Unraveling Malcolm (Rebels and Nerds Book 2) Page 4

  “Yes, I’ll be there, just like every Sunday.”

  “And have you found a date to bring to your aunt’s wedding yet?”

  I sighed. The wedding was still six months away, but from the way my parents had been talking about it, you would have thought it was tomorrow. “No date. I told you, I’ll be happy to go solo, too.”

  She clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Your father will find someone for you, rather than having that happen.”

  “I’m getting to work now,” I said, deciding to get off the phone rather than arguing about my wedding date again. “Sorry to have to let you go so quickly. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  “Of course, sweetheart. Have a good day at work.”

  I was used to my parents being focused on business and practical matters. A phone call with them was much more likely to include a review of the monthly schedule than questions about my social life or emotional state. It almost made me appreciate my aunt’s wedding. If there weren’t a sensible reason to discuss my dating life, they’d probably forget I even had one.

  Not that my dating life was much to speak of. I had liked my ex-boyfriend fine enough, but even after dating for six months, sparks never flew between us. We were just kind of dull together. I’d occasionally go on dates that my parents arranged through their friends or meet someone from the library for coffee, but I was always left feeling pretty meh afterward.

  Shaking off the stress of pleasing my parents, I stepped up the big stone stairs outside the library, eager for the day to properly start. I had taken Thursday and Friday off for the week, needing to use up some vacation days, which made that Wednesday the end of my working week. Most people would probably love any excuse for a vacation, although I honestly got more happiness out of work than I did just about anything else.

  As soon as I got to the children’s section at the back of the first floor, my face lit up with a grin. Two of my favorite kids were there with one of their dads, and they came running straight toward me, their early reader books flapping by their sides.

  “Hi Dominique! Hi Selena!” I said, laughing as they grabbed my legs for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here today!”

  They both laughed, and Selena held out her book to me. “Read to us?”

  I squatted down to face them and took a look at the book in her hand. It was one of her favorites, the story of a goldfish who went to the moon. “I remember this one!” I said. “How about this. I’ll read you this and one other book, but it has to be something you haven’t read yet. Deal?”

  “Deal!” they both chirped, then went charging off to the rows of books to pick their selection.

  I headed behind the desk, tossing my bag down and flipping through the day’s schedule as I greeted coworkers. As the youngest and newest employee in the children’s section, I usually got the least interesting tasks, but I still found some opportunities to read to our regulars throughout the day. It felt great to teach children not only how to read, but how to love reading as well. When I had felt stifled in my home life, reading had opened up whole new worlds for me, and I loved the experience of sharing that gift with other people.

  The day filled up quickly, not least because Dominique and Selena handed me off to their friends, insisting my silly voices made me the best reader on staff. By the time lunch came around, I was hiding my salad behind the desk, taking quick bites of veggies and salmon when no one was looking.

  “Too busy for a break?”

  I turned and saw Linda standing behind me. A woman who had been at the library for decades, she was nearing retirement soon. I couldn’t imagine the place without her, but luckily, she had taken a shine to me when I first started.

  I shrugged, munching down on some greens. “I could find the time if I wanted to. It’s nice here, though. I don’t mind.”

  Linda joined me behind the desk. Her curly silver hair was cut short, falling only to the tops of her ears. With a big pair of pink glasses and a smiley face button on her blouse, she looked even more like a children’s librarian than I did.

  “It’s not good to spend all day in the library,” she cautioned. “And that’s coming from me.”

  It was true that no one loved the library as much as Linda did. For all the years she had put into building up the place and community around it, they should have probably named it after her at some point.

  I smiled back. “Yeah, right,” I teased. “I know we’ll be seeing you a few times a week after you officially retire.”

  “Twice a week,” she answered. “To get new books. But outside of that, I’m spending my time with Marsha. I have a busy schedule of napping in the hammock and devouring fancy dinners planned with my wife, and she does not take kindly to a cancellation.”

  I chuckled. “You’ve earned it. I just hope I can have as much of an impact here over my time as you have.”

  Linda pulled a stack of books out from behind the desk, shuffling through them while we talked. “You’re certainly well loved, Malcolm. That’s a big part of it. It’s that smile of yours. You’re cute as the dickens.”

  I pretended to defer with a wave of my hand. “Do go on,” I joked.

  “But I hope you know I would never have been able to thrive here without a happy life at home. Marsha made me stronger and more successful than I ever would have been alone.”

  “I’m sure she would say the same about you.”

  “She would! And she wouldn’t be lying. But it’s really the home we made together that matters. Your home provides you the happiness and security you need to make a difference out in the world.” She patted my arm, smiling at me warmly. “If you’re hiding out at work all day, that tells me you need a bit more going on outside of the library.”

  I tapped my fingers against the desk, then noticed a few kids running toward the counter, ready to check out their books. “Thanks, Linda,” I said quickly. “I appreciate the advice.”

  She shrugged. “Just passing on what I know.” When the kids approached, she rose up tall, a big grin filling her face. “And who is ready to read?” she asked enthusiastically, earning some giggles and cheers from the kids.

