by M. J. Fields
I type out a stupid, nonsensical text, one like we used to send.
Clear skies over the Dome tonight.
I push send. Then I hear a song.
Her eyes nearly pop out, and she turns bright red as she hits the phone to quiet it.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Ha, ha,” she huffs. “I told your dad he was an ass for that; do you think I’ll hold back on you?”
Oh shit, I laugh to myself. “Answer the question.”
“It’s called a ringtone.” She puts her perfect little nose in the air and looks away.
Is it set just for me?
I hit send.
She jumps when she hears it, and I laugh.
She doesn’t even look at me, or the message. She walks past me, nose still in the air, and drops her damn phone in the garbage.
Dad is now laughing his ass off, and I can’t help continuing to laugh, too.
Feels damn good to laugh. Feels good to see her acting a little normal. Just feels good, ya know, to have life...still happening.
Thankfully, the garbage is empty, so I reach in and grab her phone, listening to my ringtone.
“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it. A little bit dangerous, but baby, that’s how I want it. A little less conversation, and a little more touch my body...”
Well, damn.
I chuckle as I walk toward her, music still playing.
I sit next to her. “You dropped something.”
“Screw you,” she whispers.
I reach over, take her hand, put the phone in it, and whisper, “I like it.”
She looks out the corner of her eye and hides her smirk while turning off the ringer.
When Keeka’s name is called, I look up.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Tessa says.
The nurse looks at all of us when we stand. “Who’s her coach?”
I look at London, and she looks at me.
“They are,” Dad says, smiling his fool head off.
I’m reminded of the video they forced us to watch at school, the one that nearly made me throw up, the birthing one. Dad had to come pick me up from the nurse’s office. He didn’t make a big deal about it. He actually said nothing until we pulled into the driveway when we got home, and then it was a chuckle as he got out of the vehicle and, “Great birth control,” before he shut the door.
I nod at Dad then look at Keeka. “You good with that?”
She nods and then growls, “I don’t care who’s in there, just get it out.”
When she’s been examined, the midwife comes out to tell us that she’s seven centimeters. Tessa explains that’s good, but it also means she can’t get an epidural, the pain med that would make this easier on her.
“Fuck,” I sigh right before hearing Keeka yell at the nurse...in a rainbow of Spanish verbiage.
“The Spanish version of Jade when she had Luke,” Dad jokes, and Tessa laughs.
Then Tessa stands and holds up the clipboard. “I’d like you to get her some pain meds to take the edge off, and I’m going to help get this paperwork filled out.” She doesn’t wait for a yes or no; she just walks in, stops at the door, and looks back. “Come on, she’s not in full-blown labor yet.”
“I have to be!” Keeka cries. “This is hell!”
After she’s given something to dull the pain, Tessa and London are on each side of her bed. London is holding a cloth on her forehead and feeding her ice chips, while Tessa begins moving through the questionnaire.
I feel Dad’s eyes on me and look at him. Concern shows in his eyes for me, like they did for Ava. I suppose it has always been there, but I haven’t noticed it until now.
“Mother’s name?” Tessa asks as Dad and I stare at each other.
“Carmen Garcia Lopez,” Keeka answers.
Dad’s eyes dart from mine to Tessa’s.
I look to Tessa to see she’s looking at Dad with the same stunned look. Then she clears her throat and continues.
“Her profession?”
“Which one?” Keeka, now half-stoned, asks then answers, “In the city, she danced on stages—whatever paid the bills. From Broadway to New York Dolls Gentlemen’s Club. When we lived in Syracuse for a short time, she worked at the same bar as I do. But I guess dancer and fitness instructor. She taught Zumba in Florida when she was younger. She said that’s when it all started. Her love of dance.”
“Carmen Garcia Lopez?” Tessa asks quietly.
Keeka looks at her and nods.
“Where in Florida?”
“Ft. Lauderdale, I think.” Keeka sighs. “It’s probably in one of those journals.”
Tessa looks back at Lucas.
“Do you know her?” London asks.
Tessa and Dad still stare at each other for far too damn long, and then they look back at London.
“Probably just a coincidence, but I met a Zumba dancer with the same name while on vacation years ago.”
“Where?” London asks.
“Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa answers, looking down at the clipboard.
“That would be pretty cool, huh, Keeka, if Tessa and your mom met a long time ago, and now, here she is when you’re in labor?”
“Probably just a coincidence,” Keeka groans.
“Do you have a picture?” London asks.
Keeka winces in pain. “In my phone.”
London goes to grab her phone as Tessa asks, “Your father’s name?”
Dad walks over next to Tessa and puts his hand on her back.
“I don’t know. I think I met him, on a beach in New jersey. But he was introduced to me as an uncle. Had lots of those,” she jokes, but she shows emotion...sadness. “I only remember him because he looked different than the others. He was blond. Met that guy a couple times. That time is even more memorable because there was a fight at a party between him, Mom, and another uncle.”
“A fight, huh?” Dad tries to make light of the situation. “I bet he and I would have gotten along great. I was a fighter back then, too.”
