Bossy Brothers: Joey

by JA Huss

  He nods his head and smiles. “OK.” And then he drops it and I go back to scrolling.

  “Where’s Wald’s profile?” I ask.

  He takes the phone, taps a few times, and pulls it up for me. “Here.”

  “Oh, my God.” I laugh. “Has he seen this?”

  “No.” Huck chuckles. “He’s gonna kill me.”

  Wald is so obviously drunk in his profile pic, you don’t even question why he has a dildo suction-cupped to his forehead. You just appreciate the photo for what it is. A prank. “Where was this?”

  “College.” Huck laughs. “Rush week. This,” he says, taking the phone so he can look at Wald’s pic, “was the first time we met. All of us. We were rushing the same fraternity in freshman year and Wald kinda got the worst of it. I have been waiting sixteen years to embarrass him with this photo.”

  I try to picture them all as gangly teens and find I can’t. They are men now. But I want to see more of those early days because I feel like I’ve missed out on something fun and good and I need to make up for lost time.

  “I need more of these,” I say, taking the phone back. “All the frat pics.”

  Huck laughs again. “She made a whole folder in his pics section. Just tap there.”

  I tap and pull it up. “Holy shit!” I cover my mouth to keep my newfound happiness inside me. Joey and Wald are skinny and lean. And Huck was nothing but a giant wall of muscle. In even better shape than he is now, and that’s saying something.

  “I played football,” he says, scrolling down as I hold the phone until I see one of him in his uniform. He’s sweaty and flushed, obviously excited about the game. “We won the division that year. It was a good day.”

  “Where’s Joey’s profile?” I ask.

  He takes the phone, taps and swipes, then hands it back.

  “Hmm,” I say. “He’s frowny.”

  “Yeah, he’s not much of a smiler.”

  I study Joey. All serious and straight-faced. His hair darker then than it is now. His eyes dark too. In his profile pic he’s looking off to the side. Not quite in profile, but not straight on, either.

  It fits him, I think. That wayward gaze. The look of a thinker. Of a man with shit on his mind.

  “Does he have any of his brothers in here?” I ask, looking up at Huck.

  “Just one. From back when they were kids.”

  “Show me,” I say, excited to see little Joey.

  He takes the phone and opens up a folder, then starts scrolling down until the very last one. “Here,” he says, handing it back. “That’s them. The Boston brothers.”

  Three little boys and a baby in Joey’s arms. The oldest ones very close in age. Maybe ten or twelve. Somewhere around there. The biggest one, Johnny, is blond like the younger one, and so is the baby. But Joey has that same dark hair he has now. “They don’t look alike,” I say.

  “Well, Jesse and Johnny do. I guess. But yeah. Joey has always suspected that he’s only a half-brother.”

  “Who’s the baby?” I ask. Because he’s got the same fair hair.

  “Their little cousin, Zach.”

  I scroll up, but the timeline jumps right to college stuff. “There aren’t any more?” I ask.

  “Now you know how we feel,” Huck says.

  “What?”

  “About you. We want to see little Brooke. You must have pics somewhere, right? Get them. I want to see them.”

  “I really don’t,” I say. And it’s not even a lie.

  “That’s not possible, Brooke. Everyone has at least one. Even Joey Boston has one. And if you’re telling me your life has more secrets than his does…” He huffs a laugh. “Well… that’s a very interesting development right there.”

  I meet his gaze for a second. Find it filled with unexpected expectations.

  I think I got Huck wrong yesterday. It’s easy to see him as the clown. The joker. The good-natured entertainment.

  But he’s not.

  He’s smart. He’s just as much a thinker as Joey and Wald.

  “It’s a very long story,” I say.

  “I have time,” he counters.

  “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “The beginning?” he offers.

  But I shake my head. “The beginning is the worst place to start.”

  “What are we talking about?”

  Huck and I both turn quickly and find Wald coming onto the terrace through the blowing curtains.

