3 comments/ 29954 views/ 1 favorites A House of Men By: kassandral “Carlos, turn that down!’ “Ah, but Holly, the Falcons are getting ready to score.” My grades are more important than that damn football game. Turn it down before I come do it for you.” “Holly . . .” “Don’t push me, man, I’m not joking.” “Fine.” “Thanks.” Silence is the only reply I get, and I sigh. I hate being the ogre of the house, but living with five men definitely puts a strain on my patience and study time. If it’s not a football game, it’s an impromptu hockey match in socks on the kitchen floor or a pack of guys drinking beer like water. And I can forget sleeping much at night. Joe sleeps on the couch and must leave the TV on to drown out the sounds of Mark and his buddies playing poker all night. Carlos snores so loud sometimes that the walls quiver in fear, and my twin brothers spend the night sleep talking to each other. No matter what night of the week it is, there is usually someone passed out in my bathtub from the beer drinking that goes on all day, so peeing just isn’t an option at night. Don’t get me wrong, I love the guys, but really, living with them is sometimes more than I can handle. “Holly!” “What, Mark?” “Where are my underwear?” “How should I know, I don’t wear them.” “Yeah, but I thought you washed them.” “I don’t do your laundry, Mark, and you know it.” “I know, but I kind of threw them in with your clothes last night, and now I can’t find them. Have you seen ‘em?” “No.” “Can I look for them?” “Yeah, but if you mess my drawers up in the process . . .” “I won’t, I won’t. I remember last time, Holly.” Now I feel bad. Yelling at two of my roommates within twenty minutes of each other is horrible, but what can I do? My bedroom is the only place in this rambling old house I can hope to find peace and privacy. It’s also the only clean room in the house. The kitchen is barely healthy for keeping food, and the living room is covered with food wrappers, dishes, beer cans, and Joe’s dirty clothes. Oh, and did I mention the many unknown males I find passed out there from the night before? My bathroom is the only one of the three that is worth using, and the only one with a toilet seat. I avoid the four other bedrooms at all costs; you never know what’s in there that’s going to eat you alive or drench you in foul odors. “Rob, what the hell are you doing?” “Nothing, Jay, just looking for more beer.” “You drank it all last night, dunderhead.” “No I didn’t, I wasn’t even here last night.” “Yeah you were.” “No I wasn’t, I was at Mary’s giving her the ride of her life. Man, you should hear her squeal when I . . .” “Rob!” “What, Holly?” “Please! I don’t want to know what you did to Mary.” “I wasn’t talking to you, so . . .” “I don’t really care. Take it elsewhere, alright?” “Only if you tell me what you did with the beer.” “Why would I do anything with your beer?” “Well, we know you covet our little front room fridge, so surely you hid the beer to get at it.” “Jay, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You’re acting like a five year old.” “No, I’m not.” “Listen, if you go look in the fridge in Mark’s room, I’m sure there’s plenty there.” “We don’t drink Michelob Light, only Corona.” “So go buy some. It’s not like it would hurt you to actually go to the store for once.” “Where is that again?” “Rob . . .” “Okay, okay, we’re going. Oh, can we borrow your car?” “Out. Now.” “Is that a no?” “If I hear one more word from either of you, I’m, I’m, I’m . . .” “We’re definitely leaving. Bye sis.” “Hmp.” It is so hard living in a house with shopping impaired men. Especially lazy shopping impaired men. Thus the fridge in almost every room in the house. Not one of the guys seems to be capable of getting his butt out of his chair or off his bed long enough to grab a beer from the kitchen fridge. Stocking those fridges is a total nightmare. Do you have any idea what it costs to stock six mini fridges and one full size one with four different kinds of beer? It’s not a pretty sight, I promise. Food is also a hard task. Carlos is lactose intolerant, Joe lives solely on ice cold Spaghetti O’s and cottage cheese, the twins are allergic to nuts, strawberries, pork and chicken, Mark is excessively picky, and I can’t stand the thought of ketchup or salad dressing. A varied, pain in the ass diet is not only a problem in its own right, but is very hard to fit around the Budweiser, Michelob Light, Corona and some German import beer that smells like a dead skunk. “Sadie . . .” “My name is Holly, Joe.” “Hey, I knew that.” “Sure you did. Do you need something?” “Naw, just trying to get a peek at your boobs is all.” “I’m doing my homework, Joe, not a floorshow.” “I know, but you know, sometimes I like to do my homework naked, so I thought maybe you did too.” “How much have you had to drink today?” “All the beer in the front room fridge and a couple from the basement bathroom one.” So that’s were Rob’s beer went. “Jeez, Joe, it’s only two o’clock.” “I know, but I have a meeting with my custody hearing at five