“Back then?” Keeka asks.
I notice Tessa nudge him.
“When I was younger,” he back tracks.
“Yeah, well, after that, there were less uncles and more aunts, if you know what I’m saying.” She sighs.
London laughs, handing her the phone. “I don’t.”
As Keeka scrolls through her phone, she elaborates for London. “She started dating women.” She hands London back the phone. “That’s me and Mom.”
“Wow, she’s beautiful.” London smiles as she looks at the picture, then shows it to Tessa. “Isn’t she?”
It takes Tessa a bit too long to respond, and Dad’s rested hand grips the back of her shirt. “Yeah, she certainly is.”
“Do you know her?” London asks.
I watch London and think back on the day she asked Keeka about her father’s accident. In her eyes, there is a bit of that same longing for a deeper connection with Keeka.
“Oh, fuck!” Keeka grabs her belly and sits straight up.
Tessa shoves the clipboard at Dad and holds her back. “Try not to push.”
“I have to!” Keeka yells.
“Lucas, go get a doctor to check on her.”
Dad stays unmoving.
“Lucas, now, or I will.”
“Of course, of course, baby,” he says, rushing to the door.
I step out into the hall and wait for him to get a nurse. When he walks back toward me, I tell him, “Spill it.”
“Probably not a good time to do that, Logan.” He starts walking past me.
I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Dad.”
He looks at me then runs his hand through his black hair. I see a few grays peppered around his hairline that didn’t used to be there.
“We know her mother,” he admits.
“From when?” I ask firmly.
“From a long fucking time ago,” he answers.
“Dad...”
“Before y
our mom, Logan,” he assures me. “Tessa and I dated, lived together, grew up together. We also vacationed together. We went to Ft. Lauderdale and, yeah, we met Carmen.” He sighs.
I knew they dated, but I hadn’t realized the exact amount of time, or that it was serious enough that they vacationed and lived together.
“Ask whatever question you have so we can get back in there,” he says.
“Was Mom your first love or second?”
He looks shocked by that. “I knew your mom first, but Tessa Ross was my first love. I was hers, too. Shit timing, but looking back, I’d have gone through every ounce of that hell again. Because, if not, I wouldn’t have you or your sister. She wouldn’t have—”
“Yeah, I get it, but you and Mom, you were before Tessa?”
“Jesus L., Logan,” he sighs out.
“I’m not pissed, Dad. I just needed to know if she was your first or your second.”
“First, Logan. Tessa was my first love.”
I nod, feeling a little wave of calmness come over me.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“Yeah, was London’s dad involved in that Ft. Lauderdale trip? Because there’s a fucked-up connection between Keeka and London, and I never really noticed it until just now, but they have the same nose.”
Dad looks over my shoulder, and I look back to see Tessa standing behind me.
“Just want to brace myself for what’s to come,” I tell them both.
“We were visiting Troy in Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa whispers.
“And they were together?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not then, but eventually, they ended up being together.”
“Well, that’s...fucked up.”
We all look at each other when the nurse comes out. “She’s eight and a half centimeters dilated. Not long now.”
Tessa smiles at her and nods. “Thank you.”
When she walks away, I tell her and Dad, “I want to be the one who talks to Brody.”
“We don’t know anything yet,” Dad tells me.
I roll my eyes. “No one can figure it out faster than him or Maddox.”
Tessa nods. “This is true.”
“But we already know the truth, don’t we?” I ask her.
“Meaning?”
“Piper said I was gonna have a Weed, and London’s sister was, too,” I tell her.
Tessa’s hand goes to her chest as she takes in what I just told her.
“Is it yours?” Dad asks, trying to remain calm.
“No, Dad, but if the father doesn’t step up, I’m gonna have a Reed,” I tell him.
I expect him to be annoyed, talk me out of taking on extra responsibility, but he smiles and nods. “I had a Luke when I was younger than you.”
I nod, thankful he gets it.
“It’s a good thing you have an entire apartment building. Guess it’s time to get serious about that project.”
I nod and smile a little. “Guess so.”
When I hear someone clear their throat, I look around Tessa.
London.
She looks at me, then Tessa, then Dad, and back at Tessa.
“She’s my sister?” she whispers.
“Honey, we don’t know that for sure.” Tessa puts her arm around her.
“I hope she is. That way, I know we can help her.” London reaches up and pulls her hair.
“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp.
“Get two baggies. Put this in one and call Maddox. I want to know the truth now. I’ll go get hers.”
I grab her arm before she walks in. “Hey, London?” She looks back at me. “Keeka will kick that pretty little ass of yours if you go yanking her hair.”
She tries not to smile as she looks down. “Can someone get me a brush?”
“I’ll go find one,” Tessa offers then begins to walk away.
“Tessa?” She looks back at me. “I think it should be you and London in there with her.”
Tessa nods. “Thanks, Logan.”
I look at Dad who smirks. Fucker.
I laugh to myself, knowing he thinks I’m still that big of a pussy after that video.
