The Love Laws (26 page)

Kevin groaned.
“I said I suck. What do you want? A formal-fucking apology?”

Dylan nodded. “Yeah.
That would work. But only if you’re willing to get down on your knees and beg
for forgiveness. And call me ‘Your Awesomeness’ as you do it.”

Kevin snorted.
“Not going to happen. But how about this? Sorry, Eugene. I was an asshole for
sleeping in.”

Dylan ignored
the use of his nerdy middle name. “Good enough, I suppose. Now seriously what
is going on with you? Mom told me that you haven’t been returning her phone
calls and then a few days ago she mentioned something about Duncan calling and
reporting you were turning into a certifiable lush. Do we need to have a little
talk about what constitutes addictive behavior? ‘Cause I’m kind of an expert,” he
said with a smug smile.

Kevin leaned
back in the chair, stretched his arms towards the ceiling and studied his
brother. He hadn’t seen Dylan in more than six months. His dark blonde hair had
grown out from the buzz cut he typically favoured. It was nearly shaved on the
sides now but the top was cut into a short, spiky Mohawk and bleached a whiter
blonde. Through the opening in Dylan’s long-sleeved plaid shirt Kevin could
also see that his rebellious younger brother was sporting some new ink. The
black tribal tattoos he sported on both arms were now continued up his neck

It was
impossible to tell that Dylan was a recovering addict. He looked incredibly healthy
and much too pretty to be in the NHL. He actually had all his teeth and not a
single scar marred his tan face. To Kevin, Dylan looked like a slightly
smaller, more ripped version of himself.

But his little
brother had struggled with his own demons. An injury several years ago had left
him with an addiction to pain meds that had nearly cost him his career. After a
few trips to rehab the program had finally started to sink in. Now he was back
on top of his game and firmly in control of his addictive tendencies. But still
a bit of a know-it-all asshole.

One of the many
reasons Kevin was three days sober was in preparation for Dylan’s arrival. The
last thing he wanted was for his little brother to witness how badly he needed
booze to get through the day. Now that Dylan was here, however, Kevin wasn’t
sure if he could maintain his sobriety. The dream was just too awful without
the numbing effect of alcohol. For the first time in his life he really
questioned if he could be a worthy role model to his troubled sibling. He had
enough on his mind without worrying about Dylan too.

On the drive
home from White Rock he`d seriously considered just driving to the closest
rehab facility and signing himself up for a program. He needed to get himself
together. No more excuses. Being with Jamie in his car had changed him on some
level. It had shown him what he could have if he could just get past whatever
Rawlings had awoken in him. The first step to doing that was dealing with the
content of the dream and for that to happen he had to stop relying on alcohol
to blur his memory.

 He wished he
could just will it all away. Get back to his normal life before Rawlings and
even before Jamie. He’d been happy once. Okay. Maybe his life was a little empty
before he’d fallen for her but it had been so much easier. A part of him longed
for those less complicated times where he didn’t feel so much and have so much
to lose.

Loving a woman
like Jamie was never going to be simple. She was too complex, too strong-willed
and maddening to ever be considered easy. Even if he somehow managed to drown
out his own dark thoughts it would take everything in him to convince her he
was worth more than a one-night stand. The way she’d left him there in the cold
with his pants around his knees and his ego in shreds at his feet. The memory
still stung like nettles to his genitals.

“Whoa. What is
this? A fucking shrine? Have you turned psycho on me, or what?” Dylan
exclaimed.

Kevin groaned.
While he’d been contemplating his troubled universe his annoying brother had
wandered over to the oversized bureau next to the bed. On its glossy surface
Kevin had laid out the first four published editions of The Love Laws with
accompanying photos of Jamie in several risqué lingerie outfits. It was stupid,
but somehow being surrounded by her words and her image made him feel closer to
her. Now he was totally humiliated by the impulse. His brother was going to
torment him mercilessly for displaying his obsession like a teenager with a
crush on a playmate.

“Not quite psycho.
Just a little research.” Kevin said lamely. That part was true in a way. He had
re-read the articles countless times hoping to gain some insight into Jamie’s character.
He’d hoped she’d discuss her own reluctance to engage in a relationship.  Unfortunately,
she hadn’t revealed much about herself at all. She was still a maddening
mystery to him. One who evidently thought guys were simple, dick-driven
creatures, easily susceptible to the manipulations of wily females.