thirty, so I had to do my drinking this morning.” “I don’t think you’re going to be sober for the meeting, Joe.” Joe didn’t hear me. Instead, he is a large snoring heap in my doorway. I feel sorry for him. Of all the guys, he is the least likely to drink, but when these hearings come up, he gets so worried he’ll be denied custody that he can’t help but get snockered. He goes to the hearing still drunk, and what do you know, they turn him down. Again. Poor guy. Danielle is such a sweet little girl; I wish he could get it together so he could see her more, but I don’t think its going to happen anytime soon. The one time of peace in the entire house is around three o’clock in the afternoon. Everyone is usually passed out around then. I look around and see five sleeping men: Carlos, who shakes the walls with the remote in hand; Mark, just down the hall with his underwear bunched under his head; the twins, Jay and Rob, with their precious Corona resting between them; and Joe, who is still peacefully racked out in my doorway. I am just settling in to finally get my homework done when what do ya know, the doorbell rings. Sigh. “Can I help you?” “Are you Holly Luxembourge?” “Yes.” “I have a delivery for you. I must warn you though, lady, that this has got to be the strangest delivery I’ve ever made.” “I can imagine.” “Here ya go.” “Thanks.” I close the door and open the box. Inside is a small daisy bouquet surrounded by a Budweiser, a Michelob Light, two Coronas, and a bottle of the German import stuff. I burst out laughing as I am reminded why I am a woman living with five men. It’s never boring. A House of Men Ch. 02 Before I go any further, maybe I should explain a little more about the life I am currently living. I am a college student, a workhorse, the oldest of eight children, and mother to the five men I live with, two of whom are my twin brothers Jay and Rob. Carlos, Joe, and Mark make up the rest of the household. I bitch, I nag, I stock the fridge, I give them total hell, and I couldn't possibly imagine living without even one of them. I moved in about six months ago when the rent on my current apartment went too high for my meager salary. "Jay, what am I going to do? I can't afford my place anymore, old man Reiley raised the rent again, and I have a year and a half of school left." "Holly, Holly, Holly, you know you are always welcome to stay with us. You know that! Matter of fact, Eric just moved out, something about England and photography or art or whatever, so we have an opening. And since Carlos inherited that monstrosity from his Granny last year, it's rent-free. It'll be loads of fun." "I don't know, Jay. It seems like a mad house, what with four or five guys living there. I'm not sure it would be the best place." "Aw, come on, we'll be good. We do our own laundry, and you get your own room and bathroom. We'll even try to not be total pigs. It won't be bad, I promise." * * * * * For the first few weeks, it wasn't bad. It really wasn't. I was able to study in peace. There was no foot traffic, no grime, and the laundry actually got done in a reasonable amount of time. Then I got too comfortable, and a little bored. I roamed, I did laundry that wasn't mine, hell, I even stocked every fridge in the house. That's when all went down the tubes and true colors were revealed. Burps, grunts, sock hockey, the loss of toilet seats . . . you name it, it probably happened. Men multiplied rapidly, and the phones rang off the hook. Mark became a hot commodity with the ladies, and sports provided constant background noise. This brings us back to the present. * * * * * "Holly! Holly, baby, where are you?" "Mark, if you call me baby one more time, so help me . . ." "But, Holly, you are my baby. I love you to no end." "What do you want, Sugar Bunny?" "Sugar Bunny? You did not just call me Sugar Bunny." I can hear his buddies snickering in the background, and have to hold back my own laughter. "Well, since I am your baby, I figured you must be my Sugar Bunny." "Ah, Holly . . ." "What do you want, Mark?" "A little TLC?" "Dammit, Mark!" "Um, well, we're out of frozen pizza, and I don't have any clean clothes." "So go put your clothes in the washer, add soap, turn on the machine and go get more pizza from the store." "But, Holly . . ." "No buts, Mark, I'm not your mother." "Shit!" "Mark, just go, now!" "Fine." Now my head hurts and, despite what I said, I do feel like his mother right now, with all the yelling and reprimands. I also feel like apologizing. Unfortunately, that would only make matters worse. Mark jumps on the slightest sign of weakness and saps it for all he's worth. I would be doing all his laundry and shopping in no time. It's not as if the others are any better though. If I didn't already do most of the shopping, either we'd all starve or they would eat all my food. The only redeeming point these five overgrown boys have is that they do pay for all the groceries. I don't pay for any of it, so I can't complain too much. * * * * * I wake early the next morning to a large