by Dee Lagasse
“Ma,” Tucker begins to argue, “You already do so much. You don’t need to –”
“You need time just to be Tucker,” Mom cuts him off. “I’m old. I won’t last past nine anyway. Lola can sleep over and you can have a night out.”
“And drinks are on me, little brother,” I tell him, knowing he’s internally rationalizing being able to spend money on himself when there are all of the day-to-day expenses that come with being a single parent.
“And I’m buying dinner,” Hollis pipes in, sneaking me a slight smile as if she understands exactly why I offered to take care of Tuck’s drinks tonight. “Oh! Also! If you’re okay with it, I can pull a few strings and get this little lady up on stage with me.”
“You would do that?” Tucker asks, joining me in complete in awe of the woman sitting next to his daughter.
As if she’s baffled by the question, Hollis brushes it off like it’s no big deal. Her heart is so big for being kept inside all five-foot nothing of her little body. She has no idea what she’s doing right now, the impact she’s making on Tuck and Lola. To most people, it’ll just be a song a little girl is singing with Hollis, but to Lola, it’ll mean everything. Which means it’ll mean everything to Tucker, too.
It’s going to be a good night. I can feel it. Running with that thought, I pull out my phone and send out a group text to Davis, Travis, Ellis, Kinley, Hollis’s dad, and her aunts, Kat and Grace.
Hol doesn’t know I’m doing this, so, shhh. I know we’ll all do the fam birthday thing tomorrow, but Tuck, Mom, Lo, and I will be at Cap & Co. for her gig tonight. She could use the love, can everyone come through?
Ellis is the first to text back, almost instantly, saying that she’ll be there because she’s bartending. Kinley comes back right after saying she and Davis are in and that she’ll go by early and decorate. Followed by everyone else confirming that they would be there. Tonight, Hollis Capparelli is going to remember what it feels like when people show up and make you a priority.
Chapter Ten
Hollis
“You know, after getting ready in that bathroom of yours, I may come over to get ready for work every Saturday.”
Looking up from his phone Chase lets out a long breath, his eyes wide as I walk toward the couch. “I knew you looked good from your Instagram post, but damn, Hol. I’m going to get in so many fights tonight.”
After spending most of the morning and a good portion of the early afternoon at their mom’s, Tucker, Chase and I had said our goodbyes around two. Tucker had gone home to change and pack a bag to give to Mischa, who insisted Lola was fine at her house until it was time to go to Capparelli & Co.
Chase asked me no less than ten times if I was sure I wanted to spend the night again. When I said “yes” all ten times, he drove us back to his house to get ready for the night. Normally, I just keep it simple on Saturday nights with my standard ripped jeans, a band tee, a pair of Chucks and if my hair isn’t up by the time I leave the house, it’s tossed in a messy bun right before my set. Maybe it was because I needed the extra self-confidence boost after the break-up, or now knowing Lola was coming and expected to see a rock star, but tonight, “normal” just wasn’t enough.
When we had stopped at my house this morning, I went to the back of the closet and grabbed the black cocktail dress I had originally planned on wearing to dinner with Noah last night. The low scoop neck of the sleeveless dress is covered by a lace bodice to the waist which leads to the short, flared skirt. Paired with nude wedges, it would have made the perfect date night outfit. But since it’s not date night, I switched the wedges for knee high black boots. The few inches of my legs exposed in between the dress and my boots are covered by the black nylons I fought with for fifteen minutes. Feeling a bit like a little girl in tights, I wasn’t sure if I would make it out of the house with them on, but given Chase’s reaction, they might stay.
My favorite black lace choker and a fitted leather jacket finish off the rock star ensemble.
I even took the time to do my hair. Blonde, loose, bouncy curls fall right below my shoulders. A smoky eye, heavy winged black eyeliner, a metric shit ton of mascara, bright red lipstick, and a spritz of my perfume tie the whole comeback edition of myself together.
