by K. Ryan
"You've been doing this a lot lately," my sister presses on as she moves closer to me, boxing me in with little room to run. "Mysterious appointments, needing to cut out early, randomly calling in...are you okay, Rae?"
Her voice is laced with sincere and genuine concern, with only a hint of suspicion, and I don't have time to muster up an excuse because she just keeps right on going.
"This is so unlike you. I mean, I'll be the first one to admit that I leave as early as I can as often as I can, but you never have up until a few weeks ago. What happened?"
What happened? My entire life got upended, that's what happened. But I can't tell her that. I wish I could. I really wish I could.
"There's a guy, isn't there?"
My eyes just about bug out of my head and Lucy's mouth drops open into a wide O.
"That's it," she murmurs. "There's a guy. God, I'm so glad you've finally moved on from what's-his-face. He was a total douche. Why didn't you just tell me?"
I want to tell her how wrong she is, how giving me a free pass because of a 'new guy' isn't very boss-like, but there's a small part of me that makes the words stick to my throat like honey. It's not entirely off-base. There's Sean. Brennan....and Jack. My eyes flutter closed briefly as the dust settles around Jack. We haven't spoken much since last weekend and I haven't seen him since we visited Sean last Sunday, but he hasn't been far from my thoughts. That alone should be enough to make me snap out of it. There's a whole world of complications attached to Jack and the simmering...no, I can't even admit it in my thoughts.
"It's not what you think," I tell Lucy instead, but that subtle eyebrow lift tells me she's not convinced. "I just..."
"What, Rae?" she steps closer as if to will me into once again doing exactly what she wants. Although, this time, I know she has the best of intentions. "What is going on with you?"
I swallow hard and give her the best I can. "I can't tell you."
Her face falls in disappointment. "You can't tell me?"
"I'm sorry," I shake my head and I barely recognize the sound of my own voice. It sounds hollow and thin, heavy with everything I can't say. "I will, though. As soon as all this...as soon as I have everything figured out, I'll tell you. I promise."
Lucy's eyes narrow ever so slightly, but as she pushes out a deep breath, her mouth curves up in a hopeful smile. "Okay, Rae."
For the first time in my life, I feel like I've finally been honest with my sister. Even if I hadn't been able to tell her the whole truth, I'd been honest. Somewhere along the way, I'd finally learned that giving her what she wanted wasn't really helping either of us. And it's that thought that propels what happens next.
"Hey, Luce," I start carefully and gesture to the business plan I'd written out for the day. "Did you get a chance to look at this yet?"
She barely spares the paper a second glance and shrugs.
"So," I prompt her. "I take it you don't want to see yesterday's numbers either."
She just shrugs again. "What's the point? It's not like it's going to be anything good."
The best approach is to stay calm. Stay optimistic. Practical. I just wish she'd do the same.
"What's the point, Luce? The point is that it's your business and you should want to know how it's doing."
Lucy waves an impassive hand around our empty store. "I think I have a pretty good idea how it's doing without having to look at a spreadsheet. Besides, you're one to talk. You wouldn't tell me what's going on with you, but yet I'm supposed to be an open book now?"
I'm riding a wave of frustration now and it's all I can do not to crash right into the sand. Who thought it was a good idea again to give this girl her own business? Oh right. The mayor. He'd do just about anything to keep his precious little girl happy and to him, this was just petty cash. Given the way he gets his cash, he probably didn't think twice about it. For all I know, he's using this store to launder money anyway. Probably shouldn't put it past him.
All you had to do was tell the truth...
What Lucy needs now isn't judgment or disapproval and I think I might be the only one who can give it to her.
"Hey, Luce. Can I ask you something?"
Her head perks up a little and she frowns. "Sure."
"Do you like owning this store?"
That frown deepens. "What do you mean?"
"It's not a very complicated question. You just need to answer honestly," I shrug nonchalantly and push the business plan toward her. "Do you like running your own business?"
Her dark eyes scan the small space with its Z-racks and tables filled with brands I know she picked out herself, with its neutral earth tones and hand-picked prints decorating the walls, and they mist over with regret. I think, in the beginning, she loved this place. Loved the freedom it must have represented to her. Time, care, and true effort were put into it at one point—the design of the store and the brands she carries are a testament to that. But owning a business requires actual business knowledge, marketing, and management and those are all skills I don't think she ever had. The hardest part for her now is admitting defeat, that maybe she was never really cut out to run a business in the first place. Maybe if she has some help, things could be different.
I give her everything I can—I smile supportively, reach out to squeeze her hand, and whisper: "It's okay, Luce."
She swallows hard, her eyes sullen and boring a hole into the carpet at our feet. I don't know how long we stand there, just holding hands and letting her take the time she needs. I'll stand here all day if I have to, even if it means missing out on my chance to meet my brother today because my sister needs me more.
Finally, her eyes lift up from the carpet and her soft, hoarse voice calls out to me. "I used to like it. I don't anymore."
I nod wistfully and shoot her a quick smile as I squeeze her hand again. "Why?"
Her eyes flit shut for just a moment and then they snap back open, sharper and more alert now. "I don't know."