hulking teddy bear of a man bearing the name of Joe. He is towering over my bed, his big blue eyes mournfully eyeing me as I drift along in dreamland. I suddenly jerk awake as he shifts his weight and bumps into the bed with some force. "Joe, what the . . . Oh, Joe, what's wrong?" "Macy . . . Macy, she's moving to Georgia, Holly, and she's . . . she's . . . she's . . ." "She's taking Danielle with her?" "Uh-huh." "Oh, Joe, I'm so sorry." "She still won't let me have any custody, Holly. I won't get to see Danielle at all if I don't go all the way down there. Can't you do something? I have one more hearing before they go; maybe you could come tell the judge something . . ." "Joe, we've tried that. They want a social worker to visit the house and you know what happened last time she came by. The place is a hellhole as far as a social worker and a four-year-old little girl are concerned. We don't even have toilet seats for goodness sakes. If you can get the house cleaned up and not do the whole nervous drinking thing before the hearing or the visit, maybe you'll have a chance." "Will you help me, Holly?" "Of course, and so will the guys, even if I have to threaten the integrity of the mini-fridges. Oh, and Joe, you do realize that if Danielle does get to come stay, you have to sleep in your room, not on the couch, don't you?" "Yeah." "Great. Can I go back to sleep now?" "Sure, Holly. Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Sigh. What I do to deserve so much love is beyond me, but I am more than willing to help Joe get partial custody of Danielle. She shouldn't have to grow up without a father if he is willing to make the sacrifices necessary to take care of a little girl. Not to mention that I will actually have a clean house, if only for a few days. All will go well, I am sure, and Joe will be all the much happier for it. Awhile later a tremendous crash from the vicinity of the kitchen wakes me. "Now what?" "Um, it's okay, Holly, we have everything under control. Go back to sleep." That is the worse news I have received in awhile. When the guys "have things under control," all hell is bound to break lose. I am out of bed and in the kitchen within seconds of Rob's oh, so reassuring words. "Ooo, Holly, love the nighty." "Shut up, Mark. What's going on in here?" "Well . . . things get slippery when wet, ya know, and well, the dishes were wet and I kinda dropped them." "Oh, Rob, that's it? A few broken dishes isn't a big deal. And since when do you do dishes?" "We were trying to help Joe. And, um, Holly, it wasn't just a few dishes. It was almost all of them." "What were you doing to break all the dishes?" "Well, I stacked them in a trash bag so I could go wash them in the bathtub. There's a lot more room there than in the sink and . . ." "Why didn't you use the dishwasher?" "I couldn't find the soap. And it would've taken too long." "Geez, Rob, you could've waited until I woke up. Or asked Carlos. He knows where it is." "I know, I just wanted to give it a try my way." "Yeah, okay. That's understandable. But now you have to go get more dishes. Preferably heavy duty ones." "Alright. Do I have to wash the new ones?" "Yup. When you get back, I'll show you where we keep the soap." "Okay. Come on, Jay, let's go." Ah, clean-up. Something I do daily, although you couldn't tell by looking. We have a broom, a mop, a vacuum, and a ton of cleaning supplies, but somewhere along the way, the male species seems to have lost all ability to use any of them. Or maybe its just my boys. Either way, I now have a major chore in front of me. Twelve place settings of broken glass. Oh, the joys of being the woman of the house. "Carlos, have you seen the broom?" "Why would I have seen the broom?" "Well, since your room contains the broom closet, I thought maybe you had seen it sometime since you moved in." "I haven't seen it, Holly, I'm sorry." Groan. "Okay. Either of you other two seen it lately?" "Nope." "Nadda." "I know none of you actually used it, so were could it have gone to?" "Jacey, when she was here last week, tried to clean my room. She had the broom. Think maybe it's in there?" "Wouldn't you have noticed it, Mark?" "Holly, my sweet, have you ever been in my room before?" "No." "Have you ever even looked inside it?" "Honestly, I've been afraid." "Well, if you had, you would know why I wouldn't have run across it." "Go get it for me, would ya?" "Naw. If you haven't been in my room yet, then it's time. Come with me." "Promise not to molest me?" "Of course." "Alright then, lets go." To tell you the truth, the prospect of Mark's room has always scared me a little. My imagination runs wild when I think about it. I see naked women, women's undergarments that have been left behind, Mark's dirty clothes all over, old food, trash, poker chips, absolutely not a clean spot in the room. Even when I go after Mark's beer, I give it to him to stock his own fridge. His unawareness of the possible existence of the broom confirms all my suspicions. "Welcome to my domain, my beautiful Holly, and