MARK
“What the hell, man?!” Nate’s voice thundered over the phone so loudly I had to pull it away from my ear. I knew Shortcake wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut.
“Take it down a notch—I’m not hearing impaired.”
“You called in for a personal day and now I’m hearing there is some guy your mom’s involved with and he’s being stalked by loan sharks. I repeat, what the hell, man?!”
“Oh, it gets worse.”
“How is that possible?”
“It’s my dad.”
Silence. Then, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“I shit you not. I couldn’t come up with this level of FUBAR if I tried.”
“Where is he now? Where are you and your mom?”
“He’s still in the hospital and I’m at my mom’s with her.”
As if the morning hadn’t been a treat in itself, this day just kept piling on the shit. After Fiona left us at the hospital I’d been able to talk to a nurse and get some information on the extent of the sperm donor’s injuries. He had a broken collarbone, broken ribs, a broken leg (likely from a baseball bat to the knee), and head trauma. Terrific. He would need surgery for the leg and knee and would be in the hospital for several days. I didn’t know the status of his medical insurance, and I didn’t want to.
Thankfully, I had been able to talk my mom into going home since the nurse informed me that the bastard needed rest and was on serious pain meds. I doubted he even remembered talking to my mom, and I was hoping to keep it that way. Keeping her away may prove to be a bit more difficult.
She’d spent the afternoon intermittently pacing and quietly crying, despite my efforts to distract her. She called in to work and got the evening off, although I personally thought it might have been a good way to get her mind off the whole situation. But I got her to eat something in the late afternoon and then finally convinced her to lie down in her bedroom.
I had no idea what to do. And since I couldn’t say what I wanted to, which was, “Just leave him there and forget about him,” I was at a total loss. So, I’d been sitting on the couch stewing while my mom rested.
On the other end of the phone, I heard Nate sigh. He knew all about our history with my dad. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to call her.”
“That was my first thought, too, but he was out cold. If you can believe it, he still had her listed as his emergency contact—after thirteen fucking years!”
“What an asshole. And your mom actually wanted to go to him?”
“I will never understand women,” I replied.
“I’ve been told it’s an impossibility so don’t even try. What are you going to do?”
I swiped my hand over my head for the umpteenth time that day. “I have no fucking clue.”
“Did the cops come?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s routine in this kind of situation. The old man was out of it a lot, but apparently he told the cops he’d just had an accident so there is nothing they can do if he doesn’t want to pursue it or press charges. My guess is he’s scared shitless, as well he should be.”
“Will your mom listen to you if you ask her to stay away from him? The last thing she needs is some loan shark coming after her once they find out he’s got a wife—estranged or not.”
“Shit! I didn’t even think of that.” I stood abruptly from the couch. “This is getting worse by the minute.”
“You want us to come over tomorrow and try to help you talk to her?”
“Nah, man. I’ll figure it out, but thanks.”
“Well, if you change your mind, just give me a call. We’re here if you need it.”
“Thanks, man. Later.”
I hung up and stared at my phone. I did need help figuring this out, but I wasn’t about to drag Nate and Laney into this mess. It wasn’t their problem—it was a family problem. And I knew just who deserved a call.
I scrolled through my contact list and hit the call button.
“Yo, dickhead! What’s up?”
“Jake, you cocksucker, it’s time to get your ass home. Dad’s back.”
It was Sunday night and I sat in my truck outside Piedmont Triad International Airport waiting on my brother. The Zac Brown Band rang from the speakers but did little to distract me. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel wondering what the hell was taking so long. Jake’s flight had landed twenty minutes ago.
Then I caught a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror and the reason became clear. Duffle bag slung over one shoulder, my big brother swaggered out the automatic doors with a tall, stacked blonde by his side. She was laughing at something he said and ducking her head coyly.
Jesus Christ.
Leave it to my brother to use a family crisis to schedule some horizontal refreshment.
I rolled my window down and shouted, “Yo, Jake! Your wife just called and said she’s going into labor. If we hurry, maybe you’ll make it in time to cut the cord!”
Jake looked at me like he might go all Vito Corleone on my ass, and the blonde practically sprinted in the other direction, shouting some pretty choice expletives behind her. He stomped over to the truck and threw his duffle in the back. “I forgot what a dick you can be,” he said as he folded his tall frame into the passenger seat.
He looked the same as always—three days past needing a shave and built like a Mack truck. His hair was buzzed like mine but that’s where the resemblance stopped. Jake’s looks are more dark, favoring our mother, while mine are more fair, favoring the sack of shit. Jake also has a good four inches on me, a fact he never lets me forget.
“Always here to help.” I settled my hands on the steering wheel and pulled away from the curb.
“If cock-blocking is your idea of help, you need me more than I realized.”
“Oh please, the only reason a girl would fuck you is if she ran out of batteries.”
He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “I think it’s time you shut up, little brother, and give that hole in your face a chance to heal.”
I smiled at him. “Good to see you too.”
The corner of his mouth lifted a fraction of an inch. “Whatever. Just drive—I can’t wait to get this shit show over with.”
Jake sighed.
