by Mj Fields
We both look through the news feed on all the push notifications I get from various media and social media outlets on the Syracuse area.
Emma stops at one, the Carrier Dome. She zooms in and whispers, “Oh, my God.”
“Love, stop looking at those horrendous videos. Focus on the fact that we still have London.”
She holds the phone up and I see...him, Logan. Then I hear him demand, “Take a fucking knee.”
“Look what he did, Brody, look.” She holds it up closer. “He’s trying to help not only her, but his community heal.”
The door bursts open. “Dad, Mom, I’m trying to cook and there’s a problem.”
Emma jumps up and hurries to the door as Lexington laughs.
I look at the news feed for less than a second before hitting my recent calls list. He answers immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Hello works.” Fucker.
“Things are a little fucking hectic here, Brody, and I’ve had enough shit from...”
“Me. You’ve had enough shit from me,” I fill in the blanks as I sit back in the chair.
“Yeah, actually, I’ve had enough shit from you. I’m not gonna kiss your ass. I don’t have fucking time for that. So again, yeah?”
My eyes fall to the picture of Collin and it sparks a memory. A memory of when my own son was being an ass to him and how he handled it.
“I’d like it if you’d assist Maddox and me in putting together a benefit concert for the families of those not as lucky as we were last evening.”
“You want me to help you?” He laughs.
“Yes, Logan, I would like you to come up with some ideas, maybe make an entire day of it. You could rally your team—”
“Not my team anymore,” he interrupts. “But sure, whatever.”
“Logan...” I begin.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for getting her to safety. Thank you.”
Silence.
“Logan?” I say again.
“Yeah?” he says, giving me less attitude than before, possibly because I’m giving him less.
“Do not hurt her.”
“I know, ’cause you’ll kill me,” he huffs.
“I’d tell you I wouldn’t, but that would be a lie,” I tell him honestly.
“Gotcha. Anything else?”
“No.”
“All right then.” I hear what I think is a door close, then it sounds as if the phone is being muffled. “Doctor will be in momentarily, Mitch.”
“Is everything oaky? Mitch was the boy here, right?”
“It’s fine, Brody. Everything is fine.”
“It’s obvious at present moment we’re on the same team.”
“Should be more than obvious. It’s gonna be like that for a long-ass time,” he says, and then I hear a door shut again. “I’m not gonna fucking hurt her, and I’m a little busy right now, so if you and I could bullshit our way through bonding another time, that would be great.”
“I’m being sincere,” I assure him.
“Great. Wonderful. I should feel privileged, I know. Grateful maybe?” He laughs maliciously. “But I’m not sure what to make of a man who looks at my father with almost as much contempt as he looks at me.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I sigh.
“This plays out the way I’m seeing it, you and my old man are gonna need to get along. As much as you’re on London’s team, I’m on his.”
There’s the muffled sound again and him saying, “Dad, here’s some coffee. Good shit, not the crap from the cafeteria.”
“Did I see Mitch?” I hear Lucas’s voice.
“Yeah,” Logan mumbles. “London still with Keeka?”
“She stepped out,” Lucas tells him.
“Well, with fucking who? She doesn’t need to be alone. What the hell—”
“She’s with Tessa. This isn’t our first rodeo, Logan, okay?” Lucas seems a little stern with him.
“Sorry, Dad,” he sighs.
“What’s up with the earbud?” Lucas asks.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbles. “You still there?” he says to me now.
“Yes, I’m still here,” I tell him.
“Dad, Brody wants you to give him a call. He’s thinking the two of you could put together a benefit show. Maybe throw in some football shit.”
You little fucker.
“Logan...”
“Yeah?”
Yeah? Is that all he can say? Had a fuck of a lot more to say to me earlier on video message.
“I don’t recall asking for your father’s involvement.”
I hear a door shut, then he speaks. “Doing my part, Brody. Now it’s on you. Gotta go.”
The fucker hangs up...again.
I stand and see Maddox at the door. He looks at me and shakes his head. “We doing a concert?”
“Gotta do something to keep fucking busy.”
“What’s your issue with Lucas?” he asks.
“I was very fond of Collin,” I remind him.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
What the fuck? Now I’m saying it!
“Collin had less of a problem with Lucas than you seem to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, we’re going to throw one hell of a fundraiser, all of us, together. It means, you’re going to be forced to see that he is in fact a good man.”
“I never said he wasn’t,” I defend myself.
“If my wife can accept him, you need to, as well,” he tells me.
“He’s just so fucking—”
Maddox laughs. “Dad, it’s time to move on.”
“So I keep hearing.”
“While we are letting go of things, feel free to question me about keeping tabs on London.”
“You asked him to watch her?” I don’t look at him.
“I did,” he answers, sitting on the edge of the desk.
I nod. “Any reason you wanted to push them together?”
He nods. “Several. It would have happened regardless. I wanted him to know I wasn’t stepping back.”
“Interesting approach,” I say. I’m not going to lie and tell him it was a good idea. “So, when he sent her a fake ID, how did you feel about that?”
Maddox shrugs and looks down.
“Maddox?”
