A House of Men Ch. 06

A warm, rather large form settles over me the next morning, drawing me from my dreams. I open my eyes as warm skin touches my forehead. All I am able to see is a pair of gleaming green eyes filled with laughter and mischief.

"Ty, what on earth are you doing?"

"Doing? I'm not doing anything."

"You are laying on me. Why?"

"It's time to get up, Angel. Our restaurant beckons."

"Oh, great. I have another Mark on my hands. Angel, indeed."

"Sorry, Holly. It's just that the loan officer has agreed to see us bright and early this morning. In half an hour, even. It brings us this much closer to opening day."

"Oh, Ty, I have to work at nine thirty. Why didn't you talk about this with me before you made a commitment? And will you please get off me?"

"But, can't you go in late? This is our future we are talking about here. If we don't show up, they might think we aren't reliable enough to give a loan to."

"I'm sure I can this time, but how many more times are you going to do this to me? I have to keep working until we get off our feet. I can't just take off any time I want. Again, why didn't you ask me first?"

"Well, I didn't think it would be a problem. That, and I didn't want to wake you until I absolutely had to. I thought you might hit me."

"You did this this morning?"

"Yup."

"Fine. What time is it?"

"Eight."

"Let me shower and call my boss and we can go." Men. Ug. Would it have been so hard for him to discuss this with me first? It would have required waking me up fifteen minutes earlier than he had. I would not have hit him over seven forty-five in the morning. Four in the morning, possibly, but not seven forty-five. And here I thought Ty was actually beyond adolescence.

Forty minutes later, I walk out into the living room squeaky clean and ready to tackle a loan officer. But first, I have to tackle the sprawling bodies all over the living room.

"Jay, get down here!"

"Why me, Holly?"

"Now, Jay!"

He comes grumbling down the stairs, rubbing his stomach and eyes simultaneously. I know he is the one behind this mess, so he is going to clean it up.

"What do you want, Miss I-yell-a-lot?"

"Oh, come off it, Jay. Who are all these people?"

"Friends of Louisa's. Oh, four of them are her brothers."

"Please get rid of them. We just got this house clean. We don't need all these extras messing it up again."

"Holly, I can't throw them out. I don't know any of them."

Frustration. Exasperation. The uncontrollable need to yell at the brother who brings fifteen strangers home. The need to storm out or strangle the next person who gives me bad news. All these emotions are swelling within me as I glare at Jay.

"So make Louisa throw them out."

"What makes you think Louisa is still here?"

"What do you think I am, stupid? If she was here when I went to bed last night after midnight, she is still here now. And she was, and she is. You have one hour to clear out this mess, got it, Jay, or . . ."

"Come on, Holly. We need to go. Jay will make sure these people are gone, right, man?"

"Sure thing, Ty. Bye, Holly."

I haul my fatigued body through my front door at exactly five-thirty that evening with just enough time to hop in the shower and run out the door to class. It has been one hell of a day. The loan officer, Mr. Faraday, was ruthless. He went over our business plan with a fine-toothed comb. The man picked out every tiny detail, asked us a hundred questions about each one, and told us exactly where we had gone wrong. After two hours of sitting in hard plastic visitors' chairs, Mr. Faraday smiled and stamped approved on our loan papers. We got the loan. Relief flowed through my body for about two seconds then off to work I went.

Work was grueling too. My boss gave me the cold shoulder for calling in twice so closely together. The bitch I work with, Sherry, was almost unbearable because she had to come in for me instead of having her hair done. We had the customers from hell darkening the boutique doorstep from noon on. It is the worst day I have had at work yet. I am more than ready to quit so I can devote all my attention to the restaurant. Unfortunately, until the restaurant gets off the ground a bit, I can't risk that.

"Holly, dear sister, is that you?"

"Yes. What's up, Rob?"

"Have you got a minute?"

"One."

"What's for dinner?"

"What's for dinner? How am I supposed to know? I just got home and I have class in half an hour. You're going to have to fend for yourself tonight."

"Ty said you were going to test some of your recipes for the restaurant out on us tonight."