Before coming down, I had dropped my bag with my dirty clothes and make-up in the spare room I had spent the night in last night, assuming it would be my digs for tonight as well. Noticing the oval, full-length standing mirror in the corner of the room, I did something I never thought I’d do. After taking a few mirror shots of my outfit, I posted them in a collage on the radio station’s, Capparelli & Co’s, and all my social media accounts. Backspacing and rewriting it three times before adding the caption,
We gonna party like it’s my birthday!
Come on down to Capparelli & Co. to celebrate my 28th birthday weekend! I’ll be playing 6-9PM and then sticking around for @karaokewithcole after. @theelliscamilla is the mixologist on duty tonight! Come sip & sing with us!
Chase had not only liked the post on my Instagram mere seconds after I hit share, but left a comment with three fire emojis followed by a “my best friend is so damn hot” comment underneath. Which, funny enough, is the exact same thing I’m thinking right now with my best friend in front of me.
There’s something to be said about a man in a crisp, clean white t-shirt and faded blue jeans. It’s a classic, and easily my favorite look on a guy. And it just so happens to be what Chase is wearing right now. His facial hair is freshly trimmed down and shaped, and his signature black “snapback” hat is nowhere to found. His hair, faded from the bottom to the inch or so of hair on the top of his head, is styled with product. Something I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen.
“You’re going to get into a fight?! Pffffft.” I scoff, while making it incredibly obvious that I am looking him up and down. “I’m going to be on the clock tonight. I’m going to have to put Ellis on Chase Watch. Come karaoke time, the Cap & Co. Cougars are going to be all over you.”
When he gets over to where I’m standing, he offers his arm to me and says, “I’ll just let ‘em know, I’m already taking a girl home tonight,” he winks. “Shall we, Ms. Capparelli?”
With the lump in my throat, all I can do is nod. Linking my arm in his, I lean into him, using his body to steady my shaking legs.
I’m in trouble. So much fucking trouble.
Capparelli & Co. is always busiest on Saturday nights, so it doesn’t surprise me to see a packed parking lot. Chase pulls around the back of the building to the employee parking, stopping to let me out at curb, before driving all the way to the back of the lot. There’s no question in my mind I’m the last one in tonight. The downstairs restaurant area is on a wait and the pub upstairs is standing room only.
Grabbing Chase’s hand once he makes his way up to the sidewalk, we get a few funny looks as I pull him past the group of people waiting to be sat at a table. Coasting past the host stand, I wave to my cousin Elisabeth, who is taking a name for a call-ahead on the phone. The smell of roasted tomatoes lingers in the air as we make our way up the stairs that lead to the lounge.
Stepping over the threshold into the lounge is almost like going into a completely different restaurant. While the main seating area on the first floor is bright and cozy—very much like my Nonna’s home kitchen— the lounge area is swanky and dark. The lounge is full of high top tables and a full bar with sixteen available spots. On Saturday nights, like tonight, there is a bartender, a bar back, and two lounge servers until nine. When the restaurant below closes at ten, a bouncer stands at the door to come into the restaurant and you are only allowed to come up to the lounge if you are over eighteen. Anyone over 21 gets a wristband that changes in color every weekend.
“Hey, El,” I shout to the blue haired bartender, who is also my cousin, as I pass by with Chase still closely behind me.
“Oh! Hol…and Chase! You’re here! There’s a table up front reserved for you,” she winks, wavin
g back before turning to the cooler behind her, grabbing a bottle of water for me. “Heads up!”
Pulling her hand back, she tosses it to me, but before it reaches me, it’s intercepted by someone sitting at the high-top table full of men in business suits in front of us. My stomach flips when I see Noah fucking McDougal reaching out to me, the plastic bottle of water gripped tightly within his hand. Snatching it from him, I walk past the table without a word, knowing full well after last night that if I don’t get Chase away from him, Noah will intentionally say something to rile him up.
If Ellis, Elisabeth, or LJ here knew he was here, I would have gotten a text or a call as a warning. He hasn’t been here since the charity event, the very first night I met him. What the fuck is he doing here?