“She’s safer in a bar than private parties.”
He’s still hiding something, so I repeat, “Maddox?”
“I sent it.”
“You what?”
“Be angry with me all you want, but until the incident at Chaos happened, I believed it to be the right thing. Had the outcome been different...” He pauses.
He’s upset with himself. Knowing my son, he’s beating himself up more than myself or anyone else could about it.
“She’s fine,” I tell him.
“Because of Logan Links. The same Logan Links who slashed tires and threatened every boy in school so they’d stay away from her.”
“You’re kidding?” I gasp.
“Dad, I don’t kid. Yes, Logan has always watched over her. I’m sure he questioned himself, but he did it out of care and concern. He also never stepped over any lines with her. And I know some of the teasing she has done to him, yet he controlled himself.”
“She’s a kid,” I remind him.
“I was getting backstage blowjobs at her age,” he reminds me.
I was getting that and much more, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
“Dad.”
I look back at him.
“She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fiercely protected. She’s going to be loved.”
I nod, conceding to the truth in my son’s words.
“And...” He smirks, standing up. “He’s going to have his hands full. She won’t put up with any nonsense. So, when you want to tear him up, think about that.”
“You mind if I run Emma home to get...” I scratch my head, trying to come up with some bullshit excuse
to leave for an hour.
“Laid?” he asks. I look at him, seeing him shake his head. “Dad, I’m a married man; I know damn well what you’re going to run Emma home for.”
When we walk out and into the kitchen, I look at my wife. “Em, we need to run home for a little bit.”
“I wanna stay here,” Lexington whines.
“Sounds good.” I kiss her head then grab Emma’s hand, pulling her behind me to the back door. “I need you.”
“I need you, too.”
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Winds of Change
Logan
I watched over Keeka and London as they slept curled up together for the majority of the evening and morning. I spent some time holding Angel, and other times, I sat in the hallway while Tessa and London try to help Keeka breastfeed, hoping she will bond with her.
This is one of those times.
Dad walks up to me and hands me a water. “You need sleep.”
“What time is it?” I ask, digging my phone out of my pocket. It’s dead.
“Almost eight in the morning,” he answers, looking at me with concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine, really.” I open the water and chug it down.
“How about you and I go grab a new truck?”
“SUV,” I tell him.
“Whatever you want, but four-wheel drive...and maybe a bumper grill?” he jokes.
I look in the room while Dad calls his friend at the Chevy dealership. She’s asleep.
“Not sure I want to leave,” I tell him.
“Joe’s gonna meet us. Shouldn’t take long.” He looks in the room, too. “Four sleeping girls. Angel just ate an hour ago, so we’re good for at least two hours.”
§
We take a cab because Dad insists we’re getting a vehicle today. He ends up being right.
I choose a Black Chevy Tahoe, RST, 6.2 liter, V8, ten speed automatic transmission with leather interior and chromed the fuck out.
Dad got a new ride, too. Same thing in navy. His will take a couple days to get here. Mine we drive out of the showroom.
I make him swing by Babies “R” Us to grab some shit. It’s cool he’s with me. My dad knows more about baby shit than any man would admit. Any man but him.
He was born to be a dad. May sound odd, but he just was.
There is no shortage of help finding shit. Seems like every sales girl in the place is up our asses. Yes, ours. My dad loves one woman, but he comes off as a flirt. I tell him so, and he looks at me like I’m insane.
We get a breast pump that he asked the sales person about. Embarrassing as hell, but it is what it is. And we get a bunch of onesie things, blankets to “swaddle,” and some clothes that he is being really fucking weird about, holding shit up and telling me it’s cute or adorable. I mean, yeah, they are, but seriously? Shut the fuck up already.
We also got a car seat, a stroller, a portable crib, and a bassinet. Tons of shit. Hell, we have to fold the third row down because we have so much. Wipe warmers, diapers, pacifiers—he was a fucking mad man in that store.
“You think we have enough?” I joke as we get in the SUV.
He laughs. “Hell no.”
When we get to the hospital, the girls are just waking up.
“Have you even slept?” London asks.
“Little bit,” I say, kissing the top of her head, then doing the same to Keeka.
“You’re so full of it,” London says, getting up.
“Come take a ride with me?” I ask.
“But...” she begins protesting, just like Dad said she would when I told him I was going to have her come with me to take everything to the apartment building he says is livable. I haven’t seen it yet.
“Just an hour. Two tops.” I tell her.
“We’ll stay here with Keeka and Angel,” Dad tells her. “When you get back—”
“You named my baby?” Keeka asks Dad.
Not going to lie; her calling the baby hers is a monumental fucking moment.
“Logan calls her Angel,” Dad basically throws me under the bus.
“Looks like one.” I go to pull my hat down, slightly embarrassed, and London gives me a sweet smile. “Whatever,” I scoff. “She needs a name. I expect her to have one when we get back.”
London and I hold hands as we walk down the hall. On the elevator, we still hold hands, but as I lean against the wall, I pull her in front of me, wrapping my arms around her, hands still linked, and resting my chin on her head.
