Emerald

by Elle Casey

  “I know she’s a mess,” he says. “She’s been a mess for a long time, and I’ve done everything I possibly can to change that, but until she wants to change on her own, there’s nothing we can do.”

  I’m nearly there . . . I reach out to tap his shoulder . . .

  “Listen, I’ve gotta go. This is not the time for me to be having this conversation.” He touches his phone screen and shoves the device into his back pocket, coming to a dead halt with no warning.

  Unable to slow down fast enough, I run right into his back.

  “Hey! Watch it!” he yells, jumping to the side and spinning around.

  His sidestep causes me to lose my balance. When his body is no longer there to stop my descent, I fall to the ground and land on my knee, crumpling onto my side instantly with the pain that shoots up my leg.

  “Oh my god, oh my god,” I groan. “That hurts so much.”

  He’s standing over me, furious. “What in the hell are you doing?”

  “Can’t you see what I’m doing?” I gasp. “I’m dying, you dingleberry!” I cup my hands over my knee, trying to will the pain away.

  He bends down and swoops me up into his arms. One minute I’m on the cold ground, and the next I’m flying through the air. I scream out in surprise. “Whoop!”

  “You okay?” He’s looking down at me, either annoyance or worry lines etched into his face.

  I couldn’t be more embarrassed than I am right now. If my knee weren’t destroyed, I’d be running in the opposite direction twice as fast as I got here. “No, I’m most definitely not okay. What are you doing? Put me down.” I don’t like his hands on my body; it’s making me warm in weird places and my knee is killing me—a terrible combination of emotions. I struggle to be free. His beard tickles my cheek, and I reach up to slap it away without thinking.

  “Sorry.” He drops my legs and my feet flop down. I cry out as my knee buckles under me.

  He catches me before I fall and props me up with his shoulder. “You’re really hurt.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?” I’m angrier at myself than I am at him. I shouldn’t have been following so close. Hell, I shouldn’t have been running after him in the first place. Now who’s Miss Nosey Parker? Me, that’s who. I was trying so hard to listen in on his conversation, I ran right into his back. What a freak.

  He stops and stares at me for a few seconds and smiles.

  “What are you looking at? And why are you smiling when I’m clearly injured?” He’s laughing at me, I know he is. And who could blame him? Why do I have to be such a klutz?

  “You just called me a dingleberry and said, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’ I haven’t heard either of those insults since the tenth grade.”

  I frown, not in the mood for his happiness. “Yeah, well, I like to kick it old-school, what can I say.” I stand straighter and wince. I don’t think my knee is seriously hurt, but it is going to have a hell of a bruise. “Just help me get to the cab, would you, please?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am. It makes me sound bossy.” Why am I acting so rudely when I’m the one who was so busy trying to eavesdrop that I ran up his heels? Ugh. I wish I knew. It’s possible I’m still smarting from the comments Amber said about me being afraid of my own shadow, but I hate to think that she has that much control over how I feel. One little sentence issuing from her mouth has the power to turn me into a freak of nature.

  “Why not?” he asks. “I like it when you get bossy.”

  I roll my eyes. Trying to stay mad at him when he’s being like this is impossible. It’s like I can’t not embarrass myself when I’m in his presence, and he just finds it all so funny. Ha, ha, look at the goofy hippie, tripping on her own feet as she runs down the sidewalk. Keeping my mouth shut is probably my best bet from now on, so I decide to zip my lips. No matter what he says, I will not respond.

  “It was very graceful,” he offers.

  I say nothing.

  “The way you fell to the side like that after you tackled my ass.”

  Not responding is becoming difficult. He’s totally mocking me. There was nothing at all graceful about that fall, and we both know it.

  “Is that your middle name? Grace? Because it should be if it isn’t.”

  I grit my teeth to remain silent.

  “Emerald Grace . . . huh . . . I didn’t get your last name?” He’s grinning down at me as I limp along.

  I can’t remain silent any longer. “And you’re not going to. Could you just shut up for a little while? Your voice is making my knee hurt more.”

  He barks out a laugh as we arrive at the cab.

  My sister is standing there with her hands on her hips. “What happened to you?” She looks at Sam. “How did she get hurt? Why are you laughing?”

  “She tripped. Very gracefully, I might add.”

  “I was trying to catch up to Sam, like you asked me to, and I bumped into him.” I glare at Amber. This is mostly her fault. She knows I’m not athletic.

  “Did you tell her to tackle me? Because that’s pretty much what she did.”

  Amber frowns at me. “I definitely did not tell her to tackle you.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny, you guys. Stop joking around. My knee is killing me.”

  “Let me see.” Amber comes over and lifts up my skirt, exposing way too much of my thigh.

  I slap her hand away. “Quit it! You’re showing everybody my nether regions.”

  Sam stares up at the sky, biting his lower lip as his eyebrows come together up in the middle of his forehead, practically.

  I glare at him. “I don’t know why my being exposed in public is so funny to you.”

  “Nether regions . . .” He shakes his head slowly, lowering it to look at us. “You girls are killing me.”

