Page 5 of Make Me Bee-lieve

“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!”

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