by Linda Kage
His shoulders eased and a relieved smile slid across his face. “Sure.”
“So...Dugger Murphy, huh? Yeah, I can’t see Pick being named that either.”
As I gave my controls a rest to snatch my bottle of Angry Orchard and take a couple gulps, Remy finished off the small invasion of enemies closing in on us.
Damn, he really was good at this game.
“I know, right?” I set the drink back down to back him up as he entered a nearby building, guns drawn.
With a snort, he grinned my way, “God, your mom had sucky taste in names.”
I shot a guy in the head that was about to take him out.
“Shit, I didn’t see him.” Remy gritted his teeth in frustration. “Gracias.”
His gratitude came begrudgingly. It cracked me up how competitive he was and how he hated missing something or getting help.
I acted blasé about it. “Mmm hmm.” But he still flipped me the bird for my answer, and I had to laugh.
“So, this guy who owns the garage and who Pick actually used to work for ended up being his paternal grandfather? That’s some crazy shit.”
“Yeah, about as crazy as me finding out my boss was my brother.” I didn’t mention that I was a little jealous Pick had ended up discovering a new family member who didn’t outright hate him, resent him, or just not give a shit about his life. But then I reminded myself, I’d gotten a new family member out of Pick, hadn’t I? So I was technically no longer batting zero in that regard.
“Hey, I keep forgetting to ask. Will you deejay his wedding reception? It’s going to be at Forbidden next Sunday.”
“Next Sunday? You mean, like in eight days, next Sunday?”
“Yep. I would’ve thought Eva would’ve been more into the big, drawn-out grandiose planning thing too, but apparently they’re ready now and don’t want to dawdle. So, what do you say about deejaying? You’re really the only other person I trust with the sound system.”
“I am?” The crack in Remy’s voice told me he was honored by my announcement. After clearing his throat, he sounded much less emotional and more nonchalant. “Okay, sure. No prob. How’s Pick handling it, anyway?”
“The wedding plans?” I sent him a short frown. “Like I know.” Or care.
“No.” He snorted and waved a hand. “How’s he, you know, dealing with the shock of learning so much in one day. Met his uncle, then his grandfather. How’s he doing with that?”
I sent him another strange glance. “No idea. He seemed okay to me. Why?”
“Oh, Jesus.” Remy rolled his eyes. “You hetero men. I swear. Always too afraid to talk to each other about your feelings.”
Now I was really stumped. “What the hell was I supposed to ask him?”
“No sé.” Sticks sighed as if I was impossible. “Ask if he was bien, maybe. If he wanted to talk about it. If—”
“I’m sure Eva will take care of all that. He doesn’t need me to give him a hug or pat on the head.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Remy glance my way. “And what about you?”
Huh? “What about me?”
“You don’t have an Eva to talk to or hug.”
I sent him an incredulous glance. “Yeah, and I’m not the one who met my grandfather for the first time today, either.” I’d just gotten confirmation how much my mother had truly despised me.
“Yeah, but you had to face your uncle again after not seeing him for…how long now? And you spent the entire morning with Pick, when a month ago, the idea scared the shit out of you.”
“Christ,” I groaned. “I tell you way too much.” When he just smirked, I rolled my eyes. “My uncle’s still completely impartial about anything to do with my life, and Pick...I don’t know, I’m growing on the idea of him being my brother.”
“Really?” That seemed to please Remy. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, ever since he told me he’d already researched Polly online and knew what had happened to her and my dad, I haven’t been so freaked.”
“Speaking of your dad—”
“Don’t.” Holding up a hand in his direction to cut him off, I sighed. “I haven’t seen him again since the run-in at the bar.”
Remy was quiet a moment before saying, “Well, I still think he’s following you. Keeping tabs on you.”
Of course, he did. “And I told you, I couldn’t give a shit less if he was.” Which I highly doubted he was. “As long as he stays back and I don’t have to face him, it’s all good.”
