by Fields, MJ
Every woman I fucked in the ass was her. Every woman I gagged with my dick was her. Everyone I left behind because they got a little attached, they were fucking her, too.
When some test popped up that Gage wasn’t Brandon’s father, he booted her ass.
I stayed clean for a few weeks, waiting, just waiting for the call to come get my kid. But, Gage never knew he was mine.
When I heard from Gray that she was tossing back pills, washing them down with booze, and having men over while Brandon was there, and that Gage got emergency custody, I waited again for my name to be spilled. Again, didn’t happen.
When she went off to school to get her shit together, I waited then, too. Still didn’t happen.
She knew I was shit. I was so sure he had told her all about me. Then she was living with a fucking doctor. I stayed the fuck away, and then I got lost again.
A big fat check from Gray made Vegas possible. Every fucking whore I could get my hands on and dick in became her again.
Once her hero, one fucking wrong time to show her who I really was, and less than five hours later, she had found another one.
I fucked up. I did. I should have been man enough to step up, but I wasn’t. Hell, I don’t even know how I can now, but Gage assures me that I have time. Time to get to know Brand. Time to be a part of his life. Time to grow into who I am meant to be.
Fucker has more faith in me than I deserve.
I will be damned if I’m going to let the fucking self-doubting voice in my head that has fucked with me since I was eleven, win.
The man who buried it there was not Gage, not my brother. The man who buried it in there was fucking dead, and I was free because of Gage. That right there is what I am going to hold on to.
Gage told us the other night that he wanted to be a better man, better than my father, to be present, and I want that, too.
God help me because, if I fail, if I fucking fail, it isn’t going to be only me who is destroyed. It will be a little boy who I don’t know, yet love enough to have stayed the hell away from.
No more.
Listening to the headboard knock, the moans, the fucking groans from down the hall, that doesn’t help me sleep one bit. It makes me think of her.
No woman got me for more than half an hour unless she was paid by the hour. Hell, half of them tagged out, and yeah, I let them.
Juliana, she got the naive little punk who thrived on seeing her face when she came. Watched her every expression to make sure he was making her feel good and not dirty. Juliana got as close to making love as a fucked-up punk could give. Hours and fucking hours of it, every fucking day, unless she was bleeding. Hell, I fucked her then, too, but in the shower, the bath, and that one time when we went fishing, in the ocean.
Gage must think this bitch—Phoenix—is something special.
“Something special,” I huff.
The bitch who I thought was special, the one who thought she loved me, and that I thought I loved, well, I was going to have to face her, too.
I didn’t sleep for shit again. She was all in my head, and I wasn’t going to swallow a pill to make her go away.
When I walk out into the kitchen, Gray is sitting at the table with a notebook.
He looks back then stands up. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I say.
He grabs me a cup of coffee and brings it over. “Made breakfast, too. Sausage gravy.”
“Thanks. I’ll cook tomorrow.” I nod before taking my first sip.
Gray sits down and smirks, then looks over at me. “Get any sleep?”
His shit-ass grin makes me laugh. He laughs, too.
He stops abruptly, and his eyes fix on something. I turn to see the little shit sneaking down the hall.
Biting the sides of my cheeks, I glance at Gray, and just like when we were kids, one of us laughs and the other loses their shit.
We both try like hell to hold it back, but fail.
She looks up and stops fidgeting with her clothes, nods at Gray, then glares at me.
“Good morning, Phoenix. Would you like some coffee?” Gray asks. He’s actually enjoying this shit.
“No,” she whispers and looks back; I assume to see if Gage is coming down the hall. Then she looks back at Gray. “I want to say sorry about being rude to you yesterday. I had no idea who you were.”
He holds out his hand. “Apology accepted.”
“And me? You sorry you were rude to me, too?” I ask.
She looks at me and scowls. “No. You...” Her mouth snaps shut, and then opens again. “You better get your shit together, because that man”—she points back down the hall—”is a hell of a lot better than I am. I’m watching you.”
“Should I be afraid, little ninja?” I taunt her purposely.
“Most definitely,” she says, bending down to fix the heels she’s wobbling on.
“Should fix your skirt; shirts all tucked up in it,” I tell her.
She stands quickly and grabs the back of her skirt. “Asshole.”
I nod. “Most definitely.”
“That little boy is amazing,” she tells me, patting her hair down.
“And that hair is a fucking mess,” I tell her.
Grayson tries to hold back his laugh and ends up covering his mouth. Now she’s glaring at him.
“Sorry, Phoenix. Really, I’m—”
She holds her hand up, stopping him.
“Be good to him. He deserves it.” She turns and nearly falls. Her legs must be weak as fuck.
I laugh to myself.
When she’s at the door, she holds up her middle finger as she uses the other hand to open the door.
As soon as she’s out, Gray and I laugh.
“Never in a million years would I picture him with a chick like that,” Grayson says, still chuckling.
“I’d fuck her. She’s hot. Well, as long as I could tie her ass up and gag her,” I agree, also still laughing.
Grayson puts one of the four plates back in the cupboard then breaks up some biscuits on two of them.
