm against my cheek, tracing his thumb down my smile line before he leans closer. "I want to be a painter."

"That's—"

My "wonderful" crashes against his lips. They're tight and wound, like a spring about to snap. But, as he lingers with just a bare touch against mine I kiss back, and Brie opens up. His mouth softens and he beckons me in.

A sensation of winter overwhelms me. Not just the cold and ice, but of fresh pine trees roaring on a fire and wool blankets curled around my legs while I thumb through pages. It's comfort, safety, hope, a light against the long dark. All things I haven't known in a long time.

Tears burn in my tightly closed eyes. Brie brushes his nose against mine and he slips back. "I've never told anyone that. No one's ever asked. Oh. Are you…okay?"

A fat droplet slips down my cheek. I don't even bother to catch it. The loss of his touch pounds through me but that isn't why I'm crying. These are happy tears but saying it will make me sound crazy.

"Brie?" I find my voice, my smile genuine even as it wobbles. "Would you like to paint me?"

He lights up but pauses and shakes his head. "No."

No?

"Right now, I want to lay you down and make love to every scintillating inch of your body."

I start to pant hard, my palms sweating at the idea. Keep it cool, Vi. Be mysterious, and suggestive, and cool.

With a hearty slug to this arm, I shout, "M-kay."