I Call Him Brady by K. S. Thomas

reeling me in slowly but fiercely, like he was warning me that I just might get exactly what I’d asked for.

 

     
    F or days, anytime I was downstairs alone, I moved around the apartment like a manic person, muttering to myself and shouting out at random. This was no game. I could not fuck this up. Embers needed me to stand up to the plate, to re-set the bar from where the douchebags of her past had dropped it, and preferably set it so fucking high, no other guy would ever be able to reach it.
                  Problem was, I was just like those douchebags. I didn’t know the first thing about putting another person’s needs above my own. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I was great at being selfless with strangers. But when it came to relationships and women, I was as selfish a prick as they came. Not that any of them ever complained. At the end of the day, everyone either got what they needed from the arrangement or they simply moved on. No harm done.
                  Only Embers was already harmed. And I would destroy us both if I harmed her more.
     

     
                   The days that followed, while simplistic in nature, were utter perfection. So much so, I was starting to actually appreciate that Austin had high jacked my truck and granted me a mandatory vaca. Of course, the only downside was that we would have no choice but to actually cash the check Brady had given us for renting the apartment. Something I had originally not intended to do, but now with the lack of income there really was no alternative.
                  Most of our time was spent at the beach where Jessa finally got her wish and started learning to surf thanks to Brady, who was a far more patient teacher than I’d ever be. I sat in the sand and watched as her balancing skills became stronger and stronger until finally, she managed to ride an entire wave in without Brady holding on to her.
                  Not that we had major surf alongside our particular stretch of sand, but that suited me just fine. Better actually.
                  The afternoons and evenings consisted mostly of cooking out and later playing board games, which Margo usually joined us for. By the time, Jessa went to bed, May, Brady and I would settle onto the couch and search the cable box for movies to watch. On two separate occasions, certain films caused me to call out in excitement, “Hey that’s the new Jack Cole movie.”
    The first time he thought I was making a joke. The second, he just shook his head in disappointment while May and I succumbed to our usual ‘hyena’ laughing fits.
                  The next day while he and I were making a food run to the local seafood store for the night’s barbeque he was eerily quiet and I could tell something was on his mind. After parking the car and taking the key from the ignition, I leaned into the seat, bracing myself for whatever was about to come.
                  “Spill it. Whatever it is, I can take it. And honestly, I’d rather you just tell me now.”
                  His brow furrowed and I could see his jaw moving back and forth the way it did when he was still formulating his words.
                  “For starters, stop with the impending doom routine. I’m not a ticking time bomb.”
                  Now it was my turn to frown. “Well, then what is it? And don’t say nothing, because it’s obviously something.”
                  “It is nothing.  I’ve just been wondering why you don’t call me Jack.”
                  I shrugged. “Because I call you Brady.”
                  “Yeah, but why? My name is Jack.”
                  “Your name is Jack, but you’re not. Jack Cole is nothing but this persona created by the media long before you ever got to decide who you wanted to be. I don’t call you Jack because he’s not