“But what if he—”
“Sticks.” I sent him a sharp glance. “I’m not worried about him. He has no reason to come after me. From the moment he realized I couldn’t help him score any drugs and I wasn’t going to give him any handouts, he probably forgot I existed. And I say good. Goodbye and good riddance.”
“Well, I’m going to stay paranoid and keep an eye out for him.”
I shook my head, even though it felt kind of nice that someone was so worried about my welfare. “Suit yourself. I hereby and from henceforth make you my official bodyguard.” When I made a sign of the cross in his direction, he snorted.
“A sign of the cross? Really? What the hell was that about?”
I snickered. “No idea. It just seemed fitting.”
He laughed back. “Man, you are so weird.”
The way he shook his head as if perplexed by my weirdness made me laugh, too. I was about to tease him and tell him he was the idiot who had the big ol’ man crush on me, but I don’t know, I decided to just roll with it.
“You think that’s weird? Well, did you know...” Remembering something I’d read online the night before when I’d been unable to sleep because I’d been stressing about my friendship with him, I asked, “that when they used to cut off a boy’s nuts to make him sing castrato, the lack of testosterone in his body would then make his—”
“Bone joints not quite as hard, ergo they grew longer and gave him more rib capacity to sing with stronger lung power. Yes, I actually did know that.”
My mouth fell open in shock. But damn, how did he know that? I blinked, not sure if I was impressed or irritated that he’d showed me up...again.
Before I could decide, my phone rang.
I tossed my controls aside to reach for it, because once again, Remy was cleaning house without my help. “It’s Pick,” I said, frowning and wondering what was wrong. Did he really need to talk about feelings and shit? I had no clue how to do that, but for Pick, I guessed I’d try.
“What’s up?” I asked in answer.
“Man.” Pick heaved out a long sigh. “Jesus, Asher. You’ll never believe this, but I just got a call from Reese. Mason’s mom died like...an hour ago.”
“What?’ I sat up straight on the couch. “That’s crazy. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t get the particulars. But she said Mason’s pretty upset. They just picked up his little sister Sarah and she’s not taking it well either. We’re headed over now.” He paused and then added, “See you there?”
“Uh...sure. Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” After I hung up, I continued to stare at the phone as I murmured, “Holy shit.”
Remy paused the game and sat up, concern on his face. “What’s going on?”
“My friend Mason...”
“From the bar? Yeah.” Nodding, he rolled out a hand, urging me to continue. “What about him? He okay?”
“No. I mean, yeah, he is. But his mom...fuck, I guess she just died.”
“Whoa.” Sticks pulled back, blinking. “What happened? Car accident?”
“No idea. Pick didn’t know and Reese didn’t say when she called him.” I pushed to my feet, feeling disoriented as I glanced blindly around the room. “I need to go. Pay my condolences and, I don’t know, shit...just be on hand if they need anything, I guess.”
I should’ve moved, then, but a wave of dizziness assailed me. All I could see were the dead eyes of my own mother, staring sightlessly at nothing. What if Mason
’s little sister had seen her mother die?
“Hey. You okay?” Remy clutched my arm, grounding me back to the present.
“Yeah. Fine,” I mumbled. “Just remembering shit from back when. Pick said Mason’s sister Sarah was pretty upset. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was there. What she saw.”
Remy’s intrepid gaze dug into me. “What did you see,” he murmured softly, “when your mom died?”
I sniffed out a sound and shook my head. “Everything,” I answered without really meaning to. But Sticks had a way of prying things out of me with a mere stare.
“That must’ve been pretty shitty. Did you ever talk to anyone about it?”
I glanced at him. “Yeah. Sure. I had to repeat my account of the events about twenty times to the cops and lawyers and judges.”
“No, I mean, like a psychiatrist? Emotional help.”
With a snort, I sent him a get-real glance. “You think my uncle was willing to shell out extra cash for something like that? Yeah, think again.” Stan had thought he’d done his duty plenty by letting me live in his trailer. He hadn’t expended any more effort than that, except to occasionally ask if I needed money to buy my own things.
