“A nail can still go through a shoe,” she counters.
“Well, good thing I know how to clean up a job site then, huh?” I turn back around and take a sip from my glass of water.
The past six months I’ve been working for Gibson Construction thanks to my brother-in-law pulling in a favor. Forrest Gibson works out at his gym so Andre asked him to help me out, knowing I would need a job when I got out of prison. It’s not easy getting a job with a record.
She throws her hands up in defeat as Andre, my sister’s husband, and my best friend, joins us in the kitchen.
“I like the paint color though. It’s a little darker than I would have chosen, but I think it suits you.”
I lift a brow in his direction. “It was the closest I could get without painting it black.” My eyes scour the navy blue walls in the living room, pleased with the color choice even if it wasn’t my first choice.
“I may have given you control over the remodel while living here, but you and I both know black walls won’t sell in the future.” Andre reaches for an apple out of the bowl on my counter and takes a large bite, moving next to my sister and placing his arm around her waist. “Plus, they’re a bitch to paint over.”
“Hey, I still pay you rent while I’m here and you gave me full reign on doing what I wanted.”
“I know. But you won’t be here forever. You’ll have your own place eventually and we’ll probably buy a bigger place down the road too,” he says after he finishes chewing.
I huff sarcastically. “Yeah, we’ll see. Not too many people are looking to loan money to an ex-con.”
Selena starts to move toward me, guilt written all over her face.
“No, Selena. Don’t start.” I push her away and move around the two of them into the living room.
“It won’t always be this way, Javi,” she says, trying to offer me some comfort for the thousandth time since I moved in. “It’s my fault you’re in this mess to begin with, so please let Andre and I help you however we can.”
I take a seat on the couch and rest my head in my hands, a position I find myself in more than once a day, a perch of contemplation that allows me to remember why I’m in this place in my life to begin with.
I hate the way my sister looks at me sometimes with that guilt resting in her eyes and shoulders for the circumstances of my life right now. It’s been six months since I was freed from prison, serving out my sentence that I willingly took to protect her. And even though I would do it again in a heartbeat, I think I failed to realize the ramifications of carrying around an aggravated assault on my record accompanied by a shoplifting charge from when I was sixteen.
If it weren’t for Andre and my sister, I wouldn’t have a place to live or a job right now, that’s for sure. The guest house on the back of their property was in need of renovations, so they asked me to do so in exchange for a place to stay, but I still insisted on paying them rent while I was here.
I have to say, two and a half years ago I never thought I’d be living in the backyard of my best friend’s house, or that he’d be married to my sister. I asked Andre to watch over her while I was in jail, knowing that he was the only other person I trusted to look after her since I couldn’t. I made him promise me that nothing else would happen to her while I served my time, but I guess he took his role a little too seriously when they ended up falling in love. By the time I was out, she had a ring on her finger and a wedding was planned. The truth is, I couldn’t have picked a better man for her and I’m happy that they continued to make something of their lives while I was counting down the days of mine in a jail cell.
“You know, when I originally asked you for help, I didn’t mean sleep with my sister,” I toss in his direction as the sound of his chewing alerts me to his presence near us now on the couch.
“Hey. I did my job. She’s the one who came on to me.” His smirk says it all as I catch my sister glare at him from across the room.
“We’ll see how soon that happens again if you keep flapping your jaws, mister,” she reprimands.
“Hey. I don’t want to hear about you two in that capacity, alright?”
“You’re the one that brought it up, Javi,” my sister counters before resting her hand on my shoulder. “Anyway, just be patient. Time will pass and everything will get better. I just wish you hadn’t lost two years of your life.”
“We both know that wasn’t an option, Selena,” I declare knowingly, a bout of anger humming through my veins.
I turn my eyes toward her, taking in her bronze skin and golden eyes similar to mine. Her jet black hair is pulled up on top of her head in the pin-up style that is uniquely her, complete with the red scarf wrapped around her head. She even wears her eyeliner winged out to the side, reminiscent of the fifties style. My sister is the most important part of my life besides our mom. I can see a reformation in her face now, a stark contrast to the way I found her that night, the image of her lifeless body draped over the couch burned into my retinas for all eternity.
“Do
