Marlboro Light and parted a lock of hair from her emerald eyes.
"I'm looking for Josh Sullivan. Does he still live here?"
"Who are you?"
"His brother."
"Josh doesn't have a brother."
"That's what he told you?" Lloyd pointed to the Geo. "That's his car."
"How do you know?"
"He was drunk when he broke the antenna in half. He tried to hit me with it when I took his keys."
Sheila blew smoke through the screen. "How come he lied about you?"
"I've been gone a long time."
"So has my cherry. Doesn't mean I forgot my first time." Lloyd watched her eyes as she looked him up and down. "You don't look like him. He's not here."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
"He comes and goes."
A baby cried inside the trailer. A long, high-pitched wail that screamed I'm hungry.
Sheila opened the screen-door far enough to flick her cigarette butt. "I have to go."
Lloyd turned to leave. "If you see Josh, tell him I was here."
Sheila disappeared inside the trailer and returned with an infant in her arms. She pointed to the faded red '69 Mustang pulling in beside the community mailbox. "Tell him yourself."
Lloyd watched his lanky six-foot, six-inch brother unfold himself from the two-door coupe with mag wheels and rusted rocker panels.
"What are you doing here?" Josh asked, a full head taller than his older adopted sibling.
Lloyd reached his arm around Josh's back and hugged him.
Josh reciprocated with an awkward embrace. He looked down at Lloyd through dark sunglasses. "When did you get out?"
"Two days ago. I made parole."
"That's great." Josh squeezed the bridge of his nose and invited Lloyd inside the trailer.
Clutter was everywhere. A box fan blew air at the thrift store furniture beside a stroller and an infant car seat. A blanket with baby toys covered the floor beneath a plasma television. On the opposite wall, a broken window air conditioner protruded near a black cello case on wheels.
"Do you play?" asked Lloyd.
"It's Sheila's."
Josh shook a crumpled pack of cigarettes and offered a smoke to his brother.
"I'll pass," said Lloyd.
"Since when?" Josh rubbed his teeth with his tongue. He followed Sheila and the baby toward the back of the trailer. She carried a bottle of formula and a burp cloth.
Lloyd watched as Sheila cradled her baby in her arm and tested the formula on her inside wrist. He could see her whispering at Josh—knew she was asking about him.
Josh closed the door on Sheila and returned to the front of the trailer. "The baby's not mine," he told Lloyd. "I hooked up with Sheila after she got pregnant with her ex. I didn't realize at the time..." He lit a cigarette. "Can't smoke near the baby."
"That's smart," said Lloyd.
Josh twisted two cans of Bud from the six-pack holder in the fridge and tossed one at Lloyd who caught the errant pass high and right. "Did you play ball in prison?"
"Not really."
"What was it like?"
"Like no place you want to be." Lloyd savored the flavor of cheap beer. Even the crappy stuff tasted better than the prison hooch he choked down on occasion. "You're still driving that same piece of shit?"
"I've had it since high school," Josh recalled. "I still remember hiding in the back when Mom drove us." He shared a laugh with his brother.
Lloyd snorted beer through his nose. "You asked her to let you ride in the trunk."
Josh nodded. "That turd on wheels was the worst part about going to school. I told Mom I'd rather walk to the prom."
"You never went to the prom," said Lloyd. And in the same instant, he regretted the comment. "You didn't miss anything."
Josh dropped his cigarette in his beer can. The burning tobacco fizzled. "It's not my dream car, but it runs."
"Funny how things change."
"Serious... Is that Dad's bike outside?"
"I got it running."
"I'll trade you," Josh offered.
"You don't know how to ride."
Josh lit another cigarette. "That never stopped me before." He wiped the edge of his nose. "Sheila lets me drive her car for errands. I drive the beater to
"I'm looking for Josh Sullivan. Does he still live here?"
"Who are you?"
"His brother."
"Josh doesn't have a brother."
"That's what he told you?" Lloyd pointed to the Geo. "That's his car."
"How do you know?"
"He was drunk when he broke the antenna in half. He tried to hit me with it when I took his keys."
Sheila blew smoke through the screen. "How come he lied about you?"
"I've been gone a long time."
"So has my cherry. Doesn't mean I forgot my first time." Lloyd watched her eyes as she looked him up and down. "You don't look like him. He's not here."
"Do you know when he'll be back?"
"He comes and goes."
A baby cried inside the trailer. A long, high-pitched wail that screamed I'm hungry.
Sheila opened the screen-door far enough to flick her cigarette butt. "I have to go."
Lloyd turned to leave. "If you see Josh, tell him I was here."
Sheila disappeared inside the trailer and returned with an infant in her arms. She pointed to the faded red '69 Mustang pulling in beside the community mailbox. "Tell him yourself."
Lloyd watched his lanky six-foot, six-inch brother unfold himself from the two-door coupe with mag wheels and rusted rocker panels.
"What are you doing here?" Josh asked, a full head taller than his older adopted sibling.
Lloyd reached his arm around Josh's back and hugged him.
Josh reciprocated with an awkward embrace. He looked down at Lloyd through dark sunglasses. "When did you get out?"
"Two days ago. I made parole."
"That's great." Josh squeezed the bridge of his nose and invited Lloyd inside the trailer.
Clutter was everywhere. A box fan blew air at the thrift store furniture beside a stroller and an infant car seat. A blanket with baby toys covered the floor beneath a plasma television. On the opposite wall, a broken window air conditioner protruded near a black cello case on wheels.
"Do you play?" asked Lloyd.
"It's Sheila's."
Josh shook a crumpled pack of cigarettes and offered a smoke to his brother.
"I'll pass," said Lloyd.
"Since when?" Josh rubbed his teeth with his tongue. He followed Sheila and the baby toward the back of the trailer. She carried a bottle of formula and a burp cloth.
Lloyd watched as Sheila cradled her baby in her arm and tested the formula on her inside wrist. He could see her whispering at Josh—knew she was asking about him.
Josh closed the door on Sheila and returned to the front of the trailer. "The baby's not mine," he told Lloyd. "I hooked up with Sheila after she got pregnant with her ex. I didn't realize at the time..." He lit a cigarette. "Can't smoke near the baby."
"That's smart," said Lloyd.
Josh twisted two cans of Bud from the six-pack holder in the fridge and tossed one at Lloyd who caught the errant pass high and right. "Did you play ball in prison?"
"Not really."
"What was it like?"
"Like no place you want to be." Lloyd savored the flavor of cheap beer. Even the crappy stuff tasted better than the prison hooch he choked down on occasion. "You're still driving that same piece of shit?"
"I've had it since high school," Josh recalled. "I still remember hiding in the back when Mom drove us." He shared a laugh with his brother.
Lloyd snorted beer through his nose. "You asked her to let you ride in the trunk."
Josh nodded. "That turd on wheels was the worst part about going to school. I told Mom I'd rather walk to the prom."
"You never went to the prom," said Lloyd. And in the same instant, he regretted the comment. "You didn't miss anything."
Josh dropped his cigarette in his beer can. The burning tobacco fizzled. "It's not my dream car, but it runs."
"Funny how things change."
"Serious... Is that Dad's bike outside?"
"I got it running."
"I'll trade you," Josh offered.
"You don't know how to ride."
Josh lit another cigarette. "That never stopped me before." He wiped the edge of his nose. "Sheila lets me drive her car for errands. I drive the beater to
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