by Hamel, B. B.
I nearly jump as I turn. Chef Beth is standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest.
“Fine,” I say, wiping my eyes.
She frowns at me for a long moment. “You know, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first person I’ve found crying down here. Hell, you’re not the first one I’ve found crying down here today.”
I smile a little bit. “That kind of does help.”
“This place…” She trails off. “They don’t even know my name, did you know that? I’ve been cooking here for a while, at least once a year for a few years now, and the majority of them don’t even know who I am.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I remember your name.”
“I know you do, hon.” She sighs, shaking her hear. “I’m just making the point that they don’t care about anything but themselves. So don’t take whatever you’re upset about too personally. They can’t help it.”
“Thanks.” I give her a little smile.
“All right. Want something to eat or drink? I can do whatever you want, really.”
“Tea,” I say. “Something herbal would be nice.”
“You got it, hon. I’ll have it sent to your room?”
“Actually, can I sit in here for a little while?”
She smiles warmly. “Of course. Want me to bring you a magazine or something? I got a bunch of trashy gossip rags.”
“God, that’d be great.”
“Sure thing. Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll be back in a few.”
I wander over to a little chair next to a metal table where someone’s clearly been peeling potatoes. Some leftover skin scraps are still scattered around. I push them aside and only wait a few minutes before Beth returns with some peppermint tea and a magazine.
“Stay as long as you like,” she says before closing the door behind her.
I sit there, sip my tea and stare at the magazine. I force my mind to empty. I refuse to think about Ryan or Joel or anything else. This week is going to be hard from here on out, and I need to take every opportunity I can to recharge.
I’m pregnant now. It’s time to start taking care of myself so I can take care of my baby.
10
Ryan
It must be late by the time Casey comes to bed. I wake up early, the light streaming in through the window, and she’s curled up on the couch. I don’t remember her coming back to the room and I hesitate a moment before draping a blanket over her shoulders. She doesn’t stir when I change into workout clothes and hit the gym.
Connie’s not here this time, which is probably for the best. I get some work in, pushing harder than I might normally, getting a good sweat going. I’m angry and frustrated and something happened with Casey last night, but I’m not sure what.
I can’t help but worry. Wandering around this house without me is dangerous. It’s inevitable that she’ll run into someone she shouldn’t and something bad will happen. Every hour that passes without one of my family members cornering her and making her feel like shit about herself, I count as a very successful hour.
Workout done and uninterrupted, I head back to the room. She’s still asleep so I shower, thinking about her body, my eyes closed and the water running down my muscular frame. I can’t help picturing her pussy under my lips, my tongue working her body, her moans getting louder and louder as she came for me. God, she was so good, and I know she wants more of it.
Just like I do.
Shower over, I step out into the room. She’s finally up, sitting with her feet kicked up. “Good morning,” I say, towel around my waist.
“Morning.” She barely even glances at me.
“Sleep okay?”
She shrugs.
I watch her for a second. When she’s not about to say anything else, I grab some clothes and get dressed.
“We should hit up breakfast today,” I say. “Show our faces. Dad will like that.”
“Fine.” She yawns a little. I walk around the couch to get a better look at her.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She gives me a flat look. “Just tired.”
“Okay, well, I can get you some coffee if you want.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She looks away from me, over toward the windows.
I hesitate but decide not to push. Something happened with her, I’m positive now, but I’m not sure what.
Doesn’t matter. I finish dressing and head to the kitchen. I find a staff member and ask for coffee. He nods and I lean against a table, waiting while he fetches it.
“Ran into your future wife last night.”
I look over. There’s an older woman standing with her arms crossed. She’s wearing a chef’s outfit and I swear she looks familiar, but I can’t place her name. So many people work here and they’re always rotating in and out.
“Casey?” I ask.
“That’s right. Seemed upset about something.” She hesitates. “I don’t normally talk like this, but I thought you should know. Spent an hour crying in that back room over there.”
I frown a little. “Really?”
“Really.” She stares at me for a good, long moment. “I hope you can do something to help her. She’s one of the good ones. I think you might be too, but I’m not sure yet.”
I blink at her, completely taken aback. “I, uh, yeah. I’ll try and help her. I promise.”
“Good.”
“What’s your name, by the way?”
She smiles a bit. “Beth,” she says. She turns and walks away without another word.
Weird as hell.
My coffee comes a little bit later and I’m thinking about that conversation as I head upstairs. Casey’s in the shower when I arrive so I pour myself a little cup and sip it. She comes out ten minutes later, fully dressed and ready.
“Thanks,” she says, grabbing a cup.
I consider telling her what Beth said down there, but I decide against it. If she wanted to talk about it, she’d talk about it. I can always ask later, but for now, I’ll let it go.
Breakfast is held in the main living room. The bar’s open, of course, and people are taking advantage. My brothers are there like they never left, each of them holding a Bloody Mary. Uncle Toby cornered Emily and she gives me a plaintive look but I just grin at her and walk on by.