know that you are the first blonde woman to ever enter my room." "Oh, goody. Um, Mark, isn't this room a little clean to be hiding a broom?" "You haven't seen the closet yet. That's where it would be. Would you care to tour the bed before we explore the closet? It would be the ride of your life. And I would let you ride." "I'm sure you would. Let's skip straight to the closet, shall we?" "Whatever the lady desires. Right this way, madam." "Geez, Mark, make me feel old why don't you?" "Ah, Holly, you're not old. You're just beautiful." "Grr." "Anyway, welcome to my closet." "Oh, man, I can see how you can lose a broom in there. It looks like it's at least as big as my bathroom." "It is. It took several rounds of poker to win this room, let me tell ya." "I'll bet." "Well, have at it." "Have at what?" "Finding the broom." "Ah, how about no? You find it. I'm not going in there." "Why?" "Why? Look at it. It's dirtier than the entire house. Something might jump out and bite me, and I have to work tomorrow. You don't. You get bit." Mark is laughing as he dives into the closet in search of the renegade broom. I am shocked at the state of Mark's actual bedroom. It's almost clean. There is a card table leaning against the antique wooden footboard of his bed, a set of poker chips and cards on the heavy wooden dresser. A pile of clothes is next to the closet door and the king-size bed takes up half the room; surprisingly; not one piece of women's clothing is present. Behind the door leading to the hallway is a stack of five folding chairs. Tucked under a bedside table is the prized mini-fridge. Naked women did decorate the wall, along with Metallica, Ozzy Osbourne and a bunch of other bands I don't recognize. Looking up at the ceiling, I am most shocked to see a mural in blues, greens and whites in an abstract pattern. "Ah ha. I found it. And the dustpan even." "Mark, I must say I am impressed. You have a trashcan, you actually use it, and there are no underwear, other than your own, anywhere in sight." "Oh, Holly, my baby, don't tell me you have no faith in me. Did I not tell you I am a clean man? I am. Both sexually and physically." "I am not your baby, and I'm sorry I doubted you, but look at the rest of this house. You can't tell me you don't have a bit of a messy person in there to be able to ignore . . ." "FUCK!" "Carlos? What is it?" I find myself running towards the kitchen, wondering what possibly could have gone wrong this time around. I can tell Mark is right behind me, racing toward the finish with broom in hand, ready to deal with whatever we find awaiting us. I hope that only more dishes got broke or something along those lines. I really don't need another crisis right at this point. "Shit, Holly, why didn't you tell me there was broken glass on the kitchen floor?" "Carlos, Rob just broke a ton of dishes in there and I couldn't find the broom to sweep it up. As a matter of fact, we were looking for it. What possibly would have made you think that all the glass would magically disappear from the floor?" "I don't know, things like this usually don't stay around that long. I just didn't think, I guess." "Yeah, well, dig the glass out yourself, clean the floor up yourself, help Rob and Jay with the dishes so this doesn't happen again, and THINK sometimes! I'm out of here." A House of Men Ch. 03 My alarm is a grating disturbance the next morning. I hadn’t come home until well after midnight the night before, so now I am running solely on four hours of sleep. I guess it’s the price of running off angrily due to a build-up of stress. I run to the bathroom, and who should I find in my shower but Mark, the horny little poker player. “Mark, what the hell?” “All the rest of the showers are full.” “Great, no hot water. Didn’t you have to go through my room while I was asleep to get in here?” “Sure did, Sweetheart, and may I say, you are beautiful when you sleep.” “You are such a flirt. Get out!” “Okay, Honey. Whatever you say.” I avert my eyes as he steps out of the shower fully lathered and fully nude. His hair is sticking up all over the place and a big grin is plastered across his face. “I take it back. Get back in there, rinse, and then get out. And use a towel for goodness sake.” “Yes, madam.” I stick out my tongue at him then go back to my room to wait my turn. I know I’m not going to get a shower, there is no hot water, but I need to at least make myself look presentable for work. I look up a few minutes later to see Mark stroll out of the bathroom followed by a billowing cloud of steam. He is using a towel, all right, but only on his hair, so he is still buck-naked. What a way to start the day. “Holly, where have you been?” “At work, Carlos. Where have you been?” “Here, where I always am.” “Same here." “Well, after your tantrum yesterday, I just didn’t expect to see you anywhere you’re supposed to be anymore.” “Carlos, look, I’m sorry. I was all worked up yesterday. I admit that I was a bitch and had no reason to take my foul mood out on you. Although you better watch