  “The socials,” Huck says. “And your cool profile pic.” Mercifully switching the direction of the conversation.

  “I don’t even want to know,” Wald says, dropping down onto the lounge chair next to me. “Did you sleep OK?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I lie.

  “Where’s Joe?”

  “Still sleeping, I guess.”

  “So no morning sex?”

  I blink my eyes and shake my head. “Uh, no. He made it pretty clear last night that there will be no more sex.”

  “That’s because you made it pretty clear that you can’t handle it.”

  All three of us turn around and find Joey standing in the doorway, the sheer, white curtains flowing around him like he’s some sort of daytime apparition.

  I stare at him, but I know that Huck and Wald have turned their attention back to me. “I can handle it. But whatever,” I say, playing it off. “I’m not here for the sex.”

  I glance at Wald and find him perplexed. Brow furrowed. Mouth downturned. Eyes narrowed. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Brooke likes me,” Joey says, walking over to stand in front of me and block out the sun. “She’s already getting attached.”

  “Hey, Brooke,” Huck says. “You can get attached to me instead. I’m not allergic to feelings.”

  I smile a little. But it’s weak.

  “She doesn’t want to pretend.”

  “I never really said that,” I say in my own defense. “I said…” But I don’t really know what I said. It was just a bunch of confused feelings about… well, feelings. Or lack thereof.

  “She thinks I should be jealous,” Joey continues.

  “Jesus Christ,” I say. “Can you just drop it already? I get it. It’s a job. But…” Then I have to look at Huck and Wald. “But I’m not going to sleep with you guys. That was a mistake.”

  “Why?” Wald asks.

  “Because you guys like her that way, and I don’t,” Joey adds.

  “Why are you such a dick?” I ask.

  “I’m not a dick. I’m being honest. I don’t do relationships, Brooke. Ever. This is a business deal, that’s all. But if you want to fuck my friends, that’s fine with me. I don’t care.”

  “I know,” I say, suddenly hot. “You made that clear last night. And my response was, ‘Then I’m not going to pretend to be your fiancée.’”

  “That was the deal,” he says.

  “No,” I counter. “The deal was I’m your long-time, on-and-off girlfriend. So that’s it. I’m not shopping for a ring with you and you’re not putting my name on that house.”

  “We are getting a ring today,” Joey says. “And your name will be on that house. It’s part of the lie I’m selling.”

  I look at Huck for help. He just shrugs. “Take the ring. Pick a nice one. Then sell it later if you want.”

  “Get dressed,” Joey says. “We’ve got things to do today.”

  “We’ll pack up the truck,” Wald says. “And meet you at the house when we’re done. What time are you signing the papers?”

  “Five thirty,” Joey says.

  “Cool, text me when you have the keys and we’ll meet you there.”

  Then they disperse. Wald and Huck both get up, not one word to me, and Joey steps aside to let them pass through the curtains.

  He locks eyes with me once they’re gone.

  “What?” I say.

  “Don’t fuck this up for me, Brooke. This is my daughter.”

  “I’m not the one fucking this up. You telling me to sle
ep with your friends because you give no shits about me is what’s fucking this up. You have some kind of… emotional detachment problem, you know that?”

  He says nothing for ten whole seconds. Just stares at me with what is now his very familiar serious face.

  Then he says, “What kind of ring do you like?” as he walks over to me and takes a seat on the lounge chair. So close to me, our legs are touching.

  “No ring,” I say.

  But he’s on his phone, pulling something up on the internet. “There’s like a million different styles. Which kind do you prefer?”

  “Are you just ignoring me?”

  “Yes,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I’m buying you a ring and you’re going to wear it when we meet the Kanes and my daughter.” I open my mouth to protest but he says, “Just those specific times, OK? You don’t have to wear it unless we’re with them. I’ll even buy it without you, if that makes a difference. Just pick one and we can forget about it until you have to put it on.”