I grab the ladle next to the pan and take one of the plates from him, pour the sausage gravy over the biscuits, and hand it back. He takes it, hands me the other plate, and then sits at the island, while I pour gravy over mine.
As I sit and eat, I wonder what he’s told her; what Phoenix knows about me. I wish it didn’t mess with me. I wish I didn’t give a shit. But I’m guessing she’s going to be around for some fucking time, and I don’t want Brandon to feel her hostility and think any less of me than he already does.
Jesus, this is a mess.
“Morning.”
I look up as Gage walks out in jeans and a tee-shirt, freshly showered.
Gray silently chuckles again, and I get caught up in it.
Gage rolls his eyes as he walks to the coffee maker.
“She’s a pistol,” Grayson says.
He looks back again and scowls.
“She walked outta here, head held high, hair all sorts of fucked up,” Gray continues.
“Like Mom’s used to be in the morning,” I add.
Grayson laughs. “Peg Bundy.”
“Shut the hell up.” He grabs a plate and loads it up with biscuits and sausage gravy.
“You’re eating my cooking and telling me to shut up?” Gray asks.
“Apparently,” he quips.
“So, Phoenix Star...” Gray starts.
“She’s off limits.” He points a spoon at him.
“Not last night at the club she wasn’t,” he reminds him.
“Last night, I was drunk.”
I stand up and walk to the window. I have a really bad fucking feeling about this shit.
“You good, Garrett?” Gage asks.
“Six days without a line or piece of ass; how do you think I am?”
“Gotten through the worst of it, man,” he reminds me.
I turn and look at him. “I need to get the fuck out of this fish tank apartment and city.”
> “Where to?” Gray asks.
“Somewhere I’m not gonna go into a bathroom and see people doing lines, and somewhere I don’t have to listen to you fuck all night long.” I point to Gage.
“Didn’t know she was coming,” he tells me.
Gray laughs. “You were the one making her.”
Fuck, saying that I need out makes me need it more.
“Let’s get to the lake,” Gage suggests.
“Everyone who puts me on edge is fucking there!” I snap.
“Not at the old place,” he says.
“You gonna stay with us?” Gray asks.
“I will as much as possible.” Gage nods and looks at me. “Needs to happen.”
“What am I gonna do, sit around and fish?” Fuck, I can’t do this.
“No, Garrett, you’re gonna build a fence.”
Chapter Nine
On My Knees
Juliana
It’s been nice not having Phoenix in the house. Although she’s always around, at night, when Brand is tired, I get that time with him. There is nothing more precious.
Tonight, we played chess. Gail and Mags are at odds, but they act normal around Brandon. Tonight, they were partners against Brandon and me.
Gail stepped out for a bit, not sure where she went, but I have a feeling.
I learned as we went, and yes, I tried my best to make the right moves so that maybe I could do something right, or good, or admirable in my little boy’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I can make up for three years of hell that came from a past that I will never tell him about, because he is sweet, and good, and deserves everything that all children deserve. To be protected, to be loved, to be cherished, and to have someone selflessly walk away when they know they are not good enough.
“Juliana,” Mags whispers, breaking me from my thoughts.
I look up as she reaches over and wipes away my tear.
“Sorry.” I smile, trying to recover from my obvious failing to keep it together. I look away from her gray eyes, ones that hold, captivate, demand to be seen and heard. “Where’s Gail?”
“She’ll be back.” She sits back in her chair. “Tell me, Juliana Falcon, tell me why.”
Her demand catches me off guard. I don’t think anyone has ever really asked me that question. I thought it obvious.
“Well, apparently, I’m a gold-digging wh—”
“Hush, child. I don’t want to know how you think others feel about you. I want to know the reason you did it. Don’t answer too quickly. Think about it. Think about what made you seduce and weave a tale so believable that my boy, a very smart man, bought it hook, line, and sinker.”
I do as she asks. I hold my tongue and think of the best way to explain it.
“Because Brandon deserves the best.”
“Lookin’ around here, you think this is the best? Because of money? Because of the things that money can buy?”
“Because he...” I pause as tears threaten. “He deserves to know them. To be raised...knowing them.”
“And how did you know Gage would step up and not throw you back to that old motel you were living in?”
“Because Garrett...” I stop when tears start to fall at the thought of him, his name, the reality of what is going to happen and the fear, the almost paralyzing fear, that someday I will have to look him in the eye and see his disgust in me. See him look at me and wish I burned in that old house, too. “Because Garrett told me how he was. How nearly perfect he was.”
“And Garrett?”
I feel my lip quiver and shake my head, whispering. “He...He did a lot for me. A lot that no one will ever know.”
She doesn’t say anything, and when I look up, there is emotion building in her eyes. A look of admiration behind it.
“My boys are good boys. Each in their own, unique way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You see the sky out there?”
I nod.
“Don’t let it fool you. There’s a storm a-coming,” she cautions. “You gotta let them work it out for that boy, or everything you’ve done will be in vain.”
I see clear skies and wonder if she’s overtired or confused.
