Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1)

by MariaLisa deMora

  Turning to the main lobby, smile fading, she swept the room again with her gaze and he knew when she saw him. When she recognized him in spite of the shades and hat worn in a shabby disguise against the scant fans he had in this town. Knew it when she stumbled, catching herself but not before the misstep gave her away. Slate said she sounded good on the phone, was happy to come to Fort Wayne, pleased at the chance to reconnect with her youngest son. She might be all those things his brother said, but she was also scared as fuck, and her face had been stripped bare in that instant, showing him all her cards.

  He waited, feet planted wide, letting the mass of people part and move to either side of him, the clicking of their roller bag wheels sounding like playing cards pinned to his bike’s front wheel. Clickity, clickity, clack. The sound her heels made as she walked up the hallway towards his room in the middle of the night, stinking of booze and men. Click, click, thud. This last the sound her shoulder would make as she stumbled sideways, catching herself against the wall. He stared at her, seeing her face pale as she approached and he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t give any indication he gave one shit about her being there. Jesus, give her something. You asked for this, asshole.

  Stopping several feet away, she looked at him, and her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, nervous fear oozing from her in a way he could never miss. Modulating his breathing, making it so the sound of it surging in and out through his nose was the only noise inhabiting his head, holding that moment until echoing through the years he heard her heels again. Click, click, thud.

  Benny shook his head and then allowed himself to smile at her. Not a real smile, but his rock star one, and he knew she knew the difference when she flinched. “Susan.” He used her Christian name, pulling another flinch, but not wanting to offer her the thing he wanted most in the world, a connection to his mother. He reached out and took the handle of her bag, clasping it tightly.

  “I’m parked right outside.” She was staring at him, not having said anything yet and he waited for a beat. “Do you have any checked bags?” Chin dipping to her throat, she shook her head. “Hey,” he called and got her eyes for a moment before they fell away again. He didn’t know what she’d expected, but she wasn’t getting it from him, that much was clear. “Let’s go where we can talk, okay?”

  A nod and he watched her swallow. Shit. Without saying anything else, he reached out and grabbed her hand, turning her so they walked out through the wide sliding doors together. He couldn’t miss the way she clamped tightly, couldn’t miss how her cold fingers trembled. “Was it a good flight? You want some coffee or what? Breakfast? Maybe lunch?” Now that his mouth was moving, he couldn’t seem to make it stop, deciding to roll with it. “Packed light for a week, didn’t you? Didja get a cookie? You came in for the wedding through here, right? So you knew about the cookies? Best part of hitting the Fort, I swear.” Fucking mouth, I can’t shut up. “So are you hungry?” Determinedly, he clamped his lips closed, still pulling her along by the hand, not giving her time to pause or probably even think.

  “I could eat.” Her voice was low, trembling with what he thought were nerves until he chanced a glance her way to find her lips tipped at the corners. She’s amused. “The cookies are good, but not enough to sustain.” He watched as her mouth tightened, that tiny smile slipping away. “Your brother asked the same questions the first time he came to pick me up.”

  “First time?” She’s been here more than once?

  Her tone turned cautious as she said, “For the wedding, yes.”

  “When else did you come?” And why didn’t anyone tell me?

  “Uhm. A couple of months ago. I was here for a couple days to see the babies.” Explains that, he thought, knowing the timing would have been his last trip to Phoenix.

  He clicked the trunk on the car, followed by the door locks. Pausing a moment, he opened her door. “Hop in. I’ll toss this into the trunk. Be thinking between Greek, Italian, and American.” Pointing to the woman in the backseat, he said, “This is my sober companion.” Leaving the women to introduce themselves, he walked to the back of the car and stood there a moment, shaking his head at his own reaction. “Asshole,” he berated himself on a mutter, slamming the trunk and swinging into the driver seat. Logically he knew why Slate hadn’t told him of her visit, but it still pissed him off because it spoke directly to what he hated the most about what this whole fucking head trip had done to him. Made him vulnerable, someone to be protected.

  Weak, like Mom.