what you refer to, buddy. I’m not one of your girls that you can expect to be cleaning house and cooking for her men every hour of the day.” “Yeah, I know, I’m just not used to broads yelling at me. Or having to do anything for myself. My ma did everything for me.” “Understood, as long as you understand that I’m not going to.” “Truce?” “Truce.” That’s the thing about Carlos. He can be a real sweetheart, but, unfortunately, he is spoiled rotten. The house from Granny, the hand-and-foot treatment from mom and any girl he can find to tolerate that attitude, the constant handouts from dad, all have rendered him incapable for taking care of himself. Don’t get me wrong, he’s really not a nuisance and the laundry service down the street certainly appreciates his patronage, he’s just not very flexible with this habits or mind-sets. That’s what led to yesterday’s scene in the kitchen. Sometimes I forget to work around him. If I hold strong and refuse, then life becomes a living hell of battles. In this one instance, and as long as he doesn’t start demanding I do his laundry, I am more than willing to give in. It maintains my peace of mind. “You bastard!” “You calling me a bastard?” “Yeah, I am.” “You mother . . .” “Jay, what the hell is your problem? And you, Rob?” “He’s a bastard!” “And he’s a mother . . .” “Okay, okay, I get the point. Watch the language, by the way. What’s the problem now?” “Did you know that that bastard has been fu . . .” “Language!” “. . .cking Louisa!” “No, I did not. And who is Louisa?” “My girlfriend!” “No she’s not, she mine!” “Mine!” “Mine!” “Boys, boys, are we two again? Who was she with first?” “ME!” “ME!” “Who does she say is first?” “What do you mean, who does she say is first? Like she knows she’s screwing both of us.” “Seriously, Rob?” “Seriously.” “Then you both are bastards. Or at least con artists. What were you thinking, scamming a poor girl like that?” “Well, Jay and I decided that if she is dumb enough not to be able to tell us apart, then she deserves whatever we give her.” “Then why the hell are you arguing about who she belongs to?” “Because, um . . .” “And what if she knows about the game you’re playing and is playing you against each other?” “Naw, she’s an airhead. As long as she’s got a man planted between her thighs, she wouldn’t notice if Joe and I were changing places on her.” “I give up. Figure it out yourselves. Just be quiet and watch the swear words, please.” “But, Holly . . .” “Nope. You’re on your own.” My brothers got the best genes when it comes to looks. Women follow them all over the place. Mark claims to be the ladies man of the bunch, but he’s a user and he has charm most men only wish they had. My brothers, on the other hand, are like bees to honey, and if they stumble across a girl that isn’t just boobs, they treat her very well. Of course, they were also born with the burning desire to swap places every now and then. Many times, they pull it off flawlessly. Sometimes even I have to take a second look to see the difference, so it’s no surprise that they pull this with gullible women. The funniest part about that is while they have the normal sibling spats, the only time they truly fight is over a girl they have both been conning. After a long day at work, I am finally able to get my shower. I love the relaxing powers of the pounding hot water on my tense muscles. Half an hour later, when I step out of the tub, all the tension has melted away and slid down the drain with the grime and soapsuds. Now it is time to start tackling the house. Joe’s hearing is in two days, and if things go as they did last time, we only have five days to scrub and childproof this two-story-and-a-basement monstrosity. “Hey, how many of you guys are home?” “We are!” “Me!” “Me!” “Okay, names would be good!” “Joe!” “Carlos!” “Rob!” “Mark!” “Everyone in the front room then, please.” As all the boys emerge from various locations throughout the house, I realize my throat is slightly sore from all the yelling. It takes a lot of lungpower to make myself heard throughout the house. Then I see who is gathering and realize it was well worth it. Not only do I have Joe, Rob, Carlos and Mark, I have Ty, Lucas, Carter, Richie, and Adella. Ah, I love Mark’s poker games. That drew the extra guys. Adella, on the other hand, was drawn to Mark. Now, if we only had Jay . . . “Does anybody know what happened to Jay?” “Yeah, he went to say goodbye to Louisa for us, if you know what I mean.” “I think I have a vague idea, Rob.” “He’ll be gone for awhile.” “Fine. Are you all up to giving Joe an hand and whipping this place into shape?” “Now?” “Yes, now, Joe. This is for you you know.” “Yeah, but . . .” “With ten of us, today’s work will go quickly and you all can go back to what you were doing before. Deal?” “Sure.” “Okay.” “Where should we begin?” Wow. Soliciting help was too easy. I wonder what’s up? Hopefully, they want to help Joe out and took me seriously when I said the work would go quickly. Now where to start? Assigning tasks is a chore in itself . . . “Well, since