“The Fujiwara Effect. Those boys are all that’s good to everyone in their lives. Giving, some even selflessly, but demanding and stubborn as hell. They come at you like a storm, and you, Juliana, you got two storms surrounding you. Gage and Garrett. They’ll come together and form one hell of a squall, something stronger than each one of them alone, or they’ll fight until everything around them is torn to shreds. By everything, I mean this family that, in your heart of hearts, knew would give that little boy all the love, protection, and caring a child needs.”
“I won’t leave, I won’t. I love him. I love him so much that I...” I can’t say it. Can’t put it into words.
“Lied? Left him?” Her eyes bore into me. I can’t stand what she’s asking of me.
I situate a sleeping Brand so that he is cradled in my arms, needing to carry him up to his bed.
“You give me just another moment, Juliana,” she says sternly.
Out of respect for what she is to Brand, I stay.
“It’s best if you sit back and watch what happens when Garrett and Gage go toe-to-toe. It’s best you separate yourself from the situation and sit back and learn from how they work together and separately, and have some faith in me when I tell you that, when they come together, there will be no stronger storm. Fight it, you’ll lose. Watch, learn, understand, and most importantly, cause no more friction in it, and you’ll make it out okay.”
“I’ll fight for my son, Mags, I will,” I tell her, rubbing my nose across my sleeve.
“You fight for him, you do that, but not against him.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. To leave him because he’s better off? Is that—”
Her laugh causes me to stop. “No child is best without their mother, silly girl. Fight for him. Fight for him to survive, and become part of that storm. Or, like you, it’ll tear him apart.”
I look up as Gail starts to walk into the room.
Mags leans forward. “She pisses me off, but she’s got her reasons. Stay out of the storm.” She winks at me. “Let it toss you around. Hell, enjoy the ride. But don’t fight it.”
I look up at Gail, and as she gets closer, I see her face, her mask, is completely gone.
“Gage is back. He’s staying in the old cabin.”
“What?” I ask and hear Mags chuckle.
“He says that, tomorrow, you and I are to leave,” she tells me.
Panic causes me to hold Brand a little tighter, making him stir.
“Mommy, too tight,” he says, his eyes fluttering open.
“Let’s get you to bed, Brandon.” I stand up.
“I’m not a baby, Mom. And I told you, I’m Brand,” he grumbles.
“Okay, Brand.” I smile down at him. “You win that fight, just let me have this one.”
I take the stairs, almost running, bouncing him around a little more than necessary.
He laughs. “Fine, Mom, fine.”
After we brush our teeth, wash our faces and hands, get into bed, and say our prayers, he is out like a light. Meanwhile, I lie in bed, tossing and turning, trying to figure out what I am going to do, Mag’s words still taunting me.
Don’t fight the storm? Don’t fight the storm?
I know she means well, I do, but I am going to fight the storm if the storm is Gage thinking he’s going to take my son away. I have a couple more weeks with him. It’s in our custody agreement.
I sit up and let Brand slide out of my arms, making sure he’s still asleep. Then I tiptoe out to see if I can hear if Mags and Gail are still awake. They are.
“He said he’d file kidnapping charges. My son threatened me,” Gail huffs.
“He’s a better man than me. I would have thrown your ass out tonight,” Mags says.
“You don’t know what I have done for my sons, f
or Brand,” Gail snaps at her. “What I have done to keep this family together with some semblance of unity.”
“I know what you’ve done. Now I suggest you listen to that boy of yours.”
“That bitch has something to do with this. That little—”
“You don’t even know the girl. You tried to pay her off like you did Juliana,” Mags snaps at her.
“Juliana needed something more. She needed to become stronger for Brand,” Gail defends me. “Look at what she has become.”
“I’m telling you, that had you told her to fess up way back when you found out, your boys would have fought it out and every one of those involved would be better off. Now, if Gage needs you and Juliana to go, I suggest you do it.”
“No, I promised to help her. For Brand, I’ll make damn sure I do,” Gail again defends me.
“The storm’s a-coming,” Mags mumbles.
“I am a storm, Mags. I’m the damn storm. This is my call. Now let’s get you to bed before you piss me off and I push you in the damn lake.”
“I’ll come back swinging. You know I will.” Mags laughs at her. She laughs at Gail Falcon.
I take the opportunity to go back in the room and grab a sweater, a pair of flip flops, and then head out to the deck.
In the distance, I see the old cabin. I walk quickly down the stairs and curse my fears of the woods, the dark, and the damn critters that I know are lurking. The city girl in me wants to run back to the safety of the house. The mom in me, she pushes me to continue.
Once I get close, I see a vehicle. I also see what I think is...
I stop dead in my tracks. Is Gage smoking?
Jesus, I hope so. I hope so because then he would not be so damn perfect and I could call him out on his secret, and...
“Idiot,” I scold myself. Do it right. Don’t fight.
I take a deep breath and start to walk toward a smoking Gage. It’s almost comical, almost.
Confident, straight to the point, and reel in the bitch.
Confident, straight to the point, and reel in the bitch.
Confident, straight to the point, and reel in the bitch.
I repeat that mantra over and over in my head until I am right behind him as he sits with his back to me on the picnic table.