  He thrusts his phone at me. The webpage he pulled up has a list of different ring styles. “I like the princess cut. It’s classy. What do you think?”

  And fuck him. Fuck him for picking the cut I like. Asshole.

  “Like it?” he asks.

  “It’s fine,” I say.

  “Cool. I’ll get a big one. How many carats? Three? Five? Ten?”

  “Don’t be dumb.”

  “I’m not. If you want a ten-carat diamond, I’ll get you one.”

  “No one wears a ten-carat diamond. No one even wears a three-carat diamond.”

  “Girls like you with men like me do.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

  “Why are you so angry with me?” he asks. “I didn’t do anything wrong. If you don’t like Huck and Wald, fine. Then don’t sleep with them.”

  “I like them,” I say.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  I swallow and open my eyes. “You guys are a package deal.”

  “Not like that we’re not. We don’t normally sleep with the same girl.”

  “But you have!”

  “Obviously,” he says.

  “Well, what happened to her?”

  “She was a one-time thing. They were all one-time things. Just… you know. Guys doing pervy guy shit. And then ghosting.”

  “That does not make me feel better.”

  “What are you afraid of?” he asks. “You can’t really like me, Brooke. You don’t even know me. So that’s not what this is about, is it?”

  “I just don’t like the feeling of being used.”

  “We’re both using each other.”

  “But I feel… loyal.”

  He juts his chin backwards. “Loyal?”

  “Yeah. I feel loyal to you guys already. That’s how teams work. Especially during a job. And I’m getting that reciprocal feeling from both Huck and Wald, but…”

  “But not me?”

  “Not you,” I agree.

  He looks away for a moment. Studies the city buildings around us. Squinting his eyes in the glare off the tall towers of glass and steel.

  “So how do I fix that?” he finally asks.

  “You be loyal back.”

  “I’m not gonna fuck you over. I can’t fuck you over, Brooke. I don’t know anything about you. You have secrets of mine. I have nothing from you. So why are you worried about this?”

  “Maybe that’s it?” I say.

  “What’s it?”

  “You don’t have anything of mine to hold close.”

  We lock eyes and I feel sad all of a sudden.

  “So tell me something,” he whispers. “Tell me a secret and I’ll hold it close. I swear to God. I won’t ever tell a soul. I am the best secret-keeper ever. Trust me on that. I have seen things…”

  He trails off.

  I try to picture what Joey Boston has seen. Wonder if it’s anything like I’ve seen. Then decide no. No one’s been through what I’ve been through. No one could ever really understand.

  “Here’s the thing, Brooke.”

  I’m playing with the hem of my shirt but when he says my name I glance up at him. Find him being very serious.

  He swallows hard and says, “My life… my life is… hard to explain. But take my word on this. No one has lived a life quite like mine. And before you tell me that everyone’s life is unique, just hear me out, OK? I get that. I do. We’ve all got a story and unless we tell it, no one really knows us. But I can’t tell mine. To anyone. And the people around me. The people I love and care about, like Huck and Wald. And you,” he adds. “Because I know we just met, but I can see that you are a very nice girl who just happens to be a liar. I see past it.”

  And this is what hurts me, I think. But I can’t say that. It hurts me because I’m getting the same feeling. I just know that of all the billions of people on this Earth the only ones who might really get me are these three men I’m with right now.

  Call it an emotional reaction. Call it irrational. Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. I feel it.

  “I see past it,” he continues, “because I think we are more alike than we realize. And you know, I’m not making a promise right now, or anything like that. But if you stick around, I will be a good friend to you. I am very black and white. Very this and that. I am your friend, or I am not your friend. And when I am your friend, I will do anything for you. So…” He turns towards me a little and takes my hand in both of his. “Can you just… trust me? Tell me a secret if that’s what you need. And I promise to treasure that secret and guard it with my life.”

  I press my lips together and take a deep breath. “I want to. I really, really want to,” I whisper back.

