Chapter Two

Tommy's POV

I was sitting in the waiting room, flipping through a copy of Sport's Illustrated, patiently killing time until it was my turn to see Dr. Montgomery, when I felt the back of my neck tingling, a feeling that acted as a telltale sign to warn me that I was being watched. I'd never liked to be the center of attention, but it was something that happened with an annoying frequency since Sparta…since my very public fall from grace.

Ordinarily I would have ignored the one who was staring at me to the best of my ability, but I'd gotten off to a bad start today, and I decided that I was going to confront them head-on. I slowly raised my eyes, expecting to find another reporter, or someone who took exception to the way that I'd chosen to disgrace myself, so it came as a shock to find a kid staring at me instead, with a big, cheesy grin on his face, proudly displaying the gap in the front where his teeth were missing.

I wasn't all that keen on the notion of being mean and nasty to a kid, but I didn't want to encourage him to tell me his life story either, or to ask me a thousand questions, so I fixed him with a look that was only slightly hostile in nature in the hopes that it would help to discourage him from making me his new best friend, but damned if he didn't keep on smiling, as a matter of fact, his grin grew even brighter, and he waved his hand back and forth in greeting.

"I know you," he whispered excitedly, hopping off of his chair to take a seat beside me. "You're Tommy Conlon. You almost won Sparta, but then your brother busted your shoulder and stole the prize away from you. I guess that's why you're here to see Dr. Montgomery, huh? He's my dad's doctor. He's a pretty good doctor, I guess, but he's also kind of old. He reminds me of my grandpa, only he doesn't give me a quarter when he sees me….."

I could feel my eyes glazing over and my eardrums jangling while I listened to him chatter on and on, and almost smiled, because his motor mouth reminded me of my neighbor, Lily. That was as far as the similarity went, but it was enough to make me remember the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, and how good she'd smelled when I'd opened my front door, a scent that had been soft and feminine, mixed with chocolate, which made for one hell of a tempting mix.

"…..I'm going to be a fighter when I get older too, and I'm going to be president, and I'm going to fly to the moon, and I'm going to be a zillionaire and marry the prettiest woman on the whole Earth and….."

Damn, was he ever going to get tired of jabbering? Granted, I wasn't all that familiar with kids, but most of the ones that I'd seen looked like they didn't talk nonstop, and thinking back on my own childhood, I knew that I hadn't, and neither had Brendan, which made me wonder why this kid felt the need to talk my ear off, especially about stuff that I had no interest in thinking about, like everything that had gone down in Atlantic City.

"So, I guess that means that you're going to be famous someday, doesn't it?" I asked quietly, tossing the magazine that I'd been reading back onto the coffee table in front of me, because it was obvious that I wasn't going to be able to finish the article now that I had company. "It's too bad that I don't know your name, so that I could tell everybody that I knew you when you were just a kid with no front teeth."

I thought for a moment that I might have hurt his feelings by mentioning his missing teeth, for just a second his smile went away, and I started to feel like a jerk, but then it returned full force and I knew that everything was just fine. It was kind of funny that I even cared, because there was a time when it wouldn't have bothered me whose feelings I hurt…well, at least that's what I told myself, though I had a good idea that both me and myself knew that I was full of shit.

"Brad Thomas," he said, holding out his hand to me, in the fashion that any man would use when he introduced himself, at least, the way that one who'd been raised right would. "I'm sorry that you lost Sparta. I thought that you should have won, I was cheering for you to win, but it doesn't mean that you're a loser, just because you didn't, you know. My dad says that the thing that really matters is whether or not you tried to do your best, though Shane Dodson said that was something that losers made up to make them feel better about being pathetic. What do you think, Mr. Conlon?"

I couldn't recall the last time anyone had asked me for my opinion, but then, I couldn't remember a time at any point in my life where I'd been someone that kids looked up to, but here was the proof that at least one little boy saw me as someone who he admired, and, surprisingly enough, I wasn't bothered at all by that knowledge, as a matter of fact, I was almost proud that he saw me in that light.

"Winning a competition isn't what makes you the kind of man that you are," I told him, which was my version of the truth, though I wasn't certain how many people would agree with me. "It's your actions that decide who you'll be, and when you do anything in life, you should always do it to the best of your abilities, not only for the one who's depending on you to do so, but for yourself as well. And there has to be a winner and a loser in everything, in every part of life, but that doesn't mean that a person is pathetic. What's pathetic is when you can't think of anything but winning, and you get happiness out of hurting other people."

