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COCKS FOR CHARITY

Evie: How do I make them stop bringing pies?

Jon: You don’t.

Evie: I’m going to die.

Jon: You don’t HAVE to eat them.

Evie: Shut your foul mouth.

Evie: It’s banana cream pie.

Evie: It was banana cream pie.

Jon: Save me some.

Evie: Should have said that ten minutes ago.

Two hours passed as I watched Amanda work on her comic.

She sat at her drafting table, face inches from the paper as she inked.

In all the years I had known her, it was the only time she kept quiet.

Drawing? She’d talk my ear off. Coloring?

She’d complain about her wrist hurting, but inking, something about it always required the utmost focus.

“You’re staring.”

I had been for the last ten minutes. Hidden in the loft over Jason’s comic book shop, we had declared it a workday. I should have been working on a pirate romance book cover, but doodling Amanda was more fun.

“Are you going to beat me up?”

She sat upright, arching her back until vertebrae cracked. The sound made my bones hurt. Dropping her brush in a cup of water, she turned toward me. Her black t-shirt hid the ink stains. However, the dark marks lined her arms like leopard spots.

I had taken up a perch on the loveseat that lived in the loft. It was quite possibly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever made, but it gave me a good view of her while I drew.

“Mr. Ar-teest,” she said. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

“You can’t afford me.”

“Admit it, you’re cheap.”

“Only my body.”

“So I’ve heard.”

We glared at one another. Amanda and I had the relationship I expected from siblings.

We’d have terrorized parents and most likely spent most of our childhood grounded.

I couldn't imagine our relationship with my actual sister. Maybe it wouldn’t be as sharp , but hopefully, we reached a spot where the banter remained playful.

“What are you working on?”

Her head flopped back as she sighed. “So I have a comic being turned into a movie. Yay. It’s awesome.” The tone of her voice said otherwise. “I think I’m putting too much pressure on myself. What if this one sucks? What if nobody likes it? What if?—”

“When did you start caring what people think?”

“Inside this gorgeous body is a fragile ego.”

She glanced at me before we both cracked up laughing.

Amanda cared about a lot of things. The opinions of others never made the list. I think that’s how somebody like her survived in a town like this.

They learned to live with her, and she brushed off their comments.

I always admired how she marched to the beat of her own slightly off-tempo drum.

“I think it was easier when I was poor and nobody knew my name.”

“Did you just complain about being famous?”

She grinned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

With the back of her hand against her forehead, she walked over to the couch, throwing herself onto a lumpy cushion. “Whoa is—” Her eyes widened. “Whoa.” She leaned forward, half draped over my shoulder, as she inspected my drawing.

“I can’t believe all these years you never told me.”

“Still bitter about that, huh?”

“Very.”

The longer she stared at my work, the more self-conscious I became. I’m sure plenty of people judged my book covers and called them trashy or similar nonsense. Those projects weren’t personal. The thought of somebody judging my sketches tightened a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“It really is gorgeous, and I don’t mean your model.” She paused. “Well, not just your model. Is this where you tear it out and secretly leave it behind?”

“It doesn’t count if you know I’m doing it.”

“Patty has hers hanging in the bakery. It seems Marigold and Peter got one too. Walter and Harvey are treating theirs like a timeshare. And Dorothy? Come on. Why can’t I have it?”

She wouldn’t stop until I tore it out. I’d wake up to text messages if she didn’t get her way.

I carefully pulled the page from my sketchbook and handed it to her.

For a moment, I spotted the glimmer of appreciation in her eye.

No sarcasm, no snide remarks. Amanda understood how the rest of the world saw her.

Me? I saw an artist trying to change the world one drawing at a time. We had that in common.

“Thank you,” she said. Of course, she wouldn’t leave it there. “When are you going to show them off? You could host a salon. We’d all get dressed up and drink fancy champagne and discuss the plights of our time.”

“I prefer to operate from the shadows.”

“We could get you some social media. After the interview with Gail, I’m sure people would be interested.” She rambled to herself as she started pacing. Just like with the calendar, Amanda seized control and wouldn’t let it go unless I shook her.

“I think I prefer doing it for fun.”

She stopped, looking from the drawing to the page she had been inking. Rarely did she grow quiet. I feared I had said something to set her off. She placed my drawing next to hers.