No, he wasn’t
exactly thrilled with Jamie’s man-bashing tone in the articles but he was intrigued.
Because something in her words didn’t ring true. It was almost like she was
being blatantly hostile towards men. Why? To drive them away? If so, it was a
good strategy. A guy would have to have major
cahones
to approach her.
Or be on the brink of insanity. Like him.

“Holy shit. Is
this Jessica? Wow. I had no idea she was so hot under all that cotton. Duncan
is one lucky bastard. Look at those tits.” Dylan held up the page that featured
Jamie wearing a turquoise demi-bra and matching panties. The matching satin
robe was draped across her shoulders but the mouth-watering cleavage was a
tempting shadow between the snowy white globes of her breasts. The sight would
draw the eye of any man with a pulse.

Kevin had to
fight not to snatch the offending page out of his brother’s pervy hands and
beat him with it.

He glared at
Dylan. “You idiot. That’s not Jessica. Why would I have pictures of Duncan’s
wife on display in my room? What kind of douche-bag do you think I am exactly?”

Dylan shrugged.
“Sorry man, but any dude over the age of fifteen with a pin-up collection has
issues.” He turned around and made the classic jerking off action with the
fingers and thumb of one hand. “But with tits like that who can blame you? I’d
be whacking off like a mad-man too if I had to be around her all the time.”

Kevin dragged
both hands down his face in exasperation. “Seriously? You think I’m into
Jessica? And that I’m sitting here flogging my hog to her image? You are one
sick fuck.”

Dylan set down
the page and wiped both his hands on his jeans. “I’m the sick one? Hardly.
Who’s the guy with the creepy shrine in his hotel room? But if you have a thing
for Jessica that would certainly explain your fucked up behavior. I’d be
avoiding the world too if I was secretly jonesing for my best friend’s girl.
It’s like that Rick Springfield song.” He hummed a few bars of
Jessie’s Girl
and even played a bit of passable air guitar much to Kevin’s annoyance.

Standing, Kevin
approached his gyrating brother, gave him a sharp cuff on the back of the neck
and gathered up the pages, stuffing them protectively in the top drawer of the
mostly empty dresser. “For the last time, I’m not ‘jonesing’ for Jessica.
That’s her twin sister, Jamie.”

Dylan’s blue
eyes went wide. “Holy shit. They’re twins. Oh man. It’s like a
Penthouse
letter.
Jessica mentioned her when they came out to visit last Christmas but I had no
idea they were identical. Man, there are some amazing genes in that family.” He
shook his head in wonder and smiled knowingly. “So you’re stalking the sinner
not the saint? Good choice. Way easier to corrupt and conquer.”

Kevin saw red.
On some level he knew that Dylan was making a reasonable assumption. Jamie had
been an exotic dancer and as such was considered fairly easy prey for men like
them. He was ashamed to admit that he and his brothers had discussed women in
the sex trade in just this derogatory manner on several occasions. It was their
nature to analyze and pretend they had women all figured out. But just the
thought of anyone assuming Jamie was in anyway available due to her past
enraged him. She was no man’s plaything. Not even his.

Before he knew
it, he had Dylan’s back against the wall and his arm pressed against his little
brother’s throat. “She’s not a stripper anymore,” he growled. “She’s a lingerie
designer and business owner. And a writer. And I strongly suggest you remember
that before you start talking out your ass about her.”

Dylan held up
his hands in mock surrender. “Oh yeah,” he said with a sarcastic smirk. “I can
see by her photo spread that she’s a class act. All the real ladies flash their
beavers like that.”

Kevin was just
about to haul off and seriously do some damage to Dylan’s pretty face when he
noticed the teasing glint in his brother’s eyes. He pulled back enough to stare
at him. “Beaver? Did you actually just say ‘beaver’?”

Dylan edged out
from under Kevin’s arm and straightened the collar of his shirt. “Yup. I
dropped the ‘B-Bomb.’ Just wanted to see how far you would go to defend your
lady’s honor. Now, drop the macho bullshit and explain to Dr. D what’s going on
with you.”

Kevin grabbed a
T-shirt from the end of the bed and sunk down on the chair he’d been sitting on
earlier. Pulling the old concert shirt on made him feel better, less exposed
somehow and he was able to relax a little. He scrubbed at the stubble on his
chin and gave Dylan a doubtful look. “Dr. D? Since when do you have your PhD.
Wasn’t aware they give those out for bullshit.”

