Page 19 of Street of Dreams
“I care. And so should you. You wanna live in a dump? We got a lot of nice shit here. Take care of it. C’mon.” Jake picked up a paper plate. “Help me bring this stuff into the kitchen and then get your bedsheets. I’ll throw them in the wash.”
The twins grumbled, but they collected the empty food containers and beer cans from the coffee table. Jake loaded the dishwasher and held open the lid on the washing machine when his brothers returned with their arms full of sheets. “Drop them in. I ain’t touching them. They’re probably stiff as a board,” he joked.
Danny tossed his sheets into the washer, but Henry pretended to throw his at Jake, who jumped and then laughed. “Stop fucking around. I don’t want your dirty sheets anywhere—” A pillowcase hit Jake in the face, and the twins rolled with laughter.
“You’re dead!” Jake ran after Henry and chased him around the dining room table. On the second go round, Jake caught him, barely, and they both ended up on the floor. He playfully socked his brother in the arm while the two wrestled.
Henry was some kind of contortionist and managed to bend his leg, so his foot ended up near Jake’s face. “Smell it! Smell my foot!” Henry demanded, through laughter.
“Ugh!”Jake tugged the sock off his brother’s foot and stuffed it in the kid’s face. “Smell your own damn stinking sock!” As Henry pretended to choke on the smell of his own sock, Jake held him tightly and bellowed with laughter, until another sock landed across his mouth like a gag.
“Let go of my brother!” Danny demanded, practically suffocating Jake.
“Get that thing off me!” While Jake twisted his head from side to side trying to get the dirty sock off his face, Henry was able to wiggle out from his hold. The next minute, Jake was on the floor with both of his brothers on top of him, alternately sticking their dirty socks under his nose as they howled with laughter.
Although they were killing him with the stench, Jake loved when he roughhoused with his brothers like this. It wasn’t often that the twins could let loose and have a good time, the way teenage boys should. Bruce would never tolerate it, not even when they were younger. They were never free to just be boys when Bruce was around. So, the twins unleashed their wild and unruly behavior whenever they stepped outside. It wasn’t fair and Jake hated it, that’s why he let them act out in public. To a certain extent, anyway. He never let them go too far.
Moments like this, when the three of them were rolling on the floor, acting silly and playing pranks on one another, made Jake feel like they were a normal family, and he’d never take that away from his brothers. He could have easily fought off the twins, but he let them have their fun, and Jake was having fun too. “All right! Enough!” he yelled, through a smile, as he got to his feet and tried to wipe the smell from his face. “Truce! Stop! No fair! Two against one!”
The twins proceeded to advance toward Jake with a sock in each hand until he was backed against the sink. With nothing to defend himself with, Jake reached for the faucet, disengaged the sprayer, and soaked his brothers. They ran in the opposite direction, almost sliding on the wet tile floor. The kitchen was a mess, but they had fun, and that’s all that mattered to Jake. The boys didn’t mind helping him clean up, and he enjoyed providing a break in the tense household. “Sit down, I want to talk to you,” he said, when the house was in order.
Both brothers sat at the table, side by side. “That wasn’t very smart,” Jake told Henry. “Drinking his last beer. You know better than that. And you shouldn’t be drinking. You’re underage.”
“You drank before you were 21.”
The kid had a point, and Jake hated that he was setting a bad example when he always tried to do the opposite. “Yeah, but you’re better than me. At least wait until your 18.” He turned to Danny. “Get the details about that job tomorrow, and I’ll do it.”
“No way. I’ll make fifty bucks. Maybe a hundred.”
“I don’t want your cut. Keep it. Don’t tell him I’m doing the job for you. I’m just trying to keep you away from the criminals that he deals with. Running numbers and offering protection so people don’t get robbed is one thing. I don’t want you anywhere near the other shit he’s involved in. Slinging guns is how you get yourself killed. Or a life sentence. I’ll die before I let that happen to one of you. Ya hear me?”
Danny smirked and folded his arms as he slumped down in the chair, unhappy that Jake was taking away responsibility that was given to him by their old man. The job was misinterpreted as attention, and these kids needed to understand that Bruce was using them, and that they needed to stay out of the man’s business dealings, or they’d end up in jail. Or worse.
“Hey. I mean it. I’m fucking serious. He’s sending you to pick up the cash, so he doesn’t get pinched. He’s too chicken to do it himself. He’s got nothing to lose if you get caught. He doesn’t send me because if I get picked up, he loses his share of the numbers racket.” Jake looked pointedly at both of his brothers. “I don’t want either of you being his runner. If he sends you, I’ll do it. Remember what we talked about?”
The twins nodded. “Yeah. A clean life. A clean break. But when the fuck is that supposed to happen?” Henry asked.
Jake had lied to his brothers, telling them he had a complicated exit strategy so they could hold onto some hope for a way to break away from Bruce and this mess of a life. But the only plan Jake had was to bide his time and wait it out. The months were creeping by at a snail’s pace, though, and the end goal seemed too far away to envision sometimes. Feeling defeated, he let out a breath. “I’m working on it.”
Bruce never returned from the beer run, which was a lucky break. Mostly, he was out of the house more than he was in it. He often spent days or weeks on a gun run, trading cash and firearms with the cartel or gangs. When he was home, his violent and abusive behavior had everyone tiptoeing around his mood swings until he drank enough to pass out.
Their lives were fucked up, but Jake was trying to make it better. He had spent his whole life trying to protect his brothers from their old man’s violent temper, including taking the blame for things like a broken window or forgetting to take out the garbage. Over the years, it had earned him a cracked tooth when he was 14 and a broken wrist when he was 17. Black eyes and fat lips were too numerous to count.
A car pulled up in front of the house, and Jake went to the window. The boy that exited the back seat turned to wave at the occupants of the car. Another boy waved back, and the driver beeped the horn.
Jake’s heart immediately filled with peace as he watched the carefree kid sling his backpack over his shoulder and run to the front door with a smile on his face. That kid was his main priority in life, and he’d spent every breathing moment shielding him from Bruce King.
“I’m home!” the kid announced, before the door was fully open.
Jake waved at the vehicle, and the woman behind the wheel returned the gesture before she drove off. “Did you have a good time at art class, Ben?” he asked, ruffling his little brother’s hair.
Before Ben answered, he peered into the living room.
“He’s not here,” Jake reassured.
The kid immediately relaxed and became animated. “Mrs. Lemmon said I had the best drawing today!” He dropped his backpack on the floor and dug out a sketch pad. While he knelt and fanned through the pages, dozens of landscapes created a moving image. Ben stopped on the last page, stood up and held the sketch book open in front of him to show Jake an island paradise.
Jake took the book from Ben and examined the photo with pride filling his heart. It was a beach scene with crystal-clear blue water, palm trees, and a sailboat under a multi-colored sunset. “You did this? By yourself?”