I pulled onto the highway. “You and me both.”
“Jake?” Our mom sat on the couch, looking as if she’d just awakened from a dream and wasn’t sure if Jake was real or not. She blinked furiously as my brother made his way to her, a giant grin on his face.
“Mom!” Jake exclaimed as he bent to encompass her in a hug and draw her to her feet. She wasn’t short, but she was thin and looked frail in his big arms.
She returned his embrace and then pulled back so she could gaze up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a guy come home now and then?” he teased her.
“Of course you can. It’s just such a surprise!” A smile lit her face for the first time since Friday. Thank God.
“Well, I missed you and I happened to have some time off so I thought, what the hell!”
Yeah, not exactly how it had gone down, but good enough.
The fact that she didn’t seem the least bit suspicious of the expedient timing of his visit indicated just how addled she was.
Earlier this morning I’d had to drive her to the hospital to check on my dad since she’d threatened to drive herself if I didn’t take her. Luckily, he’d been sleeping so she didn’t get a chance to talk to him.
Ever since Nate’s comment about the thugs possibly coming after my mom, I’d been nervous as hell and I was reluctant to let her out of my sight. But nothing seemed amiss at the hospital—not that I would have known what to look for anyway. It’s not as if these guys would be swinging around baseball bats and wearing t-shirts saying “1-800-Loan Shark. Text rates apply.” But just to be safe, I accompanied her to the hospital room and got my first look at my old man in eight years.
Time—and the baseball bat—had not be
en kind to him. His hair was long and scraggly and mostly gray, no longer the neatly combed sandy head of hair from my childhood. The muscular frame I’d never been allowed to forget was also diminished. His face was swollen and colored in various shades of purple, green, and yellow from the beating he’d taken. Had I seen him out of context, there wouldn’t have been a single trace of recognition.
There were various tubes and wires attached to his arm and hand while his leg hung suspended above the bed, wrapped in plaster and bandages. I wondered vaguely if the hospital had contacted the correct family. Maybe this was all a big mistake. But then I glimpsed the familiar faded tattoo peeking from the sleeve of his hospital gown and I was swiftly returned to the shitstorm that this week had brought to our lives.
Once the nurse confirmed that his pain meds were keeping him asleep most of the time, I was able to coax my mom to leave.
I took her to lunch at the Village Tavern, hoping to cheer her up, but she just picked at her salad and remained distant. Maybe she sensed the fury brewing just beneath my skin and that was the reason for her continued silence on the topic, but I was desperate for her to open up. Thankfully, I’d known reinforcements were on the way.
“I just can’t believe you’re here.” Our mother stared at Jake, dumbfounded. “When you didn’t make it home for Christmas I was worried about you.” She didn’t mean to scold, but I secretly felt a bit smug that her comment piled a little guilt on Jake. He certainly deserved it, in my humble opinion.
He looked appropriately chastened. “I know—I’m sorry. I really couldn’t get out of the project we were working on. But there’s no need to worry about me, Mom.”
I wasn’t entirely clear on what my brother did for a living. After his stint in the Marines, he’d seemed to wander the country aimlessly for a while, coming home from time to time. He worked odd jobs and then somehow got involved in landscape design, which took him to Florida. This was unsurprising, as I could perfectly picture Jake sweet-talking rich retirees into installing ridiculously expensive outdoor fountains surrounded by hedge mazes or some such shit. All he’d have to do is turn on the smile, flex his biceps, and throw a little “Aw, shucks” in there and the rich ladies would swoon. My smile hadn’t been the only one our mom had worried about.
“I should go get your room ready.” Mom brought her hand to her dark hair. “Are you hungry? I should make you some dinner. Where are your bags?” She looked around.
“Don’t worry,” Jake said calmly and grabbed her hand. “I just have the one bag, and I’ve already eaten. I’m also perfectly capable of making a bed. Just relax and catch me up on what’s been going on lately.”
We’d agreed it best that Jake play dumb and pretend he didn’t know Dad was back. Hopefully, once he got our mom talking she would finally share some of what she was thinking and we could get a bead on her mindset.
“I have to make a phone call,” I said and excused myself from the room. I went into the kitchen where I could still hear their conversation. Part of me felt guilty for putting on a ruse, but the situation was so messed up I could easily let it go.
“Didn’t Mark tell you…oh my goodness, Jake. Normally I wouldn’t have much to share, but I have some news and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”
“What’s that?” Jake asked quietly.
She proceeded to tell him the facts as we knew them, with the addition of a new piece of unwelcome information—it seemed the old man was into these guys for thirty grand.
“Wow,” said Jake, the fucking genius.
“I know,” our mother replied, but then she went on. “Jake, I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop and I feel like we need to help him.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I clutched my phone so hard I was surprised it didn’t crack.
“Hmm, well, I guess I can see how you’d feel that way.” At least Jake was doing a good job of keeping his cool. “There are a lot of things to consider, though, Mom.” He sounded like a fucking talk show therapist.
“I know. I don’t have that kind of money to give those awful people. But we can figure something out. He’s your father.”
