The Very Bad Fairgoods - Their Ruthless Bad Boys

by Theodora Taylor

  It feels a little like climbing inside a tiny spaceship, except even more surreal, since as soon as I sit down, the car’s onboard system blares to life. And then an efficient, not quite human voice asks me to electronically sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can so much as say, “Wow! Is this a driverless car?”

  Which is how I find myself screen-signing my third NDA less than six months after signing my first.

  “Sorry about that,” Beau says after I’m done.

  “No problem,” I answer, looking around the car, now that I’m legally allowed to—as long as I don’t tell a soul I did it.

  “Technically, this is an unofficial experiment drive for an unnamed corporation that hopes to use me as a spokesperson once they start selling these to the public. They’ve got a lot of government contracts and a federal mandate to make sure this car can go anywhere in America, but the laws about driverless technology are still a little shaky, so we’ve got to keep this trip under the radar.”

  I want to say something clever like, “You can trust me”—but we both already know what happened the last time he did that.

  “Your family is… something else,” Beau says into the awkward silence that follows his explanation about why I had to sign an NDA just to sit in his car.

  “Yeah, they’re something all right,” I answer. “Can you see now why I was so interested in getting to know somebody who hadn’t been raised to tell it like it is twenty-four-seven?”

  Beau chuckles. “Yeah, I guess. But your family’s not so bad. Trust me, it could be worse.”

  I think of my mother’s neglect, and the black eye Colin was sporting the first time we met—the one that made him decide to end his summer visit with his father early.

  “Was it worse?” I ask Beau. “I mean Colin mentioned something about your family being unhappy once. And it came as a surprise.”

  Beau shrugs. “He was your father, too. You know…”

  “Actually I don’t. He didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was usually really late at night. And he only talked to my mother, in her bedroom. The only reason I knew he was my father was because that’s what my mother called him when she got drunk and bitter. I don’t think he said more than ten words to me my entire life.”

  Beau shakes his head with a bitter laugh of his own. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like how he’d handle knocking up his mistress. But if it makes you feel any better, he was a withholding bastard to me, too, and everybody knew I was his son. Nothing I did was ever good enough, because I wanted to be a football player, not go into business like he did. Don’t think you missed out. The man was a bastard to everyone he ever met, especially the ones who loved him.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured,” I admit. “That’s why I fixated on you, I think,” I tell Beau. “The odds of me getting what I wanted were better. Not by much, but you know… better.”

  “But you thought I’d reject you like he did. That’s why you didn’t tell me, wasn’t it? Even after Josie hired you.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” I say. I peep over at him. “So you believe me now, about being your sister?”

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” he says. He goes quiet for a second, then says, “I remember where I heard your voice before. That night you came over with Miss Val. I was younger, so were you, but I remember it. Remember you. Remember thinking you looked like this photo of my grandma that used to hang in the front room, before Kitty redecorated after my dad died. It was a picture taken of her right before her coming out ball, and I remember thinking you looked just like her, but brown, with a wider nose.”

  Beau let’s out a shaky sigh. “I guess I knew back then. Just like I know now.”

  Neither of us say anything for a while after that, just letting the truth sink in, that Beau’s my brother and I’m his sister, and as far as immediate family goes, we’re pretty much all the other has left in the world.

  Then I say, “So tell me the truth, Brother. Exactly how much of this did Josie put you up to?”

  Beau barks out a laugh. “Pretty much all of it. I’ve been—I don’t know—difficult since the wedding. That Mike Lancer situation threw Josie and me for a loop. I mean Fairgood and me solved it, but still it scared me. Kept me up at night wondering whether I’d ever be able to be the father this kid we’ve got coming deserves. Got grumpier and grumpier, and finally Josie just lost it. Told me this was the kind of thing you’re supposed to talk over with your friends and family. And since I don’t really keep in touch with the guys I used to know on my football team…”

  “So you decided to use your driverless car trip to come see me,” I say, touching my heart.

