Bradley and I had always been close, as good as brother and sister. The last time I saw him was the quick trip he made home for my father’s funeral. He hadn’t changed a bit. His blonde hair was still a mess. Lean, athletic, and tall, he was handsome and had garnered the attention of many girls, when Decker wasn’t around. Decker drew the limelight wherever he went, sucking all the attention away from Bradley and onto himself.
“Oh, I love a happy reunion,” Casey sobbed from beside us. I pulled my head away from Bradley’s comforting embrace to see Casey dabbing at his watery eyes.
“You knew he was coming?” I asked Casey, shocked.
“Decker arranged it,” he admitted as Bradley tried to shush him.
“Oh,” I murmured.
“I knew something was up with you the last time we spoke, and I knew it had something to do with him. I still haven’t heard the full story, but Decker told me I should come back. He told me you needed me, and we all know you are too stubborn to speak up for yourself.”
“It’s got nothing to do with stubborn and everything to do with pride,” I muttered.
“Stubborn pride,” Lionel reiterated from the couch behind us.
“It’s a shame you two are related. You’d make a cute couple,” Casey said, walking off toward the kitchen. He spun back around to face us. “Are you first cousins, because if you’re not first cousins then it’s completely legal!” Bradley and I pushed off each other and ewwed at Casey’s suggestion. “You do know there are states where marrying your first cousin is legal?”
“Casey, stop being so queer, and I don’t mean queer as in gay, I mean it as downright unbalanced and kooky. You’re freaking Bradley out and he just got here.” Bradley was moving around, poking around my apartment. Lionel, in the meantime, was dragging Casey out of the kitchen.
“Home time, my kooky little queer.”
Casey objected until Lionel whispered something in his ear, then he turned into a pile of compliant mush.
“Holler if you need anything,” Casey called as he was led away.
“So,” Bradley said as he finally turned to face me.
“So,” I echoed him like a thoughtless parrot.
“I’ve come all this way...do I get an explanation other than Decker’s, ‘I fucked up’?”
I shrugged. A part of me wanted to tell Bradley everything. But that other part of me, that womanly part of me that couldn’t help but care and love wanted to protect Decker.
“He fucked up,” I mumbled.
“Uh huh, I got that part loud and clear.” My lips quirked into a small smile. Bradley’s accent had been twisted into some weird and wacky hybrid of an American and British lilt. “What did he do exactly, just so I know how badly I need to beat him?” I sighed. Bradley was not the beating type. He was more of the pay someone else to beat him type.
“I’m a big girl, Bradley, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you defending my honor.” His eyes dropped to my cast and I shuffled nervously under his scrutiny.
“I see that.”
“Oh stop being a jerk! He’s your best friend. Aren’t you supposed to be standing up for him or something?”
Bradley’s eyes softened. “He’s my best friend, which means he should have known better, he did know better. The way he spoke about you…” Bradley pushed a hand through his messy blonde locks. “He’s never talked about a woman like that before. I thought this was different.”
My heart broke with the deep seated craving for Decker to see me as something more. But he didn’t because if he had, he wouldn’t have had his porn on the side the entire time he was dating me. “So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of beating the ever loving shit out of for that?” He nodded toward my cast.
“Stop threatening to beat people up, you couldn’t beat a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.” Bradley tried his best to scowl at me, truly he did, but he just didn’t have scowl in him. It ended up being a look caught somewhere between constipation and breaking wind. “Oh come on, you’re like The Godfather, you don’t get your hands dirty.”
His pained effort to look pissed off disappeared under his easy going, dimpled smile. “The Godfather, I like that. You sure know how to recover quickly from crushing a man’s ego.” I shrugged as I began fumbling around the kitchen in an effort to make us coffee. Bradley brushed me aside and took over. “So, aside from the obvious trouble you’ve been having with one particular male wanker, how are things?”
“What’s a wanker?” I wondered out loud.
“A dickhead.”
“Then why didn’t you just say dickhead?”
Bradley cast me an exasperated look. “Anyone would think it’s Decker you are related to; you’re both cast from the same bloody mold.” The mention of Decker’s name made my stomach roll. The look Bradley cast me from over his shoulder was full of sympathy, but it quickly disappeared as he changed the subject. “What about the store, how’s it going?”
I was thankful for the reprieve. “Good. Actually great. The store already had a small following, but throw in a stack of new books and some great coffee and people actually come from far and wide.”