Color of Loneliness (16 page)

“Jackie, this is my contractor, Dylan Lawson. Dylan, this is Jackie George, Jim’s granddaughter and, uh, my future neighbor.”

“And don’t forget best friend,” Jackie adds excitedly.

Myra wonders if she can somehow convince Jackie to fill out those applications for culinary school.

“Hi, Dylan,” Jackie says. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She pushes forward and grabs his hand from his side and gives him a firm, unwelcome handshake. “So you’re doing work on Myra’s house? That’s great. This place really needs it. It’s just falling apart. So how long are you going to be here working on it? I wonder if there’s anything that grandpa’s house needs work on. I’ll definitely let you know if I come up with something,” she says all in one breath as she beams brightly at him.

Dylan just stares at Jackie with a grimace on his face. He turns to Myra. “I need to talk to you,” he mumbles before shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“Okay,” she answers cautiously.

“Wait,” Jackie shouts, startling Myra and causing her to jump slightly. “Are you the one that found my grandpa?” she asks Dylan.

Myra watches as his gaze darts from Jackie to her and back to Jackie, his grimace deepening. He nods.

“Oh my God. Okay, this is really, really important,” Jackie says as she walks up close to him, invading his personal space. “When you found my grandpa, did he have any last words? Did he say anything? Was he awake when you found him? My family needs to know.” Jackie’s eyes are big and round as she waits on him to answer.

Dylan stares at her for a moment before he shakes his head.

“Did he ever come to at any point? Did he ever wake up? Did he suffer any?” Jackie asks as she blinks away tears.

Dylan swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “He was gone when I found him. I wasn’t able to resuscitate him.”

Jackie dives at Dylan, throwing her arms around his waist. “Thank you so much for trying to save him. I know you did everything you could. It means so much to me and my family. So much.”

Dylan’s hands are in the air – obviously not wanting to touch Jackie who clings to him tightly. Myra coughs to cover a smile when she sees the expression on Dylan’s face which happens to be a crazy combination of startled, disgusted and tortured.

Jackie gives Dylan one more squeeze before she finally lets him go and turns to Myra. “I have to go. I have so much to do. I’ll see you soon,” she says with a wave as she bounds out the front door.

“Sorry about her,” Myra says to Dylan with a small smile. “She’s a little… different.”

He frowns at her. “We need to go get your cabinets and other materials ordered. It’ll take a while for that shit to come in.”

“Can’t I order it online?” she asks as her heart starts to beat faster. No way does she want to have to ride anywhere in a vehicle with this jerk.

He shakes his head. “You have to do it in person. You can’t return custom-made kitchen cabinets if you don’t like them.”

Her mind scrambles for a way out of this but she comes up with nothing.

“Can you be ready in an hour?” he asks.

Myra chews on her thumbnail, trying with all of her might to come up with some excuse. She sighs. “Yeah, I guess,” she says as her shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna go re-measure. We’ll leave in an hour,” he says before he abruptly takes off towards the kitchen.

* * *

Dylan finishes measuring the cabinets, double checking his previous measurements on his clipboard. He stretches and grabs his coat off of the kitchen chair. Slipping it on, he shoves the clipboard under his arm and walks back into the living room to find Myra.

“You ready?” he asks as he stares at her sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her, staring intently at her computer.

“Yes,” she says as she closes her laptop. Slipping on her coat, she grabs her bag and follows him out to his truck. He groans when he remembers all of the shit he has in his front seat. Walking around to the passenger side, he yanks open the door and moves tools, trash, papers, and a ton of other garbage to the back seat until he finally clears a spot for her to sit. He then uses his hand as a broom and tries to sweep out the remaining dirt and crud off of the seat as best he can.

Slightly embarrassed at his slobbishness, he steps back and motions with his hand for her to sit. Stepping onto the stainless steel nerf bar, she unsteadily grabs onto the handles and throws herself awkwardly into the seat. Dylan closes the door after her.

He climbs into the truck and backs out of the driveway. “Do you mind?” he asks, glancing at her as he flips on the radio.

“No,” she answers softly.

Keeping his left hand on the wheel, he rests his right on the center console. Unconsciously, his long, slender fingers tap along to the beat of an Aerosmith song that plays in the background.

Dylan takes in a deep breath, readying himself to be a dick if she starts trying to talk to him. He doesn’t talk. To anybody. But the minutes tick by silently. Frowning, he sneaks a curious sideways glance at her, thinking maybe she fell asleep or something, but finds her simply gazing contentedly out of the window. His shoulders relax a little as he leans back into his seat.

Pulling into a parking space, he turns off the truck. “Hang on, I’ll get the door,” he mumbles as he lumbers out of the truck. Making his way around to her side, he notices the wet slippery spots on the pavement.

“It’s slick. Be careful,” he warns her as he opens it. He watches as she struggles to get out of the truck.

They make their way to the kitchen cabinet section of the home improvement store. “Look at the cabinet styles on display here. I’ll go get with a salesperson to set up the dimensions of your kitchen into the computer,” he says before taking off to find someone.

About an hour later after speaking with one of the associates, Dylan goes to find Myra. He dreads this part of his job because it can take hours and hours for someone to pick out shit.

He spies Myra standing in front of some cabinets, chewing on her nails as she stares intently at them. “Find anything?” he asks. “If not, they have more on the computer.”

“I like these,” Myra says as she points to the cabinets in front of her. Dylan nods. They’re a good choice. Classic lines that’ll go perfect with the style of that old house of hers.

“You sure? Remember, you can’t change your mind.” He watches her profile carefully.

“Yeah, I like them.” She reaches her hand out and gently touches the wood with her fingertips.

“Let’s get them ordered.”