  That thought froze him in place, halfway backed out of the parking space, hands on the wheel. After a moment, he carefully finished the maneuver and drove them downtown. “Did you pick?”

  “American,” came immediately, followed by a wary, “Is everything okay?”

  “Epiphany.” He laughed, hating how harsh it sounded. “I didn’t know you’d been back to town while I was in Arizona. Was trying to be pissed off at not knowing. Trying to not be pissed off at the same time.”

  “I asked Andy not to tell you.” She startled him with this pronouncement, and he glanced her direction, seeing her posture was straight and rigid, purse held in her lap, bloodless fingers tight around the edges. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Why?”

  “Why…?” She cleared her throat. “He didn’t want to. I should have listened to him.” She paused and then softly added, “He’s got such a good heart.”

  “No, why shouldn’t you have? You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Not true.” Low and quiet, the words vibrated between them. “I owe you everything.” She still hadn’t called him by name, hadn’t called him anything at all, and that apparent slight stung in ways he hadn’t expected. Until the booze took over her life, she’d been quick with affectionate words, and he’d always been my Benny. “I don’t have any secrets anymore. Anything,” her voice broke, and he glanced over to see her looking out the window, “anything you need from me is yours.”

  Pulling up in front of the diner, he sat for a moment staring through the windshield. She was offering honesty on a level he hadn’t expected, and what he thought he’d wanted now seemed frightening. Terrifying. “Do you think I’m weak?” Where in the hell had that come from? He glanced in the mirror, catching Mercedes’ steady gaze. “You know what I’ve done, right? I assumed you knew everything.”

  “I know some. I still talk to Allen’s mom, and I follow your band online. There’s a riot on social media right now, rumors of new music on the boards.” A soft laugh teased his attention, but he wouldn’t let himself look, didn’t want to see whatever emotion provoked the amusement. “I’m an OY groupie.” This got his notice, and he whipped his head to find her studying him. She looked away in reaction as if their gazes held a way to repel the other’s. Polar opposites.

  “Took me off guard,” he admitted. “You said ‘Allen’s mom’ and I immediately thought Ruby, not GeeMa.” The apple of her cheek curved up, and he knew she was smiling, even if he could only see the edge of her profile. “A groupie, huh?”

  She nodded. “I came to one of your shows.” The knowledge startled him, and he wondered immediately what kind of shit he’d pulled while onstage. “You’re so talented.” Pride rang through her voice, which startled him even more. “I was blown away.”

  “Good to know I can impress.” He pressed backwards in the seat, lifting his arms and gripping the headrest in both hands, twisting side-to-side. “Look, Susan, I don’t have an agenda. I don’t have a series of questions.” He hated the tension filling the car, wanting to cut through it quickly. “I’m looking for help wherever I can find it. I know what started me down this path, how far I sank and I think we’ve had similar experiences. I wanted to talk to you because it’s part of the process, reaching out to those I’ve wronged.” She made a noise but he refused to look, again not wanting to see what might be on her face.

  “I trust my brother.” Benny swallowed, squeezing the headrest before releasing it and resting his hands back
on the steering wheel. “He reconnected and, I know you didn’t see him before, but it healed something inside him. He went from…the emotions of before, to being good with having you back in his life. That’s huge. See, he’s very much a ‘fuck me once, fuck you’ kind of guy. At least, he was, but he let you back in.”

  Thumbs drumming on the wheel, he hated he was fidgeting like a little kid. Talking like this, it felt like he was circling an important fact, and he tried to dial in on it. Wrapping his hands around the wheel, he clutched it tightly. “I love he got that from you. What he needed. Because you were out. O. U. T. But you got back in. This means, if I fuck up bad enough to be out, he might let me back in. And if he can do that, if he can be that strong while I’m weak, then maybe I can be that strong one day.” Not quite there.

  “I want to be strong enough that he knows he can call me when he needs me, doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t have to worry about what impact or effect it might have on me.” Nearly.

  “Like this meeting today.” He gestured to the space between them. “He knew you were strong enough, didn’t have any worries about you not hacking it. Just me. I want to know how you got to where it’s real for him.” There.

