Page 23

P uffing and panting, I haul ass up the 8765 thousand stairs leading to Lotte’s apartment. Why this damn thing exhausts me so, I can’t say. Perhaps it’s all in my head. The weight of my need makes each step a Herculean effort. I also can’t explain why I take the stairs when there’s a perfectly functioning elevator floating up and down in a concrete cavity beside me. It’s just Lotte is a little claustrophobic and refuses to take it. That shouldn’t stop me using it of course, but it feels wrong, almost disloyal, somehow.

When I reach her floor, my hackles rise. My sister’s tired voice fills the chipped paint halfway as she paces with her head down before Lotte’s slightly ajar door.

“She’s okay now, Mr. Bowe.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back in the office by Wednesday at the latest.”

“Ah huh. Yup”

“No… but. But.”

“Yes, I understand she’s been absent more than usual …” There’s a long pause, long enough for my brain to create its own version of events, before Claire turns, and spots me. Startled, by my presence she squeals, I squeal because she squealed then we both freeze. Well, I freeze, Claire’s brows pinch as her lips form an angry thin line. It’s not a pleasure to see me.

“I think this is a terrible mistake and horribly cruel but … No. No, I think it’s best if I tell her. Yes. I’m sure. See you Monday.” She snaps shut her new retro flip phone and sighs.

“Please don’t tell me he said what I think he did.”

“Why are you here, Noah?” she snaps, ignoring my question. “Don’t you have class or training or some bunny to chase down their hole?” Her bitter tone adds salt to my already open wounds and is one I would normally call her out on, but I’m too worried about Lotte to care for her fatigue- fueled slight.

“It’s Saturday so no class, almost ten so training’s done, and I’m not interested in bunnies or their … holes.”

Ready for a fight, Claire narrows her eyes and skews her lips to the side. “Since when?”

“Since Lotte.” When she dismisses me with a scoff, I refuse to back down. “And since we’re speaking since’s, since when did you become Lotte’s gatekeeper? I’m fairly certain she’s been looking after herself since she was seventeen and has the right and the ability to decide what she wants all on her own.”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“And I have no intention of hurting her, so it seems we both want the same thing.” Before she can argue, I take two giant strides and wrap her in an annoyingly tight brother cuddle. “I really like her, Claire.” I plead into her shoulder. “More than I have anyone else, and to be honest, you’re treating me like some kind of predator, not your little brother who yes, has been guilty of playing the field, but who is as you well know, at heart a really good guy.”

“You are a good guy,” she sighs, as a smidge of tension oozes from her body and she relaxes into the hug, “I know that more than anyone, but I also know where your heart and your future lies and it’s a world Lotte doesn’t fit into.”

“Again, I don’t think that’s a decision you can make.”

Claire slips her hands between us, presses herself away then scrubs her hands over her face. “When did you become so annoyingly insightful?” I turn my wrist, and glance at my nonexistent watch.

“About the same time you decided pink hair and space buns were age appropriate. Now, tell me, what did that dick Bowe want?”

Wilting before my eyes, Claire rests against, then slides down the wall, thumping her head against the plaster when she finally settles in a little pink heap. “He says the company is expanding and she’s become too unreliable. He needs a full-time team, and he’s going to fire her.”

The protein shake I slammed on the way over here threatens to revolt in my stomach, “He can’t.”

“He can. She’s a paid intern with a contract that expired last month. If he doesn’t want to renew it, she’s gone and there’s nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Well, you should quit, too,” I demand, kicking the wall cause that’s really going to help. “You can’t work for someone who’s such a dick.”

“Noah!” she yells, slapping her palms against the floor on both syllables, “I have a wife. Student loan repayments, and I think we both enjoy eating food in a home that has running water and electricity. I would love the luxury of a noble stance, but I just don’t have it.”

She’s right, I know she’s right, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I slump down beside her and drop my forehead to her shoulder. “This is her only source of income. How is she going to survive?”

“I don’t know. But she will because we’ll make sure she does.”

The cockiness I carried after landing work so easily for Marty has broken down to tiny particles that float from my body with every labored step.

I’m on the phone, pacing back and forth between the kitchen island while Claire, knee deep in the two loads of my laundry she’s done, watches on. Every business owner, manager and child of rich parents I know has been called and I’ve found no one willing or able to give Lotte a job. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Maloney. And if something does come up, would you keep Lotte in mind? She really is a fantastic worker. Great. Thanks again.”

