This first chapter is dedicated to sadebleu , who knows I've been working on this story for a while. Thank you for always making time to review the rough drafts I send your way, even when they come unexpectedly. Love you! 💗 Xoxoxoxo.
Nineteen Eighty
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Michael was caught off guard when he opened the door to find his brother Marlon standing there, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a large bag of honey barbecue chips tucked under his arm. Before Michael could even form his lips to speak, Marlon brushed past him, barely acknowledging his presence as he crossed the threshold with a slight bump to his shoulder. "Well, hello to you too," Michael murmured as he gently shut the front of his door, locking the steel attachment. He turned around just in time to see Marlon heading towards his kitchen.
"Mike the Rams Vs the Texans are about to play. Turn it on for me will ya."
"Marlon, why didn't you call to let me know you were coming? I might not have been home," Michael said, following his brother's footsteps to the kitchen, where Marlon was rummaging through the cupboards before pulling out a large silver mixing bowl.
"It's a Friday night, Michael. We both know you stay cooped up here like a caged hen once the workweek is over," Marlon said, emptying the bag of chips into the mixing bowl. "That's not the point, Marlon—" Michael began. The loud, intrusive crunch of chips abruptly silenced Michael mid-sentence.
"I know you don't drink but would you happen to have a bottle opener around by any chance?"
Suspiring a low breath, Michael internally decided that it was no point in expressing his dissatisfaction with Marlon's unexpected appearance.
"Look in the drawer behind you," Michael instructed.
Marlon licked the sweet honey barbecue seasoning from his fingertips, then casually brushed the remaining crumbs onto Michael's spotless floor."For a guy who's single as a dollar bill, you keep this place tidy as if you had a girl."
Within ten minutes of Marlon's arrival, Michael stood back and watched his brother effortlessly turn the kitchen into a mess. His mind drifted to his wife, Carol, and he wondered how she tolerated Marlon's disheveled habits, knowing he didn't contribute to any of the domestic duties.
"I'm not a child, Marlon. I don't need a woman to clean up after me like I'm some kind of helpless kid," Michael retorted, his pointed words sailing over his brother's head.
Marlon, oblivious, used the bottle opener to pop the cap off his beer and took a long swig.
"Hell, with how clean you keep this place, a woman could pick up some domestic skills from you," Marlon joked, grabbing a handful of honey barbecue chips and shoving them into his mouth. He then picked up the mixing bowl from the kitchen island, grabbed his beer, and casually strolled into the living room. Michael followed.
