by Piper Rayne
Chapter One
Siobhan
Eighteen to twenty-four months.
All bridal magazines insist that a bride should organize a wedding within that time frame. According to my bridal planner, today I should have a light breakfast. Instead, I’m eating wafer cookies dipped in chocolate chip lavender flavored ice cream.
I should be practicing the vows I’ll say during the wedding. Not today. Today I’m reading articles on how to move on and move forward.
Did I write the vows according to the deadline?
No, I thought about writing a book called, The Ways I Hate You.
Since I don’t plan to wallow in self-pity today, I’m figuring out how I will overcome the bitterness. I’m over Ronald Seymour. He can enjoy his life in Atlanta with his beautiful Southern Belle wife, his minivan, and his two-point-six children. I’m over the cheating bastard.
“Would you pay a guy ten thousand dollars to give you relationship advice?”
Nydia, my best friend and roommate, turns her attention from her yoga mat toward me. “Is he going to find me a husband that cooks, cleans the house, does laundry, and has a sexy voice that he’ll use to read me romance books at night?”
I stare at the soulful dark eyes of Nando. The picture they added to this article makes him look like the definition of trustworthy. He is cute, maybe hot. I could use a guy like him to at least give me a night to forget my unplanned life. Well, I wouldn’t use him, a famous relationship expert who gets paid substantially by women and men to ensure they find the right guy. Yes, he only helps us get the guy, not the woman. It says so in this article.
“I said relationship advice. He won’t build you a custom-made robot or a miracle.” I go to his website and read his bio. “Is this legal? He can only get you a guy. What about women? If I’m a lesbian, he won’t help me?” I click on the disclaimer. “I bet someone sued him, and that’s why he has this.”
“What are we talking about?”
“He can only help get the guy because he’s a guy. He can’t and won’t claim to know women. They are precious creatures with distinctive characteristics.” I cough and laugh. “He’s a smooth talker. What’s Nando’s real name?”
I surf through the web. “There’s nothing more about him than his picture, his smooth voice on those IGTV videos, and a brief bio that says nothing about him. Yet, people pay him for relationship advice.”
I’m in the wrong business, I don’t say out loud.
“What kind of relationship advice?” Nydia places her left leg over her shoulder, stretching her right hand. “For free, I can tell you that men are a waste of time. For a hundred dollars, I can find you a good rabbit vibrator off the internet. Nando might be short for something. I used to know a guy with that nickname, but we were kids.”
She switches poses with such grace that I wonder if she’s made out of rubber. There are times when I want to join the yoga studio where she goes so I can learn to do that. Other times I remember that yoga isn’t for me. I can’t stay in one position for more than twenty seconds, let alone a minute—unless I’m bitterly remembering that today is supposed to be my wedding day.
Then, my ass is glued to the barstool, my eyes staring at the screen searching for something useful, and my hand keeps feeding me cookies.
“But he promises to get me the guy in just thirty days, or I’ll get my money back,” I try to fake excitement.
“What are you reading?” She stretches herself across the mat.
I wave my tablet at her. “I was scrolling through the news,” I lie. “You know how you click one article, read it, and find another one, and then you’re in the clicking rabbit hole that never ends. There’s an interview with this guy who swears he can coach you to get the guy.”
She scoffs. “Can you say, charlatan? That’s impossible.”
“Not only that, but”—I lick my lips—“he claims at least a thousand happy couples since he started working on this project.”
Nydia laughs so hard her cat, Dex, lifts his head and meows at her. The glare he gives her is priceless. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I wake up and realized he smothered her in her sleep.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your nap,” she chuckles. “See, that’s why we don’t need the guy. We already have a moody male in the house. At least, he’s loyal.”
“Cats don’t buy me flowers, send chocolates just because they thought of me, or snuggle next to me at night,” I complain, but my ex didn't do any of those things either. In fact, my ex dragged me to this small town and then dumped me for something better. I sigh, “Maybe I should take your suggestion and buy myself a good vibrator.”
“We could go to the city tonight and enjoy the weekend,” she suggests. “No, wait, you’re working, aren’t you?”
“You work on weekends too,” I remind her, then give her a you’re-worse-than-me look and say, “You never stop working.”
“Shush. I have a farm and a store. I can’t just take a day off. At least, they are mine, but you work for a guy who might one day say, ‘I’m selling my business. You’re fired,’” she states.
“I thought you liked Mr. Cantú.”
“I do, but we both know he might not be around for long. Who is paying for his treatment? He is going to need that money,” she states. There’s sadness and anger in her voice. “If I could afford it, I’d offer you a job.”
She can barely afford the rent of her shop. If she didn’t own this house and the farm… I don’t think about it. We’re both so screwed. I need to start making a few calls and see if I can sell her products in big department stores. Selling online isn’t enough.
“Mr. Matthews, his business partner, promised to get someone to help me.” I roll my eyes. “He hasn’t. I’m waiting for him to say something like, ‘I’m too busy. Can you come and fix cars? While you’re at it, would you mind taking over the tattoo parlor?’”