"Don't you think you owe to yourself to figure that out? I mean, what's the point of doing something that makes you miserable? Trust me, I know."
All that time I wasted at my old accounting job...and I wish I could take it all back. But then again, I don't think I'd be where I am now. I would've never known that I had not one, but two older brothers. If I hadn't stumbled on those letters, I never would've known the truth. I probably never would've found the strength to see my relationship with the mayor for what it really was and I never would've broken away. I never would've met Jack...
All I know is that I still don't really know who I am, but I know who I'm definitely not.
That's a victory in itself.
Lucy watches me carefully, almost as if she can read my thoughts, and then her eyes soften. "Maybe. I guess...I guess I just haven't really thought about it."
"I think you should."
Her lips part, but then seal shut again. Hesitation bleeds through her movements, stilted and stiff, and there's only one reason why she feels this way.
"Luce," I tell her firmly and squeeze her hand again just to prove my point. "Don't make any decisions just because you're worried about what he'll say or do."
Her lips part again, but this time, she hasn't have any issues forcing the words through. "But—"
"He doesn't get a say in your happiness, not if this is making you miserable and definitely not if you might want to do something else."
She huffs out a sigh and yanks her hand away from mine so she can drag both hands through her long, silky hair—the same hair I'd always wanted to kill for. "You're making it seem like it's no big deal. How am I supposed to tell Dad I'm just a big, fat failure?"
My sister's lips quiver and she quickly bites down on her bottom one to steady herself. I've never seen her this...unhinged. This honest. It looks good on her, even if a mirror might say otherwise.
"All I'm saying is that the money part of this doesn't matter as much as whether or not this makes you happy. If you want to get this store in sh
ape, you could. But you have to want to do that. You have to want to look at the numbers and come up with a plan. I'll help you, Luce—you know I will. But I can't help you if you don't really want this. We're just wasting each other's time if you don't."
She's chewing on her bottom lip during my entire mini-speech and I can't tell if anything I'm saying is actually sinking in. At least I've finally said it. At least she's finally heard it. Whether or not she chooses to listen is on her.
By the time her chest starts heaving, my heart sinks right into the pit of my stomach. No matter what the outcome, I don't want to see her crumble. I don't want to see my sister shatter right onto the very floor causing all her pain. So I wrap my arms around her and hold her as tight as I can. That's the best I can do and all I have to give her.
"I don't know how to fix it," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper and I tighten my arms around her. "I just kept telling myself it would get better...it's so much harder than I thought it would be."
"I know."
"You probably look at all those numbers and see all the mistakes I've been making..." she trails off, pausing just long enough for my silence to confirm what we both already know. "I'm not sure I'd even know what half the stuff on the spreadsheet means. God, I have no idea what I'm doing."
"It'll be okay," I whisper in her ear. "We'll figure this out. You don't have to decide anything right now. Dad will—"
"Be furious," she finishes for me.
I shake my head furiously. "It doesn't matter. You can't be scared of him, Luce."
"That's easy for you to say," she huffs and pulls herself out of my grasp.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown.
"Come on," she shakes her head as her eyes lift to the ceiling, but her next words sent shockwaves through the room. "You're...just so you. You don't care what anybody thinks. You walk around with this confidence that I just...I don't know how you do it. It's not fair."
God, if I'd been sitting, I would've fallen out of my chair.
"What?"
Lucy wipes away a stray tear with the back of her hand and squeezes her eyes shut. "You've never cared what Dad thought and you've always done your own thing. I wish I could. I wish I knew how to be like that."
"I've always done my own thing?" I shake my head incredulously. "You know I've been to rehab, right? Twice? And I've always cared what he thinks. You want to know what I wish? I wish I knew how to stand up to him. I wish I knew how to get him to really see me without looking right through me."
Even now, knowing what I know, emotions don't have an off switch. Undoing years of training myself to bend to his every whim is probably going to take, well, years. How Lucy could think otherwise is just mind-boggling.
Lucy pales and vehemently shakes her head as another tear escapes down her cheek. "No, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry—I didn't mean to bring that up. I know how much you've been through. And I know how far you've come...that's what I meant. I wish I could be like you. You really have your shit together now, Rae. I wish I knew how to do that."
She says she knows what I'd been through, but I wonder how much she knows. How much she's really seen. Does she know the depths her father has gone to get ahead in this city? How embedded he is in crime, lies, intimidation...probably even murder?
And if she doesn't, how do I even begin to bring that to light?
All you had to do was tell the truth...
Maybe that should be my new mantra in life. For the love of Stefani Germanotta, tell the damn truth.
"Look," my eyes fall to the floor, but I've never felt stronger. I've never felt more like myself than I do in this moment. "He isn't a good person. He's done...really terrible, awful things that I can't even begin to tell you about. He's not someone whose opinion should matter. I know he's your—our dad, but he hasn't earned the right to have any say in our lives."
"What do you mean bad things?" she frowns and I suck in a grateful sigh that she didn't catch my slip. "What are you talking about?"
Now I have to backpedal a little. More than a little.