It’s buffet-style, so we grab plates and load up. Well, I load up at least. Casey eats like a baby bird, picking at little bits of sausage, little strips of bacon, a slice of toast or two. She’s not talking to me and I’m not about to force her to have some small talk if she’s really not in the mood.
We set up on a couch nearby. Uncle Earl and Tamara sit down with us, and Earl starts talking about Tamara’s future in rocket science.
“Girl’s got a brain bigger than the ocean,” Uncle Earl says. “Believe me.”
“Dad.” Tamara blushes but she doesn’t stop him.
“Look, and modest, too. I’m telling you, Ryan. Your cousin here is gonna change the world. She’s going to make a million dollars and change the world, I’m telling you.”
“Dad,” she says again.
Earl laughs and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry honey. We just don’t see family that much and I like to brag about you.”
“I know.” She makes a face like she’s heard him brag one too many times.
“How about you two?” Earl says. “You got any bragging to do? What about you, Casey, what’s your profession?”
Casey looks at him for a second and I wonder if she’s about to say dog walker. Not that it bothers me at all, in fact, I sort of love it. But I’d love to see Earl’s face.
Instead, she just stands. “Excuse me.”
I frown at her and Earl looks surprised. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, if there’s—”
“No. I’m just not feeling well.” She hurries away. I watch her put her plate down on a table and practically run back upstairs.
“Weird,” Earl says.
I glance at him. �
��Drank too much last night,” I say, not sure what other excuse I can use.
But of course, in this family, that’s pretty normal. Earl gives a knowing nod. “Been there myself. Right, Tamara? Drank so much one time I puked up my entire guts, only to do it again a few hours later. Right, sweetie?”
“Dad,” she says, rolling her eyes like he’s just some rascally scamp alcoholic.
“Excuse me.” I stand up. “I should check on her.”
I head off, intent on following Casey upstairs, but I get cut off by Emily. “Was that Casey running upstairs?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“She okay?”
“I have no clue.”
She hesitates. “I saw Joel follow her outside last night. When she came back in, she looked… upset.”
I stop and look at her. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. All I know is, she went outside, maybe to get some air or something, and Joel followed her out. Then she came back in not long later and looked pretty upset.”
“Fucking asshole,” I say.
“I know. But be careful.” She glances over at the boys at the bar. Joel holds up a drink in salute to us. “You know he took your clothes, right?”
“Of course.”
“Harry helped.”
I look at her. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Ryan.”
I look away, back at the assholes. They’re laughing with each other and Joel’s getting up. He says something then walks toward us.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Guess it was bound to happen.”
“It shouldn’t. This shouldn’t happen. We’re all one family.”
“Yeah, well, people pick sides and now that’s all we care about.”
She doesn’t say more. She just walks off as Joel approaches, a big smile on his face.
“Where’s she going?” he asks as Emily heads toward the kitchens. Anne and Mia appear in the doorway with Connie, talking to each other in whispers as they walk over to the buffet.
“Not sure,” I say. “What do you want?”
“Just checking in with you. How’s the newest member of our family adjusting?”
I look at him. “Fuck off, Joel.”
He doesn’t look surprised. “You know, that’s what your fiancée said to me last night.”
“Why were you talking to her?”
“I was just telling her some truth, is all.”
“And what’s your fucked-up version of truth?”
He moves closer. “That you’re using her. And when you’re done, you won’t need her anymore… and she’ll be worthless.”
“I see,” I say. “And if she goes over to you, I’m sure you’ll make sure she’s all taken care of, right?”
His eyes sparkle. “Something like that.”
“Good thing she’s not an idiot.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Mom and Dad are going to see through this shit and you’re going to end up out of everything.”
I turn to face him, anger rising. I force it back and keep my voice level. “Joel, did you stop to think that Mom and Dad don’t really give a shit about any of this? Did you maybe consider that they’re just happy I’m getting married and don’t give a damn what my reasons are? Fact is, there’s nothing you can do, little brother.”
He snarls something but I’m already walking away. He moves to follow me, but the three young girls surround him and start peppering him with questions and jokes. Connie glances back at me and winks as I get away. I give her an appreciative little grin.
Motherfucker. He has no clue what he’s doing, at least no more than any of us do. He’s just making his shit up as he goes, and it just so happens that he prefers to be an aggressive goddamn prick about everything he does.
He forces me to play this game. I wouldn’t be doing any of this if it weren’t for Joel forcing the family into two different camps. He has his little alliances and I have mine. Even though I’ve never spoken to anyone about any of this, I know that some of them back him… and some back me.
I just have to hope that’s going to be enough.
I leave the living room and go looking for Casey. I’m a little worried about her, and I want to make sure she’s okay.
11
Casey
I can’t be around Ryan.