She laughs. “Why would he do that?”
“I’m in charge of the brewery and the sports bar that he co-owns with Mr. Cantú. Someone told me that they co-own everything.”
She frowns but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even ask who mentioned that. I’m glad because I can’t remember. That’s the beauty and curse of small towns. You learn everything that happens in this place, just as people know your business too.
“How is Mr. Cantú?” She asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer. Mr. Matthews always says he’s a fighter.
What does that mean?
Is he getting better? I don’t push for an answer because maybe he doesn’t have it either.
“Well, as you know, he’s still in Seattle. Poor man, he has to have his business partner look after him because his family doesn’t care.” At least, that’s what I think. His son and his grandchildren never visit him. My shoulders slump. This is going to be my future.
Nydia will have to look after me if I ever get sick. At least she has her aunt and a few cousins who look after her.
Nydia finally pushes herself off the floor and stretches one last time. “I want to believe that he’s in the city because his family is looking after him. I might be wrong. Why don’t you call a temp agency and ask for a couple of people to come and help you?”
That could be a great solution, but I don’t want to take the liberty of doing something that is not in my job description.
“They… I mean, shouldn’t Mr. Matthews or Mr. Cantú authorize that?”
I’m still terrified that they’ll fire me. This was supposed to be a temporary job while Ronald and I set up our business. I started as the tour guide for the brewery, I’m now the manager of the Wicked Luna Brewery and their sports bar too. I’m grateful for everything they’ve given me, but if I overstep and they fire me, what am I supposed to do?
“You’re the manager. You’re in charge. I’m guessing they’d want you to be proactive. You have been working for three months straight. That’s unhealthy.”
She’s right. “It�
�ll be the first thing that I do when I arrive at my office.”
“If you need me to help tonight, let me know, okay?” she offers.
Ronald screwed me in a lot of ways, but because of him, I landed here in the most beautiful town on Earth with the best people I’ve ever met.
“Can I let you know around noon? I’m hoping that everyone will show up today.”
She gives me a strange look. That’s when I notice she’s biting back a laugh. “You’ll let me know at six when someone calls in sick, leaves because they are having a bad day, or… There’s always something to mess up your day.”
“I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Same, girl.” She rolls up her mat and says, “I’m going to shower. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Chapter Two
Iskander
One day.
I only wanted one peaceful day. Is that too much to ask?
If it’s not work, it’s my family. In this case, my father. It’s not like I don’t like the man. He’s my hero, and I respect him. Lately, he has me running his business. What’s next? Managing his life? My chest tightness when I remember why I have to look after his business. Abuelo is sick. What if…oh, fuck no. He can’t die.
“Hey, Pa,” I answer, holding the phone and waiting for the news. “How’s Abuelo doing?”
Dad exhales. “He wants to stop treatment.”
I close my eyes. That can’t be possible. I mean, the doctor said stage two colon cancer is treatable. He has been responding well. I dare to ask, “Because it’s not working?”
“No, he says that he needs to go back to work,” Dad responds, annoyed. “I need you to come and help us. He needs you in Luna Harbor.”
Are they insane?
I do more than enough for the family. I can’t just pack my stuff and leave New York indefinitely because…I close my eyes, massaging my forehead. I sound like a selfish prick. They need me, don’t they?
Family is more important than the empire I run or all the money in the world.
What if I say no?
The day my abuelo dies, I’m going to regret not giving him at least the peace of mind he needs to go through treatment.
I do have one card up my sleeve. “No offense, but don’t you have four other children?”
“Yes. Of course I’m counting on you, your brothers, and Myka to help me. That’s the second thing you have to do. Herd them all back to Luna Harbor,” he says, and I feel slightly better about the situation.
If I make sure that my three brothers and my sister are there, I won’t have to move. If I were twelve, I’d love to spend my summer at Luna Harbor. I’m thirty-four and not in the mood to deal with insects, a brewery, and God knows what else they want me to do there.
“You got it, Pa. I’ll have them shipped to Luna Harbor by next week,” I assure him.
“Listen, Iskander, I know you think that you have a lot of things to do that are more important. This is the family business. You can run your business and mine from anywhere in the world. Wicked Luna needs your attention, and the attention of the Cantú family,” he states. “You are the only one who has a sense of business. The other three need direction.”
“Myka knows how to run a business.” I try to keep my voice calm. “She might get upset if you tell her that I’m better than her.”
“She doesn’t need your direction. Your sister knows what she’s doing. I will not ask her to babysit your brothers. You’re in charge of them.” Someone speaks in the background. I can’t hear what is being said, but Dad comes back on to tell me, “I need to go. Make this happen now, Iskander.”
It’s my childhood all over again. He can’t handle my siblings, and I have to step up. Well, my brothers. Myka might be five years younger than me, but she’s pretty mature for her age. She likes to mother us, and my brothers sometimes take advantage of that. Well, not Manelik, her twin.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll give you a month.”
