“Bye Brenna. Remember to tell Mom and Dad I called,” Kinsey said into her cell phone before hanging it up. The guys walked into the kitchen just as she was ending the call and sat down at the table to dig into the spread she had prepared for them.
“Who was that?” Zac asked, his mouth already stuffed full of potato salad.
“The sister,” she explained, “She asked all about you. Wanted to know if you look hotter in New York than you did in Tulsa.”
“Oh god,” Zac groaned. Kinsey’s little sister Brenna had always had a crush on Zac and even though she was now twenty years old, she was still not good at hiding her feelings for him. And of course, being a good best friend, Kinsey had always teased Zac endlessly about the crush.
“What did you tell her?” Isaac grinned, enjoying Zac’s torment.
“That he’s as much a douchebag as ever,” Kinsey shrugged, washing off her paint splattered hands in the sink before sitting down to join them.
“Thanks a lot,” Zac sighed, “So anyways, how goes the painting?”
“Not too bad. I’ve got the first coat done on three of the walls. But it’s going to need two coats to get fully covered. I should be able to get it done today.”
“Well, there’s no reason to rush,” Isaac told her, “And remember, we can always hire someone to do the painting.”
“Absolutely not! It’ll mean so much more if we do it ourselves. And, I have to have something to do with my days until I find a job.” Isaac obviously decided to drop the subject at that and they ate the rest of their lunch in a comfortable silence. Long ago, Kinsey had learned her lesson when it came to asking the guys how their work in the studio was going. One of them would say it was going great, one would just roll their eyes disgustedly, and the other would act like they weren’t getting involved. The roles rotated, but it was always the same situation. So, she knew better than to fill the silence with questions about their work. When they had something to tell her or play for her, they’d come to her with it.
“We have to go out for drinks tomorrow night,” Taylor said gruffly, suddenly making Kinsey aware that he had been silent until that moment. Apparently, he was currently the one disgusted with their progress.
“Yes Taylor, you’ve already made that clear,” Isaac retorted.
“Oh my god, just shut up you two,” Zac sighed. And the other roles were filled.
“We can go out for drinks,” Kinsey replied, biting back a laugh. When Taylor was cranky, he acted just like a little kid, and there he was stabbing his potato salad over and over with his fork. “What’d the potato do to you, Stabby McStabberson?” He just glared at her and shoved the apparently offensive spud into his mouth.
That evening, Kinsey stood staring at the wall before her, its splotchy paint mocking her as the clock on their digital cable box crept closer and closer towards 8pm. It was the last wall she had to do, but her arms were aching so badly from almost twelve hours worth of exertion that she wasn’t sure she could finish the job. The last thing she wanted was to give Isaac a reason to insist on hiring someone to complete the massive project. She lifted the roller and began to work it up and down the wall slowly, trying her hardest to keep the level of pain to a minimum as she worked.
“Shit,” she swore under her breath as she was forced to rest the roller back in the paint tray.
“Everything okay?” Isaac asked as they entered the room.
“Yeah,” Kinsey lied, “I just have this last wall to do and then it’s finished.”
“Well, you were right, the color is perfect,” he smiled, patting her on the shoulder and noticing as she winced at the touch. “Why don’t we help you finish.” She sighed and relented, nodding at him. They all went out to retrieve the rollers from their own bedrooms before they came back to help Kinsey finish the wall. With all four of them dividing the labor, it only took about a half hour to finish the long wall. Taylor offered to wash out the rollers in the sink while Isaac and Zac went out to grab a late dinner and Kinsey took a quick, but incredibly hot shower. She was brushing through her wet hair gingerly, her arm aching the entire time, when a loud knock sounded on the door.
“I knew the detachable shower head was a bad idea!” Taylor bellowed over the din of the exhaust fan. Kinsey rolled her eyes and called him a slew of names before pulling her robe tight around her body and yanking open the door.
“I was brushing my hair, not masturbating, thank you very much!” she spat before slamming the door shut. Instead of knocking again, he just opened the door.
