Badd Mojo

by Jasinda Wilder

  Right then, holding me was both the best and worst thing he could have done: the best, because it was what I needed more than anything in the whole world, to just be hugged by Canaan, and the worst, because what I needed more than anything in the whole world was to just be hugged by Canaan. It meant more tears. But they were tears of relief.

  "God, Canaan."

  "I know."

  "You hurt me by leaving, and then you pushed me away when I panicked."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "I'm sorry, too. I should have done a better job of just saying that I just needed time to absorb what you'd said."

  "And I shouldn't have freaked out. There's no excuse for the way I reacted." He pulled away just enough to touch my chin with his fingertip, gazing down at me. "I want to be able to say I'm not scared of loving you, but I can't."

  Fresh panic sizzled through me. "Canaan, what are you--"

  He smiled down at me. "What I can say is that I love you. I'm giving that to you. Putting myself out there, even though I know I have no way of knowing if it'll work out. I know I want us. I want you. I don't know what our future will look like, but--"

  I sobbed, laughing, and reached up to put my fingers over his lips. "Canaan? Shut up a second, baby." He went silent, blinking at me in confusion. "I know all that. I know you love me. I know you're still scared of...everything. I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me, to trust that I'm willing to love you back, especially because you heard me saying I doubted I could. I know all that."

  "You have every reason to doubt it, to doubt me, to be scared of loving me."

  "Canaan, what I'm trying to say is that I love you. I do. We don't have to have our whole lives figured out. We're only twenty-one and we don't have to have it all figured out. If you love me, and I love you, then we can commit to figuring it out together."

  His lips framed mine, and his hands cupped my cheeks, and his body was hard against mine. My tears didn't stop, but I didn't care, because these were tears of joy, of relief, of love. I lifted up on my toes and kissed him back, tearing his hair free of the wet topknot, letting the damp locks drape around his shoulders. He stepped forward into the room and kicked the door closed and pressed the lock, and then we were moving together toward the bed. I felt him push the suitcase aside, and I heard it thunk heavily to the floor, clothes scattering everywhere. He sat down, and I stood between his thighs; it was my turn to grasp his face in both hands, our kiss pausing as our eyes locked.

  "This is different, Aerie," he murmured.

  "What is?"

  He lifted my dress, the same one I'd put on back in Seattle the last time I'd seen him, over twenty-four hours ago; I'd slept in it, never took it off. "This. It's not a distraction."

  I shook my head, and took the dress off and then yanked off my thong. He already had his shirt off, so I helped him out of his jeans and found him hot and hard and waiting.

  "It's different," I agreed.

  He had a condom in his hand, and I took it from him, opened it, rolled it onto him. "I love you, Aerie." He hesitated. "I want you in my life. Whatever it ends up looking like, I want us."

  I climbed onto the bed and lay down, reaching up to grasp his shoulders as he moved above me. I gazed up at him as he positioned himself over me, and I gasped as he nudged against me, and then I groaned as he slid into me.

  "I love you, too, Canaan. I love you." He filled me, and I whimpered, eyes closing. "I love you so fucking much."

  "Look at me, honey," he whispered, and I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze. "This is love. You and me, forever. Okay? No matter what."

  I moved my hips, then, meeting his, and we groaned in unison as our bodies met in perfect rhythm. Our eyes remained locked on each other, and we moved together, gliding and grinding, gasping and murmuring I love you, over and over and over.

  It was slow and delicate, and then it was fast and desperate. His hands found mine as I fell into climax, our fingers tangling as I wept with the sweet, wracking bliss, which I reached at the exact same moment as Canaan, and he was crushing me with his beautiful weight and he was slamming into me and my heels were hooked around his backside and his face was buried between my breasts and I heard him chanting my name, chanting that he loved me, and I heard my own voice screaming or singing or keening, a high wailing sound that may have been words, but which I knew he understood as an expression of love. And then, when I was capable of speech, long moments of aching gasping rapture later, I nibbled on his earlobe and whispered to him that I loved him, over and over and over and over, as he gasped above me, shuddering, still hard and throbbing inside me, and my hands caressed him, petting his hair and the firm muscles of his back.

