THE BRANDER FROM HELL

Chapter 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello! Thank you always for the love and support. Like I often say, it is better to have a humble following that sticks than an entire explosion that flares for only a little while before dying down.

About an editor, I'm still looking as some errors still make it to end products I swear I had felt very fit for you.

For example, In The Brander From Hell [Laid] Chapter 3, it was Gavin's eyes that were meant to go wide, not Rory's. This is thanks in part to my having thought up that "special" substory and its characters, wrote and edited, only a week prior to submission in order to capitalize on its sensational real life background.

Finally, three chapters of sixteen that make up the first part of The Brander have been made available to you so far, and some characters and the storylines they are involved in followed up. Please nominate your two most favorite from the characters and storylines as you hit the comments tab below.

I

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It was hard seeing across the city with all the heavy rain that made cars the only traffic out there. Window lights were also alive because it was early nightfall in fall, with its shorter days and it was already dark you groped.

Conor and Amy watched the rain sputter on their bowery brick patio, through two huge French windows that opened to there as they lay with a greater deal of their bodies under covers. But you could see half their upper bodies.

Amy was in a black lace bra and her beautiful fingers loved it on Conor's bare chest who lay supine.

Conor said: 'I'm glad I'm no longer our children's age. Otherwise, I would be agonizing over which coat to wear to a club in a weather like this. If I should wear a coat to a club, that is.'

Amy ran her fingers delicately up and down his smooth chest. Said: 'It is gym and protein that sells these days. All those arms.'

Conor smiled. Amy said then: 'You had beautiful arms too when I met you. But you were not a party person when I found you.'

'And I thought you'd look past me', Conor turned to sleep on his side now. Like Amy. His eyes were the most vivid and vital honey. He said: 'I'm sorry, Amy. I can be so selfish sometimes.'

Amy smiled lazily. Said: 'I've always known that.' Her own eyes also brunet and intense. Intense like her. But she had them lazy too right now as Conor took her hand in his under the covers and said: 'I wanna do things right for a change. And it begins at home.'

'Hmm', Amy stirred, saying: 'It's nice to have you at home, then. Always. Far from people... the rain... ringing cellphones. I love having you with me always — I don't wanna lose you, Conor.'

'No you won't', Conor said easily and Amy wished to trust that. Conor was a policeman wearing a cape and there were plenty of pretty little girls and adults alike in his line of work who needed him to scrooch down to their height and they look down with unsure eyes into his assuring own. She'd long made peace with that.

Conor said: 'What are you thinking, Merlin?'
It was the name of their son and a bird like her.

Amy shrugged secretively. Said: 'I'm thinking pots and scrubbed floors and food for my husband by my own hands.'

'That's not true and you know it', Conor said, touching her nose.

Amy smiled. Then said seriously: 'I wanna be a supportive wife, be by your side always. I promised that many years ago.'

Conor giggled. A confidential little laughter. It wasn't that ancient ancient, Amy's promise. And their marriage. He said: 'And I said it too, and I quote me, you complement me, Amy Waler Arendt.'

There was a comfortable little silence as those fingers kept on that chest with a relish and all the time on their hands.

Said, as Amy came up from the silence: 'Do you still believe that?'

'Like a rhyme.'

Amy laughed richly. And they both did, looking into each other's eyes. Searching, fond, bright; but in a lazy homebody, cuddly way. Amy then said seriously: 'I wanna be there and I mean it.' She cupped his face. 'You're a good man who is a good policeman. I wanna support that.'
And she meant that. She felt she could be too needy sometimes. Even down to this day, she still felt the need for his warm body and having him where her eyes didn't lose him. It would be a real loss should his urge to catch criminals raise something in him and he let in cold air as he slipped out to get dressed. It would be a very big warm coat.

Conor said: 'I love my job.' And he did already in his new station. Great colleagues he was easily friends with. Two of whom were coming over for dinner tomorrow evening. A very challenging case too. But one that would give him that feeling once dusted and put away, having siphoned at a greater deal of his time. Time it shared with his family. He would try not to disappoint them again.

'You love your job but...' Amy tilted up her chin.

'Yes, I love my job', Conor said. 'But there's you; there's Adler, Merlin, Natie...'

'And they all are thankful you love them.'
'Will I regret it?'

Amy shook her head her eyes moony and smiled. Conor smiled moonily too. Said seriously: 'You're one dotted line I would sign on and right to its end.' Amy raised her chin on this. To which Conor said: 'Amy?'

She said: 'Conor?'

He said: 'Please move your business here? I'll be supportive.'

It stunned Amy. If it was that easy. She looked up the ceiling, thinking about it. Came back to say: 'You're an extraordinary man.' And with that, took out his one hand from under the sheets and kissed the back of it. He had the best brown eyes. She loved him all.