  “If we’re to have a chance at being a family again.” Is that what I want? “And one of us is at risk, the weak link, then the whole thing can come tumbling down. I don’t want to be the weak link.” He paused, then nodded, affirming to himself this was what he wanted. “I want to make his life better, not drag him down a road he’s spent far too much time traveling.”

  Throughout this, she’d been quiet, but not silent. Every so often she’d given little, hushed hiccupping sobs, but quiet. The atmosphere in the car had grown thick, heavy, weighing him down as he talked, now nearly suffocating while he waited for her reaction.

  Her voice quiet, she began slowly, seeming to hunt for the words. “I never expected him to be so forgiving. I did the both of you so wrong, so many times. I knew I’d never be able to fix it, or change it…but he reached out. I didn’t know then, but it was Ruby’s doing. He pulled up in front of my house, and I told myself I was ready, ready for anything.” Her laugh was full of pain, shards of it impaling him, causing a deep ache in his chest. “I never told him, but in the twelve hours between his call and him at the curb, I got in the car so many times I stopped counting. At first, I was trying to lie to myself. I’d only go to the grocery store. A quick run to make sure I had enough coffee and bread. What you don’t know is the liquor aisle is situated between those two in the store. Then I thought that lie, the ‘one’ lie, the one that has led to so many wrong decisions for me. Just one. I’d only have one. If I did buy anything, I’d only pour one drink. In and out of the car so many times. I got the shakes, threw up, felt like I was going to come out of my skin.”

  She paused, and he filled the silence because he knew exactly what she was talking about. The internal dialogue that could start the slip. The physical reaction to being denied what was needed so badly. “What did you do? How’d you beat it back?”

  “Called my sponsor. He came over and helped me sort through the emotions that were driving me. Steadied me until I could get a handle on myself. Until I could stand on my little porch and welcome my oldest child, who I had betrayed in a way no mother ever should, and invite him into my home. Sober. The first time he’d seen me sober since he was sixteen. More than half his life had passed without me in it. That’s what held me steady, what I told my sponsor. Knowing I’d missed out on too much, missed seeing him grow into the man he had become. Good, strong, loyal.” She drew a breath that fractured in a half-dozen places, each scoring through him with shared pain.

  “Not untainted by my mistakes, but somehow stronger in spite of it all.” He twisted to look at her, seeing the tears flowing down her cheeks. “I kept telling myself I’d take whatever he needed to lay on me. My penance. I was ready for him to be angry, betrayed. Ready for him to take whatever pound of flesh he needed. Would have gladly taken a knife to myself, carved it out myself. Given him what he needed. Anything.”

  “Not Andy,” Benny said, shaking his head, reaching out to thread his fingers through hers, pulling her hand away from the grip it still held on the purse in her lap. “He’s got enough forgiveness inside him for ten people.” The way she clutched at him was desperate, and he hated he’d made her feel that way. From what she’d told him about the visit with Andy, him calling her here would have laid her bare, opened her up to the same fears and terror, but still she came. Sober. “You were ready for the same thing today, weren’t you?”

  Wordlessly she nodded, and he squeezed her fingers in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “It’s not that. I just…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to be sober. You seemed to have a lock on it at the wedding. I thought you could trade war stories with me, give me some of your mother’s wisdom.”

  Sniffling, she laughed, lifting her other hand to wipe at her cheeks.

  “No, I’m serious, Mom.” The name slipped out without him meaning to give it to her, but once it hit the air, projected between them from his lips, it felt perfectly right. He knew what to say next. “I’m still your Benny, and I need you.” Now his cheeks were the wet ones, and he felt the tears dripping off his jaw, soaking his shirt. “I need you.”

  Twenty-Four

  Sitting on the couch in Jase and DeeDee’s house, he marveled as his brother’s friends rallied around him. As in him, not Slate. They knew the history; that much was clear. What they didn’t know was how much of a trigger seeing his mother would be for him, and they were cautiously pleasant to her but pulled him close. One-armed hugs, pounding backslaps, tousled hair—they gave him the same affection they granted Chase, and seeing this, recognizing it for the first time, it warmed him. Sustained him in ways he didn’t know he needed, but aware of the bonds he’d built here over the past weeks and months, he suddenly got it. He understood what drove Slate to be anything these men needed him to be.