I know it’s a mistake. I should be off in this place alone. I learned that the hard way last night when Joel ambushed me at my lowest and made me feel like a real piece of shit. I’m vulnerable right now and I’m running from the one person that can possibly help me.
Still, every time I look at him, I’m reminded of the baby I’m carrying. I should be able to pull it together, at least for my baby’s sake, but I’m all alone in a stranger’s house and I’m completely isolated and overwhelmed.
So I go wandering. I stay inside this time. I run into some staff members and a couple of aunts and uncles that stop talking as soon as I walk past. They give me stretched, tense little smiles, but they don’t say anything and I’m grateful for that.
Eventually I’m walking down a hall I don’t recognize. I hear something up ahead and it takes me half a second to realize that it’s music.
There’s a piano playing. I think it’s live, or maybe it’s a really nice speaker system, I can’t be sure. The song is halting, lilting, almost sad. I walk toward it, drawn despite myself. I should stay away from people but the music is so beautiful and I’m feeling so down. Maybe sitting and listening can help for a little while.
I come to an open doorway and stare in at a large, open room. There are musical instruments all over the place, some of them haphazardly piled on the floor, some of them hung on pegs on the walls. There are cables and amplifiers and the walls and roof are covered in sound-dampening panels.
In the center of the space is a large black piano. Uncle Toby is sitting at the bench playing the music, his body jerking along with the melody.
I step inside. There’s nobody else around and he doesn’t seem to notice me. I slip down into a chair near the door and watch him play.
He’s humming to himself as he goes. I can just barely hear it. He’s singing along to the melody, a grating, grinding sound, harsh compared to the beautiful song. He’s swaying back and forth and his fingers are sliding carefully. I close my eyes and just listen.
I let the music take some of the pain away. It’s funny how music can do that. I’ve always been able to turn on my favorite songs and shut the world out. Even though I don’t know this tune at all, I can still let it transport me somewhere else.
It doesn’t matter who’s playing, it doesn’t matter where I am. Music is the universal language. We all speak it, whether we want to admit it or not.
The song comes to an end. The last notes are sustained, holding and hanging in the room. I slowly open my eyes, blinking away a tear.
Uncle Toby’s looking at me. He’s smiling a little bit and his eyes look calm. He’s balding a bit, slightly out of shape, but he’s wearing a handsome button-down shirt tucked into jeans. He adjusts his glasses.
“That was really nice,” I say.
“Thank you.” His smile gets bigger. “I haven’t had an audience in a long time. Nobody comes here anymore.”
“It’s amazing. Really.”
“Thank you.” He sits there and watches me. “You know, you can come in here whenever you want. Play any of the instruments, if you like.”
“Oh, I don’t have any talent for it.”
“Shame.” He sighs. “I thought I didn’t have talent for it either, at least until I was abducted. After that night, I’ve just always been able to play.”
“Oh.” I stare at him for a second until what he said just clicks. “Abducted?”
“By the grays. The aliens. Took me up, did all sorts of things to me, but they gave me this gift.” He touches the piano keys. “I’m grateful, you know. A lot of survivors aren’t. A lot of them come back messed up, but not me. They put me back and I’ve been better.”
“Oh. Well.” I stand up. “Okay. That’s nice.”
He smiles at me and starts playing again. It’s another lilting melody, pretty, but the magic’s gone. I slip out of the room and listen to the noise echo past me as I turn to walk away.
Standing a few feet away is a pretty woman wearing a conservative sweater and some slacks. I nearly jump a little, startled by her.
“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just heard you talking to Uncle Toby and I thought I’d check in.”
I smile a little. “Oh. Thanks, but I’m fine. He’s just a little bit… you know.”
“Odd?” she asks.
“Putting it mildly.”
“Believe it or not, Uncle Toby is maybe one of the sanest people in this house.” She looks past me for a moment, her eyes going distant. “He seems odd, but he’s one of the good ones. Maybe the only one.”
“Right,” I say, shifting uncomfortably. “He plays beautifully.”
She looks back at me, eyes focusing again. “He does. I’m Tracy, Harry’s wife.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She doesn’t come any closer. She looks past me again, at the music room where the piano’s still playing, more rolling and lilting music, pretty in its simplicity.
“I remember the first time Harry brought me on one of these weeks. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” She laughs lightly but there’s an edge to it.
“Really? I thought I was just having a hard time adjusting.”
“No, you’re still normal. It’s everyone else here. Have you ever been around a family that’s constantly fighting like this one?”
“No,” I admit. “I haven’t.”
“It’s the money. I mean, not just having it, but the fact that it’s up for grabs soon. They’ve been fighting over it for a long time like their father’s already dead or something. When Harry’s at home, he’s totally fine, talks about all this like it’s some kind of fever dream. But when we’re here…” She trails off.
“He picks sides.”
“Right.” She shrugs a little bit and crosses her arms across her middle. “I think we’re supposed to be enemies or something.”
