“I would have been here for you, Mom.” I squeeze her hand.
“I know, but you had work. Your tour, you couldn’t put that on hold.” She rubs over my hand.
“The fans would understand. It wasn’t my best tour anyway.”
“But your album went platinum.”
I nod, swallowing the heavy lump in my throat. I can’t keep it from her any longer.
“I got into some stuff. Some bad stuff.”
“Like what?”
I look into her eyes. She raises her brows before her face softens, and she cocks her head to the side of me.
“Sweetie…” She sighs, already getting it.
“I’m better now, I promise. And I’m not going back to that. It was just hard.”
“I know, it really is. Especially since you’re the oldest, that sense of responsibility is always hard.”
“I don’t think I ever did that right, Mom.” I chuckle.
“You did.” She smiles. “You always stood up for your brothers. Always followed in your dad’s footsteps. It went from you stealing his suits to picking up the bill at dinner and scolding your brothers when they misbehaved.”
I smile to myself. “I liked yelling at them sometimes.” She nudges my shoulder, and I hold my hands out in defense.
“I was so young when I had you. I had no idea what I was doing. You being a good kid made things a lot easier.”
“You’re welcome,” I joke. She squeezes my hand in both of hers before she releases me.
“Now, you told me about a girl last time we spoke. How is that going?”
I smile at the thought of Cora, and Mom beams at me.
“It’s good.”
“Good? It was great last time we spoke.”
I nod. “It is. But she knows about everything, and I know it will be hard for her. I guess I feel uneasy about it because I know how this can go. And how I want it to go. I’m afraid I’ll only get one chance.”
“That’s how love is, sweetie. Alec did the same thing with Mia, but if you put in the work, then you’ll end up on the good side.”
“I can only hope.” My smile is sad. Thinking about Cora hurts more than it makes me smile now because I feel so much more intense about her.
“Brant, you know I’m right. Now, how long are you staying?”
She stands and pulls me up with her.
“I don’t know. Until my agent calls wondering where I am.”
Mom laughs and shakes her head.
“Good. Then you can help me with the garage cleaning.” She tugs me along.
I groan but follow her knowing it was only a matter of time before she gave me chores.
20
Cora
Brant texts me throughout the week, and we make plans for dinner tonight. Things have been different. Just as we got closer, we started to feel further apart. I know it is because he doesn’t believe my promise to him, and I can’t blame him. I couldn’t just tell him no, and I couldn’t explain myself either. My thoughts are a mess. I don’t know what extent I can go to, how far I’ll fall with him.
It’s already pretty far, but it doesn’t make much difference now. I have to tell him tonight at dinner—that I do want to be with him, but I won’t be able to handle it if he relapses. I’ll get on a train I’ll never get off of and end up like I was after my parents left. The problem is, I would still be in love with him, and then I wouldn’t be able to even breathe anymore because it’s that crazy.
I always scoffed at insta-love, laughed it off with a glass of wine on my couch. But when you know, you really do just know. Brant is my total opposite, but he is everything that I need. Everything I want.
There isn’t much I can do with that when I walk into the courthouse. This time, it isn’t to see a client, it isn’t for any court dates. It is finally the appointment I set to take guardianship of Damien, officially.
My parents aren’t dead, just in court-mandated rehab. They could very well swoop back in and try to take Damien back, and the court would let them because they don’t have time for a second look at a Latino family with parents contesting guardianship. That’s just how it is.
“You sure you want to do this?” I tuck myself into Damien’s side for courage. He isn’t my baby brother physically anymore.
“Yeah, sis. I told you.”
“We haven’t seen them in…”
“Five years. I was ten.” He walks slower.
I don’t know why I’m so uneasy about seeing them. I don’t care about them… I don’t think I do. That’s a lie, they’re my parents. I remember being five or six and doing things with them, family things… I love them to death, but I resent them even more.
“Yeah. A long time.”
“Where is Brant?” Damien asks. I’m sure if I told him he would have insisted on coming and supporting me. I don’t think I’ll ever share this part of my life with him, and not because I haven’t opened up to him, but because it’s the equivalent of wearing a sign broadcasting my faults.
“Working.”
He looks down at me.
“I didn’t tell him. Come on.” I walk faster, my heels clanking on the floor.
We go to the holding cells and then to family services behind that. I didn’t expect my parents to show up, but when we get inside the waiting room for the judge, they are there. My heart sinks… what if they don’t let me do this? I’m not ready for a custody battle. In fear of it going their way, I swear I’ll just run off and disappear with Damien.
They look old and tired. Even being clean, they look overworn, tired, and sad. Shells of people, really. I don’t know if they care that both their children have been out of their lives. I was eighteen when I took Damien with me, at three years old, and kept him in my one-bedroom apartment on campus. The night they got so high they forgot about him in the high chair, and he crawled down himself, falling and twisting his wrist, I remember feeling so sick about such a little thing being hurt, and then felt guilty for leaving in the first place. But I came to the hospital and took Damien without question. Then they took the court-mandated rehab facility to escape the child endangerment charges. When they got out, they were high again within a week and back in jail for theft. It all went downhill from there, and they have been in the same facility for twelve years.
