Repaired: Fake It Till You Make It, #4

By L. Loryn

Adrian Davis abandoned his old life for a new start in a new town. He comes with his toolbox, a suitcase full of clothes, and a hope of something better. His main goal? To forget about everything that happened before he parked his red hatchback in front of his new home. 

Scott "Scottie" Robinson is a man who's got just about everything he wants: a successful company that he co-owns with his twin brother and the perfect family supporting them along the way. The only thing he doesn't have is a man by his side during the day and in his bed at night. 

Scott's not looking for a relationship, he's happy dating his business. However, when he calls a repairman and Adrian shows up at his door, his world shifts. He's ready to take a chance on love. Nothing good is ever easy-- especially when secrets start unfolding, and there are more people invested in their relationship than just them. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. Loryn
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386144717

Book preview

Prologue

Adrian Davis fit everything he owned in the trunk of his old, red hatchback: one suitcase stuffed full of tightly folded clothes and toiletries, one box of books he’d purchased but hadn’t read yet, a smaller box of trinkets and small gifts given to him over the years, and one fat file folder. His back seat was spacious and empty. His front seat had a collection of prepackaged snacks.

He’d driven nine hours away from a life he wanted to forget after corresponding with a woman named Bertha about her basement apartment. The amenities included washer and dryer hookups, appliances, a microwave, and leftover furniture from the last tenant who left in a rush. According to Bertha, the little basement apartment was haunted. Every tenant for the past ten years had stayed for less than ten months, but there was nothing wrong with the place.

She asked for seven-hundred-and-fifty dollars a month for the one bedroom, one bathroom living space and continuously talked up the superb location, the access to a backyard, and the size of the apartment. For a one bedroom, it was huge, she said over and over again, even after Adrian had filled out the application, and she had approved him. He promised her the first month’s rent, last month’s rent, and security deposit by money order when he arrived, declining her offer to divide the deposits into more manageable sums.

The house was blue and located on a nice street, and when he turned the corner, he saw a stylish elderly woman in white cigarette pants holding a tiny black dog to her chest. He parked the hatchback in front of the house, and the woman approached his vehicle. He pressed the button for the window, ducking his head and flicking hazel eyes up at her.

Hey there. You must be Adrian? Her voice rattled in her throat, and her slender claws hooked around the passenger door. The little dog wiggled in her arm, paws dangling as he swam through the air.

Yes. Hi. Adrian forced his lips into a weak smile.

Well, it’s good to see you. I’m Bertha, and this is Pepi. After her greeting, reservations trickled into her watery blue eyes.

Nice to meet you. Hold on, let me get out. Adrian rolled the window back up and climbed out of his vehicle. His lanky limbs matched Bertha’s, and save for mismatched hair color and eye color, she could have been his mother.

You want to see the place before you officially sign the lease? She returned to her post on the sidewalk, fumbling in her pockets and producing a single key on a single ring.

Um, sure. Adrian’s shoulders shrugged up to his ears, long hair bunching between his slender neck and his equally slender shoulders.

So, where’d you say you moved from, again?

I’m moving from Louisiana.

Huh. You don’t sound southern. She unlocked the door, and a blast of cold air greeted them. Adrian’s arm sprouted with goosebumps, a chill shook his body.

Thanks, I think, he exhaled on a nervous laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. He combed it back from his face, pulling the lazy waves all to one side.

It’s a compliment, though I love a good southern accent on a man. The boy before you was from Georgia. He came here for school, and he had a wonderful accent. Bertha led him into the building. The front door opened to the living room equipped with an indoor air conditioning unit, a leather couch, and a television stand. He left his furniture. John was his name. Now if you don’t want the furniture, I can get it out of here. You didn’t specify how much you were bringing.

It’s a nice couch, Adrian murmured, stroking the leather with nimble fingers.

He went to the law school. His parents were paying his rent and his utility bills, but he told me school was too stressful and up and left everything. She waved a wrinkled hand at the couch and the television stand.

Ah. He followed her through the small kitchen into the dining room to the left of the front door. A dark wood table and chair occupied the space.

This is the dining room. Again, if you don’t want this stuff, I can get rid of it for you, but it’s real nice stuff. She opened another door. This one led to the unrefined portion of the basement. And this leads out. You can put a washing machine and dryer in here, we’ve got hookups. Or you could ask the people in the first-floor apartment if you can borrow theirs. She patted a fire engine red front-loading washing machine.

I’ll see.

The people upstairs are really nice. A man and a woman, young couple. They have a black lab dog named Koda.

Oh okay. Adrian nodded as Bertha brought him from the concrete basement back to the laminate flooring of his apartment.

What’d I miss? Oh! The bedroom and bathroom. This way. Still holding her little dog, Bertha skipped through the apartment, opening the door off the living room, Here we are!

A full-size bed with blue sheets occupied half the room. The bathroom door was ajar along with the closet doors. The third door was closed.

Very nice, Adrian replied, the preprogrammed response flowing from his lips. Bertha was exhausting; her energy was boundless to the exact dichotomy of her snoozing dog.

