Page 87 of The Spider & the Storm

Usually, if he didn’t have work, I’d come home after work to find him draped over the couch in his underwear and nothing else, snoring while the TV played an old action movie or ‘90s sitcom.

He proceeded to pull something out of the pocket of his leather jacket, unfolded it, and slapped it down on the table in front of me. I leaned over my bowl of oatmeal to peer at the crumpled piece of paper to find a picture of a motorcycle staring back at me.

“Guy’s selling it for an amazing price,” he explained as I read the paragraph of information beneath the picture.

It was a two-year-old Harley. The person selling it could no longer keep it and was looking for someone who’d appreciate it the way he did. He was selling it for just ten grand after buying it for thirty, which only made the deal seem too good to be true—a trap my brother was likely to fall for.

I dropped my spoon into its bowl as I shook my head and said, “I dunno, Luke …”

“I know what you’re thinking. But I talked to the guy on the phone last night.” He pulled out the chair across from me and plopped down, folding his arms on the table. “He's a tool. Fucked around behind his wife’s back, so she kicked him out, and now, he’s looking to make some quick cash. He doesn’twantto get rid of the bike, but he can’t afford to sell his car ‘cause he’s living out of it right now or something, so …” He grabbed the paper from beneath my eyes and folded it back up. “I told him I’d give him eight thousand for it, and he accepted.”

I slowly lifted my spoon again and shoveled the oatmeal into my mouth, then chewed as I replied, “Where the hell did you get eight thousand dollars from?”

“I’ve had it,” he muttered nearly defensively, lowering his gaze. “It’s left over from Mom and Dad.”

“Oh,” I replied before dropping my eyes to the gloppy oatmeal I no longer had the stomach to finish.

I still had most of mine too.

It always felt wrong to spend it, never knowing when I’d really need it one day. I always thought I would use it on something important, something I knew my parents wouldn’t have thought twice about helping me with—like fixing the car a couple of years ago when the belt snapped and needed replacing.

Luke’s half was to be spent on whatever he wanted, just as much as mine was. Honestly, I had thought he'd blown it all on booze. But now, knowing he still had some left, I couldn’t help but judge a little.

Would Mom and Dad have really wanted him to get a motorcycle? Was that the most necessary thing when the house was looking more and more like shit every day?

Why should I have to hold on to my money for the things we needed when he got to blow it on a fuckingtoy?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he spat at me.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

I shook my head and dropped my eyes to the bowl of golden-brown mush on the table. “I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are. I don’t give a shit what you think, Charlie. It doesn't matter. I’ve thought about this, and I think it’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t say—”

“I can’t keep relying on you for everything. You need a fuckin’ life, okay? And you’re never going to have one until I get my own wheels.”

My gaze shot back to his. “You’d better not be doing this for me. I don’t mind—”

“Oh, trust me.” Luke sniffed a laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Iwantthe bike. I’ve always wanted one. And that has absolutely nothing to do with you. But if it means giving you a little of your freedom back, then I’ll consider it a solid selling point.”

I lifted one corner of my mouth into a helpless half smile. “I don’t really care about having freedom or not. It’s not like I’m really missing out on anything.”

Luke groaned and tipped his head back against the chair, staring at the ceiling as he shook his head.

“What?”

“Bro,” he muttered on a sigh, looking back at me with an expression that said,What the hell am I gonna do with you?“Neither of us has gotten laid in over a fuckin’ year, and if you say you’re good with that, I’m calling you a goddamn liar.”

I kept my lips shut about that one.

“Now, I’m getting that bike, and you and I are going out. We’re gonna get our asses back out there, maybe find a couple of chicks and live our fucking lives a little. Because, I dunno about you, man, but I’m sick of moping around this place like I’m just waiting around to fuckin’ die or something. Shit needs to feel normal again, and the only way that’s gonna happen is if we act like it. So, finish your shitty breakfast, and let’s go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

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