  The rest of the afternoon rushed by so fast, I barely had time to think about Linda’s advice. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, and I knew I could get a bit trapped in my routine sometimes. It was just a lot easier to talk about switching things up than it was to actually change the routine.

  Heading down the stone stairs and back toward my apartment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I figured it was just my mother, unsatisfied with how brief our earlier conversation had been. When I pulled it out, however, it was an unrecognized local number.

  “Hello?” I answered. “This is Malcolm.”

  “Hi Malcolm,” Gunner answered, the breathy tease in his voice instantly recognizable. “Ready for that date?”

  Chapter Seven

  Gunner

  With the building demolished ahead of schedule, the crew I was assigned didn’t have a damn thing left to do.

  That didn’t mean we were going home, though. As long as we stuck around the work site until the end of the day, we’d keep getting paid, and that was all anyone cared about in the first place.

  We were on the outskirts of Seattle, standing in an empty lot with a pile of lumber beside the massive hole in the ground we had made over the past couple of weeks. Most of the guys were just smoking and staring into space while the clock ran down, but I was feeling kind of antsy. The week before, we had hauled a big old furnace out of the structure. Before he left, our boss told us to let it be and that a specialist was coming in to dismantle the heavy beast and haul it away. With nothing else to do, though, I kept poking at it, thinking there might be some way for me to take it apart on my own.

  “Damn, Gunner,” Bruce said, standing up from his spot on the back of his truck. “You gotta stop messing with that thing. It’s driving me out of my damn mind.”

  Bruce was the leader of our crew, and I never would thin
k to disrespect him. Not only was he a good and fair man, but he was also a giant block of muscles, tattoos, and sweat. When he told you to do something, you damn well did it.

  I stepped back from the furnace but kept eyeing it. “I just thought I might make some progress on taking it apart while we’re all sitting here.”

  Another worker, Dave, turned to face us, tossing his cigarette to the dirt. “Sit down, Gunner,” he called out. “You don’t have half the strength you’d need to even unscrew a bolt on that thing!”

  Everyone chuckled like it was the funniest put-down they’d ever heard. I felt the hot rush of anger and had to purse my lips together to stop myself from cursing him out.

  “Whatever, Dave,” I hollered back. “At least I’m doing something with my time instead of sitting there staring at a hole in the ground.”

  Dave crossed over to join me by the furnace, dragging his feet along the way. Everyone else on the crew started to shuffle around, turning to face us and inching their way closer for whatever was coming next.

  I swallowed, keeping my back straight and tall to show him I wasn’t intimidated, even though my hands were a little shaky.

  “You want to pass the time?” he asked. “Fine. Let’s make a bet.”

  I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket, sticking it between my lips and lighting up. “What’s the bet?”

  Dave reached around to his side, pulling an eight-inch knife with a worn handle from a sheath hanging off his belt. He spun it in his hand for a moment, admiring it as the metal glinted in the sun. “You ever try knife throwing?”

  “I can throw a damn knife,” I answered defiantly.

  Which was true. I had messed around with knife throwing the summer I turned eighteen. It was right after my father had disowned me and only a year after my mother’s death. There was something about the rhythm of throwing knives against a tree that felt relaxing, even though everything else in my life had fallen to shit. Like every time the blade sunk into the tree trunk, I took a little more of my life back.

  I just didn’t actually remember much about it. For how upset I was that year, the whole summer was pretty much a blur.

  “Great,” Dave answered, still spinning the knife. “How about a little friendly competition to pass the time? Whoever hits the mark the most times out of five wins?”

  The eyes of my crew were all burning into me. “What’s the wager?”

  “One day’s wages. Just enough to make it interesting, spark plug.”

  I ignored the way he said my name, trying my best to keep my cool. “Sounds good to me,” I answered, finishing my cigarette and flicking it to the ground. “What are we waiting for?”

  The guys all gathered around, mumbling to themselves and talking shit while Dave took out a can of spray paint and marked a large X on a nearby tree. I tried to search my mind and recall what I knew of knife throwing, but all I got were memories of that awful summer. My mother had always loved and supported me, and without her, I had really lost my grip on things.

  Dave held the knife out to me, handle first. “Kids go first,” he sneered.

  I snatched the knife, shooting him my cockiest grin. “Fine by me.”

  With everyone glaring my way, just waiting for me to fuck it up, I stretched my shoulder out, feeling the ache from a day of hauling scraps. We were about seven or eight feet from the tree, but under pressure from the crew, the distance felt a lot bigger than that.

  I drew my arm back, focusing on my muscles and my posture. I sucked in a breath to steady myself, then launched the knife forward, watching it soar through the air with speed and force that surprised me.

  And then I watched it clatter to the ground, the handle hitting the tree with a thud.

  Everyone burst into laughter. “Nice aim, spark plug!” one of the guys hollered from the back. Gritting my teeth, I acted like it was no big thing and retrieved the knife for Dave.

  “Looks like I’m going to be making double today!” Dave hollered out, earning another round of laughter from the crowd. And then, without any fanfare or warmup, he sent the knife spinning straight into the heart of the X on the tree.

