Top Shelf: A Seacroft Novel Page 12

  “No. But my closest friends are a seventeen-year-old and my douchebag agent. You could be good for me.” He sighed. Their faces were incredibly close. Martin’s eyes were flecked with green. When he licked his lips, Seb’s good intentions fled once more. He wanted to kiss him. The distance wasn’t far, and he thought Martin wouldn’t even mind.

  The door screeched open as a new customer walked in. Seb leapt up as if the couch was on fire. Martin blinked a few times, staring up at him with sleepy eyes.

  “Back to work,” Seb said, forcing a smile. “If anyone else comes in and gives you a hard time, you know where to find me.”

  11

  When Martin got home that evening, the house smelled like a campfire.

  “Smarts!” Brian said as Martin entered the kitchen. He wore an apron that said Lick My Fingers.

  Martin hesitated. “What’s that smell?”

  “I’m making dinner! On the barbecue.”

  “You know how to use the barbecue?”

  “Come see! You’re going to love it.”

  Martin let his brother tow him through the house and out into the small backyard. A plume of black smoke rose from the ancient barbecue, making Brian curse, and a black cloud enveloped him when he lifted the lid. They both coughed as the smoke disappeared, revealing skewers of chicken and mixed vegetables on the grill.

  “You made these?” Martin asked in disbelief.

  “Well.” Brian poked at them with a pair of tongs. “I bought them. Did you know they’ve got skewers like this all made up at the store?”

  Martin eyed them. Despite the smoke, the skewers looked perfectly edible.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What do you mean?” Brian kept rolling the skewers on the grill, like a street hustler moving his cups around to confuse his audience. Martin wasn’t sure his brother knew what he was doing, but he appreciated the effort, unless—

  “Are you selling the house?”

  “No!”

  “Did you break the oven?”

  “Of course not.”

  Martin didn’t think Brian actually knew how to work the oven.

  “We’ve been living on takeout since I got here. Is this an apology, or do you need to ask me for something?”

  “Can’t I make dinner for me and my little brother just because I want to?” Brian continued to shuffle their dinner on the grill. The green peppers were starting to shrivel.

  “I think they’re ready.”

  “Oh good.” Brian sighed. “I wasn’t sure how you were supposed to tell. There’s no timer on this thing, did you know that?”

  They settled themselves at the big kitchen table. Martin tossed them a salad, which Brian grumbled about, but helped himself to once they were sitting.

  “Are you dying?” Martin asked.

  “Smarts, sometimes I feel like cooking.”

  Martin chewed nervously on his surprisingly well-cooked chicken.

  “So how’s work going?” Brian asked. “You’re liking it?”

  “It’s fine. The store’s not really busy, but the people who come in are nice enough.”

  “Yeah? That’s good. That’s really good.”

  “Sure.” Martin took another bite of his dinner and wrinkled his nose. The chicken was good, but the onion was a little underdone.

  “And you’re making friends?”

  “Did you kill someone? Are you going to jail?”

  “No!” Brian’s voice rose, but then he sighed and set down his fork. “But I’ve been a dick lately, and I felt bad, okay? I told you to come stay with me, and I know it hasn’t been great. This thing with Jess, it’s—I’m sorry. I haven’t been the best brother, and I wanted to apologize. If you’re going to be a jerk about it, though . . . ” He grabbed up his plate and went to stand.

  “Sit down.” Martin held up his hand. Brian glared at him for a second, but then slumped back down in his seat.

  “I was just trying to do something nice.” He poked at his food.

  “It is. It is nice. Just surprising that you know how to make anything that won’t give us both salmonella by the morning.”

  Brian scowled at him from under his brows, but a half smile formed on his lips. “You’re such a priss. You and your fancy words.”

  “What? Salmonella? It’s a bacteria. Everyone should know what it is because food poisoning is not fancy.”

  Brian laughed. “You’ve always used big words. Mom and I didn’t know what you were saying half the time once you got to high school.”

