by BT Urruela
“Yeah, sorry, we aren’t trying to stay or anything. Just dropping by for a quick hello,” I say, my heart beating hard in my chest.
“Oh, I don’t care. I told you that last night. We can have a damn pow wow,” she says, the smoke wafting around her head. Paige takes two steps forward with her hand out.
“Hey, I’m Paige. Xander’s girlfriend,” she says and the sound of my actual name leaving her lips stills my heart. She still doesn’t realize what she’s said when Gabi gets up and takes her hand, shaking it before offering up the joint.
“Wanna hit?” Gabi asks, and Paige eagerly takes it from her. Gabi nods toward Irish. “That must make you Xander?” she asks him and he looks over at me, worry and confusion written on his face, before his eyes fall back on her.
“Uhhh.” It’s all he can manage. It doesn’t matter anyways. Through the door comes a tanned, pit bull-looking dude with a military crew cut. His tattooed hands tighten his belt buckle. I don’t know who he is, but the memorial band on his wrist and haircut lets me know it’s probably not good for me.
As his head raises and he catches sight of Irish, I know for a fact it’s not good for me. His eyes light up and he scurries down the steps, his shredded arms wide open.
“Irish fuckin’ McGregor! You big ugly fuck!” He embraces Irish, who embraces him back, but his wide eyes bounce from me, to Gabi and Shane who now look utterly confused, heads tilted and brows scrunched. “Shit, it’s damn good to see ya,” the man says in his thick country twang.
“It’s great to see you too, Rock,” Irish says, as he slaps hands with who I now know is the legendary Rock Callahan… and that I am completely fucked.
“Uhhh, Chase, what’s going on?” Gabi asks me, drawing the attention of Rock. His eyebrow arches as he analyzes me.
“Gabs, what are ya talkin’ about?” He points to Irish. “This is Chase. I don’t know who that is.” He motions to me.
“Gabi, can we speak in private,” I say in an almost whisper.
“No. You’ve got some explaining to do to all of us it seems,” she says, her hands meeting her hips.
Paige wanders back over to me and puts an arm around me, squeezing my waist. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Please, Gabi. Just a little privacy first. I’ll explain everything,” I say, looking her in the eyes now. She’s livid, her head turning from side to side.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asks. Shane slips a finger in her back pocket and pulls her back toward him. His eyes are on me… studying me.
“Listen, Gabriela…er Gabi…I’m Chase McGregor. I went to basic with Rock. This is my wife, Brandi,” Irish says, motioning for Brandi who puts a reluctant hand out for Gabi but gets no response. Gabi’s raging eyes are still on me… still hungry for answers. Irish motions toward me. “This is one of my best friends in the world, Xander, and I’m begging you to give him a few minutes in private and let him explain…” He puts his hands together. “Please.”
Gabi looks at him, her angry eyes remaining there for a moment before they come back to mine. “Fine,” she says. “You’ve got two minutes.” She turns and heads up the steps. Without turning around, she adds, “c’mon.”
She paces the front room, waiting for me to come through the door. When I do, she meets me in the foyer, a deep furrow in her brow. “Speak,” she barks, pointing a finger at me.
“Gabi…” My eyes drift to the living room and then back to her. “Can we sit down or something?”
“No, we can’t. You’ve been pretending to be someone else. Staying in my damn house. You need to talk and you need to talk right goddamn here…right goddamn now.” Her jaw clenches, hands balling into tight fists.
“Shit…” I shake my head, eyes lowering to the floor and I run a slow hand through my hair. I take a thick dry swallow, the words just a jumbled mess in my brain.
How the fuck do I do this?
“I just don’t even know where to start…” My voice trails.
“Start from the fucking beginning,” she says, a bite to her words and I can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle.
“It’s funny you say that. Do you remember your birth parents? Anything at all?” I ask.
She pulls back, her face scrunched in confusion. “How in the hell is that any of your business? And how the hell did you know I was adopted?” Her eyes shoot past me and to the front door. “It was Shane, wasn’t it? That prick, I’m gonna beat his ass,” she snarls, her angry eyes settling back on me.
