Coffee and Love

Mirela jumped to her feet and I quickly walked in front of her. I walked over slowly and quietly. Mirela was following and I tried not to laugh at her choice of weapon: her stool. I got on the right side of the door and she got on the left. I nodded once but, before we could move, the door was thrown open and the burglar used it to hit me in the nose. I swore loudly and stumbled back, tearing the green screen.

A person in black went running but Mirela threw the stool at their back. They landed with a yell and she put her foot on their back. I rushed over, ignoring my bloody nose, and flipped on the studio lights. The person was swearing and trying to get Mirela’s foot off of them.

“Get off of me, bitch!”

It was a man. I jerked my head to the side and Mirela moved. I grabbed the man by his blond hair and lifted him. He yelled in pain and I stared at him. He smirked at me.

“What the hell!?” I yelled, pushing him away from me.

“Just wanted to see if you still had your reflexes,” Tom said with a grin.

“Call the cops, Mirela,” I said wearily.

“Already on it,” she said. “Hello? Hi, I’d like to report a burglary.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “You’re seriously calling the cops on me?”

I picked up his bag and looked in. I glared at him.

“Considering you’ve got some of my most expensive make up and jewelry in here, yeah I am! Why are you here!?”

He shrugged. “Heard you got yourself an investor. I figured you could afford to lose a few things.”

“You were supposed to stop doing this, man!” I yelled, pushing him again.

He stumbled and glared at me. “I’ve got bills to pay, man. Not all of us got to get cushy jobs.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You had the same opportunity I had.”

“College wasn’t for me.”

“You only have yourself to blame for that,” I snapped. I heard the sirens. “And for this.”

His eyes slid to Mirela. “This your new squeeze?”

“No. Back off,” I warned. He smirked again. “I really wish you hadn’t done this, Tom.”

He shrugged as the police came in. “I really wish you hadn’t called the cops.”

He sighed and let them put him in handcuffs. Mirela passed me some tissues and I watched sadly as the police took Tom back to the elevator. When they were gone, I kicked the stool and it flew into the wall. I ran a hand through my hair, dabbing at the blood.

“Oh no,” Mirela gasped.

“What?” I snapped and turned. “That fucker!”

My green screen was completely trashed. I sat down heavily and pulled on my hair. I heard Mirela call someone but I barely listened, stuffing more tissues into my nose to stem the blood.

“Fuck, shit, bastard, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“Who was that?” Mirela whispered.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “My brother.”

Luther showed up and yelled. “Oh great! Who did it!?”

“It was Tom,” I said. “We were editing the pictures and heard him trip over something in the ladies’ dressing room.”

“I’ll show you,” Mirela said quickly and picked up the bag.

“Mirela, I think you should go home,” Luther said quietly. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Caleb, I-”

“Just go,” I mumbled and heard her leave.

Luther sat beside me and I glared at the floor. We sat in silence for a while.

“We don’t have the money to replace that screen, Luther,” I said through clenched teeth.

“We’ll call our insurance company,” he said. “They’ll help us.”

“I’m the one that stumbled into it when he hit me with the door.”

“It was assault, then. I’m sure they’ll cover for it.”

“I hope you’re right,” I sighed. “Do you want to see the edits since you’re here?”

“Sure. Um… why is there a dent in the wall?”

I chuckled humorlessly. “Mirela threw the stool at him and I kicked it.”

Luther laughed, picking it up and following me to the computer room.

“She threw the stool?”

I laughed a little. “Yeah, she did. I’m surprised at her quick thinking.”

“Are things awkward like you thought they would be?”

“Not really,” I answered, pulling up the edits. “I mean, I couldn’t look her in the fucking face but she seemed perfectly normal.” I shook my head. “I went to Starbucks to get a coffee and she was there crying.”

“Do you think it was about the shoot?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “She was staring out the window and I had been trying to get her attention to give her the napkins for at least a minute. It was probably her father or something.”

“Her father is dead?” he asked and I nodded. “That sucks. These edits are a good start, though. Who picked the backdrops?”

“We both did,” I said. “The outfits suggested a more intimate setting so the park and the restaurant were kind of tossed out.”

“What about the gazebo?” he asked.

“I liked the hotel room and she liked the idea of the fireplace.”

“It does give it a good ambiance,” he agreed.

I looked sadly at the green screen. “I thought he went straight, Luther,” I whispered.

“So did I,” he said. “Are you going to tell your mom?”

“No,” I said immediately. “It’ll break her heart. She’s convinced he’s straight.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll probably be the one Tom calls to bail him out. He and Mom don’t talk much anymore so she won’t hear about it from him.”

“Don’t feel guilty,” Luther said. “It’s not your fault.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I should’ve done more after the divorce, Luther. I was so caught up in everything, though, that-”

“Exactly,” Luther interrupted. “You had your own life and problems to face. He didn’t confront his demons like you did, Caleb.”

I snorted. “I haven’t confronted all of my demons, Luther.”

“At least you’re not drinking anymore,” he whispered.

I toyed with the mouse. “Do you think I should put Tom in rehab? I think he’s still using, too.”

“He’s not your responsibility, Caleb.”

“I’m his older brother.”

“He’s 21 now. He’s made his choice about what he wants to be. It doesn’t matter what you do or say.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m an awful brother.”

Luther gripped my shoulder. “No you’re not.”

“I told Mirela to call the cops!”

“You had to, Caleb!” he said. “How else is he going to learn?”

“You just said it didn’t matter what I did,” I said and he chuckled.

“It’s true but you can still plant the seed.”

My phone rang. “It’s my dad,” I sighed.

“You fine with locking up?”

“Yeah. See you later.”

He left and I answered my phone.

“Hey Pops,” I said.

“You called the cops on him!?”

“What would you have done?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

“Given him a chance!”

“I gave him a chance! I’ve given him a lot of chances! This is the third time he’s tried to rob us!”

“He’s lost, Caleb. You need to help him.”

“Why the hell should I help him?” I snapped. “You’re his father! I can’t be expected to still raise him!”

“Do you know how large his bail was!? He was high!”

“I know. I could tell. Look, put him in rehab please.”

“No. You’re going to take him on at your studio.”

“No I’m not,” I said firmly. “You are his father! I am not! I had to raise him since we were kids because you were too drunk and lazy to do it yourself! You have a chance to make up for that! I know you’ve been wanting to! You take care of him! I have my own shit to deal with now that he’s pulled this shit! He’s caused huge damage to the studio!”

“What did he do?”

“Pushed me with the door into the green screen and it ripped,” I snapped.

“Well, you should have put your feet in the right places!”

“Take care of him, Dad,” I snapped and hung up.

I put my head in my hands.