Bathroom. She pushed the door open, showing Adrian a crisp white room with clean tiles on the floor. This is the closet, and this is a little extra room. Some people have used it for storage. I remember one person even used it as a bedroom. I couldn’t do it, too small. She shivered for dramatic effect.

Storage could be nice. Adrian continued his pleasant but non-committal responses. He looked along the edges of the walls, hazel eyes traveling over the fine details of the building before he exited the place, Bertha leading the way.

So what’d you think?

It’s fine. I have a money order for two-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty dollars ready for you. Adrian pulled out his wallet.

Oh, perfect. I’ve got your application upstairs. Let me go grab it. Bertha left Adrian alone in front of the basement apartment on the skinny sidewalk leading up to the front door. Besides a few passing walkers, the neighborhood was quiet. The sounds of the city were distant hums around the sleepy little street.

In front of Adrian’s old hatchback sat Bertha’s sleek black sports car. On the side of the house, directly in front of his door, sat an unremarkable mass-produced compact car. The first-floor residents owned it. Further down the street were more vehicles parked half on the curb in front of their respective houses. The houses had character of their own. Bertha’s home was painted a bright blue, had two levels, a balcony, and a basement. The house next to hers was bright yellow, wider than it was tall and featured a stretched, covered porch. The house across from Bertha’s was pink, and the next house down was a light shade of purple. The multicolored houses continued down the street, like a mixed bag of Springtime jelly beans.

Bertha returned with papers in her hands, Sorry I took so long. Did you get a chance to call your folks?

Um. Yes. Absolutely. I told them all about the place. Adrian’s perpetually frowning features worked into a smile. His creased forehead smoothed, and dented eyebrows curved, framing soft eyes.

Great! Are they going to help you move furniture or do you want to keep the stuff already here?

I had them coming with furniture, but this stuff is so nice I can’t throw it out.

Exactly how I felt! Anyway, so here’s the lease. We already talked about it through e-mail, but I wanted to go over a few things with you again. If you’re five days late on the rent, it’ll be a twenty-five dollar fine on day six, and five dollars every day afterwards until you catch up. I will maintain the yard, both spraying for pests and keeping it mowed. I will also pay for the water. The electricity and gas you have to pay for. What did you say your job was, again?

Me? I’m a repairman.

Really? You’re so tiny. Wait, what does a repairman do?

Like a handyman. I have no formal training on anything, but I’m really good at fixing things around the house.

Oh, nice! So it’s okay if I call you if the house has an issue?

Sure. I’m building up my client base here, so I’d love the extra work. Adrian forced another smile and plucked the lease from Bertha’s hands. They moved back inside the chilled apartment, and the older woman searched for a pen in the kitchen, opening and closing all the drawers. Adrian scribbled his name and the date. Bertha scribbled her signature under his.

Now if you’ll hold on one more minute, I’ve got a copier upstairs. I can make you a copy of this right now. The worry lines disappeared from her face once she had his signature. You can start moving in, if you want?

Sure, but here. Do you want my money order? Adrian opened his wallet and pulled it from his wallet. He thumbed the pale blue paper in his fingers. It curled at the corners and curved in the center from being folded.

Oh, right! Bertha took the money order from Adrian, awkwardly juggling the paperwork and the dog. Welcome home, she smiled. Her smile dazzled, and Adrian’s heart ached. It turned over in his chest, revived by the mothering tone in her voice and her comforting words.

Thanks.

When Bertha and Pepi jogged back upstairs, Adrian wandered to his car, lifting the trunk. He shouldered his suitcase and stacked the box of trinkets on the box of books before picking them up, muscles bulging on his lean arms. He set the boxes on the counter inside, leaning his suitcase against the bottom cabinets. On the second trip, he grabbed the file folder and his bag of snacks. After a short break, Adrian began unpacking.

By the time the grey-haired woman returned, Adrian had unpacked his travel bag with the contents spread across the cheap counter surface. His snack bars occupied a corner of the counter while a collection of different pill bottles occupied another corner. He pushed the sagging travel bag in front of the bottles.

Bertha knocked despite Adrian leaving the door ajar, and she poked her head inside. Can I come in?

Sure.

I left Pepi upstairs. So, did you make a decision on the furniture? She placed a stapled copy of the lease on the clear kitchen counter beside the stove.

I’ll keep it. No sense in tossing it, after all. And I’ll tell my family to keep mine for now.

Sounds like a plan. Bertha handed him the single key. I have a copy upstairs somewhere if you ever need another copy. There’s a coffee shop about two blocks away on Fair street. She motioned to the left. The closest grocery is the natural foods store about a five-minute drive from here. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me.

You stay upstairs, right?

It’s my place, but honestly Pepi stays there by himself most of the time. The dog’s blind as a bat and doesn’t like new situations. He thumps around up there, mostly sleeps. I take care of my mother on the weekends, and on the weekdays, I work for an attorney. I’m less than ten minutes away either direction, though.

Ah. He didn’t have the energy for another smile. She didn’t notice.

Well. I’ll leave you to move in. I’m sure it’s been a long day for you.

It has. Thanks for everything. He walked her to the door, hanging in the door frame as she stepped over the threshold and followed the sidewalk to her black sports car. She waved back at him before walking around her vehicle and sinking into the driver’s side.