“I’ll let your grandfather know that he has a month to get better,” he says in a serious, almost angry voice.
“And here I thought you weren’t going to guilt-trip me,” I mumble, squishing the stress ball Myka sent me last week.
She sent it to me with a note that read: Stop being so fucking stressed. Take a chill pill and get laid.
Nothing says you’re my favorite brother better than this. I’m not her favorite, though. That’ll be Mane.
“It’s not about guilt, Iskander. It is your duty.”
I hate that he is right. It is. Grandpa and his business partner helped me establish my company. They loaned me the money. I can’t just let their legacy go under because I don’t want to leave my comfortable office or my apartment in Brooklyn.
It’s okay to hate what I’m about to do, right? “I’ll be there soon.”
“Don’t forget your siblings,” he reminds me.
Even if I wanted to, you always remind me that I’m in charge of them.
If there’s something I’ve learned in my life it’s to never avoid the inevitable.
I cancel my appointments for the day and drive to my place. While I pack my things, my assistant rents me a charter, secures me a car that I can use while I’m in Luna Harbor, and even finds me a room at the inn for the night.
The service car picks me up. While we’re heading toward the airport, I call Manelik. He can lay the groundwork to let Myka know that we’re moving to Luna Harbor. Plus, he might help me convince the other two while I'm in the air.
“Why do I have the feeling that you’re about to sour my day?” he answers right away.
“What are you doing?” Probably sleeping since he doesn’t have to do anything.
He retired at twenty-nine. Who does that? Manelik Cantú.
“Eating breakfast? I don’t know. What would you like me to be doing?” he says in such a fucking condescending tone I want to punch him in the face.
“I’m not in the mood,” I warn him.
“Tell dear Mane who upset Iskander?” He uses a baby-like voice.
“Don’t be condescending,” I order him.
He grunts. “I can’t win with you today. Myka is right. You have to get laid.”
“I spoke with Pa,” I announce, not wanting to discuss my sex life.
“No!”
“What do you mean with no?” Is he kidding me? Family isn’t optional. He has to ship his ass to Luna Harbor. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“Shall I remind you that he and Abuelo are living in my house? I’m already doing my part,” he says. “I also know that they want you to be in charge of the Wicked Luna. So, no. The answer is, hell no.”
Negotiating with my brothers is more complicated than convincing an investor to give me a billion dollars for my next big idea. Not that I’ve ever tried, but I assume that’ll be easier. These assholes don’t care if I need them.
“I could buy a house so they can move in there and say that I’ve done my part. That’s not it. This is for Abuelo. He needs us to take over his businesses.”
“I have work to do,” he answers.
Okay, now he’s just pissing me off. “The band is on hiatus, and you retired from that undercover shit,” I pause, sighing with relief. “Thank fuck. So technically, you’re free.”
“No, I’m not. Beacon hasn’t recovered yet. I’m helping his family,” he states.
I don’t care if one of his best friends almost died and needs his help. We come first.
“You help his family, but you can’t help us? Wow, your priorities are fucked up, Manelik. We are more important.” My voice is so loud the driver lowers the privacy screen to check if I’m okay. I wave my hand and continue the call. “We need you.”
He lets out a loud breath. There’s some mumbling on the other side. He’s so much like Pa, and maybe that’s why they have so much trouble getting along. Once he’s done, he says, “If you give me a month, I’ll be there just to get you of
f my back. You know Beacon and the guys are family too. The next time you try to make me choose… Just don’t make me choose, okay?”
It’s not like I don’t care about his bandmates. They’ve been around us since Mane was in pre-school. I know why they are so close. I should be more thoughtful, but still, I need him today.
“How’s the asshole doing? Is he running yet?” I joke. Beacon was in an accident a few months ago that almost left him a quadriplegic.
“He’s getting there. As I said, give me a month. After that, I’ll bring the guys with me. More free labor.”
I can wait a month if he’s going to bring his crew along. They might be pains in the ass, but they are good kids, like my brother.
“No more than a month,” I confirm with him.
“Have you called the rest? I’m not the only one who should be helping you.”
“Oh, I’m dragging everyone.” I stop, run a hand through my hair, and say, “Can you call Myka? She’ll listen to you better than she’ll listen to me.”
He chuckles. “You’re a coward. I already texted her to warn her that you’ll be calling. You have to make the call.”
The asshole hangs up. I groan. This is going to be a long day.
Chapter Three
Siobhan
Working at a brewery can be fun, but not all the time. My tour guide bailed on me today. I had to deal with many executives who decided to take the tour as part of their weekend retreat. Three of them hit on me. None of them even hid their wedding rings. Assholes. Like I’m going to accept being their weekend mistress.
If I had the time, I would go for a run. After a two-mile run, I might even forget that one of those assholes pinched my butt. Thank God the sheriff was close to shoving them out of the brewery. If not, I would’ve shown him how a beer bottle can be more fragile than a human skull by using his head.
“All the good guys are taken,” I say as I enter Nydia’s shop searching for something sweet that will dilute the anger running through my veins.