I know you all adore it so much, I’ll do the kitchen and two of the bathrooms. Who wants to help me?” “The kitchen, Holly?” “The bathrooms?” “That’s a lot of nasty work, Holly.” “If it wasn’t for you guys it wouldn’t be so bad.” “I’ll help you, Holly.” “Thanks, Ty. Now, everyone needs to do his own room, and since you and Jay are sharing the upstairs rec. room in place of a bedroom, Rob, you two get the upstairs bathroom. You know the one I’m talking about. Adella, please help Joe with the main living room in the basement. Carlos, you and Richie can have this front room. Mark, Carter and Lucas, can deal with the den and the porch.” “But, Holly, Jay isn’t here.” “Why is Adella with Joe, and why do we get the den and the porch?” “Holly, this is going to take forever.” “Holly . . .” “You all agreed to help. Now, please, the sooner we start, the quicker we finish. Do the team rooms today, well, as much of them as you can, and if you need anything, come find me. No stupid questions, though, because I know all of you, except for maybe Carlos, knows how to clean. Thank you again for the help, I know Joe appreciates it, and if you will all reconvene here in three hours, I will even cook dinner for you.” I head off to the kitchen with Ty feeling good about this project. All seem willing to pitch in with only token protests. Now, if all will go smoothly and we can convince our extra helpers to come back tomorrow with the lure of food, it should be pretty simple. I hope. Don’t want to jinx it though. It is, after all, too good to be true. As I walk into the kitchen I reevaluate my use of the word simple. There is nothing simple about whipping this kitchen into shape. Despite the dishes fiasco yesterday, it looks like all the dishes are already dirty. The dishwasher is overflowing with dirty cups and a few beer bottles that I am sure Jay thinks he needs to keep. The tile floor is dark gray, but since it were white last time I mopped, I am assuming that the floor is layered with dirt along with grease from the deep fryer in the corner. It and the microwave are the most popular forms of cooking in this house, and are both coated in slime and old food particles. The grease in the fryer badly needs changed. Everything is buried under grime. The stove is probably the best off because it is basically only used for frozen pizzas and TV dinners, but even it needs some help. Thank goodness for self-cleaning ovens. “Ty, are you ready for this?” “Sure.” “Cool. What part do you want, the dishes or the appliances?” “Um, not the dishes.” “Okay, I’ll do that if you will get the fryer, microwave, toaster, stove and all but this countertop. Oh, and the cabinet fronts if you get the chance. The cleaning supplies are under the sink.” “You want me to take the trash out too?” “That would be great. Thanks.” “Don’t mention it.” We both roll our sleeves up and get to work. My first order of business is to rearrange the dishes in the dishwasher and toss out the bottles. I know that Jay will throw a fit when he gets home and sees them gone, but if I keep them, he will just leave them in here until I do it anyway, so out they go. Then I fill the sink with soap and water and dig in. Two and a half hours later, I put the last of the dishes away. Ty is just finishing the cabinet fronts. The windows, table, fridge, oven and floor still haven’t been touched, but it looks so much better that I already feel like I’m in a different room. Now, I only have half an hour to pull together the supper I promised nine people and myself what seems like forever ago. “Ty, what should we do for dinner?” “I can make Spaghetti.” “Spaghetti is good. Even picky Mark eats Spaghetti. Although I don’t think I’ve ever made it for eleven people before.” “Eleven? Isn’t there only ten of us?” “Yeah, but Jay would be very angry with me if I didn’t make him some despite what he’s off doing at the moment.” “I could see that. Do you have enough stuff for that much spaghetti?” “Yup, it’s one of the things I buy the stuff for in bulk. Trust me, when you feed five people other than yourself, if you find something all of you agree on, you stock up.” “Let’s get started.” “You’re going to help me?” “Of course.” “A man after my own heart. Let’s get it done.” At exactly three hours from go time, Ty is dumping the pasta into the strainer as eight pairs of feet carry their owners into the kitchen looking for their promised meal. I am just pulling the sauce off the stove. It’s homemade, and thanks to Ty’s grandma, the best I have ever tasted. As it turns out, Ty can make quite a few things. We discussed food while making dinner and it sounds like he is as fluent in cuisine as he is in English. If I can corner him later, it sounds like he could be a dream come true. A House of Men Ch. 04 Ty and I have decided to open a restaurant. It was decided late last night after three days of vigorous housecleaning and lengthy discussions about all we knew of food. Both of us have our specialties and preferences, and Ty knows just the place for us to locate