  “You don’t sound insulted.”

  “That’s because I’m too happy you’re here,” I answer with a smile. “You are the best thing in a very sad week. Plus, I’ve seriously always wanted to be your sister.”

  Now he smiles. “I’m glad I could make this sad time a little brighter for you, then. Should I call you Kiki?”

  I groan. “Please don’t.”

  “Yep, I guess that means I should. My first act as an annoying older brother. I’ll tell Josie that’s what she has to call you, too.”

  “Seriously?” I say, wondering, if anyone I know will ever call me by my actual first name.

  The thought of nicknames brings my mind back around to Colin, and more specifically something Beau said earlier.

  “What did you mean when you said, you and ‘Fairgood’ solved the Mike Lancer problem?”

  Beau grinned. “Oh, did I forget to mention Nerd Book Club showed up at my house with two bats about an hour after you left? Said he didn’t want to talk about you, but he did want to talk about going over to Mike Lancer’s to have a little chat with him. So we did.”

  “And what happened?” I ask, my eyes wide.

  “Well,” says Beau tilting his head to the side. “I can’t say we got much talking done, but Fairgood and me let Lancer know what it feels like to be on the other side of a beat down. Then Colin and me used some of our connections to make sure Mike didn’t use his connections to fuck with Josie or her shelter anymore.”

  “Weren’t you afraid he would sue?”

  “Nah. Colin said Mike would be too scared about keeping up appearances to take us to court, which would mean us saying exactly why two otherwise upstanding members of our communities decided to take bats to that abusive piece of shit. Asshole actually called 9-1-1 and claimed he was the victim of a home invasion… then refused to hand over the security footage from his home cameras.”

  Beau chuckles, “Let me tell you, me marrying a black woman over the holidays barely registered in Forest Brook, because everybody was still too busy talking about Mike.”

  “Wow,” I say, surprised but not really. Colin loved Josie. He wasn’t in love with her. I knew that now. But he loved her. And of course, he’d do whatever it took to protect his friend. “I’m glad he came through for Josie.”

  Beau tilts his head again in that way of his. “You sure he was only coming through for Josie?”

  “I’m sure there was some beef left over between him and Mike, too,” I add, thinking about that night Mike broke his violin.

  “Are you really going to pretend him going after Mike Lancer with a bat had nothing to do with you?” Beau asks.

  He’s not looking directly at me, but I look straight at him when I answer, “No, I really don’t think he’s giving me a lot of thought these days after what I did.”

  “Hmm,” Beau says. “I don’t know what went down between the two of you, and the truth is, I don’t want to know. I’m just starting to accept that you’re my little sister, so I’m really not wanting to think too hard on you hooking up with the guy who tried to steal the love of my life away—”

  “Only because he was confused and trying to get over losing his mother—”

  Beau puts a hand up to stop me before I can finish defending Colin.

  “Whatever, Kiki. All I’m saying is he came to
the wedding, wished me and Josie all the best, and it sounded like he meant it. Before with Colin, I’m not going to lie, the only thing that kept my jealousy in check was knowing Josie left me the last time I let it take over. But I didn’t have to hold myself back with Colin this time. Whatever feelings he used to have for Josie, they just weren’t there at the wedding.”

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m glad he’s moved on. But that doesn’t mean…” I swallow, hating how painful this is to say out loud, “That doesn’t mean he wants to move on with me.”

  “Hmm,” Beau says again.

  Then he goes so quiet, I feel compelled to say, “What?”

  “It’s just that I always thought guys were the dumb ones when it came to relationships. I mean, I pretty much proved that a few times in my own relationship with Josie.” He tilts his head towards me and lifts his eyebrows. “But now I’m realizing girls can be pretty dumb, too.”

  Chapter Forty

  Beau and I stay in his Hello Smartie car for a long time talking. So long, the sun’s setting in the sky by the time we both start feeling a little hungry.