The next hour passes quickly. Myra makes quick, confident decisions about what she wants. She chooses the countertops and flooring easily, and Dylan orders the materials that he’ll need. They even manage to select and order all the materials for the bathrooms as well.

* * *

“You wanna grab something to eat?” Dylan asks as he backs of the parking space.

“Sure,” Myra says.

He pulls up to a stoplight and cocks his head sideways at her. “A burger okay?”

She nods.

“You don’t mind eating in the truck, do you?” he asks as he pulls into a drive-thru joint.

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open a little. No way does she want to eat in his truck.

She clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I guess not. I just hope I don’t spill anything.”

“Well, if you do, I’ll never know. My truck is kinda nasty,” he says. She turns her head to look at him, shocked to see a small smirk on his face. Her heart beats faster because she’s never seen anything other than a scowl or a frown on him before. That small smirk lights up his handsome face so much that it leaves her stunned.

Swallowing hard, she quickly scans the menu board, trying to find something healthy she can order. “Know what you want?” he asks.

“A grilled chicken sandwich with water.”

His face turns into a slight frown.

He orders her food and then proceeds to order himself a double bacon cheeseburger, large fries and a chocolate milkshake.

Myra opens her bag and grabs a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet. “Here, I’d like to pay,” she says as she hands him the money.

“Not a chance.” She stares at his stern profile for a moment and decides not to argue with him. Shrugging, she slips the money back into her wallet.

Dylan pulls up to the window and pays. Sliding into a parking spot, he turns the truck off and hands her the chicken sandwich along with some napkins. Peeling back the wrapper on his burger, he places the open bag with the French fries between his legs. He takes a huge bite and then shoves his hand down into the bag to retrieve a fry.

Myra takes small bites of her chicken sandwich, praying that she doesn’t spill anything in his truck or, heaven forbid, all down the front of her coat.

He quickly eats all of his food including his shake before she even gets halfway done with her sandwich. “You done?” he asks. She nods as she folds up the uneaten portion in the wrapper and places it in the bag he offers her as a makeshift trash can.

Reaching for the door handle he murmurs, “I need a smoke.”

Her gaze stays fixed on him as he walks up to the trash can in front of the truck and throws away the bag. He rubs his fingers along his neck, stretching. Grabbing a pack of smokes out of his pocket, he lights one and takes a puff. Her lip curls up at the sight.

He keeps his back to her, occasionally turning to the side so that she can see his profile. Even though she finds his habit filthy and death-inducing, she can’t help but admire his attractive physique.

After tossing the cigarette butt, he climbs back into the truck, the scent of smoke swirling around him. She discreetly puts her hand over her nose.

When Dylan pulls back into her driveway, she picks up her bag as he turns off the truck. “I tracked down your wiring problem,” he tells her. “It’s a bad main breaker. I’ll replace it this afternoon, but I’ll have to shut the power off for a while.”

“No problem,” she says with a nod before she climbs out of his truck.

* * *

Myra looks down at her vibrating phone and grins.

“Hey.”

“Hey, hon. How’s it going? I sure miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Did the men in your life miss you?” Myra asks.

“Yeah, they missed me all right,” Susie says. “They missed their chef, chauffeur, accountant, housekeeper, tutor, sexual needs provider; you get my drift.”

Myra laughs.

“I swear I’m ready to beat their sorry asses. I got home and my house was a damn disaster. Looked like someone threw a grenade in there and ran away laughing. I cannot believe how much filth three males can generate in such a short amount of time. Honest to God, every dish in my kitchen was dirty. Why do men have to be such loathsome swine?”

“Those pigs,” Myra adds with a snicker.

“Then Jeff spilled something – I have no idea what the hell it was – underneath the burner on my stove and instead of taking two seconds to clean it up, he left it there and cooked with that burner the rest of the week, baking that shit right in, that idiot. It took me two hours of scrubbing that kitchen to make it look decent.”

“Oh no.”

“And the smell? God, the smell in that house almost knocked me flat on my fat ass. I know those boneheads had farting contests while I was gone because I found a bunch of bean cans in the trash. And I just know I’m going to find some shitty underwear hidden under the bed or in the couch cushions because someone got a little too competitive and left brown tire tracks in his shorts. And I lie not, if I find one pair of Jeff’s shitty underwear hidden somewhere, I am going to make that man wear them on his head to work. Why couldn’t I have been blessed with girls? My house smelled like stank toe-jam-infested sweaty gym socks, reeking hairy armpits, mixed in with a little back-end of a wart hog.”

Myra laughs hysterically.

“Even though I’m still super pissed at Jeff over the disgrace that is now my house, I will have to give him a little credit. He’s been trying to make it up to me. He bought me some chocolates. Yum.”

“Ah, how sweet.”

“Yeah, but I think the only reason he did it is because he’s a horny bastard, and he knows I have a chocolate addiction. Ever since I got home, I swear I can’t keep that man’s hands out of my pants. His dick…”

“TMI. TMI,” Myra shouts. “God, please stop.”

Susie cackles. “I love annoying you, hon. So is the scruffy Greek god asshole working today? Too bad it’s not the middle of summer because then he’d have to take off his shirt because he’s so hot and sweaty. Or he’d have to wear some cutoff jeans all hung low on his waist with that sexy ass tool belt swinging. Then you’d get to see his…”

“Susie,” Myra yells.

“Sorry. I wish I could control my mouth, but for some reason, it just won’t shut the hell up.” She sighs. “I gotta get off of here. I’ll call you later.”

They say their goodbyes and hang up.

* * *

“Have you been doing the exercises I gave you,
mi querido
?” Elaina asks Dylan as she presses her fingers deep into his neck.