“Listen…” I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Have you ever checked into your past? Found anything out about your birth parents?” I ask and she shakes her head, her anger turning to complete confusion.
“What are you getting at, Chas…” she cuts herself off, then continues, “…or whatever the fuck your name is.”
“Xander… my name is Xander Evans, and I’m your brother. Your birth parents are Robert and Grace Evans.”
Her mouth falls open and she jerks her head back. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My name is Xander Evans… and I’m your big brother,” he repeats, but the words just don’t seem real to me.
“Are you fucking with me here?” I ask, unable to come up with anything else to say.
He darts his eyes around the room, biting his lower lip before he finally looks back at me again. “Your parents died from a murder suicide.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Our parents.”
My thoughts racing, I manage my way to the living room and take a seat on the edge of the couch, burying my head in my hands as panic grips my chest.
“This can’t be fucking real,” I mutter into my hands as I feel him move closer.
“It’s real, Gabi. And I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to tell you…” his voice trails off.
“So why didn’t you?” My voice raises more than intended.
“I mean, think about it. How exactly does one go about that?” he asks followed by a light chuckle. I lift my head from my hands, an eyebrow raised, anything but amused.
“I don’t know… say something for Christ’s sake. Don’t pretend to be your friend. And then stay in my damn house.”
“I know, I know… but for real.” He puts his hand out and plants a shit-eating grin on his face. “Am I supposed to be like ‘Hey, little sis, long lost big brother here! How ya doing?’.” He gives a goofy thumbs up for good measure and it earns him a laugh, though I stifle it quickly.
“Alright, but fuck. This is some heavy shit,” I say, rubbing my temples.
“You’re telling me. It’s kind of ridiculous.”
I stand, fumbling with my pockets for no good reason and the awkwardness in the room making me uneasy. I feel like this man I’ve known for two weeks is a complete stranger.
“Can we hit up Six Shooter maybe? All of us? I need some liquor to have this conversation.”
“I second that,” he says, laughing.
Paige, Brandi and I make it in the bar first, sharing some uneasy small talk. The guys remain outside, smoking a joint and working out what exactly just went down. As we post up at the empty bar, Jimmy curls a finger for me to come over and I reluctantly do, leaning in as the other two take up two stools at the bar.
“Well now, darlin’, what did you bring me here?” he asks, nodding toward Brandi who is mid discussion about drink orders with Paige and doesn’t notice. “Now, I’d baste that butthole and eat it for Thanksgiving dinner,” he says, licking his lips and then purring, batting a hand as if it were a paw.
“Even if she weren’t taken, Jimmy, you’d have an ice cube’s chance in hell,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Grab two beers for me and Shane. Not sure about everyone else.”
Jimmy’s eyes are still on Brandi and he winks at the back of her head. “I got something for her to drink.”
“Hey, Jimmy, stop jerking around and get me a beer already.”
He side eyes me and puts a hand to his hip. “You know, if your father wasn’t su
ch a good friend to me, I’d likely bend you over my knee.”
“You’d like that too much,” I crack, greeting Shane who approaches from behind me with a kiss to my cheek. He waits for me to sit and offers up the stool on my left to Xander, who takes the seat with a nod of appreciation. Shane sits on my right and Rock takes up a stool next to him, though his attention is locked on a group in the back who are playing pool and heckling each other loudly. Who I now know to be the real Chase takes a seat on the far side of the ladies. It’s probably the first time in this bar’s existence that every stool is occupied.
As Jimmy puts beers down for me and Shane, Xander motions for one of his own, and Jimmy then makes his way to the others. I nervously sip my beer, my foot bobbing relentlessly. Right about now I could go for some coke. Of course, I’m dry, and my guy is dry, so I’m left to tend to this situation with some liquor anesthetics instead.
Shane must notice my inner turmoil because he slips a hand to my bobbing knee, giving it two good squeezes before he kisses me softly on the cheek. His lips move to my ear and he whispers, “I’ll give you guys some time. Gonna go play some better music.” He kisses me again and starts toward the jukebox by the pool table.