  Amber takes over the support at my shoulder. “Come on, sister. Lean on me. Let’s get in the cab and go home.”

  “It’s not my home.”

  She stops. “What?”

  “I said it’s not my home. It’s your home.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just get your butt in the cab.”

  Sam opens the door for us, and I do my best to slide in, wincing when my knee bumps the front seat. I move all the way over to the far side and stare out the window. I am going to pout like nobody’s business, because today stinks. I’ve been outed as the least graceful woman in our family, my knee is aching, and on top of all that I have gas now, too, thanks to that terrible hot dog. What else could possibly go wrong?

  This little trip is not going at all how I expected it to. I thought it would be just Amber and me sitting around her apartment, drinking wine and talking about the good old days, with me learning all about her new life. Instead, I’m watching my sister flirt with a homeless guy, eating food that’s making me have gas so bad that I’m afraid I’m going to spontaneously combust if I don’t get to a private place so I can unleash very soon, and I’m getting all hot and bothered over this dumb, moody-beardy guy who I somehow managed to tackle on the sidewalk in front of at least fifty people. I don’t think this trip could get any worse, and I’m only on day one.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Getting back to the apartment with Amber and Sam’s help is no big deal. I’m limping a little, but there’s no serious injury to my kneecap. Situating my paints, brushes, and other materials in my room is also no biggie. My bedroom is large enough to set up the big floor tarp, easel, canvas, and supplies, no problem. The nap I take for the next several hours flies by like it was nothing. It’s exactly what I needed to settle my nerves. But the telephone call that Amber gets while I’m relaxing into the pillows on my bed . . . now that’s a really big deal. A really big, horrible, awful deal.

  “What do you mean you need me in Japan?” she asks. She looks at me in confusion, as if I can explain what the person on the other end of the line is trying to say to her.

  I sit up, my heart going cold. Somebody wants her to leave, and it
sounds very urgent. I pray that our mothers are okay and that no one has gotten hurt.

  “I thought everything was fine. What’s going on with Ted?” She falls silent, listening to the explanation that I can’t hear. I feel slightly less panicked knowing that Ted’s the issue and not our moms or Ty.

  I try to lean in so I can eavesdrop on the call, but I have to bend my knee to do it, and the twinge of pain I get reminds me that I really should just lie back and relax. I can wait for the news she’s getting until after she hangs up the phone.

  Amber, who was sitting next to me on the bed, stands and starts pacing the floor. “How could you guys let this happen? He was supposed to hang on at least through the end of this leg of the tour.” As she listens to the caller’s explanation, her expression morphs through several emotions: confusion, anger, frustration, and then, finally, acceptance. “Are you sure you can’t handle this without me? Em is here. She came all the way from Maine.”

  I turn and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My knee doesn’t hurt that much. It’s just a bruise. My sister is seriously stressed-out, and if I’m understanding this right, she’s about to take off across the globe. I need to get up and do something.

  “Can Em come with me?”

  I nearly have a heart attack hearing that. I wave my hands at her and frown, telling her Hell no as best I can without actually shouting it like I want to. The day I go to Japan will be the day after Hell freezes over. I don’t care that more than half my family is there. My feet are not leaving American soil. I have a hard enough time communicating with strangers in my mother tongue, so I can only imagine how I’d handle Japanese people trying to speak to me. Holy nightmare.

  She sighs heavily, brushing me off with what looks like disappointment. “Fine. I’ll book a flight out as soon as possible. I’ll send you a text with the details. I assume you’ll send me a car?” She nods when she gets her answer. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you soon.”

  She hangs up the phone and sighs. “You’re never going to believe this.”

  I try to smile. “Don’t tell me, let me guess . . . They need you in Japan and you have to leave yesterday?”

  She stares at her phone as if there will be answers on its screen. “Yes. Apparently, Ted just got fired, so now they’re over there in Japan and everything is falling apart and they need me to help put it back together. Our mothers being there probably isn’t helping. My guess is they had something to do with this shake-up.” She hisses out a long sigh and looks up at me apologetically. “I am so sorry. I dragged you down here to spend time with me, and now I’m abandoning you. I feel like a serious jerk.”

  “No, don’t say that. But don’t they have anybody else who can handle this . . . whatever it is?” The comment about our moms is worrying me, but they’re grown women; surely they don’t need their twenty-five-year-old daughter to come to their rescue.

  “They don’t, actually. Ted was the guy who took care of everything, and I’m the number-two person . . . or I was the number-two person. I guess I’m temporarily the number-one person now. The band really counts on me for a lot of stuff. They trust me. They’re a little paranoid about who has their best interests at heart after all the things Ted did.”

  Bitterness rises up in me over her prioritizing these men over our plans, burning me up. “Maybe they don’t like the idea of us spending time together.” That would be in keeping with the way they’ve acted for the last twenty-five years. They don’t really care about our family; they only care about themselves and what’s convenient for them. And Amber being attached to me and our home is very inconvenient.

  “No, that’s not it at all. They would never do that. They totally respect the bond we have and are happy for us. Honestly, I’m more worried about Ty than I am about the rest of them.”