“You know…” She continued glancing from one to the other. “I think you’re right.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Don’t make me regret this.” She flagged me to come closer. I got off the couch, my knees cracking as I moved for the first time in hours. Walking closer, she held my arm, resting a head on my shoulder. “There’s something to be said for doing what you love. It shows in the work.”

I’d have to take her word for it. Like always, her comic amazed me. I didn’t understand how one person could have so much talent. Yet, something I said struck a nerve.

“Speaking of…”

Nope. I would not walk into this trap.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Resist. The. Urge.

“It rhymes with mylar.”

“What?” Dammit. One word gave her permission.

“Your one-night stand seems to have turned into a lot of night stands. Do I sense wedding bells in your future? Maybe a small, adorable dog?”

“You know you’re insufferable.”

“And yet you suffer.”

“I don’t know.” I might be able to lie to myself, but she wouldn’t accept it. Lying to Amanda would have required notarized documents, psych evaluations, and an act of Congress. “I like him.”

“Really? I didn’t get that impression when you offered to get butt naked to save his job.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“To everybody but yourself.” She really was the sister I could have had. I couldn’t imagine Evie calling me out on my crap. Amanda wouldn’t let it stand. She’d push, poke, and prod until I caved.

“Yeah. I like him.”

“It’s been almost a month, and that’s all you’ve got?”

It was hard to roll my eyes. In a month, Amanda could have met a woman, fallen in love, had a bitter breakup, and considered reconciliation.

It had been a month of patching up my relationship with Evie.

A month of cleaning out my grandmother’s house.

Time might move at a brisk pace for her, but it didn’t seem like nearly enough time to process all the things going on in my head.

“Look, I’m not going to push you?—”

I scoffed.

Amanda glared—a look that turned the blood in my veins into ice water. She plopped down on her stool, eyes narrowing. “Has it been a month, or has it been twenty years?” I knew this tone. She posed the question, a guaranteed trap. Just when I thought it’d end, she’d go in for the kill.

“I—”

“Rhetorical question.” Why were we friends? “Are you having fun with him?”

“Yeah. I just?—”

Her finger shot up and pushed against my lips. “Shh.” Sister I never had? More like sister I never wanted. It made me thankful that Evie and I continued having a comfortable but cautious relationship.

“You’re hung up on what happens tomorrow. Feelings don’t care about tomorrow. They exist in the here and now.”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting for the statement to sink in.

She might drive me crazy, but she had a point.

The more time I spent with him, the more I asked the proverbial ‘what if.’ I laid in bed wondering what life…

our life would look like if I gave up my attachment to the city.

Yes, it even had a dog… breed yet to be determined.

“For a man who loves love, you’re certainly stubborn with getting it for yourself.”

I wanted to shoot back a sarcastic remark.

This wasn’t like the movies on the Romance Channel.

There wasn’t… no… there was a struggling storefront.

That would mean… the small town had rallied.

I spent so much time watching movies with a box of tissues within reach that I didn’t realize I had been cast as the leading man. That would make Tyler…

“Oh my God. Am I living a second-chance romance?”

“Maybe if you stop resisting.”

I grabbed my sketchbook and headed back to the couch.

There was no way I’d let Amanda see the smile on my face.

Night after night, I watched movies, crying as the couple found one another.

It seemed surreal to be starring in my own romcom.

I plopped down on the couch, flipping to a sketch of Mimi.

I could swear my grandmother’s eye had a twinkle I hadn’t seen before.

Had I been on an adventure all this time and not realized it?

This changed things.

“It’s here!”

Amanda and I had gone back to working. She didn’t stop inking while Jason’s voice filled the comic shop downstairs. When neither of us moved, making the floorboards of the loft creek, I heard him growl.

“There are naked men involved.”

No movement.

“I can see Jon’s penis,” he shouted.

Amanda dropped her ink brush into a cup and ran toward the stairs.

I wasn’t nearly as thrilled. I knew the moment I recommended the calendar I’d have to deal with the consequences.

It was one thing to sit in the park with Amanda and guess who wore briefs versus boxers.

Now, I’d have to sit through the giggles of the little old ladies with intimate knowledge of my naughty bits.