Page 7 of Burning for You
“Where were you?” Jesse gets up, both fists on the table.
“Come on, boys! It’s no one’s fault but mine.”
“The guy wanted this land. He must’ve had a plan! This is illegal. He coerced you, didn’t he?” I say, begging for my dad to say yes.
“I signed everything, Blue Jay. Willingly.”
“Oh, Dad.” I shake my head.
“Don’t blame him!” Jesse says.
“I’m not blaming Dad.” I press my forehead. “Is there a way we can keep Grudge? How about the Cessna?”
Jesse explodes, “Here we go! Just like Mom, you have to bring up the Cessna.”
“Jesse!” Dad bellows.
“You squealed for Grudge. 'Oh my God! That horse is a unicorn, how could you sell it?'” Jesse says with animated hands and accusing eyes. “Yet, you said ‘How about the Cessna?’ as if it was just a piece of junk. God, Jeans, you really sound like Mother!”
Kicking back my chair, I pounce on Jesse. The dickhead is bigger than me, but I can hurt him, despite my injury. I bear down on him with my good elbow. Fury burning my tongue, I quaver, “Mom was right to hate you.”
Jesse tries to roll over, but I’m adamant he has to stay where he is.
My brother stops his attempt to retaliate. Instead he says, “I never wanted to go with Lucy that day. You forced me to!”
I strengthen my hold on him. “I don’t know what you have in that little brain of yours, but one thing's for sure—you don’t know how to deal with guilt. That’s your problem, Jesse. Not the Cessna, not me, not my fucking horse!”
“Boys! Please!” Dad pulls me away from my brother. “The plane won’t earn us much. We’d better off renting it, like now. Guys like Coops keeps it well serviced, well fueled, and we just collect the money. No hassles.”
I let Jesse go. He stalks toward the fridge, plucking out another bottle of beer, and then he slumps back into his chair. I steady my heartbeat and do the same.
We spend the rest of dinner munching quietly, looking at nothing but our own plates.
* * *
After dinner,Jesse surprisingly offers to clean up.
Dad ushers me away from the kitchen, hinting to leave my brother alone. He says, “Go easy on him, will you? He’s your brother. He’s not as strong as you.”
“Night, Dad.” I pat his shoulder. “Talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling. I’ve seen that smile before. It’s one that says ‘everything will be alright,’ just like before I departed for New York.
The smile looks somewhat out of place. Something tells me I should talk to my old man tonight, but my exhaustion has drained every useful thought from my head. So I let Dad disappear into his study without saying anything. After staring at the closed door for a few seconds, I turn to take a shower, and then hop into bed.
Only a couple of minutes in, I hear Jesse knocking.
“What?” I say as the door creeps open.
My brother turns on my bedroom light and says, “I come in peace!”
“What can I do for you?” I say flatly, anticipating accusations, blame, or God knows what Jesse Holt feels like discussing right now.
“HPI, Highpoint Properties and Investments, is based in Bozeman,” he explains. “There’s a lot I haven’t told Dad.”
I sit up, leaning against the headboard. It’s not very often my brother has a look of wisdom. I reply to him, “What are they planning?”
“They’re only a three-man band and the office is hardly open. I broke in yesterday.”