What You Don't Know (True Hearts Book 6)

by Jaxson Kidman

  “Keep that talk up and I’m going to make you pay for that coffee.”

  “My lips are sealed then,” I said.

  Cassie reached into her apron and took out some money. “This is what you brought in during that rush.”

  “I don’t want it,” I said.

  “You made that money. Just take it. Stop being so stubborn. I’m sorry for what you had to go through. I know how close you were to her…”

  “If I take the money, will you not talk about this?” I asked.

  “Deal,” she said.

  I put my hand on the cash and stared at Cassie. She had a permanent bitch look on her face, her right eyebrow always slightly higher than the left, like she had something to say, but wouldn’t say it. Trust me though, if Cassie had something to say to someone, she’d say it.

  “What?” I asked.

  She opened her mouth and her eyes darted to the right. “Oh, great, your fuck up of a sister is here. I’m out.”

  Before I could respond to that comment, Cassie whipped around, her long and tight ponytail bounced against her back, and she made a charge for the kitchen.

  I looked back and saw Wren holding the door open with one hand, her other hand ushering little Max in. He wore a blue puffy coat and had a messy bed head. I could see dried food around his lips and dried snot under his nose.

  It broke my heart to see, but there was nothing I could do about it. What she and Brendan did together was maybe really stupid, but the second you looked into Max’s big brown eyes and saw his smile, using the word stupid felt so wrong.

  “Aunt Willow!” Max cried out when he saw me.

  “Max, be care…”

  Wren didn’t get the words out before Max stepped on his untied shoelace and fell down to the floor. He put his hands on the floor and pushed up, waiting a second before letting out a loud cry.

  “Get up, Max,” Wren said, stepping up next to him.

  She had a dirty purple bag thrown over her right shoulder. Her hair was messy and bunched up in a winter hat and she looked at me with tired eyes. Really tired eyes. Eyes ready to explode with tears.

  Max continued to cry, so I bent down and slipped my hands under his arms and picked him up.

  “Oh, wow, you’re getting heavy,” I said. “What are you eating these days?”

  “Lots of cereal,” he said in a sniffly voice, tears running down his cheeks.

  “Did you hurt your leg?”

  “My hand hurts,” he said, his bottom lip quivering.

  “He’s fine,” Wren said.

  “Do you need some ice?” I asked, ignoring my sister.

  “Yes,” Max said.

  “Want to go behind the counter with me?”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyes glowing, a smile quickly replacing the frown.

  “Willow, stop,” Wren said.

  I hugged Max and gently put my hand to the back of his head, making him rest his head on my shoulder.

  “You stop,” I whispered. “He fell. Let me help.”

  “Don’t baby him.”

  I sniffed the air. “His jacket reeks of smoke. Seriously, Wren?”

  “Oh, and you’re a fucking angel?” my sister snapped at me.

  “You don’t smoke around around a baby.”

  “He’s not a baby.”

  “He’s still a kid,” I said.

  I turned and walked toward the counter.

  Look - a new record. It only took Wren thirty seconds this time to piss me off and get my heart racing.

  “Come here, big guy,” I said as I placed Max’s butt on the counter.

  I turned and got a cup and placed it under the soda machine and let a few ice cubes drop into it.

  I scooped my hand down into the cup and took out two ice cubes.

  “Where does it hurt?” I asked.

  “Here,” he said and pointed to his wrist.

  It was red and a little swollen.

  “Poor guy,” I said.

  I pulled a napkin out of one of the holders and wrapped the ice cubes in it. I held it to his wrist for a few seconds before closing in on him and rubbing the tip of my nose against his. That always made him laugh.

  “That tickles,” he said.

  “I know. How’s your wrist?”

  “Better,” he said.

  “See? Told you it was nothing,” Wren said as she approached the counter.

  The kitchen door swung open and Cassie looked right at Wren. Her eyes quickly averted to me, then to Max, then to me.

  “He okay?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I said. “Tripped on his shoelace.”

  “I didn’t know it was untied,” Wren said.

  “Of course not,” Cassie said.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Wren asked. “You have something to say to me?”

  “Oh, I have plenty, Wren. But I’m working. You should try that sometime.”

  “I have a fucking kid to raise,” Wren shouted.

  “Cassie, go,” I said. “Wren, shut up.”

  “Make sure he eats something,” Cassie said.

  “Fuck you too, bitch,” Wren said.

  I pulled Max toward me and hugged him.

  “Will you stop?” I said to my sister. “That language around Max. What is your problem?”

  “I hate her,” Wren said.

  “Who do you hate?” Max asked.

  “Nobody,” I said. “Hey, do you want to go and play the claw arcade game?”

  “Yes!” Max squealed. “Yes!”

  I helped him to the floor and crouched again to face him. I messed with his already messy hair.

  “Listen, Max. You can go to the front alone. You stand at the machine. You look back at me every two minutes and give me a thumbs up.”

  “I can’t tell the time yet,” Max said.

  I smiled. “Right. Well, I’ll call for you. Okay?”

  “Okay. Do you have money?”

  “Max, don’t ask that,” Wren said. “That’s rude.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Wren,” I said, looking up at her. “Come here, Max, I want to show you something.”