“They’re back with the Chinese food,” he told her, “But you might want to put some clothes on before you come down.”
“Why? Because I look like a slut?” she asked. He paused for a moment before responding.
“No… because it’s cold down there,” he said, actually sounding kind of hurt. But when she turned to face him to see if he really was upset, she found that he had already disappeared back down the hallway.
“What the hell?” she asked her reflection in the mirror. After pulling her damp hair up into a ponytail and throwing on a sweatshirt and some basketball shorts, she headed downstairs. She had stolen the shorts from one of the guys years ago, but it had been so long that she’d forgotten who’s they originally were. The fact that none of them had ever claimed them had cemented them as her own and they had become her favorite piece of lounge clothing.
She found a beer waiting for her in the living room next to several Chinese take-out boxes. The guys were sitting there listening to some recordings they’d made that day on their incredible, newly purchased stereo system, arguing over lyrics and which take was better. Kinsey ignored them and sunk back into the plush dark chocolate faux-velvet couch and enjoyed the lingering smell of drying paint and the feeling of the bitter liquid as it slid down her throat, further numbing the pain still throbbing its way through the entire upper half of her body. After about twenty minutes of fighting, Taylor grabbed the remote from Isaac’s hand and shut off the system.
“We’re done, Ike, come on. It’s after ten and I’m starving,” Taylor sighed, gesturing towards their rapidly cooling dinner sitting out on the coffee table. Isaac just grunted and grabbed a plate. He had always hated leaving a project unfinished, but occasionally Taylor and Zac were able to get him to stop when he got too stubborn or when his perfectionism was starting to affect others. Kinsey struggled up to the edge of the couch and dished herself some sweet and sour chicken and steamed rice before collapsing back against the cushion.
“You look exhausted,” Zac said, throwing a crab rangoon at her. She picked it up and took a bite before giving him the finger.
“Yeah, you really look like shit,” Taylor chimed in.
“I can hardly lift my arms,” Kinsey whined.
“I’m calling some painters tomorrow,” Isaac said.
“You are not! I’ll just take it slower, okay?” Kinsey said, practically begging him. He just looked at her and shook his head, obviously thinking she was being a stubborn ass. She huffed loudly and stuffed a large piece of chicken in her mouth. Once they were all finished eating, they put away the leftovers and put their plates and forks in the dishwasher.
“Well, I’m sorry that you’re sore, but the room really looks great,” Isaac told her, placing a kiss to her temple before saying good night and heading down the hallway that lead towards his and Zac’s bedrooms.
“Yeah, good work Kins!” Zac said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly, causing waves of pain to course through her before running down the hallway.
“Yeah you’d better run, you evil little bastard!”
“Nothing’s little about me, baby!” he shouted from his room before shutting the door. She glared in his direction before shuffling towards the bathroom. Taylor had apparently already finished in there and had gone to his room, so she quickly brushed her teeth and headed for bed.
When she awoke and saw that it was only seven, Kinsey wanted more than anything to just roll over and go back to sleep. However, the intense pressure in her bladder told her that getting up and using the bathroom would be a wiser choice. So, with sufficient huffing, Kinsey made her way to the bathroom and didn’t notice until she was heading back to her room that Taylor’s door was standing ajar. They had all been in the habit of closing their bedroom doors before they went to sleep since their first night in New York, so Kinsey knew he had to be roaming around the condo somewhere. Her feet moved her towards the stairs and she peeked over the black metal railing to see that there were indeed lights on in the kitchen. Taylor was not an early riser, so curiosity got the best of her and she padded down the wooden stairs and sneaked across the large dining room area to peek into the kitchen. Her mouth dropped open as she saw Taylor meticulously painting one of the walls the rich off-white they had all agreed upon.
“What are you doing?” she asked, the words coming out in a flurry before she could stop herself. He almost dropped the brush onto the plastic covered floor before him and spun around.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, getting back to work and thus turning his back on her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything resembling manual labor in your entire life,” Kinsey informed him, abandoning her ideas of going back to bed and starting a pot of coffee instead.
