"How do you know? He could be exactly like that. Emma doesn't need that kind of confusion right now."
"I know Tim, that's why. He's my kid brother."
"Sorry."
"Sam, no one here is going to try to hurt Emma, or keep you two apart. Despite their problems, these are some of the best people I know. You both have to learn to trust, let other people in. You keep everything wrapped up inside you, that's what keeps you using."
Sam's glare was accusatory. "How do you know?"
"Cause you're just like me, dude. Come on, meet the others. Starting with Tim."
They walked over the the group. Raleigh clapped Sam on the shoulder, bringing him into the group. "Everyone, you've met Emma. Meet her other half. This is Sam. Tim, why don't we start with you?"
"I'm Tim, Raleigh's better looking, younger brother."
"I'm Shelby," a tall, thin blonde said, extending her hand to Sam. "I'm with stupid," she said, pointing at Tim.
"I'm Benji," an energetic youth with light brown hair and green eyes said. He fairly hopped around the room. He shook hands quickly, then shoved his fists back in his pockets.
"The goddess to his right is Donna," a girl said, stepping forward.
She had been beautiful once, but drugs and alcohol abuse had stolen her beauty. She was still one of the prettiest women Sam had ever seen. She was nearly six feet tall, willowy build, with a long waist and slender hips. Her hair was walnut brown, sleek and straight, falling to her shoulders. Her eyes were gray, twinkling with humor.
"This is Cory. She's rather shy, so you'll find one of us usually answers for her," Donna said.
The girl she indicated was about 16 or 17, short and round with big blue eyes and cropped brown hair.
"I can talk just fine," Cory said hesitantly. "They don't often give me a chance to consider my answer first."
"We're all too impulsive," the last young woman said. "I'm Vera. My folks named me after that Pink Floyd song from The Wall. I'm a musician by trade."
Her hair was cut in a very punk style, dyed black and streaked with different shades of blue. She bore evidence of piercings in her nose and eyebrow, but the studs were missing. Her arms had tattoos and old needle tracks. Her grip was firm, manly, her fingers calloused.
"Guitarist?" Sam asked. His own hands bore the similar callouses.
"Little bit of everything. Bass, guitar, keyboards.... I dabble on drums."
"Maybe we can jam sometime," Sam's eyes glittered. "That's if they've got guitars?"
"We have an entire music studio out back," Molly answered. "It's sound proof so the rest of us need not listen, if we'd rather not."
"You play anything, Emma?" Vera asked.
"Not really. Sam's tried to teach me, but I'm the world's worst student."
"Haven't found the right instrument then," Vera said with confidence. "When you're up to it, we'll find you one. I can play about anything. I'm probably more patient than your man here." She smiled at Sam.
"I'm Freddie," the guy next to her said, insinuating himself between the girls. He was short, slender, frail looking. "I'm the professional f**k up."
Raleigh cleared his throat. Freddie cracked a shy grin.
"Sorry, I'm not allowed to say that. I owe you forty cents, Molly."
"We charge ten cents a letter for cursing," Molly told Sam and Emma. "Raleigh's got the list, and will go over it. I won't say them." She snapped her lips shut.
"What she's not telling you is that her own hubby is so far in debt to the curse jar, he can't afford to pay it."
©2020 Dellani Oakes
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