  I put my hand out and Max took it. I walked him to the register and changed out two dollars for eight quarters. To Max, it was like he hit the jackpot. His eyes went even wider than before as he held the quarters in his two tiny, dirty hands.

  For a split second I wondered when he last had a bath. But I wasn’t going to ask Wren. It would only piss me off.

  Max hurried toward the claw machine, but stopped. He looked back at Wren. I paused halfway, walking back to offer Wren a drink when Max bit his lip. He then slowly walked toward Wren and handed her some of the quarters.

  “What’s this for, baby?” Wren asked.

  “The rent man,” Max said. “Heard you telling Miss Stephanie that the rent man yelled at you.”

  Cue heartbreak.

  Cue anger.

  Wren looked right at me and then back down at Max.

  “It’s okay, baby. Thank you so much for that. You go and play.”

  Max cheered and ran toward the machine.

  “The rent man?” I asked, taking another cup and filling it with diet soda.

  I put the cup on the counter, knowing what Wren liked to drink.

  “Do I have to pay for that?” she asked in a cocky voice.

  “This is on me,” I said. “Want to talk about things?”

  Wren blinked fast. “I tried calling you.”

  “I was working,” I said. “Cassie got stiffed so I offered to help.”

  “I’m behind on the rent.”

  “I picked up on that.”

  “I didn’t mean to get behind,” she said. “Things… I don’t know, Willow. Okay? I’m trying my best. I had a couple of jobs and I hid that money. But then Brendan got a ticket.”

  “A speeding ticket?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you paid it?”

  “He said if I didn’t, he’d lose his license. Then he wouldn’t be able t
o help with Max.”

  “Since when does he help with Max?”

  Wren swallowed hard.

  She fell so hard and fast for Brendan, it was scary to watch. She still followed him like a puppy dog does to its owner. She’d do anything for him, even if it meant hurting Max.

  I shook my head. “So, you pay the fine. And then Brendan disappears. And you’re out of the rent.”

  “In a nutshell, yes.”

  “Fuck, Wren.”

  “What?” she growled. “I can’t say no to Brendan. Not when it comes to Max. We never had a father.”

  “Our father was not like Brendan,” I said.

  “Still. We grew up without a father. Look what it did to our mother. Our lives.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t try to fix the past through the present or use that as an excuse. No. That’s not how life works.”

  “Oh, by all means, give me a lesson then,” Wren said. “Last time I checked, you were the one with the fancy nursing degree. But you’re behind the counter at some shitty diner. Why is that?”

  “At least I worked tonight,” I said, going for the cheap shot.

  Wren just stared at me.

  I hated myself for being able to hurt her. Not because I hurt her, but because everything I said was true.

  I looked over on the counter to the money I’d made working that day. I got the cash and put it in front of my sister.

  “Yours,” I said. “That’s what I made tonight. I’ll write you a check for whatever else you need.”

  “Willow…”

  “Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  Wren looked down, ashamed and now crying.

  She should be ashamed, and she should cry.

  I glanced over at Max as he stood on his toes, the metal claw closing over the leg of a teddy bear. It pulled the bear up, but dropped it pretty quickly.

  Max hurried to put another quarter in the machine.

  “Tonight just fucking sucks,” Wren said.

  I moved my eyes to her. “Oh?”

  “You don’t realize what tonight is, do you?”

  “No. I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “Tonight’s the night, Willow,” she said. “You know… the night Julie…”

  It felt like someone had put an anvil on my chest.

  My throat closed shut for a few seconds.

  Another year gone by, huh?

  I shook my head. “Wow. I didn’t even realize…”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Wren said. “Sorry I’m not like you, Willow. I know my shit is a mess financially. But I try my best. I make sure my son is alive. And I didn’t smoke around him, okay? My car wouldn’t start so I asked for a ride.”

  “Your car…”

  “Save it,” she said. “I’ll get a ride home tonight. Thank you for helping.”

  “Just come back to my place tonight. I need the company.”

  “No. I’m not going to deal with you telling me how much of a bad person I am.”

  “Wren…”

  “I got one!” a voice cried out.

  It was Max.

  I looked just in time to see the claw opening its grip, dropping a dark green bear into the prize area. Max crouched, punched the silver circular door, and retrieved his prize.

  He turned and threw his hands into the air.

  He started to jump.

  “God, I fucking love that kid,” Wren said.

  I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I know you do. So do I. Let’s get something to eat and go back to my place. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Wren looked back at me. “You should call him…”

  I shivered at the word him.

  For good reason.

  The problem with him… was that he was secretly everything to me.

  2

  How the Fuck is Everyone Doing Tonight?

  TRAVIS

  It was the last wave of the day. On the worst day of the year. A day when I couldn’t go without hearing the screams through the phone as I told my mother what happened or seeing the flashing lights of the police cars bouncing off the house as they waited for me and waited for more answers. Or the sight of the neighbors all coming outside, nudging elbows together, figuring that it was me who’d got himself into serious trouble and not Julie.