  And I knew, then, that I'd never understood love: you can only truly understand it after you've totally given yourself over to it and trusted it and let it take you over and fill you and complete you: it is sweet and it is strong; it is deep and it is wide; it is endless and it is permanent and it cannot be fathomed, only embraced despite the mystery of it, despite the terror of how completely it transforms you, if you let it.

  I understood, finally, as I lay in Canaan's arms, that this was love--knowing despite everything, that Canaan was mine and I was his, and nothing could ever change that.

  It was early the following morning when we finally stirred from the room, taking separate showers and dressing in comfortable silence and walking in the damp gray morning to a nearby breakfast cafe. We sat on the same side of the booth and sipped coffee together, and said nothing except to order food.

  A thought had been percolating inside me, which I finally found the words to express. "Canaan? I want us to do music together."

  He set his mug down and eyed me thoughtfully. "Beyond just jamming for fun, or playing at the bar once in a while, you mean?"

  I nodded. "We're good, Cane. Together, I mean, as musicians--we're really, really good. We can write our own music, and we could even start touring. We could be a boyfriend-girlfriend music duo, like Johnnyswim."

  "You want that? To tour, to record, all that?"

  I nodded eagerly. "More than anything. I love making music with you. I love traveling. To be able to travel and make music with the man I love? What could be better?"

  He tapped the tabletop with the spoon he'd used to stir his coffee, a smile spreading across his face. "I think...I think that sounds like the best thing in the world."

  I giddily bounced up and down in the booth. "This is going to be so fun!"

  "What should we call ourselves?" Canaan asked.

  The waitress came by then and topped our coffees, and we both sat in silence, thinking.

  "Canaan and Aerie?" I suggested. "Not exactly original, but..."

  He shook his head. "Too much to say." He stirred cream into his coffee. "Cane 'n Aerie?"

  "Cane 'n Aerie..." I mused, an idea swirling in my head, taking shape. "Cane 'n Aerie..."

  He just watched me in silence.

  Then it hit me. "Cane 'n Aerie--" I turned in the booth, my grin brilliant. "Canary!"

  "Canary, like the bird?"

  "The most famous songbird in the world, and it sounds like Cane 'n Aerie." I waited for it to really hit him.

  When it did, his face lit up. "Holy shitballs! That's brilliant!"

  He flagged down a passing waitress and borrowed a pen and a sheet of paper from her order book, and began feverishly sketching. Within a minute or two, he had a rough outline of a canary, sitting on a branch, mouth open to sing, with the lettering of the name beneath the branch in curling calligraphy.

  "We can get Eva to fancy this up for us," he said, "but this a decent rough idea for a logo."

  I grabbed his arm and shook it, laughing out loud. "Cane, it's brilliant. We are gonna take this world by storm, baby! We need to get into the studio and start working on our setlist, start coming up with some original songs."

  He got a clean paper napkin and started scrawling song titles as they came to him, songs which our sound would
do justice to. Within an hour, we had a couple dozen songs listed, which we either both knew or one of us did.

  After a while, Canaan sat back, twirling the pen around his fingers. "This is the most obvious thing in the world, isn't it? I mean, why does this seem like such a shockingly brilliant idea to us, when it's just...duh? Right? I mean, we played together in Anchorage for Mike and the guys, and it was even more instant chemistry than our physical connection. Every time we sit down to play together, it's just...perfect."

  I sighed. "I think because we were still denying other how we really felt, that us being in love had already happened. Until we had that figured out, I don't think we could have conceptualized what it would be like to live together, be together, make music together, tour together. That much closeness, all the time? We couldn't do it and not be together together."

  "So it was always there and we knew it deep down, but until we got this figured out--" and here he gestured between us, "we couldn't allow ourselves to think about doing music together."

  I nuzzled up against him. "We should go make some music together right now."

  He chuckled. "We just spent twenty-four hours making music, sweetheart."

  I playfully slapped his chest. "I meant actual music, with instruments." I gazed up at him, a coy smirk on my lips. "But if we can nail down at least three new songs, you might be able to convince me to reward us both with a nice long blowjob."