As he walks away to join Tessa, I look back at London.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her a little closer.
“Hey,” she whispers back, looking up.
I smile. “You look pretty.”
“Liar,” she scoffs. “I look like shit.”
“Gotta ask you a question,” I begin.
She pushes up on her tiptoes and grabs the back of my neck. “Yes, I told him.”
Oh hell, I think as I press my lips against hers.
Keeka’s pain-filled yell breaks us apart.
“Go,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. She nods. “And London?”
“Yeah?” she asks, smiling now.
“You look really good in my sweatshirt.” I wink.
She shrugs. “You should see me in your boxers.”
I have no fucking clue why I feel like the wind was just knocked out of me, but I do. Hell, I can’t say shit.
She turns to walk back into the room then stops. With her back to me, she lifts the sweatshirt and pulls her leggings down just enough to show me that she actually is wearing my fucking boxers.
“What the hell is that?” Dad laughs.
London turns quickly and groans, “Lucas, go away!”
I look at Dad, ready to tell him to back the fuck off her, but Tessa is next to him, smiling.
“Both of you may find this cute, but there’s a British man, who has actually killed a man with his bare hands, who doesn’t find this at all amusing,” I tell them.
“How the hell do you know about that?” Tessa gasps.
“Matthew, your son. Been warning me away from her for years,” I tell her.
“How did he know about that?” Tessa acts shocked.
“How the hell don’t I know about that?” Dad asks. Then he immediately says, “He touches you, I’ll kill a British man with my bare American fucking hands.”
“Relax, Links.” Tessa laughs. “We have something stronger than you both.”
“You think so?” Dad huffs.
Tessa nods. “Emma.”
“Now, how the hell would a woman be able to...?” He stops when Tessa grabs his hair and yanks him down to whisper something in his ear. He laughs as she steps back. “True.”
When Tessa walks into the room, he looks back at me.
“What did she say?” I ask.
Dad laughs. “She said the truth.”
“And what’s that?”
He smirks. “Pussy.”
I roll my eyes at his bullshit.
“Roll those eyes all you want, but the truth is, you drove through a bar’s window and faced death to save the one you’re playing with.”
“Dad, I haven’t fucked London,” I tell him.
“You can tell that to the Brit. I’m your dad; don’t try—”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
He looks at me for a few seconds then starts to laugh.
“I’m damn serious.”
He pats my back. “I know that.”
“Then, why are you laughing?”
He smiles. “Because that means you’re even more fucked than most men.”
“Meaning...?”
“You’re in love with that girl,” he says, still smiling.
“So?”
“You’re gonna start a new Revolutionary War. This time, it won’t be about tax; it’ll be about ass. Don’t worry, son; the Americans always win those. I got your back.”
The British
Logan
Sitting in the waiting room alone, with two baggies of dark hair, I take a deep breath then send a text to—not Maddox as instructed—Brody, asking him to answer my FaceTime request, alone, in five minutes.
I sip a cup of coffee while I prop my phone up and wait for the right time to call.
He doesn’t respond, I don’t care.
&nb
sp; Five minutes later, I hit him up on FaceTime.
When he answers, he looks pissed. Again, I don’t care.
“Need to tell you something that’s not gonna be easy for you to hear, but—”
“I will break you,” he sneers, leaning forward.
I lean in, too. “This has nothing to do with London or me. I told you earlier, she’s still a virgin.”
“She better remain that way, too,” he continues to sneer, sitting back.
I want to tell him that’s highly unlikely, but I know what he’s about to face, so I don’t buy into the bullshit.
I hold up the two bags, and he leans in again.
“This is hair from London and Keeka.”
“What the hell kind of shit are you doing?” he snaps.
“Keeka’s mother was with Troy years ago. The two—”
“Wait. What?” He looks utterly confused.
“We think London and Keeka are both Troy’s. We think they’re sisters.” I set the bags down and let him absorb that information.
“The girl who was here, the one around the same age as London?”
“They’re the same age,” I tell him.
“You suspect Troy fathered both girls?” He looks at me like I’m being ridiculous.
“They clicked right away. Keeka doesn’t click with anyone.”
“So that assumption warrants—”
“Keeka doesn’t even know her father. Possibly met him at a party on a beach in New Jersey years back.”
When I tell him that, his face drops.
“What?” I ask for clarification on his non-response.
He stammers for a few moments then looks back up at me. “She’s mine to take care of. My daughter is mine to protect.”
I sigh. “I should have fucking called Maddox.”
“What the fuck does that mean!”
“It means, he at least fucking appreciates that I give a fuck about your daughter. It means that you and I are on the same fucking team,” I snap.
He points at the camera. “You’re not on my team.”
“Good to know I’m more grown up than you,” I huff.
“You arrogant, little, fucking—”
“I don’t need a thank you for last night. Like it or not, I’m gonna be around. I’m gonna go into fucked-up situations, not caring about shit except her. I’m gonna make damn sure she’s okay. I love her. So do you. Suck it up.” I lean back, trying to calm the fuck down.
