Brooks Read online

  Brooks

  Benson Brothers, Volume 1

  Chelsea M. Cameron

  Published by Chelsea M. Cameron, 2016.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Epilogue

  About the author:

  Other books by Chelsea M. Cameron:

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  One

  Brooks

  “Fucking Christ,” I muttered under my breath as pizza sauce slopped onto the floor. I stared at it for a second. On the concrete, it almost looked like a Pollock if you squinted your eyes just right.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed the mop and used it to get up the worst of the sauce. The screen door of Benson’s Variety slammed as someone walked in.

  “I’ll be right with you,” I said, leaning the mop against the wall and wiping my hands on my once-white apron that was now covered in myriad stains.

  I walked out from the kitchen to the front of the store. Surveying my kingdom. Or at least part of my inheritance.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” I said, giving a nod to the grizzled old guy heading for the beer cooler. He looked like he’d been carved from wood and left out in the elements for decades. For all intents and purposes, he had, since he’d been a lobsterman for as long as anyone could remember. He could be sixty or he could be a hundred. Nobody knew.

  Jimmy grabbed a six-pack of Bud and slammed it down on the counter so the bottles rattled against each other.

  “And a few of those,” he grunted, pointing at the one dollar scratch tickets. He got the same thing every time he came in, so I ripped off three tickets and took the grungy bills he pulled from his pocket. They smelled like motor oil. Same routine as last Friday and the Friday before that.

  Jimmy was followed by a steady stream of beer-buyers and people calling for pizzas. I was on my own, but I could handle it. I’d been doing this since my father had his heart attack and my mom broke her back almost a year ago. The Benson family had been dealt a shitty hand that winter and I’d dropped out of my master’s program to come home and run the store.

  I was really the only choice since my oldest brother, Avery, was busy clawing his way up the corporate ladder at the largest bank in town. My other brothers and sister helped out when they could, but the majority of the work fell on my shoulders.

  The second Benson brother. The steady one. The reliable one. The one who was going to carry on the family business.

  So here I was, slinging pizza dough, selling scratch tickets and making sure that the small television we had was tuned to ESPN so the customers didn’t miss a second of sports coverage.

  I didn’t hate it. No, I definitely didn’t hate it, I told myself as I mopped the floors (again), turned on the security system, and locked the doors.

  I didn’t hate it. This was everything my family owned. My parents had worked their whole lives for this building and the two gas pumps outside.

  I got in my truck and started the engine. I’d moved back in with Mom and Dad to help out with everything, but tonight I wasn’t ready to walk back into the chaos of the Benson house just yet. I decided to take one of the side roads and drive down the coast, to a little bit of land that only the locals in Hope Harbor, Maine knew about.

  ****

  An hour later, I walked into mayhem, but I didn’t expect anything less. If the house had been quiet, something would be terribly wrong.

  “I said no!” my mom yelled at my youngest brother, Greyson. He was sixteen and had decided now was a good time to push boundaries with our parents.

  “What now?” I asked, walking into the living room and dropping onto the couch. Dad had ESPN Classic on and was reading a book about the Civil War. He always did more than one thing at once. Putting a finger to mark his page, he looked up at me, squinting through his glasses.

  “Grey has gotten it into his head that we would somehow support him going up to Craig Lee’s cabin for a weekend of debauchery.” I snorted. Craig was the little brother of Greg (were their parents high?), who I’d gone high school with. Pretty sure the guy didn’t spend one day sober the entire four years. Craig was following in his illustrious footsteps and already had one DUI under his belt.

  “I’m not going to do anything, don’t you trust me?” Greyson yelled. Dad and I just gave each other a look.

  “I’m letting your mother handle it.” I was about to ask him how his day was when my sister, Falyn slammed through the front door.

  “Can I borrow a drill?” she asked Dad without any pre-empt.

  “Check the garage,” Dad said and then opened his book again. Greyson and Mom were still going at it, and any minute now she was going to take away his keys and then he’d be sorry.

  “I’m taking the keys. No car for a week, Grayson Eli,” Mom said.

  Clockwork. It was always the same.

  “So, how was the store?” Dad asked as he continued reading.

  “Fine. Same old, same old,” I said, trying not to sound too grim. It was the same people, every day. Pizzas and beer and cigarettes and bait. I levered myself off the couch and headed upstairs to wash the smell of pizza dough out of my hair.

  ****

  Moving back home was supposed to be temporary, but I didn’t think I was getting out anytime soon. I didn’t make a whole lot and I was paying out my ass for student loans. I had a room all to myself, which I hadn’t had growing up and it was at the very top of the house, so when I closed the door I could almost imagine I had my own apartment. Almost.

  I showered and changed into a pair of boxer shorts since my room was about a thousand degrees. I turned on the shitty air conditioner and it made a sputtering noise and started halfheartedly pushing out cool air.

  Half of my room was devoted to my bed and my dresser and other essentials and the other half was taken up with canvases and brushes and cloth to cover the hardwood so I wouldn’t drop more paint splatters on it than were already there. I had dozens of half-finished paintings and stacks of half-completed sketches. More often than not my hands were covered in paint or I had charcoal dust under my fingernails. Or at least they used to be.