The odd, twisted thing here is that they are still together. They still love and damage each other. I don’t understand it, in fact, it makes me more afraid of love because if they had been separated, I feel like they would have come clean.
They are clean now. My mom looks like me again—brown hair and brown eyes—but she is very thin. Dad is tall and thin, really tired in the eyes with his dark, thinning hair. They both came from Puerto Rico when they were kids, their parents were distant friends who kept them in the same house. They ran away at fifteen, though, and never found their way. At least that’s what they told me, and honestly, they were both buzzed, so I don’t know if it’s true.
“Corazana,” Mom whispers, her voice almost unrecognizable. She stands, her hands out as if to hug me, but I step back.
“Hi, Mamá.” She doesn’t try to hug me again. She turns to Damien, and he does hug her back.
“Damien, you are so big.” She holds his face, and he smiles at her a little.
Dad comes next, and I feel surrounded. It does feel like a lot because it has been so long. I don’t know if I am angry or just… done.
“Hello, Papa,” I murmur. He is so much taller than me that I look up at him. He used to carry me on his shoulders and tell me I was on top of the world now. I wonder how things got bad with them, but from what I know, it really is a horrible addiction. I still wish they cared enough to try.
“You are so beautiful, mi hija,” Mom says to me. My daughter. “Mi niño guapo.” My handsome boy, she says to Damien.
We only learned Spanish because they didn’t speak English for a while. I had to teach them most of what they knew, and they coupled it with what they learned working at a
steel mill. We used to play games to learn it together.
“Thank you. Is the judge ready?”
“Secretary said ten minutes,” Dad rumbles. I have no idea what made his voice sound like sandpaper crashing together.
“I didn’t think you would come,” I say, clutching my purse. Mom looks at it and does a clear doubletake, then she really looks me over. My crimson office dress is nothing special, neither are my black heels. I guess my designer purse makes her do that, but then she sees Damien in his private school outfit and does the same. I start counting when she will ask for money.
I got a job when I was fifteen at a grocery store. My paychecks came to the house, and she was always waiting right there to go cash them. Maybe at least now, she will ask.
“We were not sure…”
“I really hope you aren’t here to…” The door swings open before I finish. Behind the heavy wood door appears a judge I know all too well by now. I hate how he will remember this every time I am in his courtroom defending a client.
“Judge Reynolds, hello.” He is a generic, older white male and is nice enough when he isn’t in the courtroom.
“Ms. Arnold, please come in.”
Mom makes a face at me. I changed my last name in college only because I was hell bent on leaving them far, far behind.
We all go into his office and sit at the round conference table across from his large mahogany desk. Everything is old and brown, his bookshelves stuffed with law books. I have been in here before. Damien sits next to me. I can tell he is nervous because he keeps bouncing his knee. I hold my hand over him, and he smiles at me like I’m the one who needs reassurance. Maybe I do.
“I understand we are discussing paternal rights outside of the courts.” Reynolds takes out documents and sits in his chair. His bald head glistens under the light, his body filling out his black suit.
“Yes.” I glance at my parents. They both stare straight ahead void of something in their eyes.
“No contest?” He sets out three different papers. I have honestly never seen these in my line of work.
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly. My parents perk up at the same time. They don’t know what that means, and Damien doesn’t either.
“How do you mean?” Reynolds asks.
“My parents have been in a court-facilitated rehab for fifteen years. I never took legal guardianship of my brother, but I’ve been taking care of him since I was eighteen.”
He makes a face but nods quickly to hide it.
“I see. I do have to ask…” He turns to my parents, “Do you understand that by signing these you give away both your legal and parental rights to your son?”
The papers sit in front of them with pens, and they fluster at them in turn. Mom turns to me with a cold look in her eye.
“You would take him from us.”
“You left him a long time ago.” I squeeze Damien’s knee tighter.
Dad clears his throat and holds her hand.
“You don’t even…” I hold my tongue from a lot of stuff I could say.
“This is easier for everyone. He… he’s still your son.”
I see them survey it in their head and breathe a sigh of relief that seems to have lasted years when they each sign. Then I sign on my line, and Damien does the same.
“Thank you, Judge Reynolds.” I shake his hand and leave with Damien, my parents following behind.
“Corazona, wait.” Mom grabs my arm outside of the chambers in the hall. I nod to Damien, and he stops.
“Yes.” I look down at her, my heels making me taller.
“I…” Her eyes search mine, and I brace myself for what she might say. “Gracias, mi hija. Para todo.” Thank you for everything.
Tears sting my eyes, and I hope they don’t fall and ruin my makeup.
“You’re welcome. I have to go.” I pull away from her and see Dad smile at me like he used to, and it gives me the resolution to turn and walk away with my brother.
I hug Brant tightly when I see him, and he is taken back by my behavior I know isn’t like me. After taking Damien to school and coming to work, I am glad to see him before tonight. I hold everything in until now that I hug him, and he holds me tightly to him. He smells so good, and his warm body calms me as he rubs my back.
