by Amber Burns
I swallow hard, my anger simmering quickly, boiling over when I hiss, “How the hell is that supposed to help me?”
“Go talk to her before she moves on,” Holly says emphatically, going from pleasant to fire-cracker at the first whiff of animosity her way. “Why are you standing her chewing our heads off – be a man, tell her you care and leave it to her.”
She sounds like Jesse.
“I’m hearing that a lot,” I grumble, but reining in my bark. The bite I’m reserving for the asshole moving in on my woman.
Dan punches my shoulder lightly. “Go get her, cave man.”
“Oh, yes,” Holly jumps up, hand spread over her chest, and her grin wide, her tight bun looking like it’ll fall out from its pin if she nods any harder. “Tossing her over your shoulder and beating your chest is sexy for a lot of women. Gay men, too. But do it right.”
I tuck my guitar away in record time and leave. Outside the studio I run into Custodio of all people.
Guess I played longer with the guys than I thought. It sure felt like I’d been there for an instant. Oddly, the time I spent apart from Astra did not feel like an instant.
More like a freaking eternity.
“Good, you’re here. Let’s talk.” He says, turning and expecting me to follow. I dig in my heels.
“I have to go. Places to be, people to talk to,” and what I mean is ‘one place to be, and one person I really need to talk to’.
“Five minutes,” Custodio’s playing hard-ass; good thing I’m sick and tired of his crap then.
“Two, and then I’m leaving.”
He gives me a long look and then he nods, turning on his heels. “Then we’ll talk here since you’re so busy.”
“What’s up?” I remind him he’s on the clock and I want this little ‘talk’ over and done with. When the fuck have we ever talked?
I almost laugh at the thought of a normal conversation between us. More like being talked at by Custodio with…
No more.
He nailed his coffin of control over me with the whole marriage shit. And I have Astra to thank for that dying a quick death.
“The Campos have delayed their flight,” he has his hands at his back, shoulders straight, his whiskers wriggling with secrets and devious plans. “I’ve also invited them to Lola’s social event.”
My jaw locks, my annoyance at being delayed bleeding away
Social event? Who the fuck is he kidding?
This would be a teen party with some parents watching for any quick fingers and bottles over the punch bowl and monitoring the upstairs rooms for extracurricular hook-ups.
“Katherina is very interested in hearing your music, and I’ve let her know you’ll be free outside of playing a brief concert.” He nods, smiling tightly like the deal is signed, sealed and stamped with a big ‘Fuck You, I Win’.
No, fuck you, slimy asshole.
I keep my tone neutral, forcing my hands open from the fists that more easily incline me to use them on him. “Great. But I’ll be out of commission. My girlfriend will be attending. You met her a couple nights ago. Astra Olsen, a school counsellor at St. Bernard and Justice. Lola knows her, too.”
His smile slips, just what I wanted.
And that’s time.
“I have to go now,” I make to pass him, but he catches my arm. I shrug out of his hold, and now we’ve switched positions with his back facing the closed door of the studio.
Thank God for the sound-proof, otherwise Jesse, Dan and Holly would be hearing this. Especially the next part...
“I’m to understand Dr. Olsen doesn’t feel the same for you.”
“From?” My eyes narrow as my thoughts zip ahead to his insinuation. I had my suspicions, but I have to hear him say it before I react.
“She confided to my wife while the ladies were in the powder room. TzaTza was quite shocked on your behalf.”
Like fuck she was.
I guess I spoke that part aloud because Custodio’s shoulders shoot up to his ear and he points a finger at me. “You watch your mouth.”
“I’m not twelve anymore.” I say, folding my arms. “Makes me old enough to swear all I want. It also makes me old enough to take whoever the fuck I want to bed. You don’t control my dick, Senor.”
“Shut your mouth right now! You will not insult me in my own house, under my roof no less!” He doesn’t move, but he’s swaying, shuddering with his explosive, out-of-nowhere wrath. Well, not entirely out of the blue. He sure looked like he wanted to skewer me with the cutlery during dinner with the Campos.
“You came to me, a bastard, and I make you this man standing in front of me. You and your siblings would be nowhere without my generosity.”
“So you can swear but I can’t.” It’s a petulant accusation, but my mind’s checked out. That and I’m far from being a bastard: My dad’s just a lazy deadbeat – sometimes I wonder if I should laud him for getting out and away from mom’s mercurial temper.
Anyways, Custodio Lopez isn’t any better than the biological version. It’s a case of two evils, only I’m seeing dear old real dad as the lesser, phantom evil.
“And you hardly ‘made’ me. I worked hard for this,” and then I almost immediately correct myself, “we worked hard for this, Jesse, Dan and I. And no one, least of all you, deserve to take credit for all the hours, days and nights, months and years we put into our music.”