***

'Tell me', Rhia encouraged Maui, the man whose love and loyalty she had never doubted and possibly never would, but whose same love was also unsaid and never admitted you guessed and drew from what he gave you.

But if they could sleep on each other's beds, whichever was nearest... It was only natural they be by extension each other's sounding boards.

Maui hesitated. 'We need to talk', he said finally. A summons really. But through a familiar mouth of a familiar, reliable man. Rhia fluttered twice however, and her eyes widened on an otherwise placid face that was under his chin.

There was nothing that needed to be talked about here and they both knew it. Marriage was out of the picture. Even though at times she felt so broody and wanted his babies. This in the now was a very perfect arrangement.

'We need to talk', Maui restated and Rhia instantly came out of that trance.

'Is it about marriage?' She asked. He was lost. She helped him. Saying: 'Listen, I'm fine with the way things are, if you do not wanna rush things.'

But Maui was still run down or ambushed, lost or whatever. He'd been that preoccupied earlier, which had been unlike him. Rhia gave up. She was so impatient these days, short fused, and snappy. She turned to go up the stairs.

Maui touched her elbow, however, and she turned. He said: 'It's not easy for me.' He studied her face. Her bold eyes were listening. He put them both out of it. 'It's Gaelle', he said.

'What?'

'I said it's Gaelle. My wife. She's back.'
Rhia fluttered twice her lashes. For the second time.

II

Marauders' Cove on Marauders Avenue, a very narrow street with a lane for each, West and East, was also in Sailors Beach and its rear opening to the water's edge.

But Sailors Beach was no beach and very deceptive with, instead of a beach, plenty of wharfs and craggy descents to those rain-stained timber docks where those dainty little houseboats were moored, so white in the dark.

There were a lot of trees here too, more than the buildings and the people. It was another little community of White Cedars. Almost with each of everything for the inhabitants who lived in the low rise apartments. Like most of White Cedars, there were more apartments than unit family housing.

For the each of everything, there was a high school and a college and a big hospital. The rest were bars, restaurants, high end boutiques and exclusive stores, all fine things. Boardwalk or tucked in the lush of the trees and with plenty of backyard and parking space. Sailors Beach was one hotspot in sunny summer.

But it was raining heavily today and so cold that the predominant young population loved it hanging indoors, dancing to their warmth or soliciting phone numbers and casual sex.

An alternative at Marauders Cove, would have been a chill at the rooftop where it was as expansive as the floor below. Only without dancing bodies and colorful lights, but thatched sheds at whose centers were raised firepits, sandwiched by two benches with backs.

Of the six sheds, only one had the fire. Yairen was under that one, and holding an empty beer bottle in his hand.

Then after a little while, Marius came to join him, his brother, and he intuitively put down that empty beer bottle. But Marius did not surrender one of the bottles foaming in his grip. He threw back his head.

Yairen read him before shaking him brotherly with the breasts of the coat he'd rushed to buy in an attempt to finally forget Marti.

With one hand that had had the bottle now tipped into Yairen's mouth, he unbuttoned the coat. There was a dark blue sweater inside. It was murder with the fire.

Yairen's lips came off the mouth of that beer bottle and he said 'aah', breathing cold steam. It was a sour delicacy. Said: 'Man, the drink is sa-w cold. What did you put in there?'

Marius replied: '"A problem we have, Houston".'

The two laughed.

'That's not yours and you know it', Yairen said.

And Marius: 'I hate quoting. Only studs bring that out in me.'

'You lie!' Yairen spanked his brother on the thigh. 'You met a — well, guy?'
Marius laughed a little and naughtily. Yairen was straight. Said: 'Yes I met a — well — stud.' He held his heart, his head thrown up. And he was grinning. 'His name was Houston.'

'That's great', Yairen said.

'I wish.' Marius came back to earth. It had been long since Marti who'd hurt and kept hurting him. There had been others and for some reason everybody male and gay and walking on two, had baggage. Monte, he'd quickly learned, had a man. And he was gay anyways.

***

Adler had been dismissing the PI, stating Mr Arendt no longer required his services, when the "Mr Arendt" that was Merlin came in. A little late for that interview and apologizing profusely. But Adler was also excusing the private eye and asking he please wait in the hall, so 'me and my brother can have a moment'.

After Merlin had closed the door behind the man to wait in the hall, he asked: 'What are you doing?' To which Adler said propritorially: 'I'm dismissing him.'

Finally Merlin understood when Adler explained it to him and that there was no answers he would be getting from Len. A man 'who – who – who left you seriously hurt and unable to remember' and tell apart which was his hand and which was foot. The guy had been selfish and still was. And Merlin's already wondering if things could be fixed between them, was not a good thing. Len probably knew this. And was using the baby to see how low Merlin would sink for him.