Walking over to a table, full of black balloons and hot pink plates, I see a setting with my name on it. A classy, simple silver tiara sits above the plate. Leaning my guitar case on the ground next to us, Chase bends down to take the tiara and carefully places it on my head.
“You just look right here, Birthday Princess Hurricane,” he says pointing up to his own eyes. “I got you, okay? He’s not going to ruin this night for you.”
“Okay,” I nod, thankful he’s being calm and collective. The alternative would be so much worse. The only thing keeping me calm is knowing that right now, Noah is on my turf. This is my element. These are my people.
“I need to go find LJ,” I tell Chase. “Let them know I’m here and that he’s here, too. Just in case.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn for only a moment to put my guitar on the stage, whipping around at the sound of my brother’s voice behind me. When I turned only a few seconds ago, it had been Chase and I, but now the rectangular table was surrounded by my brother, my cousin Travis, Kinley, my brother’s best friend Kenny, Tucker, Mischa, and Lola. All of them holding gift bags, flowers, or more balloons.
“What is all this?” I ask, scooping down to pick up Lola, forgetting I was on a mission to find LJ.
“Well, you said it was a birthday celebration on your Instagram,” Kinley shrugged, handing me a pink and black striped gift bag with her right hand. Her left hand is shoved into the pocket of the jean jacket she’s wearing over a knee-length navy blue, sunflower-covered sundress.
“Yeah, okay, I posted that ten minutes before we left Chase’s house,” I laugh awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable with all the attention suddenly being placed on me. I know, it makes no sense, even to me. I spend hours every weekday with thousands of people listening to my voice and I’m about to sing in front of a hundred or so, but the seven sets of eyes intently staring at me makes me jittery.
“Well, Chase may have gotten the ball rolling early this morning,” my Aunt Grace adds, joining our group.
Chase’s expression turns to worry immediately, like he’s nervous I’m going to get mad at him for setting this up. With Lola still in my arms I stand on my tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.
“You know you’re kind of incredible, Chase Matthew,” I whisper, taken back a bit by my now racing heart thanks to the lack of space between us.
Quickly pulling back, I place the gift bag Kinley handed to me on the table, telling everyone that I am so excited to see them, but that I still need to find LJ. Lola and I weave in and out of the groups of people beginning to fill the lounge. It isn’t until I get to the stairs to go back to the first floor that I don’t feel Chase’s connection to me anymore.
Making sure to wave or smile at all the Saturday night regulars as we go, I find my cousin and, I guess, boss, downstairs by the host stand. Growing up, Capparelli & Co. was run mainly my grandparents and my uncle. I loved that it was our family’s, but my dad never worked there growing up. It wasn’t until I was sixteen and I started working as a host did I truly begin to appreciate everything that goes into Capparelli & Co. daily.
Everything is made fresh and from scratch, including the pasta. My grandfather, at eighty-five years old, still grows the tomatoes used for the sauce in his garden at his home. Now that I’m older, I appreciate how much of a family affair it is, especially on Saturday nights now that Ellis, Elisabeth, and LJ work here too. Even though they’ve long since “retired,” Nonna and Nonno still spend every Saturday here, visiting with the guests, running food, or helping in the kitchen. My Uncle Leo is now the general manager and can’t be found in the same place twice all night. His son, LJ, is the front of house manager and is all over the floor talking to guests and helping the servers until he comes up to the lounge when the restaurant closes.
Even though he’s technically the manager of both floors during a shift, it’s rare to see him up in the lounge before nine while Ellis is working. Even though she’s technically a Lindsey, to say that Ellis is the loudest and bluntest out of all Capparelli cousins would be the understatement of the century.
As if on cue, the lounge will slowly start to fill as the restaurant empties out for the night. But right now, and for the next hour or so, it’s the busiest down on the main floor. Family dinners, date nights…people will wait for hours to get a table at Capparelli & Co. When I spot LJ right away at the host stand, I find myself letting out a breath of relief. That was easier than I thought it would be.