  I’ve got all that food in the house, so it seems natural to invite him in for dinner, despite my family still being there when we came back, like a SWAT team waiting out a hostage situation while Beau and me had been having our long overdue talk in the car.

  Beau ends up having to answer all sorts of football questions from my male cousins, and by the time the moon’s up, it’s been decided. Beau will sleep on the couch. My cousin Darnell, who used to play for the Tennessee State Tigers, goes out to his car and gets Beau some workout clothes to sleep in, and promises to bring him his other good black suit for the funeral tomorrow.

  Despite his generosity, Tyrone and my other male cousins tease Darnell mercilessly about me having to discover a half-brother in order for us to get a family member who actually made it into the pros. Beau takes the heated discussion that starts up after that as his cue to call Josie, while I all but push everybody out the door.

  “Is she okay with you staying?” I ask after he gets off the phone and the house has been emptied of trash-talking cousins.

  A fond smile spreads over Beau’s lips. “You know Josie. Plus, she’s an only child with half-siblings floating around somewhere out there, too,” he says. “Of course she’s happy I’m staying. Says she’s glad I can be here for you.”

  “Me, too,” I answer, thinking about how little he or Josie has to worry about when it comes to being good parents. I have no doubt my future niece or nephew is going to be one of the luckiest kids in the world.

  I’m happy to have Beau spend the night before my grandma’s funeral. But still, morning comes too soon. Too soon, it’s time for me to put on a black dress and for Beau to put on Darnell’s second best black suit. I’m surprised when I lead Beau back outside to find his car gone.

  “What?” Beau asks when I suddenly stop beside him.

  “Your car’s gone.”

  “Yeah,” Beau says with a half-hearted shrug. “Only problem with self-driving cars—when you tell their makers you’re going to be staying longer than originally planned, they can just call them back.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, realizing my family majorly inconvenienced Beau by deciding he’d be staying on for the funeral of a woman he’d never met.

  “I’m not,” Beau answers. “Rather have you drive me back to Alabama than that car. Prove to Josie that Mission “Get this Child a Real Aunt” has been completed.

  I’m more than happy to drive Beau home after, but actually walking into the church with him is another matter.

  Beulah Mae planned the whole funeral, not just because she was my grandma’s best friend, but because even a retired pastor’s wife never loses her calling. She decided to combine the wake and the funeral, since so many people were coming from out of town to attend and couldn’t stay more than a day. This seems like a good decision to me until I walk into the church and realize this is it. The last time I’ll see my grandma before we put her into the earth after the service.

  When we walk through those doors, and I see her closed coffin at the front of the church, suddenly it’s me clinging to Beau and not the other way around. And I don’t realize I’ve started to unconsciously pull back, until he starts tugging me forward.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. You can do this,” he whispers, pulling me into one of the back pew rows, away from the incoming stream of funeral guests.

  I shake my head. I’m not sure I can, but then Beulah Mae comes up to us, like a Panicking Granddaughter alarm went off somewhere, and she’s here to provide back up.

  “You all right, baby?” she asks, taking my other arm. “You need to sit down?”

  “No,” I decide, getting a hold of myself. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

  “Yes, you will,” Beau says, firmly, like it’s something I have to be because he’s my older brother and he said so.

  “You want me to go get you something to drink?” Beulah Mae asks.

  “No,” I say. “I’m fine.”

  I look around at the crowd. People filling up the church from front to back. Family members. Friends. And a bunch of other people I don’t recognize. As far out in the country as grandma lived, she had a way of bringing folks together, whether it was for a Sunday Dinner, or to say good-bye.

  “Thank you for doing this, for making all the arrangements,” I say to Beulah Mae.

  Beulah Mae reacts like I’ve spit in her face. “You better hush, child. You know you don’t need to be thanking me for putting the last call together for my favorite cousin.”

  Her answer makes me realize how deep family love goes. It’s the kind of love that makes you want to put together a funeral for the woman who snatched your wig and burned it in front of the whole county.