I wasn't used to talking so much all at once, but I guess it made it a little easier when the one that you were speaking to was hanging on your every word. It had annoyed me to begin with, when he'd started talking to me, and I'd initially thought that I'd rather be anywhere else, as long as it was free of little kids, well, of anyone, really, who wanted to stare at me and ask me a million questions when they weren't blabbing a mile a minute about crap that I could care less about, but now, surprisingly, I found that I liked talking to him…go figure, huh?

"Yeah, that's what I think, and what my dad thinks, so it's got to be right, doesn't it, if all three of us think the same thing?" he asked, moving closer to me and reaching out a hand, placing it hesitantly on my bicep and squeezing, his eyes going wide as he tested the size and strength of my muscle with his palm. "Wow, it must have taken you a long time to get muscles like that. Do you think that my arms will ever be as big as yours are?"

I started to tell him that mine were not all that big in comparison to some, but I was distracted by the sight of a man who was slowly walking toward us, leaning on a cane. His hair was blond, and his eyes were the same bright blue as the kid who was sitting beside me, and it dawned on me that he must be Brad's father, and I wondered how he was going to react to the sight of his son sitting next to, and talking and touching a complete stranger.

"Dad!" the boy shouted, jumping off of his seat to run toward his father, his little legs pumping hard, enabling him to cross the floor in a couple of seconds. "You've got to come and say hi to Mr. Conlon. Can you believe that it's really him? And he can talk just fine, and he's really nice, and the muscles in his arm are huge. I bet that he could squash me easy, if he wanted to, but I don't think that he wants to, Dad, else he would have done it already, wouldn't he?"

This would have been the perfect moment for the nurse to open the door and call me back. That would spare me and Mr. Thomas the awkwardness of him having to pretend that I was even half as awesome as his son believed me to be. Unfortunately it seemed that Dr. Montgomery was running late on his appointments, which meant that I had to stay right where I was, but then Brad's father surprised me by smiling and holding out his hand to mine, in the same gesture that his son had used.

"I'm honored to meet you, Staff Sergeant Conlon," he said, turning loose a smile that was a twin to his son's. "Our family was rooting for you to win, and we were sorry when you didn't….."

"It's just Mr. Conlon now," I interrupted, returning the handshake with one of my own, though I couldn't muster even a hint of the smile. "The rank was taken, along with everything else, when they….."

"I know what they did, and I, for one, think that it was disgraceful of them to treat you like a common criminal, when what you did took a hell of a lot of guts, at least it did as far as I'm concerned, and that's from one brother to another, sir."

"You're in the Corps?" I asked, even though I knew that it was a stupid question, one of those that you asked when you didn't know what you ought to say to fill the silence.

"Corporal Paul Thomas, sir. I served for three years, until all those old football injuries caught up with me. I blew out my knee my junior year of high school, and I thought that everything was set right, but it turns out that the injury was a lot worse than they originally believed it to be. Dr. Montgomery has been working hard to put me back to right, and I hope to be completely healed within a year, at the most."

I'd never been all that good at carrying my end of a conversation, I'd pretty much felt awkward talking to anyone for any length of time, unless it was with Manny, and I'd just reached the point where I was thinking, Okay, now what?, but thankfully the nurse chose that moment to stick her head out and call my name, which spared me from the awkwardness of chitchatting about the weather, or any of the other nonsense that people talked about to fill the void in the conversation.

"Well, you take care of yourself, Staff Sergeant," Paul said, shaking my hand again, and placing a card with his name, number and address against my palm. "And don't hesitate to call if you need anything at all."

I wasn't accustomed to receiving an act of common courtesy and kindness, and I appreciated the gesture more than I could say, so I made do with, "Thanks, Corporal. You take care of that knee and watch out for the little slugger here."

I shook the boy's hand, then reached up, on an impulse, and tousled his hair as well. "It was good to meet you, Brad Thomas," I said, then felt self-conscious as hell when I noticed that there were a good amount of people who were waiting to see one doctor or the other, and they were all watching me. "Don't forget me when you're grown up and famous, alright?"

I hated to say goodbye even more than I hated to say hello, so I didn't wait for him to answer me. I turned, and started to walk away from him, then almost choked on a laugh when I heard him say to his father, "He's really strong, but isn't he kind of short for a superhero, Dad?"