Noticing Shane’s departure, Rock leans in, grabbing his Long Island and sweeping a tanned hand over the top of his head, he says, “I’m gonna make some rounds. I wanna get me some Wyoming booty.”
Xander looks around curiously, before turning back to Rock with a chuckle. “Ummm, I’m not sure if you see what I see, but I think women avoid this place.”
Rock laughs, standing, and he pats Xander on the back. “Oh, that’s quite alright with me.” He winks and clicks his tongue before following Shane to the jukebox.
Xander shakes his head. “I did not see that coming.” He looks around again, analyzing the flannelled clientele scattered throughout the room. His eyes trail back to me and he cracks a smile. “I’ll tell you what though, he’d probably have better luck if he were straight.”
I laugh and take a swig of beer. “Don’t underestimate my guy. I’ve seen him make moves in far more bigoted places than here. He’s a pro at picking out the weak ones.”
“You make it sound like it’s a Discovery channel show,” Xander cracks.
“For Rock, that’s about how it is. Fucking and fucking people up. The two things he’s best at,” I say, thinking back on the numerous times I’ve seen Rock beat the ever-loving shit out of some mouthy homophobe. It’s one of my favorite things to witness.
“I think you mentioned something before about him working in Vegas?” he asks.
“Yeah, he works for some not so good people doing some not so good things. He’s pretty much a fixer for the casino underbelly.”
Xander just laughs and shakes his head.
“What?” I ask, eyeing him.
“Nothing,” he says, smiling against his beer bottle.
“None of this ‘nothing’ bullshit. Speak.”
He tilts his head to me, his eyes up and mouth half open as if in mid thought. “I guess…” He pauses and clears his throat. “I’ve known a lot of veterans in my lifetime. They’re all incredible human beings… but you guys tend to mess around with some crazy shit.”
“Well, I’m not denying it, but what do you mean?” I ask.
“Hmmm, like Rock with the Vegas business, my boy Irish racing illegally, I have this friend Twitch, my old cell mate, and he got caught up living on the edge too. And then you and…” his voice trails as his eyes fall to the bar. “Just with all that stuff.”
“Yeah, I hear you. There are a lot of us. Uncle Sam’s misguided children they call us. I think we just get out, after fighting and adrenaline-charged living, and, I don’t know…” I shake my head, knowing it’s a multitude of reasons we are the way we are. Far too many to list. “I think it’s partly for the adrenaline rush… maybe a little boredom… definitely a good deal of carelessness mixed in there.”
“Do you miss it,” he asks, and immediately I’m torn.
“At times… yeah,” I say, nodding. “But I went through a lot with them at the end there. No matter what good I can recall about my Army career. It’ll always be overshadowed by that shit.”
“Sorry to bring it up. I’m sure it’s a touchy subject.”
I laugh, grabbing and polishing it off. “Considering the situation, I’d say we’re okay. Speaking of touchy subjects… prison?” I ask, scrunching my brow.
He takes a thick swallow, nervously picking at his beer label. “Yeah, that’s quite the story. Long story short, I was falsely convicted. Spent three-plus years in a Missouri state prison.”
“Oh wow… how long have you been out?”
He laughs with a quick shake of his head. “A little over a month,” he says.
I pull my head back, a look of disbelief on my face.
“Wait, what?! Then what the hell are you doing here?”
He looks at me as if I’m stupid. “For you, Gabi.”
“What do you mean ‘for me’? If you just got out of prison you don’t need to be getting caught up in my shit.”
“Like it or not, Gabi, you’re my sister… and I’m your older brother. And you’re all the family I’ve got. No matter how much time it’s been, I’ll never forget the two years I spent with you,” he says, his eyes drifting along the bar top.
“You really remember back then?”
“I do. I’ll never forget it.” His eyes meet mine and they’re full of sadness.
“What do you remember?” I ask, curious about my childhood as everything before four is blocked out… everything before my adoptive parents took me.