At this point, I was incredibly fortunate to be standing a room away. There would be no way I could school my expression at that last comment.
Unbelievably, Jake continued with a calm tone, “True, but let’s think this out a bit. Do you know if he has insurance? Do you know where he was living when he got mixed up with these guys?”
“Um, well, the hospital said he doesn’t have insurance.” She seemed to pause.
“Mom, did they have you sign anything at the hospital?”
“No, nothing. Why?”
I could hear Jake’s sigh of relief that echoed my own.
“Okay, well that’s good at least. Make sure you don’t sign anything or you might become liable for his medical bills. You’re still technically married.”
“Oh my God—I hadn’t even thought of that!”
“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Now, was he in North Carolina when he got involved with these guys?”
“I don’t know. I just know this is where they found him and attacked him. I really think he was trying to come home to us.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Again, Jake kept his cool. I was going to have to buy him a beer and stop calling him derogatory names. “Well, that aside, we have to be careful, Mom. It might be best to stay away from the hospital in case these people are watching and they figure out your connection to him. I’m worried they might try to harm you in some way.”
“What? Why would they do that? I didn’t do anything to them.” She sounded breathless at the thought.
“These kinds of people don’t think that way. They want their money and will do just about anything to get it. Look what they did to D...dad.” He stumbled over the word and I couldn’t blame him one bit. “That’s probably why he lied to the cops too.”
“Oh.”
Things were silent for a few moments so I figured it was safe to return. They were both sitting on the couch and Jake’s arm rested along the back, behind our mom’s head. Unsurprisingly, she looked a bit dazed.
“Anybody need anything to drink?” I asked, trying for distraction so my mom had time to digest the reality of the situation. I was hoping against hope that it sunk in and stuck. We’d have to worry later about her misguided belief that anything but money had brought dear old Dad back to Greensboro.
“Sure,” said Jake. “Why don’t you bring Mom a glass of wine and I’ll take a beer.”
“Coming right up,” I said, happy to retreat to the kitchen once again.
Jake and I had our fair share of differences and I certainly still held on to some resentment that had built since his abrupt departure years back. But right now?
It was damn good to have my brother home.
Chapter Eight
A Good Best Friend Is Hard to Find
FIONA
“I know you told me you and Nate would take care of it but, for reasons I can’t examine right now, I can’t get the whole thing out of my head. I know he’s a big boy—lord knows if he were any bigger he’d need his own small country to fit in. What is up with that, by the way? Isn’t there a point where a person looks in the mirror and realizes that there are wimpy people in this world who need the muscle more than he does? Did his mother never tell him about the muscle-impaired children of the Third World?” I rambled, as usual, as I hefted the grocery bags to Laney’s kitchen.
A new recipe idea had been niggling at my brain and I’d decided to make use of my guinea pigs again tonight. “Anyway, I hope you like beef tips because I woke up this morning with a hankering for some juicy tips. Yum!”
I heard a sharp intake of breath, a poorly muffled giggle, a deep chuckle, and what sounded like a growl all coming simultaneously from the living room off Laney’s kitchen.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck my life!
I really had to stop r
unning my mouth without checking for witnesses first. I turned slowly from the counter and walked to the half wall separating the two rooms.
I thought for one brief moment that I might actually die of humiliation.
I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Pierce, there was nothing we could do. It was acute systemic embarrassment (which the medical community will henceforth refer to as ASE or perhaps “Fiona’s Curse”). She unfortunately brought it on herself—you are aware your daughter was a complete and total wackadoo, aren’t you? Again, I’m very sorry.
On the recliner in the corner of the room sat Laney on Nate’s lap, both of them wearing shit-eating grins on their fat stupid faces. Assholes! Rocco played with some monster trucks on the coffee table, and if only I’d been able to stop there, I wouldn’t have been forced to see the faces of the two men sitting on the couch, one stern and familiar, the other jocular and completely foreign to me.
Oh yay, I was expanding my audience to include random strangers now. Why did these things always happen to me?
“What’s a beef tip?” asked Rocco, lifting his sweet brown eyes to me.
I ignored my flaming face and looked at the child who I decided was going to be my only friend from here on out. “It’s a cut of meat that comes from the bottom loin under—”
“Okay!” Laney interrupted, barely stifling another giggle—what was up with her?! “It’s steak, Rocco.”
“Gross.”
Oh well, more for me.
Then, instead of creating a diversion and allowing me to slink back out the front door like a true best friend would, Laney gestured to the couch and forced me to act like a grown-up. “Fiona, you remember Mark, of course. And this is his brother, Jake. Jake, Fiona. Fiona, Jake.”
Sending Laney my best “I’ll cut a bitch” glare, I tried to regain my composure and step down the two steps to the living room. Of course, my heel caught on the threshold and I bobbled a bit before grasping the wall to regain my balance.
There would be no regaining my pride, however.
I proceeded to the couch and looked up, and up, at Jake, who was now standing politely with his hand out. What did their mother feed these boys? I took his hand as I also took in his slightly naughty smile. Don’t ask how I knew it was naughty. It just was.
The Spark (Carolina Connections Book 2) Page 6