  Martin remembered. His mom would praise him, and Brian would roll his eyes and call him a loser. One happy little family.

  “I can’t help the words I use.” He’d been self-conscious about it when he’d been a teenager, but he’d been self-conscious about everything. His vocabulary, his weight, the way he’d rather read books than play sports with his brother.

  “I know that now,” Brian said. They’d been so different, growing up. Brian had been the fun one, the athletic one, always with a girlfriend. He’d been an okay student and got a job at the fire department right away. Martin was the first person in their family to get a four-year degree. His family was good, sturdy, blue-collar people, and they’d never been quite sure what to make of him.

  “I’ve been tutoring the girl who works at the bookstore with me,” Martin said. “She’s applying to art school and needed help with her application essays.”

  “I bet you’d be good at that.” Brian smiled at him without any hint of sarcasm. “You do have all those big words. I bet colleges like that kind of thing.”

  Martin shrugged, embarrassed by his brother’s compliment. “It’s just a personal essay. It’s not that hard.”

  “For you, maybe. I could never do something like that.”

  Martin considered his brother. He’d always admired Brian growing up, and the quiet envy in his voice now was a surprise.

  “You’re pretty smart too.”

  “Yeah.” Brian picked at a piece of chicken. “So smart I can’t even get my wife to move back in.”

  Martin straightened. “Do you want to get back together?”

  “I think it’s too late for that.” Brian shrugged, looking miserable. It was the first time he’d expressed any clear opinions on the breakdown of his marriage. Mostly, since Martin moved in, Brian dodged Jess’s calls, and avoided talking about it with Martin at all costs.

  “Brian, I—”

  “It’s okay, Smarts.” Brian gave him a forced smile. “There’s something you can learn from your older brother. Don’t make the same mistakes I did when you find someone.”

  It was Martin’s turn to look down at his plate.

  “I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  “Oh come on. You’re a smart guy. Good looking too. Bet you . . . er . . . guys love those Lindsey eyes.”

  Martin thought of Seb’s eyes, blue and laughing. They had been so close on the couch. Seb’s skin was lightly freckled, including one on his lip at the highest part below his nose. Martin thought Seb might kiss him, but instead he’d pushed away and left Martin there to gape.

  “Wait. Did you meet someone?” Brian’s voice cut through his cataloguing of Seb’s features.

  “No.”

  “You did, didn’t you? You’ve got the dopey look on your face. Is that—I mean—Did you? I mean, how does that work?”

  “How does what work?” Martin wasn’t following.

  “If I met a girl I liked—when I met Jess—I just knew. You know? I walked right up to her and told her I was buying her a drink. But, if it were a guy . . . what do you do?”

  Martin tried not to be annoyed. “We take our shirts off and flap our arms while we turn in a circle squawking like a chicken. It’s the secret gay mating dance. They teach it to us in a special after-school health class.”

  Brian snorted. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “Don’t ask asinine questions. We’re not a different species. We spend time with each other. Go ou
t on dates.”

  Seb had tried to ask him out on a date. Martin, predictably, had panicked and turned him down by pretending to not understand. Was it too late to take it back?

  “So you’re dating someone?” Brian leaned forward expectantly in his chair.

  “No. I—we’ll see.”

  “Is he cute?”

  Martin couldn’t stop the blush that spread over his ears. If he tried to describe Seb, he’d start talking about his freckles and the way his blue eyes were ringed in black on the outsides. “Do you really want to know?”

  Brian finished his dinner and leaned back in his chair with a soft belch. “Not really. Dudes don’t do it for me. But whatever makes you happy. I’m sure it will be good. You’re the smart one in the family.”

  * * *

  Seb was halfway through the Alice project. He was also out of coffee. In fact, he was out of nearly everything. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d been shopping, or if he’d slept the night before. The Cheshire Cat grinned at him maniacally from where he’d perched it back in its tree.