Lily's POV

There were days that were filled with sunshine and rainbows, with flowers and birdsong, and puppies and kittens, everything that was happy and warm and nice and smelled heavenly. Then there were days that were nothing but rain and cold wind, and ragweed and the cry of a vulture that's spotted a fresh kill, and rabid mutts with mange and feral cats, spitting and hissing while their claws flew at your face. Long story short, there were days of bliss, and then there were days of poo, and this had been one holy hell pisser of a poo day, and the worst thing of all was that I had myself to blame for it.

Well, I wasn't completely to blame for everything that had happened. God knows my family had done their fair share, just like they always did, but I suppose, no, I know that I was the one who pushed things over the line, but only because I got so damned tired of their questions and their accusations, and I'd found myself wishing that I'd pretended to be on death's doorstep with a highly contagious disease of one type or another, and that was only five minutes after I'd arrived.

It had become a Lewis family tradition throughout the years, to gather at my parents' house twice a month for a family dinner, and most times I managed to bite my tongue and keep my mouth shut when they started in on me for still being single, and for not giving my mom and dad any grandchildren, even though I was almost thirty years old, and yadda, yadda, yadda, but today had been different. Today marked the dinner when the main topic of conversation was my living arrangements, those which had me living next door to Tommy Conlon, who was a disgrace to the Marine Corps, at least he was as far as my dad and brothers were concerned.

I wasn't sold on the idea that my mom and my sisters, not to mention my brothers and sisters-in-law really and truly shared the same views, but they weren't about to stand up and voice an opinion that differed from that of my father. Major Lee J. Lewis was a proud Marine, now retired, after forty years in the USMC, and he was a force to be reckoned with, one whose voice swayed the vote and reigned supreme in his home…but I didn't live in his home any longer, and as such, I wasn't about to stand at attention and declare that Tommy Conlon had disgraced himself and his country, no matter how much he ranted and raved.

Needless to say, my insubordination didn't sit well with my father, or my brothers, and the resulting screaming match that took place had undoubtedly been heard for miles around, but I was proud of myself for standing my ground and refusing to budge an inch. I was glad that I'd stood up for myself and shown everyone that I was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of making my own decisions.

What I wasn't proud of was the fact that I'd established my opinion by adding my own voice to the screaming, and I really, really regretted calling my brother Josh an asshat, no matter how much he might have deserved it, and I really, really wished that I hadn't told my brother Mike to go to hell, but what was done was done, and it was a safe bet that I wouldn't be welcome at the next family get-together.

Yep, I was having an ass-kicking, full o' poo day, and just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, I realized that I'd locked my keys inside of my apartment, which meant that I couldn't get inside where all of the chocolate and whipped cream were waiting for me, and I started to contemplate the notion that I was being punished for my actions that afternoon, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, right between his humps, and made me seriously consider giving in to the urge to indulge in a good, long, self-pitying cry…and then he appeared.

I tried to think of something to say to him, something that wouldn't sound crazy or stupid, or weird or dorky, but I couldn't think of a single thing, no matter how hard I tried, not that I'd really expected to be able to. I ought to have felt at least a little comfortable around him, after all, we'd had a snack together, but that didn't stop my palms from sweating as he moved closer to me, and it certainly didn't stop my heart from beating faster and faster as he looked at me and raised one eyebrow in a questioning fashion that did funny things to the back of my knees, making them feel a little weak.

"Hi, Lily," he said, and even though it was silly, I couldn't help but feel pleased by the sound of my name spoken in his voice. "Is everything okay, do you need any help?"

Everything was not okay, and I definitely needed his help, but how could I explain to him what was happening without humiliating myself in the process? Maybe this was the second part of my punishment for behaving the way that I had at my parents' house. Perhaps it wasn't enough that I was being kept from the comfort of my home, maybe I had to be thoroughly humiliated as well.

"Hi, Tommy," I said, trying, really and truly trying, and failing miserably to keep the dreamy sound out of my voice. "It's not end of the world or anything, but I locked myself out of my apartment. I would jimmy the lock, if I knew how, but my lock picking skills are paltry, well, truly, they're nonexistent, and I would call a locksmith, if I could, but I left my cell phone inside as well, so….."

It dawned on me that I was rambling and I forced myself to stop. I could easily imagine that he'd already drawn the conclusion that I was a nut job, but did I really and truly want to attempt to explain myself to him? I knew that my reasons for doing things the way that I did would be confusing to him, to anyone whose brain functioned in a normal fashion, and I would like to keep those facts to myself for as long as possible, just in case there was a chance, no matter how tiny, that he might like me.

"Aren't those your keys right there?" he asked, pointing to the ring that was sticking out of my pants' pocket.