  I hadn’t painted or sketched in ages. Hadn’t wanted to. Hadn’t felt the need to. I got up and walked over to one of my larger canvasses. I’d attempted to capture a thunderstorm over the ocean, all swirling clouds and colors. It was still unfinished.

  “Dinner!” my mom yelled from downstairs. Somehow her voice could carry through the entire house, no matter where you were.

  I was back to being a kid again after having years of freedom at college. It was like I’d gone backwards, but there was nothing to do about it.

  Family comes first, Mom always said. Family comes first.

  Remi

  I have officially failed, I thought as I drove past the sign that told me I was back in my hometown of Hope Harbor. I snorted at the name because I didn’t have a whole lotta hope at the moment.

  My chest started getting tighter the closer I got to my parents’ house and I had to pull over and stop the car. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. I was on a side road so there was no risk someone was going to come around the corner and take me out.

  Not like New York.

  I missed the sound of the city. Fuck, I even missed the smell. Those hotdog carts and the fumes from the cars and everything else.

  It was so... quiet here. But then, that was probably why so many people ventured here in the summer. The touris
ts would still be around for a while yet, since it was only the end of August.

  The city would be steaming and sweaty and grumpy today. Instead I was here with an ocean breeze teasing the ends of my deep purple hair. I’d dyed it when I left and I couldn’t imagine going back to plain brown, even if the purple would get me looks around here.

  My phone chimed with a text from my mother, asking where I was. Shit. I couldn’t have five minutes alone? I sighed and got back in the car and headed to the house.

  My parents lived down a dirt road in a little cottage that had seen better days. Dad wasn’t exactly an accomplished handyman, but he tried his best and there was a new coat of off-white paint on the outside when I pulled into the spot next to his truck.

  I had barely opened the car door before I was engulfed in my mom’s arms.

  “Oh, Remi, it’s so good to see you!” she squealed while I tried to breathe. When I finally could, I inhaled the scent of fresh bread. Mom always smelled like baked goods, which was probably why I consistently carried a few extra pounds on my five-foot-three frame. I’d all but given up on getting rid of them at this point. She’d been working at the local supermarket in the bakery department since I could remember.

  “Look your hair,” she said, frowning in disapproval and lifting a purple lock off my shoulder before dropping it again. “Whatever possessed you to dye it that color?”

  Not even thirty seconds and the judgment had already started. Lovely.

  “Nice to see you too,” I snapped and Dad came bumbling out of the house to hug me as well.

  “Now, now, your mother has been waiting ages to see you,” he said, putting a kiss on my cheek. I bit back a retort and smiled at him. I loved my dad. He understood me much better than Mom did. He didn’t question my decisions, as long as they made me happy. Mom, on the other hand...

  I grabbed a few things and headed into the house and toward my room. I cringed when I opened the door. Everything was exactly the same as the last time I was here. Joy. The bed even had faded flowered sheets on it and the pillows stacked just right. Mom must have made it because I’d never fixed it like that.

  I closed the door and sat on my bed. The metal frame still squeaked. Closing my eyes, I clicked my heels together and wished myself back into my microscopic NYC apartment. I opened them and I was still in my bedroom in Maine.

  “Shit,” I said under my breath before I got up and started unpacking.

  ****

  Mom insisted on having a Welcome Home dinner for me, complete with a tiramisu cheesecake. Okay, so maybe I had missed her baking. A little. After dinner my parents forced me to watch TV with them.

  My life was officially over.

  I claimed I was sleepy and escaped to my room as soon as I could. I still hadn’t unpacked everything because that would be like giving in, officially, and I wasn’t ready for that step yet.

  I spent the next several hours on my phone and my laptop, trying to find something to distract me, but nothing would stop my spinning thoughts. I tried to sleep, but it wasn’t happening.

  Finally, I got out of bed and tiptoed through the house and out to the porch to sit on the wooden swing.

  How had I let my life get so messed up? I brought my knees up and put my chin on them. It was freezing out, but I’d put a sweatshirt on.

  I couldn’t pinpoint one moment when things had crashed and burned. It was a series of moments and bad decisions. Maybe it was when I couldn’t find a job after getting a bachelor’s degree in psychology or got fired from my most recent job for bitching out a homophobic customer, or when I rented an apartment in a shady building, or when I spent too much money trying to actually eat and survive. It didn’t matter. I was out of money, out of luck and out of options. Except one, and here I was.

  Home again.

  Two

  Brooks

  Saturday night I got off work and headed down to the wharf to meet Levi for a drink. We’d been friends since high school and had caught up again when I moved back.

  “Hey, how’s the DOT?” I asked as I slid onto a barstool and he waved to the bartender (another girl I’d gone to high school with, only she was a few years older) to bring me a Bud Light.