“You should’ve gotten some help for that directly after it happened. It’s not good to—”
“Sticks.” I held up a hand to shut him up. “It happened years ago. I think I’m past it. And I know you’d love for me to open up and share all my feelings and shit with you, but I’m going to go see my friend now and be there for him.”
Except when I glanced around the room, feeling totally lost and not sure what to do next, Remy clutched my arm. “I’ll drive you,” he said quietly.
I blew out a breath, feeling pathetic because I needed him. Pick’s news had affected me strongly. That surprised me. So I nodded at my friend’s offer and murmured, “’K. Thanks.”
Without making a big deal of my admitting I did indeed need him, he snagged his keys, wallet, and phone off the coffee table and motioned toward the door. Since my head was still messed up, I followed his directive without question.
But as soon as I opened the door, he hissed, “Shit. Food. We need food.”
I glanced back, frowning. “Huh?”
“You know.” He snapped his fingers and waved out his hand. “When the close loved one of someone you know dies, you bring them food, like casseroles and shit.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You’re whack if you think I even remotely know how to bake a casserole.”
Remy laughed. “It doesn’t have to be a casserole per se. Just...anything. Something helpful.” Then he brightened. “When Big T’s madre died, all these people poured in with different foods, but this one single old guy, Jorge, he brought paper plates and napkins, and plasticware, crap like that. It was the most used thing anyone brought over. And I always told myself, since I can’t cook either, that’s what I’d do if I ever visited the family member of someone who died.”
I blew out a breath. “All right then. We’ll stop by the store and pick up some paper plates and such along the way.”
Half an hour later, we knocked on Reese and Mason’s door. Eva answered, and her face brightened when she saw me.
“Asher.” She pulled me in for a tight hug, murmuring into my ear how much it was going to mean to Mason and Reese that I’d come. Then she noticed the guy behind me. “Oh! Hi, there.” I introduced her to Remy, and he waved a respectful hello before following us down the hall to a kitchen where Pick and Reese were hovering over a phone book, debating which funeral home to contact.
“Look who I found at the door,” Eva announced.
Reese looked up, and though her face was red and puffy from some obvious crying, she smiled when she saw me. “Asher. Thank you so much for coming.” She swept around the table toward me and pulled me in for a hug.
Afterward, I heaved the grocery bag at her.
She peeked inside and brightened. “Oh! Thank you. That was so thoughtful. This’ll probably come in handy more than anything else.”
I glanced back at Remy, ready to give him the credit, but he nudged my elbow and whispered, “Your line is you’re welcome.” So I dutifully turned back to Reese and shrugged.
“No problem. So...?”
I wasn’t sure what to ask. But Reese leaned in and quietly murmured, “She overdosed.”
Shock spread through me. “Mason’s mom? Shit. I wasn’t aware she...”
“She wasn’t. Not really. I guess she’d had a problem with prescription pills a long time ago. She used to filch some of Sarah’s medicine to handle...well, life, I guess. But she’d stopped long before I’d come along. Mason didn’t even tell me about it until after we’d moved here from Florida. But I guess, lately, these last few months...it became a problem again.” She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “Sarah’s the one who found her. After she called us, she hasn’t spoken a word.”
“Shit,” I murmured, feeling for Mason’s poor sister.
“And Mason...my God.” More tears filled Reese’s eyes. “He’s been busy on the phone, calling lawyers and social workers, so hell-bent on making sure we can get custody of Sarah he hasn’t stopped to think about what really just happened. I don’t think he wants to think about it.”
I didn’t blame him. Before I could say anything, offer help—just anything she needed—two small children scampered into the room. “Mama, Dada,” they called, going to their parents.
Watching what I guessed were my niece and nephew now run to Eva and Pick for attention, I shook my head. They were so damn cute, and so damn lucky they had two parents who cared, who wouldn’t overdose and abandon them, who just...loved them.