***

Part 1

Welcome home. Scott Robinson’s twin brother Sean grabbed him in a hug as soon as he stepped out of his vehicle. His charcoal haired mother and bald father looked on, arms roped around each other. They stood in front of his house, the one he closed on before his mandatory bi-yearly vacation. This year he kept it modest, traveling to Hawaii and spending the month becoming several shades darker while reading money-managing e-books and catching up on Corporate Finance Weekly.

It’s good to be home. Better if you didn’t ship me off for a month vacation twice a year, Scott chuckled, slapping his brother on the back before letting him go.

I was hoping you’d get laid. Whatever happened to college when you were the cool brother, and I was getting your runoffs? Sean’s laugh matched Scott’s. So did his eyes. Dark, almost black irises cradled by a bright white sclera. And his nose, lips, chin. Identical. Their parents differentiated between them by personality. Sean had been a shy child, charming only when one got to know him. Scott had always been outgoing. Captain of the soccer team, basketball team, football team, and president of the debate club. He was the founder of the first ever personal finance club in high school and dedicated member of the Harley Foundation for Young Black Investors in college.

Their friends differentiated between them by hair. Sean had grown long dreadlocks that framed his square face and strong jaw. Scott’s hair was stylishly short. Occasionally, Scott let the top grow, but he always had the bottom and sides clean and edged proper.

Life happened. Me preferring men also happened. Unless you’re still interested in my runoffs? Scott grinned.

Uh. Well I mean I’m down for it, but I do prefer tits a little bit more than dicks. Anyway, it’s good to have you back in town, but work still doesn’t start up again until tomorrow.

Sure. The brothers approached their parents. Hey Mrs. Sheryl, Mr. Nathan Robinson. Scott hugged his mother, kissing her cheek, and bumped his shoulder to his father’s chest.

How was your trip, sweetie? Sheryl returned the kiss.

It was fine.

What’d you do?

Nothing, really. Read on the beach, had a few spa days. Played sports. Scott shrugged, Good to be home, though. I missed your good southern cookin’. His voice twanged as they moved inside.

Good thing you stayed out of trouble. I heard gay men have the highest chance of getting AIDS because of unnatural sex practices, Nathan grunted.

I usually wear condoms, Dad, but thanks for thinking about my personal health. So, I was hoping we could grill tonight. Scott squeezed his father’s shoulder as he glanced between the other two family members.

Yeah. We were going to, Sean confirmed. Sean and their father moved into the kitchen, digging in the stainless-steel refrigerator for already marinated meat. Mom promised us a pie for dessert tonight, so stay out of the kitchen. Don’t hover and ruin it for everyone.

Yeah whatever. I don’t ruin it. Scott’s heart softened as he joked with his brother and looked upon everyone’s smiling faces. He was full, satiated by the love radiating from all of them.

You did when we were four. And seven. And nine, because you didn’t like to be alone.

I’m grown now. Plus, you're the momma’s boy. You’re the one who wanted to marry the woman.

Sure, because my mother is the perfect woman. Sean kissed her cheek, strolling past her into the backyard.

What are y’all fussing about now? She tipped her head for the kiss, rubbing Sean’s shoulder before looking at Scott.

My sweet potato pie you promised us all. Did everything else get delivered?

Oh, yes. Bubba had them put everything in the living room for you to sort through. The couch set was delivered right after you left, the rugs took a while to get in along with the new light fixtures. It’s all there, though. She waved a weathered hand towards the living room.

Cool. Then I’m going to go check everything out.

Mmhm. I’ll send Bubba in to help you move furniture in a few minutes.

Thanks Mom. Scott kissed his mother’s forehead, hugging her around the shoulders before jogging into the living room, eyes sparkling as he surveyed his presents.

He started by uncovering his leather furniture, peeling the plastic off the rich dark hide and smoothing his fingers over the tight stitching. His long, L-shaped couch came with a complementing loveseat and two classic wingback chairs. He purchased two side tables and a long coffee table at the suggestion of the young furniture store employee. Also at her suggestion, he purchased three coaster sets, a corner bookshelf, a full wall entertainment stand, and an over-the-armrest drink holder.

From the hardware store, he purchased a new center light fixture for the living room, five new inset lights for the vaulted ceiling, and two lamps. He also purchased a rug to cover the original, faded hardwood floor.

Everything he purchased so far had been for the living room except a rustic chic ceiling fan he bought on a whim many years earlier. The fan was for the large master bedroom to the back left of the house. His bachelor-pad futon mattress and a plastic dresser currently occupied the room.

He tucked the rustic ceiling fan in the empty closet and returned to the living room after changing from a casual button-down shirt and jeans to a t-shirt and a pair of joggers.

When he returned, Sean had begun rolling his new rug across the floor. You know man, I don’t know where you’re going with all this. Next thing I know, you’ll be painting one of these walls purple.

I thought about it, Scott smirked. Maybe this one, here? He leaned against a lone center column, breaking up the large living room.

Why the hell is it even there?

Support. If this wasn’t here, then the ceiling could fall in or something.

Huh, Sean squinted at his brother,