“If they did,
you’d definitely have one of your own. Now, seriously, what’s your problem? You
mumbled something about research earlier. Please don’t tell me she’s one of
your mutant psychos. Because that would be a major waste of some truly
spectacular tits.”

“One more crack
about her tits and I’m going to break your lucky stick. I mean it. Kiss Petunia
good-bye.” Kevin grumbled, referring to Dylan’s prized possession - A hockey
stick signed by his brother’s personal hero, Wayne Gretzky and given to Dylan
by their father on his 13
^th
birthday.

Dylan had the
grace to look pale. “Nice try, Dick. But she’s locked up. No one gets their
paws on Petunia. You know that.”

“Man, you care
more about that stick than any woman you’ve ever been with. And then you have
the nerve to call me pathetic?”

“Hey, I’m not
the one with the shrine.” Dylan muttered, falling down on the couch with a long
suffering sigh. “I just have one tasteful wallet-sized snapshot of Petunia. And
we’ve been together for 16 years. How long have you and Miss Tits been
together? A day? Two days?”

Kevin leaned
forward and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, that’s kind of the problem.
We’re not together. She’s not interested. Says I’m not relationship material.”

“So then?”
Dylan shrugged. “Forget about her. There’s about a million other hot chicks out
there who’d be thrilled to have a taste of Hall Magic.” He held out his hands
in front of his chest as if cradling two giant melons. “Granted, they won’t
have her two rather outstanding attributes, but in the dark, who really cares,
right?” He dropped his imaginary visual aids, leaned over and gave Kevin an
encouraging punch in the thigh.

Kevin shook his
head. “Dude. You don’t understand. I don’t want anyone else. I mean, not at
all. Kerry was here the other night and I couldn’t. I mean, I had zero
interest.”

A look of
horror passed over Dylan’s face. “Shit. You mean your cone went soft serve?
Damn. That’s rough. No wonder you fell off the radar. I’d be in mourning too.”

Kevin rubbed
his forehead. “That’s not what I meant. Nothing went soft or anything. I mean,
even with Kerry lying in that bed.” He jabbed one finger towards the oversized
piece of furniture. “Looking gorgeous and wearing nothing but a towel and a
smile, I had no desire to sleep with her. Even though I was horny as hell and
pissed off at Jamie. She’s still the only one I wanted in my bed. Am I sick, or
what?”

“Kerry? Well,
maybe that’s the problem. That broad is crazy and mean besides. Even my dick
would have trouble warming up to her. Maybe you just need someone a little less
likely to cut off your junk in the night. You know, someone human.”

“Or maybe I’m
just losing my mind. That seems to be the consensus lately.”

“Yeah. But
you’ve always had a screw loose. What’s different now?”

“I have no idea.
Everything is going in the crapper. And I don’t know how to fix it. Nothing
works.”

“Well. Start
with the easy shit. Which means forget about the girl and focus on the stuff
you can actually control. Like work. Duncan said you aren’t writing? I thought
you could write about any sick fuck. Now you’re being a regular pussy where
this Rawlings turd is concerned. What’s with that?”

“I don’t know.
Rawlings is different. Worse, I guess. He’s spooking me.”

“Bullshit.
You’re Kevin Hall. You make monsters hide under their beds, right?”

“Not this time.
He’s gotten into my head. I can’t seem to keep him out.”

“Oh jeez. Spare
me. He’s psyched you out? A pig farmer? That is fucked up.”

“You haven’t
met the guy. I’m telling you, he’s eerie.”

“Kevin.
Seriously. He’s nothing. What’s happening here is that you’ve reached your
psycho saturation point and have no way to flush the bad shit out. You’ve spent
the last several years plugging your head up with other people’s nightmares,
eventually you’re going to get clogged up and need to do a mental colonic. It’s
like a dude that eats tacos every night. He may love ‘em but eventually all
that junk is going to get toxic. Rawlings is a bad taco. Seriously. Flush him
out.”

Kevin couldn’t
help smiling at the metaphor. His brother had a real talent for simplifying a
complex issue. “You think it’s that simple. Just forget about my contract? The
thing I’ve been doing for years? What I’m good at?”