  Fuck. Of course.

  With everyone’s laughter ringing in my ears, I took the knife and tried to focus on my second shot. My muscles were tense with nerves, however, and I couldn’t regain my focus. When I had delayed enough, I sent the knife flying and scattering to the ground again, only barely hitting the trunk of the tree.

  The next rounds went just like that, with everyone hooting and hollering and each of my throws landing with a disappointing and humiliating thump against the bark or the dirt. And Dave, so full of himself I thought he was about to burst, landed five throws in the center of the X.

  “That’s what you get for going up against your betters, kid,” he said, slapping my back so hard it hurt. “Just make sure to bring that cash in when we start the next job up.”

  I grabbed another cigarette, lighting it with shaky hands and trying to play the whole thing off. “You’re lucky you got me on an off day,” I said, but the crew was already dispersing, done with the entertainment of my defeat.

  The work day finally ending, I was so mad I could have flipped a truck over. I hated being embarrassed like that and especially in front of a bunch of guys who already thought so little of me. I was the runt there, just like I was the gay embarrassment to my father, the good-for-nothing son. The more time I spent getting pushed around by guys like Dave, the more I needed to break free and prove that I was just as tough as any man out there.

  Tossing the cigarette to the ground, I pulled out my phone. With the job done, we wouldn’t need to come back until Monday, which meant I actually had some free time to kill. I was planning to spend the long weekend hunting down bar jobs, but after losing a day’s pay and an ounce of pride, I realized I needed something else.

  I clicked on Malcolm’s name in my phone, getting a little rush of happiness by thinking about the way he looked at me. It only rang once before he answered.

  “Hi Malcolm,” I said. “Ready for that date?”

  Chapter Eight

  Malcolm

  Sometimes, I really wished I had friends outside of my colleagues at the library. I loved the people I worked with, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to meet a fellow librarian for lunch or a movie. But when it came down to stuff like picking out an outfit for a date, I felt like I was at a bit of a loss.

  That’s how I ended up standing on the street outside my apartment, worrying about whether I should have picked a different sweater for the evening and using my phone to check my hair for the tenth time.

  Gunner was fifteen minutes late, which shouldn’t have surprised me. But the second I heard the rumble of a truck, coughing its way down the street, I knew it was him. The vehicle was a big old beater, with dents on the side and a front bumper that looked like it had been reattached. But when he pulled up in front of me and reached across to throw the door open, I practically swooned right there.

  “What are you staring at?” he asked. “Get in.”

  Gunner was wearing that black leather jacket he liked. Worn over a gray T-shirt and a pair of black jeans, it gave him a dashing quality that I hadn’t picked up on the first time we met. I crawled into the passenger seat, the smell of gasoline filling my nose, and he immediately kicked the truck into gear.

  “Thanks for picking me up,” I said hesitantly. Gunner hadn’t given me any indication what we were going to do on this date, insisting it was more fun to be surprised, and as he started to steer away from my apartment, a new wave of anxiety rose up.

  Four-star restaurants? Contemporary dance? Museum openings? I knew the ins and outs of dates like that, from the casual conversation over appetizers to the polite kiss on the cheek at the end of the night. Chugging along the streets of Seattle in a truck that felt like it might collapse into pieces, however, left me totally clueless.

  Gunner turned, glancing at me out of the side of his eye. “A cutie like you? I’d dr
ive across town any day.”

  Swoon.

  “Anyway,” Gunner continued, “we just finished up a major demolition project. I have a few days off and plenty of time to kill. Might as well get up to trouble, right?”

  I didn’t ask what trouble meant in this instance. “I’ve got a few days off, too.”

  “Well then, glad we don’t have to be in any hurry.”

  I swallowed my discomfort, tracing my fingers along the worn interior of the vehicle. “How was the demolition job?”

  Gunner shrugged, then flipped on the radio, some classic rock playing quietly through the static in the background. “It was fine. Nothing too big. We even finished early yesterday. Gave me and the other guys a little time to hang out and shoot the shit on the boss’s dime, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I love the team I work with. We don’t get a lot of time to hang out at work, but a few of my coworkers have become my best friends here in Seattle.” I opened my mouth to tell him about Linda and the trips we took every season to the botanical gardens but managed to stop myself just in time. Even though Gunner seemed to like how nerdy I was, mentioning my passion for gardening didn’t seem like the right first date move.

  “Yeah, my crew at work hits up the bar together sometimes when we clock off. I usually don’t join, though. Once I’m out for the day, I’m out.”

  Gunner steered the truck up the hill, and I realized we were heading toward Lake Washington on the edge of the city. I racked my brain, trying to remember what was over on that side of town. Maybe a cool restaurant I didn’t know about? Or a bar Gunner liked?

  He glanced me out the corner of his eye, smiling. “You worried over there?”

  “What? No, why do you ask?”

  He laughed. “You’re frowning and staring out the window. Don’t worry about it, Malcolm. I’m not going to take you to some roadhouse.”