“Yeah well, it doesn’t really suit me,” he shrugged, shaking his shaggy hair out of his face and swiping the brush all along the tape covered edge that went directly along the side of the cabinets. Kinsey tried to look around discreetly and saw that he’d only done the detail work around the cabinets and outlets on that one wall, but his help was definitely appreciated. The thought of even touching a paintbrush made the muscles in her arms ache and she plopped down at the kitchen table.
“So, why are you painting?”
“I was sick of listening to you whine about how sore you were.”
“It’s been one day!” she laughed.
“Yeah, well you have no idea how annoying you can be when you complain,” he said, turning around to smile at her. Without another word, he picked up a nearby roller and finished off the wall. The fact that the color was so close to the original tone of the room’s walls meant that one heavy coat easily did the trick and he was done in about a half hour, right when Kinsey was taking a pan of cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
“Kinsey, can you bring me the paintbrush? I think I left it laying on the lid of the paint can,” Taylor asked as he finished rinsing the paint from the roller. Kinsey sighed, leaving her incredibly inviting looking breakfast on the table, and went to pick up the brush which she found to be mostly covered in paint.
“Jesus, Taylor! Could you have made more of a mess with this thing if you tried?” she asked, heading for the sink to find that Taylor had quickly vacated the room. She sighed and started to rinse it out herself. She really was happy that Taylor had helped out by doing a wall but was not at all happy about having to clean up after him. She had planned to take the day off since it was Saturday and the guys weren’t planning on working in the studio, and yet she still managed to get stuck dealing with paint.
“Kinsey! What are you doing?” Isaac asked as he came into the kitchen, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“I’m not-” she started, trying to defend herself.
“There’s no rush to get this done! So just take the day off, okay?” he continued.
“It was Taylor!” she said, thankful to get in a sentence. Isaac gave her a disbelieving look and dished a roll onto his plate.
“Kinsey, at least come up with a believable lie. Taylor would never do something that nice, especially not for you.” Kinsey glared at him before giving the brush a final rinse. Once she was sure it was completely paint free, she stood there and waited. When Taylor reentered the kitchen, she chucked the brush at him and it hit him right in the stomach.
“What the hell was that for?” he asked, smoothing his hand over the wet spot the bristles had left behind on his t-shirt.
“You know what it was for,” she spat before finally sitting down to eat her now cold cinnamon roll.
“Can you believe Kinsey was painting already this morning?” Isaac asked Taylor, obviously having missed the exchange between herself and Taylor completely since he had been reading the paper.
“I know, she’s a psycho,” Taylor shrugged, sticking his tongue out at her before getting himself some breakfast as well.
“I frigging hate you.”
“No you don’t,” he said smugly with his mouth full. Before Kinsey could think of a good retort, Zac came running into the room with his coat on and a grocery sack in hand. The other three looked at each other in surprise.
“Where were you? I thought you were sleeping,” Isaac said.
“At the store!” Zac said excitedly, “I was thinking of ways we could make this place more fun and I thought of Magnetic Poetry for the fridge, so I went to the store to get some. But they didn’t have any really good ones, so I grabbed a few but got us stuff so we can make our own, too!” From the sack he produced a label maker and several rolls of magnetic strip tape.
“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Zac,” Taylor said, surprise evident in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m not as big of a moron as you all think I am.” Zac rolled his eyes and watched as Kinsey took the label maker and went over to the counter next to the fridge. She pulled herself up to sit on the granite counter and worked diligently until she’d finished, a smile spreading across her face. After she’d dropped herself back to the floor, she carefully put the newly made magnets on the fridge before walking out of the room. She heard the guys get up and go see what she’d done and started laughing when she heard the response she’d been hoping for.
“What the fuck?” Taylor shouted, “This is war, Kinsey!”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she laughed to herself as she headed up the stairs to her room.