His face goes from mottled red to a freaky red-purple as his veins bulge around his neck. “You, you,” he splutters. “You’re just like your madre!”
“Leave my mother out of this.” My tone is curt, icy.
Custodio flails his hand as if he’s slapping away my words. “She was a greedy woman who kept taking, and taking, and left without so much as a word to me.”
I’m not sure how it ended, but it gives a larger picture to their break-up. One day mom’s living in OC and the next she’s following after my sister and setting up in Connecticut, my brother not too far the family either doing his graduate studies – or so I’m told.
I’ve been long out of the lives of my siblings and our mom to keep track of them. Other than the yearly formalities of holidays, I regulated video chats to the face-to-face family meetings. And since I send my fair share of gifts and money during those times, I usually don’t get grief from them.
Jesse and Dan always have their say about the way the McBrides deal with each other, but it’s not my fault. None of them has bothered to say they miss me.
Even so, hearing Custodio Lopez talk about my mom clenches my fist and the next thing I see is the haze is clearing and I’m looking at the older man, clutching his jaw, clinging to the wall, his eyes bulging with a range of emotions.
The contempt and anger I see clearly and understand, but it’s the slice of stark fear that surprises me. The studio door flies open and the guys fall out with their gear into the hall, Holly behind them.
All three of them stall in the threshold of studio and hall as Custodio looks back at them, stiffening his upper lip and slowly removing his hand from cupping the red area to the left of his jaw. No amount of manning up will cover the bruiser it’ll become later if my throbbing hand says as much.
My bad hand clenches at the sight. The violence isn’t me, but damn if it doesn’t feel good.
I can already see Dan and Jesse’s questioning looks, but I’ve wasted enough time here. With more confidence than I’ve ever displayed in front of Custodio in the twenty-four years he’s been in my life, shadowing my every decision, the master-mind behind Ryker McBride, gold-selling rock star, I turn my back on him.
“See you later,” I toss it over my shoulder at everyone in general.
Lately I’ve been driving with blinders on. It’s a miracle that I haven’t gotten into a car accident yet. Right now my thoughts are several steps ahead. Just as I think I have grasp of the words I want to say to Astra, I lose it all when her guest answers the door.
Asking for Astra tightly, he steps back slightly
and calls Astra, suggesting their relationship is casual…familiar. I don’t like it.
The sour taste in my mouth only intensifies when Astra herself climbs down the stairs and stands beside her well-dressed guest, ‘Charlie’. This Charlie guy breezes off, something about his suitcase, and the idea of his staying at hers cleans my mind.
I step in from the cold when she silently hints at her invite, stepping back to give me room and leaving me with the task of closing the door.
It doesn’t help that the residue of my uncorked rage with Custodio is buzzing around my veins, heating my blood to an uncomfortable degree.
I can see it now, the word vomit demanding to know every detail about that guy and his connection to her, of ruining any chance I can get by acting like an angry not-boyfriend.
“Hi,” she greets shyly.
That’s all it takes. One little ‘hi’ and the anger goes poof.
“Hey.” I shove my hands into my jean pockets for lack of a better place to put them while I talk to her. That and I’m sorely tempted to brush the partially wet strands snaking out from her temples down her cheeks.
She looks gorgeous, as usual.
The print and art on her tee shirt is too tightly fitted across her bust for me to make sense of picture or slogan. Though I love to see them bare, her shoulders are covered by a sheer black cardigan, and her legs are squeezed in a pair of faded light wash jeans.
“Company?” I ask, gaze shooting back to her face. Her cheeks are redder, likely from my eye-humping her.
“Yes,” she almost hisses out the word, her breathlessness giving me a new hope. “Charlie is, er, was my brother-in-law. But that was a while ago. My sister’s been divorced for a while.”
“Brother-in-law?” at my question, she nods slowly, once. I have to mentally give myself a good shake, and try to control the hysterical laugh of relief I really want to laugh. “He’s your brother-in-law. Ex brother-in-law.” I repeat to reassure myself.
We both tune into the loud thud from her den. Astra excuses herself to check on Charlie. She gives me a nice view of her rear as she asks after his health, returning quickly to where I’m rooted in front of her door.
“Sorry. He’s packing.” She says, hands gripping her sleeves and wrapping her arms mid-way around her stomach.
“He’s leaving?”
“Yeah. He came in yesterday and surprised me.” Astra then does something I don’t expect. She sniffs loudly and covers her mouth, looking to her feet like her fuzzy animal-print slippers are the most fascinating thing.
I step towards her only to be overcast by the nimble Charlie, ex brother-in-law. I have to say that a few times over when he wraps his arm around Astra from behind and turns their side-hug into a hug-hug.