  “Why? He’s a big boy, isn’t he? Can’t he handle his life by himself?” My sister thinks she has the solution to every problem in the world, and normally it makes me proud of her . . . but today, not so much.

  She gives me a scolding look. “Of course. He’s a grown man and a professional musician, but his integration with the band hasn’t been the easiest thing in the world—as you well know because I’ve already told you all about it—and right now with them being in a foreign country and their manager taking off and all that crap . . . and Sam being here after Ty hasn’t seen him in years or even talked to him besides inviting him out here . . . It’s just a lot to deal with. I think it would be easier for all of them if I were there to help smooth things over. I’m part of the team now, and that’s a big deal for me.”

  Anger and sadness that she’d leave so easily bubble up inside me. “Since when did you become so integral to the band’s success?”

  “Since when did you become such an angry person?” she counters. “Usually you’re very understanding. You never begrudge Rose the time she spends at the clinic doing her thing, so why are you giving me such a hard time? Is it because I’m leaving you behind? Because you could come, you know . . .”

  I look at her like she’s crazy, hoping to be able to deflect the truth I feel in her words. “I’m not angry, and I’m not begrudging you anything. I’m just asking you a legitimate question. You’re right . . . you did ask me down here . . . or you begged me to come down here is more like it, and now here I am and you’re leaving. Is the band more important to you than I am?”

  She walks to the door, her eyes shining with tears. “I’m not going to justify that not-legit question with an answer. You’re in a bad mood because you hurt your knee and because I’m leaving you behind right after you came to visit, and I get that. It sucks. But I don’t really have a choice if I want to do my job properly and help keep the band from imploding. Now . . . I don’t want to say anything in anger that I’ll regret, so we can talk about it some more after I pack.”

  “Fine. I’m going to pack too.” I move toward my suitcase.

  She stops in the doorway and spins around quickly. “Pack? No! You can’t!”

  “What do you mean, I can’t?” I’m already halfway done, and my leg is working just fine.

  “You have to stay.” She sounds panicked, when what she really is, is crazy.

  “I’m not staying here; don’t be ridiculous. You won’t be here, so why should I be?”

  “Because Sam is here! You can’t just leave him here by himself.”

  I laugh. She’s making zero sense. “Why not? You are!”

  She sputters, at a loss for words.

  A bratty, evil comment jumps from the recesses of my brain and out of my mouth before I can stop it. “What’s the matter? Are you worried he’s going to steal your peacock feathers while you’re gone?”

  “Feathers? What . . . ? What are you talking about?”

  I fold my arms over my chest as my breath heaves in and out and my ears burn with the angry emotions building up. I want to stop, but the words keep spilling out. “You know that’s not a real Jackson Pollock in your foyer, right?”

  She holds up a hand and closes her eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. “Okay, you’re obviously still suffering the effects of that wine, so I’m just going to let this stuff go. I’ll be back in a half hour after I’ve packed, and we can finish talking about this if you want. But maybe you should take a little nap and sleep it off in the meantime.”

  “I already took a nap. Maybe you should take a little nap and sleep it off.”

  So, yeah . . . That was the lamest comeback ever delivered in an argument, but nothing else is coming to mind, so I’m stuck with sounding like an angry third-grader. I’m so mad at that stupid band, I can’t think straight. What a bunch of jerks. They’re destroying my family! Red Hot, my butt. More like Red NOT. They’re so used to the world revolving around them that it doesn’t mean anything for them to pull my sister away from her short visit with me. The fact that they’d even ask her to come when they know I’m here just to hang out with her tells me that they think they’re top priority over everyone e
lse. Who am I anyway, right? I’m just the girl who refuses to acknowledge that they’re these saints who think they can buy us out and pretend like they never knew we existed before three months ago or whatever. And our mothers are just going along with this garbage, apparently. I’d say the band is doing a pretty good job of ruining everything in my life, but they’re not doing it single-handedly; they’re getting help from the women I love most in the world, and it’s killing me.

  Amber leaves without another word, so I grab my suitcase and go back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it with my bag next to me. What am I going to do? Pack or not? She wants me to stay here with Sam. Craziness! Does she actually believe that Ty’s brother and I would hang out? Go do touristy things together and get along like long-lost buddies? How ridiculous can she be? Has she not lived with me for the past twenty-five years?

  I know for a fact how it will turn out: I’ll spend the entire time in my bedroom, and he’ll either do the same or disappear into New York City and have a good old time with all the women who will throw themselves at his broody, handsome self. He doesn’t need me here any more than I need to be here for him. In fact, I’ll probably just get in the way of him turning this place into his own personal sex lair.

  I go over to my purse and pull out my cell. After dialing the farm’s number, I wait for someone to answer the phone. Our mothers aren’t there, but Harold is. When I left, he moved into the house to help take care of things, but I’m sure I’m needed back there. Without me, the entire operation is going to be barely stuttering along. This doesn’t have to be about Amber or Sam; this could be just about my life missing me. Harold will make the decision for me, telling me I’m needed back home. I just need to hear the words and I’m gone, gone, gone. Like Gone Girl, but without the fake murder part.