In black trousers and a deep red button-down dress shirt, LJ stands out from all the other employees in all black. Hanging back for a minute, Lola and I stop, as he breezes right through the guests queued up to get their name on the wait list. A big, genuine smile sits on his face as he greets every single person that steps foot into the waiting area.
Lola’s eyes are big with fascination as she simultaneously watches him take names in between sending the other hostess to seat guests as tables pop up as open and clean on the point of service computer on the wall next to them, while my other cousin Elisabeth answers the non-stop ringing of the phone. When there’s finally a pause in guests coming through the door, he places his pen in the breast pocket of his shirt, then lets Elisabeth and the other hostess know he’ll be right back.
“Well, well, well,” he says making a beeline to the spot Lola and I have been hanging back, waiting. “No one told me the prettiest five-year-old in all of Abbott Hills would be gracing us with her presence tonight!”
Lola unwraps her arms from around my neck and jump leaps into LJ’s arms. She has every one of the Capparelli men completely wrapped around her little finger. Earlier, I had offered to pay for Tucker and Lola’s dinner, but it was more likely that my uncle and grandfather would get wind Lola was here and the table upstairs would slowly fill with all her favorite foods.
“Rumor has it, she’s going to sing a song or two with me tonight, too,” I wink, before walking back to the staircase that leads to the lounge.
“Oh, Ellis will have to call down before that happens,” he calls ahead to me as we take the steps back to the second floor. “I’m sure Elisabeth, Dad, Nonna, and Nonno want to see too. You think Tuck would care if we go live on Facebook?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Ask him. The whole gang’s here tonight.”
Pointing toward the table in the front, I’m surprised to see that my Zia Kat and Uncle Martin, my dad, and a woman I’ve never met are now sitting at the table with everyone else.
“Holy shh,” LJ starts when we get to the table, before remembering who is in his arms. “uuugar cookies. You got your dad to come out?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” I shrug, pointing to Chase, who half waves in response. “This is all Chase.”
Smiling appreciatively, my older cousin nods to Chase before leaning down to me, “I know it’s too soon, but I can’t wait till that happens.”
“Hey, LJ,” Kinley stands up, sliding into the one-armed side hug, before getting right to the point. “I’m sure Hol didn’t say anything, but Noah’s here.”
Scanning the room, my cousin finds the table—now covered in pilsner glasses of beer and food—that Noah and three other men, also in business suits, are sitting at. Pulling the small, black
walkie talkie clipped to the pocket of his slacks to his mouth, he gives Harold, the head of security, a heads up.
Right now, Harold is probably downstairs eating dinner, before it gets busy up here. Within the next hour, he’d be up here keeping an eye on things until nine and then making sure no one under twenty-one came in after ten thirty when we reopened the doors after dinner.
After relaying a quick physical description of Noah and confirming the table he is sitting at over the walkie-talkie, LJ exchanges a glance and a nod with Davis and Travis. None of them have to say a damn thing out loud for it to be obvious to everyone around us exactly what just happened. LJ just gave them permission to “handle it,” if necessary. Not that Noah stands a chance of even getting close to me with Chase watching me like a hawk. He might be giving me space physically, but I can’t move throughout the lounge without feeling Chase’s eyes following me.
I don’t know what Noah thinks he’s going to accomplish by coming here tonight, and honestly, I really don’t care to find out, I just want him to leave. The sooner he leaves, the sooner everyone else stops stressing about him being here. All I want, other than Noah to leave, is to sing and have a good night with my friends and family. We spend every Sunday all together, but it’s been a long time since my dad or my brother have come out to see me play.
I purposely avoided coming here last night, because I didn’t want to be baby-sat. By now, everyone knows about Noah and I breaking up. So all eyes are on me, waiting for my reaction to him being here, ready for me to break down believing that I’m more emotionally invested at this point than I am. To explain that I’m not would end up with me having to tell everyone how the last few months have sucked, and then comes the need to know every little minor detail that led up to last night. I love my family, and I know it’s all out of love and concern, but I’m fine.