"He did, did he? He's two for two today."

"What?"

"Listen, Rob, there are eighty-million hot pockets and pot pies in the basement deepfreeze. Why don't you cook tonight? I promise tomorrow that I'll make the best dinner you guys have had in a long time. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. I have to get in the shower and head to class. Will you please kill Mark if he comes anywhere near my bathroom before I leave?"

"Sure thing, sister dear."

His wink and smile was enough to make me laugh. I head off to the shower in higher spirits that I have been all day long, including the great news at the bank. Twenty minutes later, I am on my way again to the smell of what has to be seven or so potpies.

Class, to my immense relief, lets out after only an hour. Before I know it, I am standing in the foyer kicking off my evil heels when a herd of noisy elephant-men burst through the door, hoist me up onto their shoulders and barrel up the stairs. It is a hypnotizing feeling of flying mixed with the dread of certain death. Lord, let me live through this one.

"PUT ME DOWN!"

"If we do, we'll have to drop you. Momentum, you know."

"Mark, why? Is there any conceivable reason for me to be flying through the air atop the shoulders of ten men? AND WATCH MY HEAD!"

The next thing I know, I am looking up into the worried blue-black eyes of Mark. He isn't very good at paying attention to low ceilings.

"Oooooh, geez. Am I dead yet?"

"Not yet, Holly."

"Well, I might as well be. What's that ringing noise?"

"Um, I don't hear any ringing, Holly. Are you okay?"

"Why did you do this to me, Mark? What did I ever do to you to warrant this? And why are you backing away from me? Come back here!"

"I'm not moving."

"Mark . . ."

Again with the waking up and seeing Mark. Of course, this time I am also surrounded by sterile smells, white walls, beeping machines, doctors and the claustrophobic feeling I get when inside a hospital. What is happening here?

"Mark? Why, where, what?"

"It's okay, honey. When you blacked out again, we thought maybe we should bring you to the hospital."

"And?"

"Concussion. I owe you big time."

"Yes, you do. Now, will you please explain to me why?"

"We didn't mean to get you involved. It was our annual poker tournament. When we plowed through the door and you were bent over taking your shoes off, it was trample you or pick you up. We picked you up. I wish I would have thought about that low ceiling on the second floor though."

"So do I. When can I go home?"

"As soon as the doctor comes. He should be here soon."

Thanks to Mark and his poker-playing buddies, I find myself cocooned in my bed by nine o'clock at the end of a hellish day. Sleep is definitely welcome, but so elusive until my pain pills kick in. Right now, my head feels like it's going to explode. That, and I can't go to work tomorrow. Doctor's orders. Come sleep, come . . .

* * * * *

Ten o'clock comes and I find myself still in bed, waking groggily, slowly, painfully. My head throbs and the first thing that pops into mind is that I am late for work. Jumping out of bed makes the world swing and my derrière connect quite loudly with the floor. The noise and the impolite word that lurches from my mouth bring a stampede running to my door. I duck and cover to avoid being trampled.

"Sis, are you okay?"

"What happened, Holly?"

"Fuck, Holly, what did you do?"

"One question at a time, please, guys. I'm fine, Jay, just a little woozy. Ty, I'm late for work, I jumped out of bed and hit the floor. Carlos, don't say that. I just moved too quickly for my throbbing head."

"You aren't going to work today. I called Mr. Handler earlier and told him you couldn't come in. Doctor's orders. I even took the note down to him myself. As for you, back into bed you go."

I stare up at Mark as he scoops me up and deposits me back into the all-white bedding. I hadn't even heard him come in with the other three talking at my boggled mind. I gratefully sink down under the covers and curl up as Mark ushers the others out. I realize that he feels guilty for putting me in this position, but why is he making such a fuss?

"Mark? I know I'm the one who got bashed on the noggin, so what's up? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. I just feel bad about all this. You need your sleep."

"Um, Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"You can stop worrying. I'm fine. You didn't do any real harm."

"But . . ."

I smile and gently shoo him out of the room. I'm tired of being babied. After a few more hours of sleep, I will be good as new.