Eyes shooting through their middle, I have to chant a little louder, a little quicker. He’s her ex brother-in-law. Ex brother-in-law, nothing weird going on here. Totally platonic.
Charlie just better not have a boner under those fancy dress pants of his, or else.
He smooths her hair from her face and whispers, “We’ll get through this. Leave it to me.”
I cross my arms over my tightening chest, tucking my fists against my body to prevent another violent episode.
Not in front of Astra.
That’s not me. I don’t hurt people; even if both the incident with Custodio and now Charlie seems to share a common denominator, my girl. Which makes me wonder at whether love brings out the best or worst in people?
Probably both.
Hopefully.
“What’s going on?” at my question, Astra ducks her head and swipes her hands over her face like it’s a secret she’s gone watery-eyed.
It’s Charlie who answers. “I don’t think we’ve met.” He holds out a hand and introduces himself just as Astra described, the ex-husband of her younger sister – the same sister finishing up her rehab and would be moving in with Astra in that guest room upstairs.
A knock on the door behind me shifts me around to answer as I’m the closest.
“Did you call for a taxi?” the middle-aged man on the other side nods at Charlie’s positive response, turning back to his running car.
“That’s my call.” Charlie nods and smiles warmly at the both of us. “Ryker, it was a pleasure meeting you. Astra, take care and we’ll talk soon. You have to come down and see Eva soon. Promise”
“Promise.” she smiles, her eyes shimmering again.
What the hell is going on? Who is this guy, who’s Eva, and what happened to the strong Astra I knew and should I be worried?
Charlie squeezes her arms and releases her – all the better for my rising blood pressure. “Flight’s in two hours and there’s the drive to Newark and the line-up at the gate. Also Pam wanted me to check in before liftoff.” He hugs Astra again – fuck blood pressure – and grabs a handle on the roller suitcase off to his side. “I’ll call you when I land.”
I shift out of his way, switching places with Astra as she sees him to the front door and watching until the taxi does a uey in the wide two-lane road and heads back the way it came, presumably towards Newark International.
“Where does he live?” I ask lamely. It’s either that or I jump in the deep end of the real reason I’m here and without floaters, and I’ve never been particularly brave.
“Charlie grew up with us in Columbia and he never left.”
Astra sighs, before she continues. “My sister never left either, before her convalescence.” Rehab, she means, but I can see saying it is hard for her.
“He still lives in the house he bought when he married her. Only he lives there with his new wife, Pam, and their three-month old girl, Eva.”
Okay, that makes sense. Talk about my over-reaction…
She’s facing me, leaning against the door, but her body language is tuning me out. But she’s still talking, sharing, and since I know she probably doesn’t tell much people about this part of her life, I can’t complain.
“Charlie came to let me know she – my sister, May, was released a week earlier than scheduled. That and she graduated almost four days ago,” the way she says it lets me know that it was unexpected.
“Is congratulations an order?”
Astra crosses her arms and, God forgive me, but my eyes lock on her beautifully big, all-natural tits all the more exaggerated by her actions. “I wish,” her put-upon sigh slaps my dick and I sober up quickly. “I mean, it’s great. I’m happy for her.”
“But?” I help her out.
Astra worries her lip, weighing her words perhaps. Like I’m going to judge her – damn it, I thought we were stronger than this.
Blame yourself, dipshit. She probably can’t trust you after that night.
And what I wouldn’t give to go back and change the evening, maybe calm the heck down, or wise up earlier and tell her everything I sure as hell will be telling her now.
“She doesn’t want to live with me,” she finally says, and I can hear her heartbreak. My own heart thumps painfully for her. After all the hard work she put into the room, she sounded ready to be near family and it’s funny how I feel the exact opposite with my own mother, sister and brother.
I can’t say I know what she’s feeling, and I’m not even going to be a douche and pretend I do.
What I can do, I do: I close the gap between us in three strides before she has a chance to push me out.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair, drawing her closer, but keeping my arms loose about her middle. My knees are bent to get a good grip on her. It’s all about her comfort, I realize. Sex, for once, isn’t at the forefront of my mind...or tenting the front of my jeans.
Astra doesn’t fight me like I expect, but she isn’t also pulling me against her, raining kisses over my face and telling me passionately that my love is returned in full.
“Why are you here?” she asks, so softly I’d surely miss it or ask her to repeat herself if it hadn’t been pressed to my ear.
My chin resting on
her shoulder, I keep as still as possible. Scaring her off now would be bad. If she’s letting me hold her it’s the very possible reason that she likes me...feels something other than the disgust or hatred that’s been plaguing my thoughts the past two nights.
“I needed to see you.”
“Why?”
I gulp. Here’s the moment of truth, and for what I have to say I’d be smart to look deep into her eyes, see her reaction for myself. Those first few seconds could mend, or break all over again, my heart