Intense heat from Claire’s gaze follows me as I toss my phone onto the sofa and collapse next to it. My hands skim over the patchwork blanket covering a litany of holes and I can help but picture the last time this decrepit old thing supported my weight. The absolute bliss that was Lotte’s tight little body grinding away on top of me feels like a decade ago. “I think I can guess, but what did old man Maloney say?”

“He has nothing right now, but he’ll keep Lotte in mind if anything comes up.”

Puffing out her cheeks, Claire exhales loudly and buried her face into the black sweater she’s folding. “God damn it, this sucks. It’s better than a straight no, but still. Maloney wouldn’t have a business if it wasn’t for Mom bailing him out so many times.”

“I guess the moral obligation to do right by his former best client, was buried right at the same time dad was.”

My depressing words see Claire sink further into the fluffy knit, but predictably scolding me with a stern, “Noah, don’t say things like that.”

“Why? It’s true. Like you said, Mom gave that guy chance after chance. I was only a kid and I remember him begging for help across the kitchen table while scoffing down her babka. Pretty sure if we audited the family finances we’d find he never paid that money back, either.” I lean over to the coffee table and cross Maloney’s name from the list we made when we came inside.

“Any one left?” Claire asks, raising her head to resume folding.

“Just one. And since I don’t even know the owner’s name.” Reaching for my discarded phone, I do a quick google search then hit call. “Yeah, hi Casey. This is Noah Petterson, I was wondering if I could speak with your manager?” A high-pitched squeal cuts me off. “Oh, that’s you? Great … yes, that’s me, Noah Petterson, captain of the hockey team, but I wouldn’t go as far to say I’m gorgeous.” Moving to sit beside me, Claire rolls her eyes and pretends to gag. “Hey, since you’re a fan of the team, maybe you can do me a favor, and I can do one for you—” The favor my number one fan suggests has my eyebrows hitting my forehead and a light blush burning my cheeks, “No. Not that kind of favor. I was thinking more like rink side seats for every home game this season.”

I have absolutely no authority to offer this, but that’s a problem for future Noah. “In exchange, I was hoping you might be in the position to help a friend out. Her name is Charlotte. She basically lives on the caffeine and sugar you provide her multiple times a day, and is somewhat of a self-taught coffee sommelier …”

My pitch continues and it turns out, Beanz and Bookz - Lotte’s home away from home - are hiring. And after what I would call smooth talking, and Claire would call bluffing, my way through a ton of questions, my overconfidence is back. I’ve secured Lotte a trial, and found a slither of inner peace. “Casey, you’re amazing. I just need to ask one more teeny tiny thing. I’ll throw a signed jersey in with those tickets, if you could maybe not tell Charlotte we’ve spoken? Great. Thanks Casey, I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow at twelve.”

Seemingly at war with herself, Claire is both smiling and shaking her head as I triumphantly three point my phone into the half empty laundry hamper. “Just when I think your head couldn’t possibly get any bigger, you go and prove me wrong.”

“What can I say? The people love me … some also want to do some really kinky shit, but let’s just focus on the love for now.”

“Hmm. Yes, let’s.” As best as she can when I’m twice her size I’m bundled up into my sister’s arms, receiving cheek kisses and kicks to the shins in reward and . “I’ve never seen you like this before. You really do care about her, don’t you?” She asks when she’s her fill of affection.

“I do.” I sigh, melodramatically sinking into of the sofa. “She’s gorgeous and cute and sweet, and so damn feisty I just want to toss her over my shoulder, smack her ass and fuck—”

“La la la la la!” sings Claire as she throws her hands over her ears and yells. “Kiss her?”

“Yeah.” I laugh, and pull her hands away. “I want to kiss her fucking brains out. But , it’s not just that. She’s smart and funny and strong and independent, but kind of vulnerable, too. I want to look after her, learn from her, travel with her, maybe …” Love her. I pause, chew the inside of my lip and wait for fear to smother the words I’ve never said or felt towards, or about, anyone outside of my family, Wayne Gretzky and Sidney Crosby. But it doesn’t come. There’s only hope. “Love—”

A tiny gasp has my head snapping to the hallway. In her Green Line Ice tee and fluffy pink PJ bottoms, wild hair, flushed cheeked Lotte is propped up against the wall, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You feel all those things about me?”