  Staring down at the cup of coffee in his hand, he was still trying to come to grips with this knowledge when the cushions at his side depressed, and he looked to see Mason settling into the corner. Arm across the back cushion, the big man was turned sideways, leaned against the arm of the couch, one knee cocked, and ankle on his other leg. Mason looked like he was there for the duration, and Benny was surprised to find this no longer filled him with a twitching fear.

  With a nod, he acknowledged the man, following it with a quiet greeting, “Mason.”

  “Benny boy.” Mason gave him an easy grin then tipped his head towards the kitchen where Susan stood talking to various women from the club. Ruby stood close, and the two women each had a fast-growing baby in their arms, Susan cradling her namesake, Danielle Susan. Benny hadn’t learned the little girl’s middle name for weeks; another thing Slate felt he had to buffer him against, not knowing how he might react. “How’s it hangin’?”

  He knew this wasn’t a casual question, not throwaway words meant to be polite and fill the time; Mason didn’t fuck around with things. If he asked it, he wanted a real answer, so Benny gave it to him. “Was a shit morning.” Susan smiled, reaching out to cup Ruby’s face and pull her in for a hug, the babies protesting as they were squeezed between the women, and he watched as they broke apart laughing, Ruby smiling at his mother. “A good day, though.”

  “I reckon so.” Mason made a show of looking around. “No Lucia tonight?”

  Benny smiled; that was another part of the day which had gone really well. “We stopped by Bear’s earlier, so I could introduce Mom to Luce. Seeing her is always the best part of my day, never fails.” Slate walked into view from the other side of the kitchen, stopping where he could slip an arm around each woman, tugging them into his sides and Benny watched their reactions, Ruby smiling up at him and their mom resting her head on his shoulder, her face relaxing. Benny thought they both looked like Slate had given them the world. “I don’t know who was more nervous, her or Mom. But by then Mom and I
had the real talk behind us, knew what we were both hoping to get out of this, and knew we could deliver.”

  “She needed to know if I could forgive her. And, until I heard her talking about Slate’s visit, I didn’t know I already had.” He smiled as he watched Slate jokingly complain as his arms were filled with babies, and then pulled fountains of infectious laughter from each child as he blew raspberries into their necks in turn. “I needed to know she didn’t hate what I’d become.”

  “What you did.” Mason leaned in, put a hand on Benny’s knee and squeezed until Benny looked at him. “You’ve never been anything other than Slate’s brother. Susan’s son.” Thick fingers tightened, digging in. “My boy’s friend. All that blond hair, you’re a little lion man. Brave, fierce. Loyal.” Leaning back, Mason released him, settling back into place. “You aren’t what you’ve done, what you’ve lived through, Benny. You learn from that shit, pick your ass up and go forwards. You aren’t what you’ve done.” Abruptly changing topics, Mason asked him, “You know about Mica, up in Chicago?”

  Benny knew the name and had heard stories about the woman the Rebels protected like they did DeeDee and Ruby, so he nodded. Mason said, “Couple years back, she got a tattoo.”

  “Good for her?” Benny had no idea where this was going and knew his questioning tone revealed his confusion when Mason laughed.

  “Yeah, except I had to sit beside her and watch her flinch as they dragged that needle up the skin of her side, blood and ink oozing out. She about passed out. Pain ain’t the point, boy. The tattoo is the important part. Hers says, without fear, there is no courage.” Leaning in, Mason got close, holding Benny’s gaze as he did so. “You’re afraid of failing your family, your band, and your friends. You are so afraid, it bleeds from you. Just eat up with that fear, boy.” The room was silent; the only noises were murmuring conversations from the kitchen, shouts of children’s laughter from outside. “Gotta let it go. Trust yourself to be what you need to be, so you can move past this. You can’t forget the past, no way to learn from it if you set it aside, but you have to let go the guilt and fear from your past decisions. Learn from the results, but give yourself a goddamned fucking chance.”