  “So do it.”

  “I haven’t told anyone. Ever.”

  “That’s the perfect kind to prove loyalty. I’m good at keeping secrets. I promise you. I have things locked inside of me that have been hiding out in the darkest corners of my mind since I was eleven years old.”

  Immediately that picture of him and his brothers comes to mind. That was his approximate age when that pic was taken. Him, holding the baby in his arms. Is the baby one of those secrets?

  I look up at him.

  “Just one,” he says, encouraging me.

  “OK,” I say. Because I’ve been dying to tell someone this since I was sixteen years old. I’ve been holding it inside me like an illness. Like a sickness. And even though I came close a couple times and almost spilled it with a few different people, it never quite got past my lips.

  “I was kidnapped as a teenager.”

  Until now.

  “What?” His eyebrows shoot up.

  I nod. “Yeah. I was kidnapped. That’s… not my biggest secret. But it was definitely my first.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - JOEY

  That’s not her biggest secret?

  “When, Brooke?” I ask.

  “I don’t really want to say anything else. Just… tell you that it happened.”

  I exhale. In shock, I think. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and then—”

  “I can,” she insists. “And I did. And I’m not going to explain it. You wanted a secret? That’s a good one to keep for me. I’ll never tell anyone we’re lying about your parental fitness—”

  “Hey,” I say.

  “—and you never tell anyone what I just told you.”

  I glance at the billowing curtains.

  “Not even them,” she says, reading my mind. “Just you. This is just for you.”

  “OK, hold on,” I say. “One more question, and then I swear, I’ll let it go.” She’s already shaking her head no. “Just tell me this, Brooke. Did you… escape? Is that how you got here?”

  She pauses. Purses her lips a little as she stares into my eyes. “No. I didn’t escape.”

  “You didn’t escape? They let you go?”

  Another pause. Some really deep thinking. Decisions are being made inside her brain as she weighs w
hether or not to answer this. “He didn’t let me go.”

  “He?” I say. “Not they. Just one guy. He didn’t let you go? But you didn’t escape?”

  She nods.

  “Oh,” I say. Because there’s only one way for that to make sense. She stayed with him. She chose him.

  He was her friend. He’s the one she’s missing.

  He is the one who owns her loyalty.

  And suddenly her irrational feelings last night make a little more sense.

  “Yeah,” she agrees. Even though I didn’t say anything out loud.

  It’s gonna take me a while to put all these pieces together, but… “Holy shit,” I say. “Well… thank you. Thank you for trusting me.”

  “You’re trusting me with your daughter,” she replies. “This makes us more even.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. But… I’m not exactly sure what I’m agreeing to just yet.

  Everything about Brooke has been a surprise so far. I think back to yesterday morning when she walked into that Bright Berry Beach office. How I thought she was so… pink. And by pink I mean… sweet, and possibly innocent, and probably naïve.

  And then she adjusted my view of her with a lie about Fisbees, and dogs, and kids, and feeding koi fish, and I fell into it.

  I fell into her, I think. Her lies. But they don’t feel like lies. Maybe that’s why she’s so good at it? They feel more like dreams. And once you accept the lie is a dream you start to accept that the lie is really more like… a possibility.

  Something to aim for.

  And now she throws this little nugget of truth at me out of nowhere and I’m adjusting yet again. I try and see her in today’s light and yesterday’s at the same time. Like she’s two sheets of tracing paper and when you put one on top of the other, that’s the only way to see what’s really there.

  She was never pink, was she? Never.

  She was always this dark, secret-filled girl. But I get the feeling she wishes she was pink.

  I want to help her get there. To that pinkness. I want to help her find it. Maybe we’ll be friends, maybe we won’t. But I’m gonna help her find the pink.

  “One carat,” Brooke says.

  “What?”

  “The ring. One carat is great.”

  “One carat is average. I’m not buying you an average house. Why would I buy you an average diamond?”