what we have deemed Ty and Holly's Kitchen. It turns out that about two years ago, his grandparents decided to open their own little eatery and had a building built just for the occasion. Right before the construction was complete, however, Granddad Joe died. Grandma Terry didn't have the heart to go on, so the building has been vacant ever since. Ty is certain she will let us have the building to carry out our endeavor if we can come up with the money for anything else that needs done. It's in a good location, so if we play our cards right, customers should come in droves. "Ty, Holly, what are you two doing? We've been waiting for you for over an hour to get the game started, man." "Oh, come on, Mark. I know Giselle can play poker. Get her to play." "Ty, Giselle is my, uh, girlfriend not my card playing buddy. She's here for looks. We need you. Stakes are high tonight . . . Carter brought some Tequila." "Naw, get Giselle to play. Holly and I are having a business discussion. Besides, I hate Tequila." "What business could you have with Holly, unless it has to do with uses for her body?" "Thanks, Mark." "You're more than welcome." "We're going to open a restaurant together, man. In the building my grandparents built on Fourth Street a couple years back. It's outfitted for it. Now all we need is a loan to get everything else together." "You two, opening a restaurant? I'll believe it when I see it. Sure, you guys can cook, the spaghetti the other day was great, but who is going to do the rest of the business shit for you?" "Well, Mark, my sweet, Ty and I are in the process of doing a rough business plan at the moment. I also have it on good authority that you had some extensive entrepreneurial training a year or so back. Want a job?" "Me, work for you? Yeah. Right." "And why not?" "You treat me like a child." I am stung. I didn't realize that I was that hard on him. When did this come about? Maybe I should ease up. Hell, if I can get Mark to take the job, this could be my chance to counteract those feelings of his. I already know he can be a clean person if he feels the need, and Ty agrees that the various business skills he posses could be valuable to us, so he would definitely be the perfect person for the job. "I do? I didn't realize. I'm sorry, Mark. It's just that I get so strung out trying to keep this place in shape while juggling everything else in my life. Please, give us a try. I promise to let you run your own life with little interference from me. You're the perfect guy for the job, and as soon as we can afford it, you'll get a decent salary for it. I promise." "So do I. Please, man, we could really use your help." "Let me think about it. I could use a job, and it would be a challenge. That and the chance to see my beautiful Holly every day . . . I'll let you know." As Mark walks out of the room, Ty and I look at each other with expressions of mingled hope and uncertainty. Then we turn back to our work, hoping to get the first draft of our business plan done by tomorrow. The news about our restaurant is all over the house within twenty minutes of Mark's departure. That boy sure doesn't waste any time. Jay is our first visitor, and by the time everyone has satisfied his curiosity, Ty and I drag ourselves off to bed, him to the extra attic bedroom, me to my own. I find sleep quickly since I'm utterly and completely drained from the past three days of work, cleaning and planning. A House of Men Ch. 05 “Holly, there is someone at the door!” “Are your legs broken or are you just too lazy to get up and answer the door, Joe?” “My legs are broken.” “Yup. I believe that one. You’re lucky I am such a nice person, Joe Tolbert, or you would be hauling your butt off the couch to answer the door halfway across the room from you.” “Thank you, Holly.” “Can I help you?” “My name is Mildred Leavenworth. I am with Social Services. I have been assigned to conduct an inspection of this home to see if it is fit for the occupancy of a small child.” I survey the social worker carefully. She seemed pleasant enough despite her professional demeanor; she reminded me of my Grandma Trudy. “Please, come in. Is there anything I can do to help? Would you be interested in a drink? Coffee perhaps?” “No, but thank you. I should be able to manage just fine.” Knowing that a social worker was due sometime today, I got up bright and early, called into work, and made sure everything was still neat and tidy along with ushering all but Joe out of the house for the day and night. Jay is at Louisa’s house, despite the ‘breaking up’ he was suppose to have done, Rob is with a new girl, Tamara, so he is at her house, Carlos is staying at his mom’s for the night, and Mark is shacking up with Giselle and her new roommate, Lisabeth. I have a feeling that Giselle is out and Lisabeth in, now is not the time to ponder that one. Almost an hour after the arrival of the social worker, I am startled awake by somebody clearing his or her throat behind the overstuffed chair I have fallen asleep in. I have spent most