"He's never made me feel like I was part of this family. Never made me feel like anybody really cared about me. Hell, most of the time, I think he'd rather I didn't even exist at all. Do you know what he said to me the first time I went to rehab? He said he was glad I was going because then the press would finally get off his back about his 'delinquent daughter'. You know, I don't remember a single time he ever told me he loved me. When he ever even smiled at me. Anything you've seen, anything you think I am, I'm that way because I had to be."
Her eyes widen with each new revelation and I wish, more than anything, that we would've had this conversation sooner. Everything would've been so much easier between us if we'd just been more honest with each other.
"I'm so sorry, Rae," she whispers. "I didn't know. Here I thought you were this kick-ass, independent woman and I never really thought about how you got that way."
"It's okay."
"No," she huffs out another laugh and shakes her head. "It's really not. It's not okay at all. I mean, I knew you guys didn't get along, but I never knew it was like that. Why am I just hearing this now?"
"I don't know," I shrug. "Maybe because you're his perfect little princess who can do no wrong—and I mean that in the nicest way possible, Luce."
"I'm not his—"
"Come on," I laugh, my eyebrows lifting high into my forehead. "You know he'd let you get away with murder. You've got him wrapped around your little finger. Why else would he buy you a store you have no idea how to run?"
To her credit, she just huffs out a loud laugh, but she has to see I'm right. She has to see that for our entire lives, she's always had the advantage when it came to Valentino Moretti, even if she never knew it.
The more that comes out, the more I see what the fundamental problems were between us. She believed I just didn't care about our family. I believed she was too wrapped up in herself to notice. Between the two of us, we were both utterly and completely terrified of the mayor. And it makes sense too. She's been just as scared of disappointing him and letting him down as I was—that terror just manifested itself in each of us differently. I rebelled and she fell in line. I partied and drank until it made me forget and until I got caught too many times to be ignored. She followed the rules and played his game, loathe to do anything but toe the party line.
Lucy shoots me a smile, albeit a sad and tired one. "I guess it's always different when you're the one outside looking in, huh?"
"I guess I never thought of it that way before."
Her smile widens and I let out a yelp of surprise when she pulls me into a hug.
"Whatever you decide," I whisper. "I'm here for you."
"I know," she whispers back.
Jack
"So lemme get this straight," Brennan glances at me out of the corner of his eye before shifting sharply back to Sean, who sits stoically across from us. "You're tellin' me Pop cheated on Ma, had a kid with this other broad, and that kid is Raena Moretti."
Those words hang in the air around us, slicing through the tension despite the noise around us. At this point, I know I've made the right call. Bringing Brennan here, giving myself some back-up, it was the only way this has even a prayer of working.
"That's right," Sean tells him calmly. "Rae's our sister."
We've been through all the dirty details already, every last scrap of sordid history, and I'm pretty sure the only thing keeping Brennan from throwing a chair is the knowledge that if he actually did that, he'd never be allowed to visit Sean again.
His fists clench into tight, pale balls on top of the table and a hard line ticks down his jaw. This is the most controlled I've ever seen him when he's pissed, so I have to give him some credit for that.
When he starts shaking his head and when his cheeks flush a deep, scary shade of crimson, I ready myself to pounce before a CO can get there first.
"I just don't..." Brennan trails off, his eyes bo
ring holes into the table. "How the hell did that happen?"
"It's not too difficult to figure out," Sean shrugs. "Pop wanted to have his cake and eat it too."
My lips pull apart in a grimace at that particular imagery, but I get where he's coming from.
"He had another kid, but he just walked away from her," Sean's face tightens the longer he speaks. "From both of them."
"So what are yah saying?" Brennan leans forward, resting both elbows menacingly on the table and I clamp a hand on his shoulder to keep him seated. "He should've left Ma? Left us?"
Sean grins, but there's no humor there, and he shakes his head. "Anything would've been better than what he did. He threw them away and went back to his normal life like nothing happened. Never owned up to it. Never took responsibility for it. What do you call that, huh, Brennan? What's that called?"
Pussy, I think to myself. Douchebaggery at its finest. All the things he always taught us to never be. Never walk away from family. Never back down from a fight. Always look ahead, but keep one eye behind you. What a dick.
Brennan tears his eyes away, clearly unable to handle this for much longer, and I squeeze his shoulder just for good measure.
"I know this hurts like a bitch to hear," Sean pushes on, but this time, his voice is softer, generous with sympathy. "But Pop isn't who we thought he was."
Sean's had years to process this. I haven't had quite as much time, but I've still had more time than Brennan. I know exactly how I felt when I first realized what Roark Callahan really was, but there are still things we don't know, pieces to the puzzle that haven't been discovered yet.
"To be fair," I tip my chin up at Sean, whose eyes narrow in response. "We don't really know how all that went down. You're assuming a lot of things here, Sean, but we don't know the rest of the story. How do we know he never owned up to it? How do we know he really chose to walk away?"
Sean opens his mouth to retort, but I beat him to the punch.
"We don't know," I tell him tersely. "Unless we ask him. And I don't know about you, but I don't really feel like talking to him about this anytime soon. But I think we all know there are plenty of explanations other than that he just abandoned Rae and her mom."
