“Fuck.” I pushed my fingers through my hair in a flustered rush. I thought of the parties Nate and I had both been to where I’d flirt with the jocks and then either make out with someone or go home with them.
I never stayed after sex. I never wanted to. At the beginning, it felt like I was taking a stab at Miles. I felt strong and confident, determined to shit all over his memory. But then it changed to need fulfillment. It became a way for me to live out my ridiculous fantasies of him still wanting me.
“But it makes sense,” Kai said. “That’s why you chose to go away to college. To make a fresh start.”
I nodded, my lips too numb to make a sound. I rocked back and forth in my chair.
“You were working out everything that happened to you. Maybe you didn’t want to be that same girl anymore.”
Finally my lips became unstuck. “I didn’t. I don’t want to be her ever again.”
“Believe it or not, I liked that other girl,” he said. “The girl you were before you were with Miles. That girl was cool and funny as hell. She was confident and amazing. Confident in a different way. More self-assured.”
I shook my head. I sure as hell wasn’t confident back then. At least not with guys.
“And now?” I whispered. I felt like I was on display. Like he was chipping away at my exterior, trying to see deep inside.
“You’re that same girl . . . but on speed.” He grinned. “And maybe seeing Miles brought it all to the surface. Your way of working through it might not accomplish anything anymore. At least not at home. Not where people will talk.”
All I could do was study him. He always knew the right things to say. He’d been better at fixing me than he’d been at fixing himself.
“So if you feel like you’ve got something to work out, come find me again. Our secret, remember?” His eyes flared briefly with passion. He had been remembering our night. Maybe he’d enjoyed kissing me, too. It certainly appeared as if he had. A shiver raced down my spine.
He seemed adamant that it wouldn’t ruin our friendship. But just in case, I didn’t plan on asking him to take care of my needs ever again.
“Only if you come find me when you’re tempted to smoke an entire bowl of weed,” I hissed. His eyebrows rose in midair. “Use me, too. We’re not that different, remember?’
He sighed. “I remember.”
Chapter Eight
Kai
I pulled into the underground garage of the Golden Arrow Casino and the attendant waved me in. My head was still buzzing from my conversation with Rachel. Damn, when she told me I was important to her, all my feelings for her had been on the very tip of my tongue.
But she was so afraid of ruining our friendship that I needed to make sure I tucked my feelings away. She’d spent the past three years trying to work out her problems emotionally—and physically—and eventually, her strategy would fall flat in the face of reality.
Just like it had for me. Little did she realize that I’d curbed my own behavior after I’d fallen for her. In years past, no one made me feel anything. I was all about having a good time. But once I recognized the way I felt about Rachel, she changed that and everything else in the world paled in comparison. Everyone else.
Rachel was a like a shock of red in a dreary sea of gray.
I parked in the employee row of spaces and then took the elevator to the second floor. Looking around at the new patterned carpet in the entryway to the lobby, I realized how long it’d been since I’d stepped foot in my family’s casino.
Being here reminded me of our roots. Faces that looked like mine. The bronze skin, dark eyes, thick ebony hair. Some of our people still wore it braided down their backs out of pride for our heritage.
A couple of women wearing the traditional buckskin dress at the entrance to the gift shop bowed to me out of fucking respect. That had always been something to get used to. One older gentleman I didn’t recognize straight away clunked me on the back as I strode by him at the blackjack table. “Long time no see, Shiye.”
I turned to look into his deep-set black eyes. My parents had taught me good manners, especially about respecting one’s elders, so I stopped to speak to him. Besides, I was already on their shit list after my father’s phone call this morning. “Sam, yá’át’ééh. Nice to see you. How have you been?”
He looked down at the deck of cards in his hand. Time had not been kind to him. Wrinkles lined his mouth and forehead, and there were bags beneath his eyes. Had he had patrons at his seats, there would be no time for small talk. But the place was mostly empty. At least at the gambling tables, which always saw more action in the evenings. The slots machines looked to be about half-full.
I stole a look at the clock just beyond the giant crystal chandelier. If Sam didn’t hurry, I’d be late, and then dad would accuse me of getting high this morning. Not that I hadn’t considered it. “Well, my grandson has been pretty sick.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, trying to sound more interested. The old man seemed pretty upset, so maybe his grandson didn’t just have the flu. “Which grandson is this?”
“Micah,” he said almost reverently. “He’s going to need a transplant.”
That made me turn my full attention to him. “What kind of transplant?”
“Heart,” he said. “He’s been placed on a list. We’ve all been pitching in trying to keep his spirits up, and your parents have been great about allowing me to trade shifts from time to time.”
“I’m so sorry. Please know that he’s in my thoughts.” I knew everything there was to know about trying to keep a hospitalized person’s spirits up. “If you ever need anything.”
I motioned to my father’s office and turned to walk away.
But his soft and tentative voice called me back. “Well, since you asked . . .” I couldn’t imagine what he could possibly want from me. Did he need me to take a shift? I certainly hadn’t gone to dealer training, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to ask me to get my license or any other license required to work in his casino. I’d put it off for far too long.