“I remember despite our surroundings, you were the happiest little baby. We used to lie on the floor together, on ‘our’ blanky and the TV would play whatever daytime television garbage was on. We were soap opera veterans at a very young age,” he says, laughing.
“Were they ever happy? Our biologicals.”
Lines form in his forehead as he looks out along the top shelf.
“You know,” he says, looking back over at me. “My brain blocked a lot out… but from what I do remember… no. They never were. It was…” his voice trails as he scratches his five o’clock shadow. “It was just bad,” he continues. “I’m just glad you found a loving family.”
“Were you ever adopted?” I ask, and I notice his jaw tenses up. He takes a swig of beer and gives a quick shake of his head.
“Nah.”
“I’m sorry, Xander.” I swallow, trying to push past the uneasy lump in my throat. I never imagined being in this position before. Never.
His eyes dart to me and he shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. I’m happy as hell you were adopted. We were probably going to be separated regardless.”
“I love my parents. They were amazing for the most part… but I wish we had some sort of family that could’ve taken us in. Maybe things could’ve been different.”
“Maybe,” he says, nodding. “Maybe not. My life’s not a sitcom by any means. It’s been ugly. And miserable. And ruthless at times. But at the end of the day, I’m with a woman I love, I’m drinking ice cold beer, and I’m catching up with a sister who I haven’t seen in twenty-five or so years.” He tips his beer to me. “And there’s something to be said for that.”
I click my beer against his and smile, taking a slow sip as a silence sits between us for a moment.
“What brought you back here anyways?” he asks, looking around and laughing. “I mean, why here?”
“Well, you know, I got out of the Army and I was lost. When Dad was going through the worst of it I had to come back for that anyway. It felt like it was the right thing to do. And then, after the Army I missed the brotherhood… the camaraderie. My dumb ass thought a gang might satisfy that feeling.” I shrug.
“About the Army…” he says, his voice trailing as he rubs a finger and thumb in his eyes. “I have to admit something.”
“Fuck, this isn’t easy.” My eyes fall to the
bar as I mindlessly tap a thumb against it. “I know about what happened to you in the Army. While I was in prison, the real Chase kept tabs on you through Rock. He told me about what happened before you got out. He told me about everything. That’s why I came. I just want you to know. I’m here for you if you need anything.”
She doesn’t speak for a moment, simply staring at the beer clutched in her hand. The silence runs my thoughts rampant.
“I know it’s not the same thing…” I continue, anything to snuff this terrible silence. “But I went through similar things in foster care.” I take a thick swallow as I feel her eyes finally drift to me. I don’t look at her though. I can’t. The very few times I’ve talked about this kind of thing to people in my life I’ve felt the judgment come off them in waves. It’s why I keep it so buried.
“I’m sorry I got adopted and you didn’t. It wasn’t right for them to separate us,” she finally says, drawing my eyes to her.
“Don’t even. I’m glad you could have some sort of normalcy growing up. Seriously. We may not know much about each other, but there hasn’t been a day that’s passed where I haven’t thought about you and hoped for the best.”
She flashes a timid smile before waving Jimmy down.
“Any more of this deep shit and I’m gonna need a few shots,” she cracks as Jimmy approaches from the other end of the bar.
“What can I get ya, darlin’?” he asks. “Besides my ten-inch pecker.”
Gabi laughs. “Ten inches, huh? Jimmy, you looking at yourself in a funhouse mirror or something? I know you’ve got a baby dick in those jeans, so don’t go kidding either one of us and grab me some damn shots already.”
“Well shit, Gabi. Don’t go dirty talkin’ to me just to send me away with a pair of blue balls,” Jimmy says, wiggling his brows.
“Five shots of Fireball or I detach the blue balls from your body,” she says, glancing down the bar at Irish, Brandi and Paige. “You guys want a shot, right?” They nod and she looks back at Jimmy. “And why don’t you grab one for yourself, Jimbo.”
He meanders away, mumbling under his breath, but shooting a quick smile toward Gabi before grabbing a handful of shot glasses.