  He needed sleep or caffeine, and he wanted to get the caterpillar placed on its mushroom before he called it a day. He pulled on his jacket and made his way downstairs. Martin sat by the cash register reading a book.

  “Don’t you ever go home?” Seb asked.

  Martin smiled as he glanced up. Seb really liked it when he smiled. “It’s three-thirty. I’ve still got a few more hours.”

  Seb checked his watch again. The numbers swam in his vision, but then resolved to show Martin was right. “My mistake. I’m going to Penny’s for coffee. Can I get you anything?”

  Martin shook his head. “No, I’m fine. But I was thinking, after I close up, if you’re not busy, we could—”

  The shop’s phone rang.

  Martin’s interrupted question hung between them. He visibly struggled between finishing it and answering the phone like a good employee. Seb’s heart sank when Martin sighed and picked up the handset.

  “Hello, Dog Ears Book Shop, how can I help you?” He frowned as he listened, before his eyes met Seb’s. “Yes, just a second.” Martin placed his hand over the receiver and held it in Seb’s direction. “It’s for you?”

  Seb was as baffled as Martin, but he took the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Seb, don’t hang up!” Oliver’s words were a rush. Seb’s grip tightened. Twice now his brother had managed to track him down and surprise him.

  “Ollie?”

  “Please don’t hang up!”

  “How did you know to call me here?”

  “You told me once you lived upstairs from a bookstore. The only other one in town is a chain. I called them too, but they said they were in a box store and didn’t have any upstairs tenants.”

  “What the hell? So now you’re stalking me?”

  “Who is it?” Martin whispered.

  Seb put his hand over the receiver. “It’s my brother.”

  Martin’s eyes widened. “You have a brother?”

  Seb smirked and rolled his eyes, trying to tell Martin it was a long story. One he’d like to share, if Martin was interested.

  “Seb? Are you there?”

  Seb growled and put the phone back to his ear. “Why didn’t you call my phone?”

  “I did. I have been. It always goes straight to voicemail.”

  Fair enough. As he’d gotten farther into the Alice project, Seb had set his phone to Do Not Disturb. He pulled it from his pocket to find over a dozen missed calls from the past few days, mostly from Oliver.

  “What do you want?”

  “It’s Nana. She’s sick.”

  Seb’s heart lifted into his throat. He hesitated, glancing at Martin, still watching him with raised eyebrows. If this was serious, Seb shouldn’t be having this conversation standing in the public space of the bookstore.

  “I’ll call you back,” he said.

  “Seb! No, don’t hang up.”

  “I’ll call you right back, I promise.” He handed the phone to Martin.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Seb rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to have this conversation now. He didn’t want to have it ever, but especially not right now, when he was running on no sleep. His brain was stretched and fried, but he’d promised Ollie he’d call him right back, and his brother had proven he wouldn’t be put off anymore.

  “It’ll be fine. I’ll see you later, okay?” Seb waved as he hurried out of the bookstore.

  Seb sat down on a bench on the corner at the end of the next block and pulled his phone out again. His hands shook as he tried to flip to Oliver’s most recent missed call, but was saved the trouble of dialing when the phone started to ring.

  “Ollie?” The name trembled in his mouth.

  “Seb, I’m sorry. I thought you should know.”

  “Of course I should know!”

  “Listen, it’s some kind of respiratory infection. She’s stable, but—”

  “Is she in the hospital?”

  “She should be home later today or tomorrow morning.”

  Seb closed his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t want to think about his grandmother, frail and alone, in a hospital bed. She’d always been immaculate, coiffed, and fashionable for every occasion. He didn’t want to picture her unmade and sick.

  “Will she—Will she be okay?”

  “She wants to see you.”

  This time, Seb didn’t hesitate. “I can come.” He’d have to rent a car. He couldn’t leave now—he needed to sleep—but tomorrow.