“Cora, you breaking up with me or something?” He kisses my forehead, and I laugh.
“No. Just a few more minutes.” I sigh. He holds me closer to his body, and I feel every inch of him against me. We fit together so perfectly.
“I want to comfort you, doll, but I’ll get hard any second now, and if you’re not ready to go at it in your office…”
I laugh and pull away craning my neck up at him for him to kiss me. His lips coax mine apart, and I melt into him even more. I’m prepared to forego the whole office day and go home with him.
Until my desktop dings with a new email, a tone I set for either one of my bosses.
“I have to check that. Why are you here, anyway?”
Brant chuckles. “I see how it is. I have a meeting with Rick.”
I nod and sit to check my email. It’s from Rick.
Ms. Arnold,
I request a meeting with you in my office, now, please.
That doesn’t sound very good at all.
“Cora?” Brant sees my frown.
“I have to go see Rick.” I fix my dress and get ready to leave.
“He asked for me, too.”
I stop and stare at Brant. I feel closed in on, and Brant shakes his head to stop my thought process. I blink away my tension, roll my shoulders back, and head for his office.
I know what is coming before I get there. I can feel these kinds of things because I am used to bad luck. Bad everything… at one point or another. I can’t have everything. I know better than to lie, than to keep things from my boss.
That’s why there is nothing I can say to Rick when he starts scolding me, listing everything wrong with what I did as if I don’t know.
“Rick, chill out, man.” Brant stops him.
“No. You forget that I can drop you just as easily as I signed you, Brant. That’s your problem, you think everyone works for you, and that isn’t the case. The only reason I don’t throw you in rehab and have you taking ten piss tests a week is because shit gets leaked, and I’m not letting you cost me millions.”
Brant glares at him, and I look back to Rick. I pray and pray he doesn’t fire me. Oh God…
“Ms. Arnold, I am appalled by this lack of professionalism. You deliberately withheld client information with all parties and started fraternizing with the talent. There’s a reason that’s a strict rule, I hope you see why now.”
“I do, I apologize.” My voice is quiet. I wring my fingers out clasped in front of me. I hope my knees aren’t visibly shaking.
“That’s wonderful. Now because I can’t fire you, I have to put you on probation instead. Indefinitely.”
I gasp inwardly, but Brant beats me to the begging.
“Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
“Brant, I warned you. I can bury your career and come out a fucking star. Don’t test me.”
I curl my lips in to keep from crying. Rick sighs and steps around his desk pressing his fist down. He can’t fire me because he doesn’t deal directly with the Legal Department. He may have started the company, but the board and shareholders have taken over. He is powerful enough to put me on probation forever, but not enough just to fire me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
“You will be on probation for six weeks. Your clients will be split between your colleagues. The ones who know how to follow the rules.”
I want to say so badly that there has to be another way, but I can’t poke this bear. Not if it will turn out better being fired by him, he doesn’t seem like he cares for weighing risks. I guess it doesn’t look like I did either.
“That’s all.”
I nod and leave the office before saying anything else. It’s a blu
r as I grab my purse and head for my car. My heels match my raised heartbeat, and I struggle to catch my breath.
“Cora, wait!”
Brant.
I walk faster. I can’t face him. I don’t know if I’m mad at him or hate him or… anything. I just can’t look at him without telling myself it’s his fault.
“Cora…” He catches up to me and crosses between me and my door.
“Please move, Brant.” I wipe my tears mixed with my makeup now.
“Cora, please. I’m so sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I cry, looking at him. His eyes bore into mine, his face contorted in pain.
“I… everything, Cora. Your job…”
“Brant, I can’t do this right now.” I try to get around him, but he grabs both my arms and turns up pinning me to the car.
“Do what? Let me be here for you, Cora.”
I shake my head as I sob looking away from him. I hate crying, and I hate that I am crying. Brant holds my arms and tries to get me to look at him, but I refuse. It will make me think what I don’t want to.
But he realizes it on his own and stands up straight. “You blame me,” he rasps.
Silence clouds over until my sobs die over, the shock from being put on probation leaves, and the uncertainty of what to do next takes over.
“Brant…”
“You do, don’t you?”
“Not on purpose. I know I made the choice myself.”
“But you still do.”
“You say that like you’re accusing me of doing something wrong. I…”
I turn and unlock my car to escape him, but he holds the door from opening.
“I’m not, but what else can I do? I know this isn’t easy for you but don’t shut me out, Cora. We’re…”
“We’re nothing, Brant. We’re one month of sex and puppy love that made me stupid enough to jeopardize my job for you. I need to get out of here.” I shove against him, and he does move, standing by as I open my door and throw my purse in.
“We’re more than that, Cora. You know that.”
“Why?” I swing back to look up at him. “Because you wrote songs about me and fucked with my head?” I shake my head to myself. His face grows tighter as he stares down at me in shock. “All we are now is fucked because you… this may have just ruined my life.”
Wilde About Brant - The Brothers Wilde Series Book Two Page 15