  "If we nail down three new songs, I'll tie you up and sixty-nine you on the couch in the studio."

  "Tied up and blindfolded?"

  "You have a deal."

  Three months later

  * * *

  We started slow and simple. We played as Canary at Badd's on the weekends, and the response was overwhelming. We had so much demand for some kind of buyable or downloadable music, we started video recording our practice sessions and uploading them to YouTube. We put up an Instagram page and posted short videos of song clips and stills of us practicing, usually taken by Eva. Our YouTube channel exploded, as did our Insta follower count. We booked gigs in Anchorage and Fairbanks, and then in Seattle, Portland, and Vancouver. At the Vancouver show, which was a two-hour slot at a bustling rooftop bar, we were approached by a major record label exec who offered us a contract on the spot.

  We turned it down.

  In between gigs, practicing, and working at the bar, Canaan and Corin got to work on developing C&C Records, of which Canary was the first and only artist. Corin took over the brunt of that work, acting as the manager and producer for Canary. Tate had begun practicing with the cello again, and every once in a while the four of us would play at Badd's. We called our foursome CaCoTae, a mash-up of the first two letters of the boys' names, plus T-A-E--T-A from Tate's name and A-E from mine. Our CaCoTae music, and the videos we ended up recording and posting to our YouTube channel, became almost as popular as Canary, and so for a while Tate was still able to travel, and she and Corin would go to shows with Cane and me and the four of us would do surprise sets.

  Things at the bar were changing, though. The year stipulation from Mr. Badd's will had come and gone, and the monies had been distributed...

  But none of the brothers left town.

  Even as Canary's following grew, and we started booking gigs farther and farther afield, Canaan and I still returned home to Ketchikan as much as possible.

  Mom and Bob moved back to Ketchikan and Bob was able to work from home almost exclusively managing their talent agency, and Mom, surprisingly, ended up being C&C's first employee, as head of marketing and promotions. She was, technically, a paid employee, but she didn't do it for the money. She liked the work; it turned out putting together ads, or contacting tour managers to get Canary opening gigs were things she loved to do, and she was really good at it.

  And then, on a slow Wednesday afternoon at the bar, Bax swaggered in, with Eva's hand in his. The whole gang was in the bar at once, a rarity these days. Bast, Lucian, and Brock were all behind the bar, Dru and Claire were sitting at the bar chatting, Mara was in the family booth with Jax in her arms, feeding him from a bottle of formula, with Zane on the other side of the booth, doing something with his laptop. Xavier was beside Zane, also with his laptop out, posting videos and photos of his latest crop of robots to his website. Canaan and Corin were arguing about a hook for a song they were writing, I was sitting on a stool with my ukulele, tinkering with a melody I had running through my head, and Tate had her new camera out, snapping photos of everything and everyone--after weeks and months of using her phone for photography, Corin had bought her a professional quality Nikon DSLR and a set of lenses, and had told her to stop fucking around and start getting serious about it, since she was freakishly talented with a camera.

  Bax had retired from underground fighting and had opened a gym, where he acted as personal trainer and boxing coach, having gotten his personal trainer certification. Bax and Eva had leased an apartment a few blocks from the bar, a two-bedroom place, and Eva had turned the extra room into an art studio, where she spent almost every waking hour. The walls of Badd's now featured her artwork, which was for sale--she'd seen steady sales and had plans, once she could afford it, to rent out a dedicated studio space where she could work and sell.

  They strolled into the bar, big grins on their faces, both of them positively beaming. As a matter of fact, and no matter how jovial Baxter may be, he wasn't the type to beam, no matter how good his mood, so this meant something was up.

  I also noticed that as he entered, Canaan and Corin suddenly quit arguing and gave each other meaningful glances.

  Tate noticed it too, and shot me a quizzical look, which I returned with a shrug and a face that said I have no idea.

  Bax and Eva stopped in the middle of the bar, glanced at each other, and then Bax cleared his throat. "Hey, everybody. Can I get your attention real quick?"

  Corin laughed. "No. No attention for you."