of the last hour working out menus and food items that need to be ordered for Ty and Holly’s Kitchen and must have just dozed off just in time for someone to come bug me. A girl can never get any sleep around this house. “Yes.” I instantly regret my sharp reply as I turn to see Ms. Leavenworth frowning at me. This is not a great example of my ability to care for a child. “Ms. Luxembourge, I see that I have interrupted your nap. Maybe I should go speak with someone else about the condition of this house?” “I apologize for my rudeness. I must have dozed off. I am definitely interested in your view of the house. Shall I go ask Joe to join us? After all, he his Danielle’s father.” “Yes, let’s involve Mr. Tolbert in this discussion. It does bear most heavily upon him.” I walk out of the room slightly rattled. Grandma Trudy is nowhere to be seen; in her place is a starchy older woman with steel gray curls and a demeanor to match. I get the sinking feeling that this change in demeanor does not bode well for Joe and Danielle. I look all over the first level for Joe. He is nowhere to been seen. Crossing my fingers and hoping he’s where I think he is, I head down to the basement and into the dark cave of his room. I can’t see a thing, but in this pitch black room, Joe could be right in front of me and I wouldn’t know it. “Joe, are you in here?” “Yeah, Holly, I’m here.” “Can you turn on the light please, Joe?” The light clicks on and I stand there in stunned silence. The room is spotless. I haven’t ever seen the carpet before, it’s green, and he has actually put his clothes in the dresser and closet. His bookcase is in use and his bed made. I am so shocked that I am incapable of speech. “Holly, are you okay?” “Um, yeah. It’s just so . . .” “Clean? Yeah, I know. I cleaned it because I really want to be able to see Danielle, Holly. I couldn’t stand it if I lost her. I have even stooped drinking beer in the past few days.” “Wow, Joe. I’m really proud of you. Let’s go show that social worker that you are a capable father. She’s upstairs waiting to talk to us.” “Okay. You think we did it, Holly?” “I really do, Joe. I really do.” “Mr. Tolbert, Ms. Luxembourge, I do not know if you remember this, but I am the same social worker who conducted the examination of this same house one year ago. Then, I was absolutely disgusted at the state of this house. Today, I am happy to report that there have been vast improvements in its condition. I am assuming it is in part due to a woman’s influence. My three sons were the same way. They were complete pigs when it came to housekeeping. I also must deduce, however, that you, Mr. Tolbert, and the rest of your roommates are willing to accept the responsibility of this little girl based on the fact that all this cleaning couldn’t have been done this morning. That and every one of the bedrooms are clean. I commend you both on the condition of this house and shall be recommending to the court that you receive the partial custody you are seeking. There is nothing more I can do to influence the judge’s decision but wish you the best of luck. It has been a pleasure.” Joe and I stare at each other as Ms. Leavenworth lets herself out the front door. A few minutes fly by and as what we have just heard begins to sink in, joy bubbles up inside both of us. Joe is going to get to see Danielle! “Holly, oh my god, Holly, we did it. Thank you so much. We did it!” “We did, didn’t we? Now, how should we celebrate? We need to get everyone who helped over here to celebrate with us. Joe, I am so happy for you.” A few strategic phone calls and a trip to the supermarket finds the eleven of us together two hours later. We create a comical ring around the kitchen, leaning on counters, sitting on the floor, pulling up chairs to camp out in. In the center of the table are two carrot cakes; one frosted, one not. It is the only cake we can all agree on, believe it or not. Ty is cutting pieces from both cakes and passing them around the circle based on the preferences he receives over the buzz of the crowd. I hand beers, lemonade and milk out in the same fashion. After everyone is served, Joe clears his throat and looks to me to explain why this mini-party is taking place. “As you all know, the social worker came today to survey our handiwork on this house. I am proud to say that . . .” “. . . we passed the test! I’m going to get Danielle back!” A collective surge of noise rises over the room as everyone congratulates first Joe then each other. The din rises to a roar and feet shuffle as people dissipate or head back for more cake. The rest of the day passes quickly and before I know it, it is well into the morning hours. I have to work the next morning and have class from six to nine thirty afterwards so I head off to bed. I make my way to my bedroom over a rough path of sleeping people. It seems that we have added quite a few bodies to our midst, but at this point, I am too tired to care. I’ll deal with it all in the morning. 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.