Tastes Like Candy

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Two

Albie

The gritty slide of the sandpaper was soothing as ocean waves. Down the length of the chair leg, and then back up. Firm strokes. Pauses. Examining the texture of the wood, searching for that magic smoothness.

"How do you do this every day?" Tommy asked, shattering the quiet.

Keeping his frown mostly to himself, Albie set down the sandpaper and stepped back, closing one eye and tilting his head to better examine the chair. "It's relaxing. Helps my blood pressure."

"You don't have blood pressure," Tommy said with a snort. "You're a robot."

"A robot who saves your skin on the regular." He waved with his hand. "Get out of my light, I need to see this."

With his usual dramatic production, Tommy huffed over to the chair's finished mate and plopped down into it. The new leather squeaked under his ass and Albie bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from reprimanding him. It was a brand new, ass-print-free chair. You didn't just abuse a piece of furniture like that. But Tommy was his little brother, and he'd almost died, and he was nervous as a cat tonight, so Albie didn't say anything.

"You talked to your sis...niece?" he asked instead, that old "sister" trying to slip its way into the mix.

"Once." Tommy stared at the toes of his boots. "A while back. Phil thinks she'll know I'm here if I talk too much. She'll know I never went away." He lifted a miserable look that tweaked at all of Albie's big brother soft spots.

Albie picked up the sandpaper again. "That's 'cause Phil's afraid she'll be on the first flight back."

The paper chafed the wood, the sound becoming softer as the surface smoothed.

"Would she?"

"You know she would."

Tommy sighed. "But..."

"Come on. She loves you. If she thought you were back here at home, she wouldn't spend another second in Texas."

"Even though she's with Candyman now?" Tommy asked, nose wrinkling in distaste, eyes flashing an even darker concern.

Albie tried not to let his reaction show. Phillip had called to check in on the night's plan about an hour ago, and had relayed the charming news that Candyman Snow was "respectfully" shagging Michelle. His initial response had been one of intense anger, which he'd vented by turning chair legs. Now he was on to the reluctant facing of facts part of the process. They'd driven her to this, he kept thinking, and it was a kick in the gut. They'd sent her away, and she was homesick, lonely, worried for Tommy, and bereft of her family. It was only human, reaching out for a little physical connection and comfort. Candy was big, and blonde, and charming, and handsome, if Albie was being objective – it wasn't the craziest thing he'd heard, Michelle taking up with him.

But he didn't have to like it. He was her uncle, after all.

"Well?" Tommy prompted.

"I'm not seeing it with my own eyes, am I?" he said. "So I've got no idea what she really thinks about the man. Phil said they're together. That's all I've got to go on."

"That was a shit answer."

"It's the only answer I've got. What about you? Do you see her settling down in Texas? Long term? Someone's old lady?"