  “Shit. Complete shit,” he said, taking a swig from his beer. Levi worked for the Maine Department of Transportation, paving roads and so forth. It was rough work and I knew he hated it, but he didn’t know what else to do with his life. Like a lot of us that stuck around.

  “What else is new?” I asked and he nodded.

  “Amen.”

  We talked about work and people we both knew and how the Sox were looking for next season.

  “I saw your sister the other day,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and I punched him in the shoulder.

  “Seriously. Don’t even.” He was barking up the wrong tree. Falyn was strictly into girls. Many a male heart had been broken because of that.

  “What? I can’t notice a pretty girl?” He turned and winked at Shelby, the bartender, and she flashed him her middle finger and told him to go fuck himself. He just chuckled and blew a kiss at her.

  “You can notice without telling me about it, Levi,” I said. I finished my beer and had another, for lack of anything better to do. Downside of living in a small town.

  Last call came and I headed home. The house was dark, but the porch light was on for me. Thanks, Mom.

  I stumbled up to my room and crashed on my bed, but I wasn’t tired. My brain was crammed with too many thoughts. When I used to get like that, I’d pick up a paintbrush, or a piece of charcoal, but it was like I’d forgotten how.

  I sat up and looked at my canvasses. So many things in progress and nothing finished. Nothing finished for ages.

  Before I could question myself, I got out one of my sketchpads and turned to a fresh page. My fingers trembled a little as I selected a charcoal pencil and sharpened it. The ritual was the same; my body remembered. It was getting my brain in line that was the hard part.

  I stared at the blank page for a while until I got up and turned off the lights. The white of the paper glowed from the moonlight streaming in through my window. I grabbed my rolling chair and slid it over to the window. I always preferred natural subjects, as opposed to ones that were posed.

  A breeze with a hint of the last bit of summer blew through the leaves in the big oak tree in our backyard. My hand started moving even before I’d decided what I wanted to draw. I didn’t think; just let my hand go.

  Before I knew it, I’d covered the page with an image of the tree under the moonlight. My hand was a little sore. Not used to working like that anymore. I set the pad down and dusted off my hands.

  My mind was finally quiet as I collapsed in bed and fell asleep.

  ****

  My oldest brother, Avery, called me the next day to get an update on how the business was going. He was a loan officer at the bank in town and had his sights set on being the bank president in another few years. More power to him.

  I gave him the rundown because Mom was still doing the bookkeeping at home, so I didn’t have to worry about that part.

  “You going to come down for dinner tonight?” My mom had a family dinner every Sunday whether we wanted to show up or not. Attendance was mandatory unless you were out of town, or you were the oldest Benson brother, apparently. Avery got off more often than not. I wasn’t too happy with him about it.

  “Yeah, I think I can make it. Might be a little late.” What a surprise. I told him I hoped he’d get his ass there and hung up, annoyed.

  I closed early and headed home. Mom was used to cooking for a family of nine and didn’t want to cut back anytime soon. The driveway was full of vehicles and I had to park almost on the street so people could get out around me.

  Everyone was either in the kitchen or the living room when I walked inside. My brothers Dasen and Callan were busy battling each other for videogame supremacy as Dad set the table with the help of Ezra. Falyn and Grey were in the kitchen with Mom, put
ting the finishing touches on dinner. The gang was all here, minus Avery.

  “Oh, Brooks, can you take that tray to the dining room?” Mom asked, pointing to the enormous casserole dish filled with macaroni and cheese with crumbled Ritz crackers on top. My mouth watered just seeing it. She always used four kinds of cheese and never skimped.

  I put on some oven mitts and carried the dish to the dining table. It had been an anniversary present from Dad a few years ago. A table long enough for us all to sit. I’d gotten to do some carving in it as well, doing an intricate B in the center. Mom hated to cover it up with a tablecloth, but she also wanted to protect the table from all of us.

  Mom sat at one end of the table, Dad at the other and the rest of us sat in between. Avery came in just as we were ready to start.

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, kissing Mom on the cheek and taking the seat on my left. Dad said grace and then we all dug in, four or five different conversations happening at once. We all talked over one another and more than a few of us had problems controlling voice volume so it got noisy.

  Mom was talking with Ezra and Falyn because they’d just moved into the little cottage by the water that my parents used as a weekend getaway. The place was absolutely falling apart, but they were making the best of it. Ezra was good at fixing things and Falyn had started painting the outside and fiddling with the gardens.

  Dasen was waving his fork around and talking to Dad about his daughter, Pearl, and still trying to work things out between him and her mom. Wasn’t going well, but that was par for the course. Those two were not destined for one another, but they had Pearl, so they had to try and get along somewhat.

  “You are not driving my truck,” Callan said to Greyson. He’d been trying to convince each one of us to take him out so he could practice for his driving test, but wasn’t having much luck.

  “You’re going to burn the clutch out,” Callan said and Greyson grumbled.

  “I’ll take you,” I said. My truck was a piece of shit and buying a new clutch wouldn’t bother me.

  “Thanks,” Greyson said, beaming. He often got left behind as the youngest, so I tried to be nice to him when I could.