  "Shut up, twink." Bax grinned at Eva again, and then swept his attention over the room. "So, Eva and I are engaged." There were whistles from Canaan and Corin, and a lot of clapping from everyone else, but Bax wasn't done. "And, since she and I don't really do anything the normal or easy way, we're getting married here, this weekend. And we've invited her parents. No answer from them yet, and we don't expect one, but if a stuffy old fucker and a snooty old bitch show up looking like they just bit into a lemon, you'll know it's them."

  "This weekend?" Claire asked. "Why so soon?"

  Eva answered. "We love each other, and we see no reason to not be married, but we also see no reason to make a big deal about it. We're just going to have a pastor come and marry us, like Bast and Dru did, and then have a party. Simple, easy, and fun."

  "Um, if you want, I could call Dad and see if he can pop up here and do the ceremony for you," Dru said. "After he did ours, he actually went and got licensed to do weddings, and he's actually really good at them, now. He's doing it as a post-retirement thing."

  "That would be amazing!" I said, clapping.

  So, Dru called right then and there, and her father happily agreed to head from Seattle immediately.

  Bax glanced meaningfully at Canaan and Corin, and then cleared his throat. "So, um...there is one other thing--"

  "Eva is pregnant?" Mara piped up from the booth.

  "Nope." Baxter hesitated, and then smirked. "The wedding this weekend is actually going to be a triple wedding."

  There was a stunned silence.

  "A...triple wedding?" Brock asked, as confused as the rest of us. "Who else is getting married?"

  All eyes went to Canaan, Corin, Tate, and me.

  The twins nodded in unison, stood up off of their stools, reached into their hip pockets--all of this in rehearsed synchronization--produced identical black ring boxes, and knelt in front Aerie and me. Tate had let her camera hang from the strap and was standing beside me where I sat on the stool with my ukulele.

  They knelt in identical positions, one knee up, both hands cupping the
rings boxes, which were extended up to us.

  "Tate--"

  "Aerie--"

  This, in unison.

  "Will you marry me?"

  I looked in shock from Canaan, to Corin, and then to my sister. "I--"

  "Marry you...on Saturday? Like...in three days?" Tate asked.

  "Yes. Marry us on Saturday, in three days," Canaan answered.

  "In a triple wedding, with Bax and Eva," Corin clarified.

  "Mom and Bob already know, and Mom has given us her blessing to marry you," Canaan said. "In fact, I think she's already got dresses picked out for you."

  "That's why she wanted to go shopping with us last week," Tate said. "To get our dress sizes."

  "Sneaky sneaky," I said.

  "So? Will you marry us?" the boys asked, once again in perfect synch.

  Tate tapped her mouth, feigning having to think. "I mean...I am having your baby in less than six months. So, I guess I should probably just go ahead and marry you." She held her left hand out to Corin who, laughing, slid the ring onto her ring finger, and then stood up to kiss her.

  In the meantime, I was just staring down at Canaan, still shocked. "Really?" I whispered. "We've only been together three months."

  He stood up, removed the ring from the box, and took my left hand in his. "But I've known you my whole life, and us being together is the most perfect thing in the world. This is just...making us us forever." He kissed the knuckle of my ring finger. "Be mine, forever. Say yes, Aerie."

  I blinked back tears and nodded. "I'm already yours forever, Canaan."

  Canaan fitted the ring onto my finger, and then his mouth was on mine and I was kissing him as if my life depended on it, and there was more applause, more whistles and cheers from the brothers and their women--my brothers, my sisters.

  "Whooooo-hooo! Triple Badd wedding, baby!" Baxter shouted. "We're gonna tear this shit up, son!"

  Eva whacked him on the arm. "Baxter Badd! This is a wedding, not a kegger at Penn State."

  Bax just laughed. "Sweetness, you clearly ain't been to a Badd wedding."

  Zane and Mara both cackled.

  "That's how we met, actually," Mara said. "Bax drank a whole bottle of whiskey, Zane shoved him, and they landed on broken glass, Bax ended up with a giant shard of glass in his thigh, which I had to deal with."