  “Well, I know Grandma wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t thank you properly, so I’m doing what she’d want me to do.”

  Beulah Mae’s shoulders slump when she finds herself caught in the complex politeness trap that is a Southern family with any kind of manners. “I know she would have, but…”

  She trails off, looking away from me toward the church doors. Then she freezes. I follow her gaze and freeze, too, when I see who she’s looking at.

  It’s my mother, in a fur coat, huge leopard print sunglasses, and a tight red dress that barely makes it halfway down her thighs. She’s easily the brightest, most inappropriate thing at this funeral, but she barely seems to notice all the heads turning and jaws dropping as she makes her way over to me and Beulah Mae.

  “Hi, Aunt Beulah,” she says, taking off her sunglasses and dropping a kiss on each of the shocked old woman’s cheeks.

  Her eyes then go to Beau, only the barest flicker giving away any surprise, before she says, “Beau, it’s nice to see you again, even if you can’t see me.”

  “Miss Val,” he answers with easy Southern boy charm. Then he adds, “Always a pleasure,” in a tone that makes it sound like the exact opposite of what he’s saying.

  My mother’s eyes finally find me. She looks my plain black dress up and down like it’s me, not her, who’s dressed inappropriately for a funeral.

  “So,” she says, like it hasn’t been over a decade since we last talked. “I know you’re not singing Mama’s favorite song, so I guess it will have to be me.”

  MY MOTHER CONTINUES TO THINK the thing standing between us now, the only thing standing between us now, is the fact that I have refused to go back on stage to sing. In her mind, the only reason we’re not as close as the Gilmore Girls is because of my stubborn refusal to get back on stage. Because I’m weak. Because I’m scared.

  Her dropping me off with Paw Paw and Grandma like a sack of potatoes and heading on to L.A. without me has nothing to do with it. The chicken most definitely did come before the egg. In her mind.

  My mother would have to be steamrolled dead before she stopped wanting people to look at her on stage, and I honestly don’t think she can even fathom not u
sing every asset you have to your advantage. I can feel her heavily mascaraed eyes on me during the wake, still judging me for letting that incident traumatize me out of possible fame. She hasn’t seen the videos of me singing online, I know for sure now, or she would have already asked me about them.

  Instead, she swans around the room, hugging folks like she just saw them yesterday last, and receiving congratulations. Most of my family didn’t see the documentary she was in, Standing Back, but they saw the clip of her that they used during the Oscar presentation. And when you live in back country Tennessee, just seeing your relative on television for something not associated with a crime scene is cause for wonderment.

  The only thing my mother has to say to me when she finally circles back around is, “Everybody’s saying you were dating a country singer. Colin Fairgood. Is that for real?”

  “For a little while,” I mumble, feeling like I’m fifteen again. “Not anymore.”

  “So he dumped you?” My mother looks me up and down with my now long past due for a re-dye, faded blue hair and the same black dress I’d worn to Paw Paw’s funeral, and seems to silently agree with Colin’s decision.

  “It was his loss,” Beau says beside me.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it at grandma’s funeral,” I say to both of them, before my mother can respond.

  Which is true. But since my relationship with Colin is pretty much the only thing that would make me remotely interesting to a person like my mother, she soon moves on again. Talking loud and flirting with distant cousins and friends of the family alike.

  I wonder, not for the first time, what a man like Mr. Prescott would have ever seen in her. But I guess he had a southern debutante at home. In my mother, he got something else.

  Thankfully it’s not too long after that before we’re told it’s time to begin the service, which turns out nicer than I thought it would. Short and to the point, just like my grandma. The people who get up on stage keep their speeches, mostly sweet memories of things my grandma had done for them or said to them, short, under threat from Beulah Mae, who had it from my grandma herself that she couldn’t stand long speeches at a funeral. And Beulah Mae’s husband even temporarily comes out of retirement to deliver a powerful sermon about the roots from one small, strong tree holding an entire community of trees together.