From the hallway, more people appeared: Noel and his family, and Quinn and Zoey, toting a super-small baby.
As Reese went in to snatch baby J.B. from Zoey’s arms, saying she really needed a dose of cuteness right now, Brandt glanced around the suddenly cramped kitchen and asked, “Sarah’s here, right?”
Pain clouded Reese’s face as she jiggled the baby. “Yes, but I’m sorry, Brandt.” She shook her head. “She’s not talking to anyone right now. Mason can’t even get her to respond to him. She’s pretty upset.”
Determination glittered in Brandt’s eyes. “Can I go see her anyway?” I had a feeling he would’ve found a way, even if Reese denied him access.
But she nodded. “Of course. She’s lying down in Mason’s and my room.”
He took off, and hushed, respectful voices filled the kitchen as Aspen and Quinn handed food dishes off to Eva, who packed them away in the refrigerator. When Mason entered the room, looking pale, worn-out, and a bit shell-shocked, the ladies gathered around him for a round of hugs, while us guys stood back, giving him one of those sorry-for-your-loss nods.
Julian and Skylar kept trying to scream and run around the kitchen, so Pick gathered them both up under his arms, announcing, “I can take them home. Tink...go ahead and stay here as long as you need, be with your cousins. And call when you’re ready to come home.”
I about spoke up, and volunteered to take her home so he wouldn’t have to come back, thinking Remy had a car Eva could actually ride in, but then Remy lifted his hand. “Oh, hey. I can watch them. No problem. If you have an extra room here we could hang out in, you all could stay.”
Reese laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you so much, Sticks.” Then she glanced my way. “Could you show him where the office is? There are some kids’ DVDs and toys in there to occupy the kiddos.”
I nodded and helped Remy gather up Pick and Eva’s little heathens.
We started down another hall, but when we passed Mason and Reese’s room, Brandt’s murmured voice made me pause at the half opened door and glance inside.
“It’s going to be okay,” the kid murmured as he lay spooned up behind Sarah on the bed and stroked her hair. “Living with your big brother isn’t so bad. It’s actually been better for me since I have. You’ll see.”
Sarah grabbed hold of his shirt
at his shoulder and squeezed it tight. “Please...don’t...leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Brandt assured her. “I’m staying right here with you.”
Behind me, Remy nudged me on, silently telling me I was listening in on a private conversation, but as soon as we reached Mason and Reese’s office, he grinned and said, “Well, if that wasn’t the sweetest shit you’ve ever seen. I think I just fell in love with that kid.”
I grinned and shook my head. “Yeah, Brandt’s a good seed.” Then I glanced around the room that had obviously been set up to entertain Julian and Skylar. The two toddlers immediately sought their toys and began to play. “You sure you’re okay with watching them?”
“I grew up babysitting younger cousins. I got this.” He nudged me toward the door. “Now go be with your friends.”
I nodded and started away. “Thanks, Rem. You’re a true friend.”
So I hung out with little Julian and Skylar. Neither of them really watched the movie I put in; they just kind of played around me, occasionally climbing over my legs to get from one side of me to the other. Sometimes a loud or particularly active scene would catch their attention, but mostly, I was the only one glued to the actual plot.
By the time the final credits rolled, they were passed out asleep, each one resting a head on either of my thighs while tears poured down my face, some inside my mask, some trickling down the outside.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, mopping at my cheeks with the backs of my fingers. “This shit is sad.”
“Yo, Rem.” Asher appeared in the doorway, grabbing onto the side of the frame so he could swing his upper body into the bedroom. “You ready to head out? I need to get to work. Aspen said she’d take over watching Skylar and Ju—” But upon seeing me, he stopped short, and blinked. “Are you crying?”
“It’s fucking sad,” I nearly bellowed, making Julian stir in his sleep so I had to pat his curly hair to soothe him back into deeper unconsciousness. “I mean, what the hell? It’s a Disney movie; I thought all Disney movies had happy endings.”
