Page 18 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

The question, asked in Aspen’s innocent, sweet voice, haunts me.

That painting. That damn painting.

I tried to reach it with a ladder yesterday, but the ladder wasn’t tall enough, and I don’t have another one. The stairs going upmeet in this weird bend in the middle. The ceilings are so high, and someone mounted that beast of a painting way too far up. It looks awkward. It always has. There were others below it, but I’ve plucked those off and sent them away as part of yesterday’s pile. That one is going to one of the hospitals here that puts on an annual charity auction every winter.

I know it’s the middle of the night, but I’m quiet. I find myself standing on the first stair and looking up at the beastly beast. It’s even more awkward now, marooned up there on the wall without anything to bracket it. It didn’t make sense before and it’s a thousand times worse now.

“Ugh. You won’t make a mockery of me,” I grumble.

I could go out and get a taller ladder. Or order one in. I could also hire someone to get the damn thing off the wall. But that would all have to be done during the daylight hours, and I want it downright now.Maybe I’ve had too much coffee, and it’s late. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep and the past few days rolled into one moment. It could be a lifetime of training, but then I decide right here and now that I will not be defeated. Least of all, by that ugly monolith. It is slashes of black paint on a white background in a black frame. It looks aggressive and mean, and I want it out of this house. I want that wall swept bare.

The ladder is still propped up on the other side of the wall, where I left it after I took the other paintings down. I’m extra quiet retrieving it and setting it up. The stairs might look like they’re magically popping out of the wall, but they’re the same as any other stairs that jut around at an angle. They have a big landing step, so the ladder fits. Mostly.

I scale it fearlessly, trying not to think about all the other times I’ve climbed shit. This isn’t like those times. I’m just in the house here. No one is going to be shooting at me, and there isn’t a big drop at the end. I’m not risking anyone’s life if I fuck up.

Well, maybe just mine.

On the top step of the ladder, I pause and look down. Heights don’t bother me. I do a quick computation in my coffee-speedy brain. It goes something like the distance from up here down to the ground if I fall to the landing, and then another quick computation of the distance from up here if I fall and miss the landing and go over the side glass railing.

It’s still probably not enough to kill me.

I’ve had worse, honestly.

The top step of a ladder wasn’t invented for this kind of use. It’s already one of those tall, metal things that unfold like an A. I didn’t lean it up against anything, and I don’t have anyone holding it, obviously. As I get one combat boot up and then another, it teeters a little. Yes, I still wear them. And yes, I’ll probably always wear them. They’re not actually military grade. They’re just the mean-looking and industrial shit you buy at the shoe store. They wouldn’t hold up against much, even if they do have steel toes.

I’m good at breathing, so I use slow in-and-out breathing to steady myself. If I stretch out from here, I can almost brush my fingers along the bottom edge of the frame. Even if I knock it off the wall, it can probably be repaired. And if not? I’m willing to make that sacrifice. Right now, I am. I need it down.

I nudge the frame with an open hand. I’m not gentle. But it doesn’t budge.

With a grunt, I make a closed fist, lean up, andpunchthe thing.

It doesn’t shift up or sway. What the hell is that thing hung with? Concrete anchors?

I give it another good uppercut, yet there’s still nothing.

What I do next proves I’ve had too much coffee and too little sleep because there’s no way this is a good idea, but I didn’t get into the Special Forces by not taking chances. A regular person wouldn’t do this kind of dumb shit, but I’m not a regular person.I’m me, and sometimes, dumb stuff is the only answer. Risks are the only answer.

I crouch down on the ladder, and then I leap.

The ladder kicks out from under me and goes crashing to the side. It hits the wall and not the glass railing, which I figured it would, and then it stops there. It makes a bit of a bang, but it doesn’t do much damage. And me? I grab the bottom lip of the frame with both hands and hang.

Yes, I hang off of it.

With all my weight.

The thing still doesn’t budge.

It doesn’t rip out of the wall. It doesn’t even sway.

What the actual fuck?

I swing my legs, kick out, and do all sorts of playground-style maneuvers, but nope. Nothing. The thing has an indomitable spirit, and at this point, I’m sure it will only be removed from the wall by a bulldozer.

The ladder is gone now. It’s well below me. It’s a pretty drop to the ground, but I can manage it. The problem? The ladder is directly below me. I’ll smack straight into it, and that will mess up my landing. Hitting it will hurt, and it will cause some damage to me, the wall, and probably the glass railing.

It’s a bit of a pickle, but I’m used to being in pickles of this nature.

Well, not this nature, but worse. Worse nature. I can handle this.

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