I took a step back toward him. “What is it?”
“Maybe you could visit Micah sometime. He likes rock music and, well, you study music and play in bands. Maybe you could bring your guitar and keep him company some afternoon.”
I was struck speechless. How bad off was this kid? The look of anguish on his grandfather’s face might have said it all. “Sure, Sam, anytime. But right now I gotta get on the clock. So let me ask you about visiting hours later.”
“Do your father proud,” he said as I strode away from him.
I knocked on the office door before firmly twisting the knob. I heard my father’s deep, rich voice as I pushed it open. “Come in.”
Mom was the first person I saw as I entered the lush space. She sat behind a small oak desk at the back of the room right beneath a giant portrait of a Navajo warrior in battle. She had her own office upstairs, but my parents always hung out in the same space, so it was no surprise to see them together. Mom rose first to greet me, stepping around my father’s large desk, which took up most of the middle of the room.
“There’s my favorite guy.” She tugged me into her arms, and I felt how thin and bony she was. My father was a tall and imposing man, so next to him she looked like a porcelain doll.
I kissed her cheek and pulled away. “Hi, Mom.”
Then I looked over at my father. He stood behind his desk and stretched out his hand as if I was a new employee or something. And maybe that was the message he was trying to send.
“Dad.” I reached over to grab his hand, and he gave me two solid claps on the back. “Have a seat, son.”
He only used that formal tone when I was about to be reamed out. I figured he’d gotten it all out on the phone that morning, but maybe he had more to say. Even behind closed doors, my father was the consummate professional in his place of business. Suddenly I was thankful this meeting hadn’t taken place at their house instea
d. Even though I was an adult, I still sometimes felt like a twelve year old who’d just been caught taking a sip from his father’s beer when I was reprimanded there.
My father cleared his throat. “I’m glad you decided to work here this summer.”
I worded my response carefully. “Not sure I had much of a choice, Dad.”
My ears automatically tuned into the sound of the lame elevator music piping through the speakers. My thoughts veered off to the idea of creating different mood music in the casino before I realized I had totally tuned my father out. Fuck.
I heard my father sigh, and when I looked up his face was beet-red. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“Of course I have,” I snapped, in a lame attempt to convince him. Besides, I’d heard all of his lectures before. Even the ones about smoking pot. “Whatever you need, Dad.”
“Look, son,” he said, sitting back down in his seat. “You tried it your way. Now let’s try it my way.”
I looked him directly in the eyes. The eyes that I’d respected and admired my whole life. “Is it your way or the highway?”
“Knock it off, Kai,” he rumbled, and I sat up straighter. His voice still had the power to disarm me. “Do you have a better idea for making a living?”
He had me there. He wasn’t going to spot me any more cash. And playing gigs paid shit. And I certainly didn’t want to flip burgers or put on a monkey suit for an office job.
Mom came up behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Honey, I really want you to finish your degree somewhere in the fall. Have you thought about that any more?”
“Mom, I’m just not sure I’m cut out for school,” I said in a show of honesty. “I mean, I liked the classes I was taking, but I liked working at the studio more.”
“The classes are necessary in order to get to the thing you love,” my father said through a clenched jaw. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I just know music is where it’s at for me.” The only two things I’d even been good at in my life were playing music and taking care of Rachel. Even my parents told me how proud they’d been of me during her stay at the hospital.
“That’s obviously not working for you.”
“Then I’m out of ideas,” I said simply. Because it was true. I was at a roadblock. Or maybe a crossroads. Nothing really made sense anymore. Nothing ever really did to me.
My father stood to his full intimidating height. “Look around this casino, son. You’ve been given an opportunity to get an education. Something that many of our employees will never have.”
Same argument, different day. He thought he was doing a service to our people by giving them jobs and bringing money into the tribal nation. And he definitely was. But my uncle Elan disagreed. It was an old argument between him and Dad that dated back to Dad’s initial decision to invest in this casino with other tribal owners and become the majority shareholder.
Uncle Elan had argued that Dad was only adding to the problems plaguing our community. Alcoholism. Gambling. Elan mostly stayed away from the casino because of it. He’d always been inflexible. My father was stubborn as well, but he was also compassionate and giving.
But at least they both stood for something. I didn’t know where I stood on the issue. I could see both sides. And that had always been my problem. Nothing really mattered to me besides music and Rachel. I went through the motions, and if shit happened around me or to me, I just shrugged it off and kept on going.
“I understand, Dad.” I brushed my fingers through my hair in exasperation. “I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Chapter Nine
Kai
My mother, who had been raised in the Netherlands, stayed out of my dad and uncle’s argument as well. But she supported my father fully. I could see the admiration in her eyes. Privately, she told Dakota and me that every culture had examples of failures and successes—the Dutch Eighty Years’ War, for example.