When Merlin had been about to protest again, Adler put up a hand. The son with Len was Merlin's, wasn't it. Merlin then could always search and find him. But not his head. And he probably was straining it trying to remember things and trying to have his hand on that wheel and everything else. All Merlin needed to do was get his head back and a job too. He probably had touched the base of his savings and was using his head as an excuse to loaf around and be the homebody. At that, Merlin had laughed. And Adler used that opportunity to tell him their friends had invited them for a night out and they would not be happy being turned down. They had after all, lost their father.

Merlin had agreed without further encouragement. While he prepared for a shower, Adler truly dismissed the PI. They would not be needing his services anymore; Mr Arendt had a lot already.

After the PI was gone and Merlin up there showering, he sighed with relief. At least he was truly looking out for his brother. Perhaps, when he remembered who Len had been cheating on him with, and how it had affected their relationship, whatever judgement passed would be speakable.

***

Ivor's friend, Adler, had heard he and his own brother Meyten had lost their father. He had been really sorry not to have kept in touch, attended the funeral, and that his condolences had only come later. But he would make it up to them.

Ivor had accepted the apology. They would be fine. But since Adler was to make it up to them, how did a holiday somewhere summer, Southern hemisphere or European even, with plenty of mulled wine and warmth grab him. Adler had suggested after a frown they keep it local.

But Ivor had not been inclined toward all those. Even just a walk would have done, taking out the dogs, cleaning at an old age home and the like.

Adler had suggested then they do Marauders' Cove. It had great reviews. Ivor knew that. He was a native after all. They'd laughed and Marauders' it would be. It was confirmed. The names too. Adler and all his siblings. Ivor would try to sell his own into it. Meyten was sure fire, but not Monte. She had a photoshoot to catch up on. She could join them later.

***

At first, it had felt like a deception when Meyten came in and found Monte only in her underwear, airy-fairy and padding up and down those stairs like a native. Like she owned the place. Because she didn't. Only he, Meyten and Chaz lived there until he moved out a month ago for peace reasons with Ivor. It was never a good thing for brothers to find themselves vying for one woman. Even when Monte made it clear she would not be choosing either party, he'd still felt the need to move out.

But they were back together now. Like they had never split. They probably had lied. And he having lost his father and this being the very same day another person dear to him leaving him finally, the pain had been unmatched.

They explained however. It was a recent one. And he accepted that. Only it would be complete now, like a seal, and never in his his favor. But Ivor had been the funnier one after all, more witty than he was. It had been sure at whose lap the prize would end. And Monte who was one great woman had went back to Ivor.

When extended the invitation to Marauders, he had taken it from the man's hand. No hard feelings. Even with a sore throat; a clogged, running nose. He would be going out to hang with his brother. Mirani Merton International would not liquidate, its assets get sold at a discount because its president and associate designer were having a night of what, a hundred, after work.

III

'I have my independence to value', said Yairen. 'Freedom.'

'Sure', Marius said, the beer right at the bottle's lower quarter. Otherwise why would a fine black guy as Yairen with the most light skin and the blond licked locks still be single. For chrissake he kept clicking away all day at those pretty blonds and men and company and demanding they breathe and give him and his camera some life.

Yairen said then: 'But I'm getting there. I can say that for you too, right?'

Marius said: 'It's not that important. But — you think?'

Yairen shrugged one shoulder. Marius was a great guy. He said then: 'Know what, brother? I propose we lift up our glasses.' He was in good spirits for some reason today.

Marius said: 'Empty bottles, Yairen. Empty bottles!'

'Whatever.' Yairen raised his. It was half the lower quarter. And Marius' too. They clinked. Empty-glass-full optimism, Marius thought. An empty toast.

'So, winter is coming', Yairen said as he came down to sit. He'd been stoking the fire.

'I don't understand', Marius said. 'What are you talking about?'

Yairen rolled his eyes. He had a charming, interesting twenty-three year old face that would be shocked there still were men who raped women and bear their wives in this day.

He said: 'Brother, Dad. Marius, Dad.'

Marius remembered. Said: 'Yes. But I doubt our Dad would be pleased to be called "big bad winter that is coming".'

'He's not snow', Yairen said. 'But he's one. Without the flakes. I don't understand it myself.' He set down carefully on that floor the beer bottle, now empty. Then said pensively: 'Know what, Marius? I just wish Grandad were still alive.'

Grandad had been shot dead by a former enemy a year ago. Turned out, enemy wasn't really former. Yairen said again: 'It's gonna feel lost.'

They had only known Grammy and Grandad and their father the two grandparents also. And they were both dead now. The prison visits had been very few.

'But we're big men', Marius said. 'We can hold our own with our own father. After all, we're not a blind date with him, are we?'
Yairen agreed silently. Said: 'But he's coming with another big man.'

Marius said: 'I know.' Yairen had told him that once. He said again: 'Never met him. And admit admit, I'm actually looking forward to finally shaking his hand.'

'He was incarcerated too', Yairen added.