  “She’s pretty tired. She’ll need a few more days to recover. Listen, I know you’re not going to like this, but I want you to think about it, okay?”

  Seb had a pretty good feeling he knew what his brother was going to ask. “I’m listening.”

  “They still want to throw the birthday party. I think you should be there.”

  Seb closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Ollie sounded tired, and Seb being an asshole wasn’t going to help the situation.

  He sighed. “I just don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Nana wants you there. She keeps asking about you.”

  Seb had last been to his parents’ home four years ago. That little get together ended with Seb storming out of the house three hours after arriving for what was supposed to be a weekend visit.

  Ollie and their grandmother had been the only ones to speak to him since.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll come to your party. But you’re going to keep Dad away from me as much as possible.”

  “I can do that.” The relief in Ollie’s voice was clear.

  “And I’m getting a hotel room in town. I’m not staying at the house.”

  “Mom will want you to come for dinner the night before.”

  “Then I’m bringing a date.” The idea sprang to Seb’s mind suddenly, but as soon as he said it, he knew he wasn’t backing down.

  “Seb. You can’t. Not after last time.”

  “This is different. He’s a doctor. Mom and Dad will love him.”

  Oliver chuckled. “You’re dating a doctor? How did you manage that?”

  “The elusive artist charm is hard to withstand.”

  “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll send you the details. Don’t delete them. I’ll drive down there and pick you up myself if I have to.”

  When they hung up, Seb stayed where he was on the bench. Cars drove by, and men and women passed. Seb stared at it all without seeing. He’d stayed away from his family for four years. Oliver called from time to time, and his grandmother less often, but he never considered what it would mean if his family wasn’t there anymore. Their relationship was difficult, but they were still his family. If his grandmother—When she was gone, would Oliver be enough of a reason to keep in touch?

  More importantly, had Seb just told Oliver that he was bringing Martin for the weekend? It seemed like a good enough idea at the time,
one more demand to prove a point, but now he was committed. He’d never said particularly complimentary things about his family to Martin. Hell, Martin didn’t even know Seb had a brother until ten minutes ago. How the hell was Seb supposed to convince him to spend a weekend with them?

  12

  A week later, Seb still hadn’t asked Martin about coming with him to his parents’ party. He’d tried, repeatedly. After his conversation with Oliver, he’d come back to the bookstore to find Martin busy with a customer. Seb tried to make it back downstairs, but his lack of sleep caught up with him, and he crashed.

  The next day, he went out early to the framer’s to pick up the case he’d ordered for the Alice piece. He meant to pick it up and get right back to the store, but the case was not right at all. It wasn’t the right size, and the glass panels had a blue-ish tint that would not work with how he’d envisioned the piece.

  He’d tried to talk with Martin a couple times since then, but Seacroft’s population suddenly developed a fascination with used books. Every time he went downstairs, Martin was always helping someone navigate the shelves.

  The blues night was on a Thursday. Seb was upstairs working when the beep of a reversing truck shattered his peace of mind. On the street below his window, a large white van parked in front of the store. Carol Anne stood on the sidewalk, a clipboard in one hand as she pointed and gave orders. Two workmen carried rental furniture down the ramp and into the bookstore.

  After that, getting anything done was hard. Usually, the store was silent, and Seb could work in peace. Today, strange thumping sounds echoed as furniture was moved around, and instructions were shouted or relayed over crackling walkie talkies.

  Around three o’clock, he gave up. The noises downstairs were too foreign and distracting to allow him to make any kind of progress. Martin was once again occupied with a customer as Seb went through the store, so he waved and let himself out onto the street.

  When he returned, it was after six. The shop door was locked, and the inside had been transformed. The usual overhead tube lights had been turned off, and someone from Carol Anne’s army of volunteers had hung strings of white lights from the tops of all the bookshelves. The heavy couches had been moved out of the way, replaced with tall tables and groups of low chairs. A cluster of music stands and a microphone stood to one side.