Chapter Three

Joe

 

As we walk away from Izzy’s house, Matt mumbles under his breath, “That was soooooo strange. I wonder why she’s such a scaredy-cat?”

“She was jumpy, that’s for sure, and did you notice how she stood back so we couldn’t get a good look at her?”

“Yeah.” Matt pokes me in my side.  “Maybe she’s really a movie star or something, you know, hiding out from the paparazzi.”

“God, you and your crazy ideas. There are many things she could be other than a celebrity.”

“Maybe she’s wanted by the FBI?”

“FBI?” By then, we’d reached the truck. “Stop being an idiot. I’m sure it’s something completely innocent and boring.” I take off dad’s work belt and put it in the dented toolbox inside the tail bed.

With a huff and a push to my shoulder, Matt adds, “I wish I could have seen her face.”

I smirk at him over my shoulder. “I saw part of it.”  She looked pretty, but damn, I’m not telling him that.

“Really? When did you see her face?””

“When I reached for the door handle. She was moving backward, but I still got a quick glance.”

“What does she look like”

“Her skin looked smooth, no wrinkles.  And she has long blonde hair.” And a pixie- like chin and mouth. Pretty and definitely not old.

Matt chuckles. “Wow… I bet she’s beautiful. You have the magic touch, brother. A mysterious, blonde movie star living right next door.”  

“You’re crazy.”

“And she’s letting you use her driveway for free.” Matt says doing the eyebrow thing.

“Just shows she’s a nice person.”

Matt walks backward toward the passenger side door as he talks. “No, she thinks you’re hot and hunky and wants a piece of that.” He laughs and points at my junk.

“You’re such an ass.” I chase after him, grab him around the neck lowering his head into position for a well-deserved noogie. “Hot and hunky, huh.”

“Ow.” He rubs the top of his head as he whines, “I’m telling Mom.”

“Go ahead, tell Mom. She loves me the most anyway.” I throw back at him as I move out of his line of fire.  

 Mom.  She used to favor me. But now that I’ve been gone all those years, she treats me like visiting company, with kid gloves and her for- holidays -only dishware.

Before I can sink into a full ‘Woe- is -Me moment’, Matt moves in with an attack of his own. He grabs my hair and tweaks my ear. “You overgrown pissant.”

“Buffoon boy,” I growl and kick him in the ass.

Matt laughs, pulls me in close and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Bro, I’ll calling Uncle before we end up rolling on the grass.” His face softens and his eyes mist over. “I’m glad you’re home.”  

“Me, too, little brother. Me too.”