Before I moved overseas, she gave me a quick lesson in her homeland’s history—about the pinnacle of her culture, called the Dutch Golden Age—which I appreciated. Amsterdam had its share of culturally tolerant and liberal thinkers, and I’d felt comfortable there—even though my heart had been someplace else—despite the fact that I was referred to as an allochtoon, the Dutch word for foreigner, everywhere I went. I snickered to myself at the memory.
My father’s booming voice brought me out of my reverie. “Today I’m putting you out on the floor under Stuart.”
“Got it.” Stuart was one of Dad’s oldest and most trusted employees.
“And you’ll get a regular paycheck,” Mom said. “Depending on how many hours you work.” Mom handled the books in the casino with a team of accountants under her. Dakota was learning the ropes from my very intelligent mother. Apparently she’d gotten all the smart genes.
According to my late grandfather, I took after some distant relative who loved smoking his peace pipe, dispensing advice to the tribe, and beating the poplar drum every morning. Cool by me. At least he’d been accepted by his people.
“I want you to take out those piercings you love so much,” Dad said.
“Honey, he’s fine,” Mom said, squeezing my shoulders. But had she known all the places where I was pierced, she’d have fainted right on the spot.
She leaned close to my ear. “Ik houd van jou.”
I love you. It’d been the phrase Dakota and I had heard our entire lives. One that was a quick reminder of our Dutch ancestry. Thanks to Mom, I’d been able to pick up basic phrases in Amsterdam like please and thank you. But I had certainly never used the words she’d just uttered with anyone besides my family.
My mother still retained a slight Dutch accent, but it really rose to the surface when she was upset or angry. That was her tell, and right now, I knew she was frustrated with my father. Probably thought he was being too rigid. But I deserved it. I’d never compare to Dakota, who had blind ambition and worked hard to please my parents and make them proud.
I’d just always preferred flying under the radar and doing my own thing. Except that plan wasn’t quite working out for me. I should’ve protested more to my manager in Amsterdam. Honestly, girls came on to me all the time. How in the hell was I supposed to know that Johan would walk in right at that moment?
Sure, I needed to cut back on the weed. It slowed my reaction time and made me care even less about the things happening around me. Even Rachel had noticed. Which was so not cool.
Last night probably needed to be my last hurrah with pot. The phone call with my father this morning was only the beginning. Mom apparently had a nice little chat with her cousin in Amsterdam about the stash of dope I’d left in a drawer. Dad said if I didn’t shape up, he’d make me submit to the company drug policy. He probably would anyway. So I’d better not come in looking like I’d smoked.
I may have stopped lighting up whether or not Rachel had asked me to. But old habits die hard, so I needed to be more determined than before. If only she’d allow me to believe that she was soley thinking of me when we’d been together last night.
I tightened my fists at the same self-loathing thoughts that had filled my head the last couple of years. When would I finally get my shit together?
My problem was that I never stood up for what I believed in. Everything I did was half-assed. I didn’t fight for Rachel, for my education, or go after the jobs I wanted. I deserved a swift kick in the balls from my parents.
I was good at making people feel things—lust, happiness, anger. But never admiration. The thought of that hit me so squarely that I was thankful to be sitting down.
“You’re not saying you’re a fan of his piercings,” my father said disapprovingly to my mother.
“No. I’m not a fan,” she said, and then stifled a grin. “Well, maybe a little.”
My father huffed, and my mother strode over, laying her hand on his arm in an intimate gesture I’d seen hundreds of time. Still, I looked awa
y. I felt an ache—a longing, deep inside my bones.
“Have you forgotten what it was like to be young already?” she mumbled to my father. His eyes softened. “Let’s not be the type of parents who stifle their children. We never have, and I don’t want to start now.”
Mom was one of the coolest women on the planet, and I loved that she and my father were equals. She was confident and feisty and reminded me of a certain someone who wasn’t related to me. Even Dakota was practically her twin. Too bad I hadn’t inherited the confidence gene, either. Other than in the bedroom.
“Maybe that’s where we’ve gone wrong with Kai,” my father muttered, but I got the message. Typically my parents didn’t speak openly about rearing their children, but I could feel my father’s stinging disappointment from across the room. And lately it was really starting to affect me.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got Dakota to be proud of,” I said, and my father cringed. His eyes reflected regret, and I immediately felt awful.
“Son . . .” he began.
“It’s okay, Dad. I get it,” I said. “Whether you believe it or not, I actually do think that I have rocking parents.”
“And we have a rocking son,” Mom countered, but I wished it had come from my father’s lips instead. “Your father is understandably upset. I hope one day you’ll tell us what the bloody hell really happened in Amsterdam.”
“What always happens,” my father’s voice roared through the small space. “He screwed around and didn’t think about the consequences.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad!” I said, my own anger finally unleashing. “There’s no way in hell I screwed around with her. Do you think I have a death sentence or something? It was a total misunderstanding.”
“Then why didn’t you stand up for yourself?” Mom asked, her gaze searing into mine. “Fight for what’s right?”
My shoulders sagged. I was pretty sure my father didn’t believe me. And he had no reason to in the past. But this time had been different. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Whisper to Me Page 6