Well, dammit. There went my intention to hide my weirdness from him. "They're one set, but not the ones that have the key to my apartment on them. This ring has my car keys, and the key to my locker at work, but the key to my apartment and my mailbox are on another ring, and I left them inside."

Oh, God. It all sounded so normal when I explained the plan to myself, but saying the words out loud to him made me realize that it was absolutely nuts for me to do things the way that I did. Oh, well. I suppose that it was too much for me to hope for anyway, that he would like me, that he would want to get to know me better and eventually take me out on a date, wasn't it? A guy like him wanted a normal girlfriend, one who undoubtedly looked and acted perfect at all times and didn't suffer from cellulite on her tummy and thighs, not to mention her bulbous, oversized…..

"Okay," he said suddenly, in a soft voice that might have held a hint of humor. "You could ask the Super for help, couldn't you? I'm pretty sure that Mr. and Mrs. D'Angelo have a spare key to everyone's apartment, don't they?"

Well, here was another opportunity for me to fill him in on an oddity, but thankfully it wasn't one of mine, and it was one that was unlikely to be a bother to him anyway. "Yep, they have keys to every apartment, and I could ask them for help, if I knew that they would come to help me, but they won't. What they will do is to send their son, Vinnie, to help me instead, and I'm really not in the mood to deal with him today."

His brow wrinkled and he frowned at me, and then did the thing with his eyebrow again, and again, like a goof, I couldn't help but feel weak in the knees. "He wouldn't try anything, would he?" he asked quietly, and I allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy that he was asking because he was concerned about me, because he liked me, and wanted to date me…and then I took control of myself again and brought myself back to the here and now.

"Not really, he's pretty much harmless, he just has a tendency to be a tad bit overbearing, and when that doesn't work he begs, and then he cries. I don't want to sound mean or anything, but I'm really not up for that today."

He might have smiled, and then he nodded while his eyes traveled to my hair, and then, without saying a word, he plucked one of the bobby pins out of my hair and drew something metal out of his pocket and went to work, picking the lock of my apartment. I should have been outraged, I suppose, to see him immersed in a law-breaking activity, right there in front of me, but I couldn't help feel impressed, and grateful, as well.

It took him only a matter of moments to spring the lock and I was certain that I saw him smile when it finally gave way. It couldn't have been gas this time, and it was nice to see his lips curve that way, though it would have been even nicer if he'd been smiling at me, instead of at the door.

"There you go," he said, turning to me and offering me the last remnants of his smile, which made me feel all light and fluttery inside.

"Thanks, Tommy," I said, forcefully reminding myself that I had no right to hug him, even if part of my desire to do so was to offer him my thanks, and I certainly didn't have the right to kiss him on his cheek, so I couldn't do that, no matter how much I might have wanted to. "I don't know what I could do to pay you back….."

"I do," he interrupted, and offered me a full-fledged grin, not just the last bit of a half-smile, but everything that he had in the smile department, and I realized that what I'd thought was fluttering before had nothing on the real thing. "You could offer me some more brownies, if you have any left."

Damn. I didn't have any left, but I'd baked this morning, which meant that I wasn't without backup. "I'm sorry, they're all gone, but I do have a snickerdoodle Bundt cake inside, if you'd like some of that instead."

He looked bewildered for a moment. "A snicker-what-something-cake?" he asked, shaking his head. "I don't know what that is."

"Have you ever had snickerdoodle cookies?"

"I can't say that I have," he said, still wearing a look of confusion. "Do they have Snickers in them?"

"No, you're thinking of Santa Surprises," I corrected him, though it was more than likely that he had no idea what those were either. "Do you like sugar cookies?"

"Yes."

"What about cinnamon?"

"Yes."

"Imagine the two tastes together, inside of a cake…how does that sound?"

The look of bewilderment left his face and he smiled at me all over again…and made me feel goofy all over again as well. "It sounds like a pretty good way for you to thank me," he said, waiting for me to enter, then following me inside. "Though hearing the words would work just fine, if you'd prefer to have some time to yourself."

It would have been unseemly and not neighborly at all to force him inside and tie him to a chair so that he'd never leave, not to mention that doing so would be more than a little criminal and crazy, so I forced myself to keep my hands off of him and focused on smiling at him instead.

"Don't be silly," I said, then winced, because the word silly was one that never ought to be used to describe a man like Tommy Conlon. "My diary entries have been pretty dull for a long time now, but they won't be tonight, will they….?"

Damn and hell and piss...I really shouldn't have said that, should I?