Once outside, we cross the road to the parking garage, still fucking holding hands. I don’t want to let hers go. When I open the passenger door of the Tahoe, though, I have to.
When I get in, I see she is looking behind her. Then she looks at me, then back again.
“Did some shopping,” I state the obvious.
“I see that,” she says as I reach around and buckle her up. “Thanks.”
As I back out of the parking spot, I feel her watching me and glance over. “What?”
“New ride?”
I nod.
“Nice.”
I nod again.
“Where are we going?”
“My place,” I tell her, trying not to smile.
“Are you staying at your old place?” I hear concern in her voice. Unwarranted.
“Nope.”
“You already have a new place?”
“Yep.”
She smacks me in the gut. “You had time to get a new place, yet not one message for me, Logan? Not one call?”
“Nope.”
I get another smack, this time harder and more deserving.
On the road, I grab her hand. Safer to hold it than be hit by it.
“You wanna touch me, feel free. No need to hit me.” I smirk, knowing it will make her a tad bit uncomfortable.
“You don’t want to get hit, give some explanation when I ask a question,” she says, giving my hand what she may consider a hard squeeze.
“I’m pretty sure we went over this.” I put her hand on my knee then use both hands to turn. “You need more explanation, cool. Mom’s a bitch. I tried to put it to rest. Realized I was wasting time trying to fix something beyond repair. I let it go too long—the anger, the animosity between us. I didn’t want the same thing to happen here, with you. I planned to come back and try to avoid needing you to be stuck up my ass so you could do ...you know.” I pause, looking over at her when I stop at the next stop light.
It’s written all over her face that she likes what I’m saying. I’m sure it’s written all over mine that I am uncomfortable saying it.
“Second love.” She nods her understanding.
“Apparently, it’s the first one you can’t get over.”
When the light turns green, I take her hand again and tap the gas.
“Or maybe the number doesn’t mean a thing, Logan. Maybe it’s the connection.”
“Meaning?”
“My dad was my mom’s first love,” she tells me. “But Brody is her forever love.”
I smile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I usually am,” she quips, sitting back.
I glance over, and she shrugs. I can’t help laughing.
It’s quiet for a minute, and then she sits back up and looks at me. “I still think your mom and your relationship with her is worth fighting for. I understand the hurt of rejection you may feel, but if you do try again, it won’t sting so bad.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Because, next time, you have me.”
So damn sweet at times. Naïve, too.
“And if I decide it’s not, you gonna let it go?”
“Probably not,” she says, which is exactly what I expected.
“You think we can get this Keeka shit sorted before I dive into that?”
“Of course,” she says, which is the opposite of what I expected, but it sure as hell is what I need.
I look over at her as I roll to a stop.
“What?�
�
“You look pretty, London.”
She laughs. “I highly doubt that.”
“You do.” I shrug as I drive toward the old warehouse.
“You don’t have to keep saying it. I forced you to once, but—”
“You didn’t force shit.” I bark a laugh. “Wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true. You are. Always have been.”
“Not always,” she says, trying to hide the smile in her voice. “Remember the braces phase?”
“Still pretty, just a different kind.” I squeeze her hand, then set it on my knee as I pull between the two buildings to the back parking lot.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, you’ve had your stages of pretty.” I put the vehicle in park, turn it off, and then open the door to get out. “Braces were awkward, but you were still fucking cute.” I shut the door then walk around to her side, opening the door for her.
“Take my hand. It’s slippery as hell back here.”
She puts hers in mine. “You don’t have to make things up, Logan. I know you just want to hold my hand.”
“That, too. But you busting your ass is something I’d like to avoid, as well,” I tell her.
“Is this your new place?” she asks, looking up at the five-story brick building.
“Yep,” I answer, walking to the back door, holding her hand and fishing for the keys Dad gave me in my pocket.
“The whole building?” she asks when I drop her hand to unlock the steel door.
“It’s one of the places Dad bought to fix up. One of the classes I took made me want to play around with green living, so we’ve been working on it off and on for a few years.”
“Green living, huh?” She walks in as I hold the door open.
“Greener living.” I don’t want her to get the impression that everything is green; it’s not. “Geothermal heating was the first thing we worked on.” I take her hand again and lead her through what will be the lobby to the stairs.
“It’s warm in here.”
“Always,” I tell her. “The flooring is engineered bamboo throughout.” We walk farther into the building that has come a hell of a long way. “This will be the lobby. There will be a gym and other shit down here on the first floor.”
At the stairs, I look back to see her looking around, taking it all in.
“The second floor is pretty wide open,” I continue. “I had planned to have office space there, hoping Dad would fight to get his company back from Mom and headquarter it here. Third and fourth floors will be either two or four apartments, depending on what I want to go for—luxury or possible student housing. Maybe even visiting professors, doctors, traveling nurses—whatever. I haven’t really thought about it. Floors four and five are interesting. The building connects to an old parking garage that we own, too, so it makes an L shape. Dad and I fucked with it so the fourth floor of the garage is now living space, too. It’s where we did most of the work. The fifth floor of the parking garage is going to be a greenhouse of sorts.”