  Julie…

  I lowered my gaze and felt my hair get pummeled by the ocean wind. My hair was salty and knotty, a rag doll mess that had become part of my image. It wasn’t as long as it used to be, but who knew, maybe I would just give up on caring altogether and let it grow out as long as I fucking wanted.

  Out at the horizon, the sun’s reflection bounced off the waves. The sight was too good for me, but this was where I belonged. It was a sense of home that I never really had anywhere else. Not after what happened. The questions. The finger pointing. And then this strange silence. Like everyone woke up one morning and forgot about it. They decided it wasn’t worth caring about anymore and went off to find something new in life to give a shit about.

  I forced my fingers through my hair, grimacing in pain as I tore at the knots. I needed a smoke, but out here I’d never get one lit. So, it was one more wave and then I’d head back to my flat to get ready for tonight’s gig.

  I fell backwards into the drumming thing, but it worked. I got studio time and played shows with an up and coming band called After the Run. They were good guys and forever in search of a drummer after their old one decided to call it quits and head back east to go home. They offered me the permanent spot, but I didn’t want that in my life. I liked playing the shows. I liked drinking for free. I liked the women and attention. I liked being in the studio. But to commit to that… that wasn’t for me.

  Grabbing my board, I walked to the water for my last wave of the day. I looked up to the sky and felt that horrible sinking feeling in my chest again. The same feeling I had the night Julie killed herself. Knowing I should have stayed there. Or gone back to her. Fuck, I thought…

  The water hit my ankles.

  I looked down.

  It didn’t matter what I thought.

  That was years ago.

  And today was just another day.

  The day didn’t matter, but the memory did.

  I waited for the perfect wave and jumped up on my board to make it mine. In that exact second, I thought about Julie and lost my balance. The wave swallowed me up and I was at the mercy of it. Slamming me with its force, my body crashing to the ocean floor with a hard, scratchy thud. The wave rolling over me again and again, leaving me with that sensation of drowning, even though I knew that as long as I didn’t get my ass knocked out, I’d be fine.

  I climbed out of the water and threw my head back, my body aching and my mouth and lungs burning from the salt.

  “Whoa, bro, that was intense,” another surfer said as he stood at the shore.

  “Yeah, it fucking was,” I said.

  That was the most important conversation I’d had so far that day.

  We were all set up and sound checked, ready to go. Adam and Dez were pacing the backstage area, Dez with a guitar around his neck, strumming random chords. Adam kept chugging water and secretly sipping whiskey when he thought we weren't looking. He did that all the time. And then with two minutes until showtime, he would smoke a quick cigarette because it gave his throat that soul he needed. Ronny just sat on a table, feet dangling and swinging, looking down. He was the bassist for the band. He always wore a black sleeveless shirt and his arms were covered in tattoos. He preached sobriety from drugs but had a thing for whiskey and women that was almost as intense as mine.

  Music echoed around from the front as the crowd worked their way in, got their drinks and found places to stand for the show.

  The guy who ran the club was named Tommy. He was tall, skinny, old looking and covered in ink. He had been popular back in the day, but when his rock star dreams fell through, he bought a beaten up building and turned it into a club.

  Afte
r the Run had a regular gig there and a rabid fanbase. Which meant that these shows were my favorite.

  “Are we all set?” Tommy asked as he walked toward us.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’ll be right back,” Adam said.

  Ronny looked up at me and nodded.

  I nodded back at him.

  He was the only one who knew about me. About today. What it all meant.

  A year ago, he caught me on the beach on a final run that ended worse than todays did. With nobody around, I decided to take years worth of anger out on the beach, somehow thinking that if I punched the sand hard and long enough, everything would change. I ended up breaking two fingers, spraining my wrist, and showing a side of myself to Ronny that I never intended to. The long-armed bassist ended up hugging me right there on the beach, making us look like two dudes in love, until I pushed him and walked away without saying another word until later that night when a bottle of whiskey acted like a key and opened a dusty, dark safe inside my soul.

  “You okay for tonight?” Ronny asked as he bumped his shoulder into mine.

  “Fucking perfect,” I said.

  Dez cracked his knuckles and curled his lips. “Let’s fucking play.”

  Adam came inside from smoking his cigarette and Tommy handed him his guitar.

  The lights out front in the club went off and the people started cheering. Those cheers shook the entire club and sent chills through my body. I was foolish to not take this gig for what it was worth; travel the country and possibly the world. Become a filthy rich rock star, work on a decent drug habit, sleep with women who had no claim on my heart, and bank as much cash as I could before I either got kicked out of the band or thrown into a forced rehab situation.

  I stepped out onto the stage and saw the silhouettes of the people as well as the small red and green lights of all the sound equipment. The backing track had already started to play, echoing guitars and some of Adam and Dez’s favorite quotes and lyrics all mixed together. I got behind the drum kit, put in my earpiece and waited for my cue to come in. Every second of that day I thought about Julie. I could still picture her like she was still alive. I could still hear her voice and her laugh.

  I slammed the drumsticks down on the floor tom, gritting my teeth. Thanks to the added reverb, it sounded like a slam of thunder and boomed through the club. I did it again, starting the beat for the first song of the set, and the people cheered even louder.