that roof left me feeling stifled rather than protected.
Having someone living there again would discourage anyone who had a mind to take advantage of an unoccupied house. Dylan would be doing me as big of a favor as I was doing him, so it was a win-win in my book.
“Okay, okay. I know better than to argue with you.” He smiled back. “Thanks, Remi. Really.”
Dylan offered a hug, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My boring afternoon at the shop had brightened significantly.
My brother straightened up, but left his hands on my shoulders as he backed off to look at me more closely.
The jig was up.
“Geez, Rem. Did you get hit with the business end of a two-by-four, or what?” He was trying to make light of it, but his concern was apparent.
I turned to my standby excuse: “You know those classes I’m taking? We started Judo yesterday.” Employing a self-deprecating smirk, I tried to look as though the fictitious training had simply gotten the better of me.
“You sure you’re not doing something crazy like Fight Club or anything?”
My laugh was probably a little too quick and forced, but I echoed the film reference without skipping a beat. “If I were, you know the first rule: Don’t talk about Fight Club.”
We joked for a few more minutes and I managed to dispel my brother’s suspicions, at least as far as I could gather. I hated having to dodge him and tell him half-truths , and I doubted he was any safer not knowing the things I truly dealt with on an almost nightly basis. What our dad had dealt with. But our mom wanted to protect her sons from it even now, and I wasn’t about to go against her wishes for the sake of my own peace of mind.
Dad had left us well equipped to defend ourselves, even if he wasn’t able to teach us how to slay monsters. All three of us had grown up going with him to fish, hunt, and camp. We’d had targets in the backyard for archery. Lots of families around here take part in those outdoor sports, so with a gunsmith for a father it only seemed natural.
I hoped Dylan hadn’t forgotten everything we learned.
“Listen, Rem, you’re already doing a lot for me, but maybe I could get this night position y’all are looking to fill? Could you put in a good word for me with the owner, what with you being friendly with him and all?”
I hesitated before answering. The night shift would be perfect for Dylan, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to be that entrenched in the Amasai’s cover. I decided to give him an application and leave the final say in Hugo’s hands.
“Sure could,” I nodded. “If you’ll fill out an application, I’ll give it to him personally.”
I went around into the office and retrieved one of the forms from a drawer in the filing cabinet. Returning to the main part of the shop, I handed it to Dylan.
As he was filling in the information, he looked up from his work. “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you earlier . . . I have a gig at the Dirty Dozen this Saturday night. You should come, bring some friends.”
Just as I was about to answer, the door swung open and admitted a red-faced customer and a fresh burst of 100-degree heat.
I glanced up and greeted the man before answering Dylan without committing. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”
Forcing my best customer service smile onto my face, I walked over to where the squat, thickly mustached man stood browsing our firearms section.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He looked up from his inspection of the rifles that stood on a shelf behind the counter and grunted. “I’m lookin’ for a good huntin’ scope, but I don’t expect a lil lady like yerself to know much on that.” He chuckled as though he’d just told an especially clever joke.
Stifling a snicker, I looked over my shoulder and shot a wink at Dylan. He grinned at our private joke before waving goodbye, and I waved in return. As he strolled back out into the scorching sun, I turned back to the customer with a little smile.
“Oh, you
Having someone living there again would discourage anyone who had a mind to take advantage of an unoccupied house. Dylan would be doing me as big of a favor as I was doing him, so it was a win-win in my book.
“Okay, okay. I know better than to argue with you.” He smiled back. “Thanks, Remi. Really.”
Dylan offered a hug, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My boring afternoon at the shop had brightened significantly.
My brother straightened up, but left his hands on my shoulders as he backed off to look at me more closely.
The jig was up.
“Geez, Rem. Did you get hit with the business end of a two-by-four, or what?” He was trying to make light of it, but his concern was apparent.
I turned to my standby excuse: “You know those classes I’m taking? We started Judo yesterday.” Employing a self-deprecating smirk, I tried to look as though the fictitious training had simply gotten the better of me.
“You sure you’re not doing something crazy like Fight Club or anything?”
My laugh was probably a little too quick and forced, but I echoed the film reference without skipping a beat. “If I were, you know the first rule: Don’t talk about Fight Club.”
We joked for a few more minutes and I managed to dispel my brother’s suspicions, at least as far as I could gather. I hated having to dodge him and tell him half-truths , and I doubted he was any safer not knowing the things I truly dealt with on an almost nightly basis. What our dad had dealt with. But our mom wanted to protect her sons from it even now, and I wasn’t about to go against her wishes for the sake of my own peace of mind.
Dad had left us well equipped to defend ourselves, even if he wasn’t able to teach us how to slay monsters. All three of us had grown up going with him to fish, hunt, and camp. We’d had targets in the backyard for archery. Lots of families around here take part in those outdoor sports, so with a gunsmith for a father it only seemed natural.
I hoped Dylan hadn’t forgotten everything we learned.
“Listen, Rem, you’re already doing a lot for me, but maybe I could get this night position y’all are looking to fill? Could you put in a good word for me with the owner, what with you being friendly with him and all?”
I hesitated before answering. The night shift would be perfect for Dylan, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted him to be that entrenched in the Amasai’s cover. I decided to give him an application and leave the final say in Hugo’s hands.
“Sure could,” I nodded. “If you’ll fill out an application, I’ll give it to him personally.”
I went around into the office and retrieved one of the forms from a drawer in the filing cabinet. Returning to the main part of the shop, I handed it to Dylan.
As he was filling in the information, he looked up from his work. “Oh yeah, I meant to tell you earlier . . . I have a gig at the Dirty Dozen this Saturday night. You should come, bring some friends.”
Just as I was about to answer, the door swung open and admitted a red-faced customer and a fresh burst of 100-degree heat.
I glanced up and greeted the man before answering Dylan without committing. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”
Forcing my best customer service smile onto my face, I walked over to where the squat, thickly mustached man stood browsing our firearms section.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He looked up from his inspection of the rifles that stood on a shelf behind the counter and grunted. “I’m lookin’ for a good huntin’ scope, but I don’t expect a lil lady like yerself to know much on that.” He chuckled as though he’d just told an especially clever joke.
Stifling a snicker, I looked over my shoulder and shot a wink at Dylan. He grinned at our private joke before waving goodbye, and I waved in return. As he strolled back out into the scorching sun, I turned back to the customer with a little smile.
“Oh, you
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