In Tandem

by Christina C Jones

  But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

  “Hell, I don't want her around me,” Raf agreed. “I didn't invite her here to the Heights, and I didn’t invite her ass upstairs last night. This is on my parents, and I still haven't figured out quite yet how to address this shit with them. But trust - it will be addressed.”

  Trust.

  Yeah, sure that was the operative word here, but the thing was - we hadn't quite established that yet, at least not as a romantic item. As much as I wanted to believe this was one of the areas where our friendship could stand in the gap for what this new relationship hadn't yet built…I really, really did not want to get burned again.

  I didn't want to ignore a blatant ass red flag.

  I wanted to believe I knew Raf well enough to trust that he wouldn't be trying to juggle women while he was supposed to be committed. But two weeks ago, I would have fought somebody in the street over an accusation that he would cheat at his sport.

  And I would have been wrong.

  As unfair as it was to hold that against him, I had to let common sense reign in a way it hadn't before. Not that I wouldn't take him at his word on this.

  I just wasn't going to be stupid.

  “I don't like that look on your face B,” Raf said, his eyes filled with uncertainty I hated to contribute to.

  “I'm sure you don't,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “But if the situation was reversed…”

  “Yeah, I get it,” he nodded. “I just… I feel like I just can't get anything right with this. Like I'm paying for the same mistakes all over again, when I thought I was at least somewhat past it.”

  “Those bad decisions never bite us in the ass just once,” I said. “It's this constant battle of trying to just not let it suck you up and spit you out. Not letting it destroy you,” I said. “But to ease your mind… you understand I'm not mad at you, right? I just don't like it.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “It feels like you're mad. Which is my own issue. I'll eat it.”

  “Yes,” I laughed. “You will, and you'll be okay. We’ll be okay. As long as it is what you said.”

  As much as I adored my mother, I was not her.

  I wasn't going to live the way she did.

  But of course, I didn't say that to him. If there was anything he should know about me, it was that.

  “Anyway,” I said, “Enough about her. Did you talk to your parents?”

  Raf shook his head, letting out an even harsher sigh than the one from before. “Nah,” he said, when his gaze came back to mine. “I knew when I saw Lucia it was about to be some bullshit, so I didn’t bother.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Your parents have always been your second and third biggest supporters,” I teased. “Why wouldn't you be able to talk to them? They've always been on your side.”

  “Always on my side, as long as my side involved getting my ass on that bike and winning those races. It's really easy to get it confused. Having your parents support, versus them just wanting you to win.”

  My head went back, blown away by what he’d just said.

  “So you don't think your parents support you?” I asked, wanting – needing - clarity on what he was saying.

  Raf scoffed. “You saw Lucia here last night just like I did. My parents know about her -exactly what I just told you. You tell me if you interpret them bringing her here as support or not.”

  Damn.

  “Well I mean…,” I started, feeling the inexplicable need to defend his parents. “They don't know everything that I know about the situation though. They don't know that you’re still triggered about all this. They don’t know about the steroids, that your trainer was okay with it.”

  “Okay with it?” Raf snorted and shook his head. “Yeah. But you’re right, they don't know about all of that, so maybe I’m taking it harder than it was intended. But even with only what they do know, I still find it fucked up. That they would use her to get to me. That shit isn’t cool.”

  I couldn't disagree there.

  It was pretty gross, coming from his parents.

  Pretty gross that the trainer was okay with it.

  If Raf and Lucia came together organically, fine. But for them, the parents, to step in? To turn it into some sort of transactional thing to manipulate their children?

  Damn.

  I was starting to wonder if I knew anybody as well as I thought I did.

  “So where are they now?” I asked. “I’m surprised they let you out of their sight.”

  Raf chuckled. “Oh I snuck out like a teenager, since that's the energy they seem to be on. After this, I'm actually about to hunt Sean down, see if he has any houses or anything on the market right now. Something I can get into quickly.”

  “You do know my couch is always open for you right?” I asked. “Indefinitely.”

  “Yeah,” Raf grinned. “And I appreciate you for it. But we need some level of space between us if this relationship thing is going to work out. I don't know about going from “just friends” straight to living together. And not to mention… I need space from my parents. I've never lived on my own.”

  I nodded. “Oh man, you're right. You went from relatives here, straight to your parents over there.”

  “Yep. And I spent so much time between training and traveling for races, that it didn't make a lot of sense to spend money on a home of my own. Now that I'm not going to be doing that anymore though…”

  “So you're sure about that?” I asked, a little surprised to hear him speak about it with such certainty.

  “Yeah, I am. I’d never be able to feel like another win was really mine. I'd always feel like I cheated the system.”

  “It's not as if you'd be the only one,” I argued, though I knew that was a shitty excuse. “They just haven't got caught. Hell - you didn't get caught. You just… didn’t feel right about it.”

  “And that is where I have to leave it,” he said, though I could tell from the tone of his voice that it wasn't a lightly made decision. “Right now, I get to keep my legacy - my name as a champion, before any of this happened. I barely feel like I deserve that. I can't risk having that stripped away for a mistake I made after.”

  “What, you think they would question your other wins?”

  “Hell yeah, I think they’d question it,” Raf chuckled. “Hell, I questioned it.”

  “Don't do that,” I said. “I'm supposed to have the monopoly on self-loathing around here.”

  He laughed. “Just another thing we have in common I guess.”

  “It gives us something interesting to talk about,” I laughed, as Raf reached for my hand, doing that thing again where he kissed my knuckles.

  “There's no one else I'd rather be fucked up with.”

  “Are you really going to hate him forever?”

  “Are you really going to keep asking me the same stupid question?”

  I cut my eyes at my brother from across the table we were sharing for dinner together at Pot Liquor. This was supposed to be a nice time - our weekly ritual to stay connected when we both – well, him more than me - had such busy lives.

  But he always wanted to bring up his damn daddy.

  I’d told him before, weeks ago, that I was going to stop coming if he kept bringing that bullshit up to me.

  I wasn't changing my mind.

  My heart wasn’t growing any softer.

  I felt the way I felt about it, and I would for the foreseeable future. It was pointless, trying to turn it into anything else. For the last few weeks he’d left it alone, and our dinners had gone on as planned.

  I guess he felt like he’d held off on getting on my nerves about it long enough.

  “We're getting older, Britt.”

  “You mean he's getting older,” I corrected. “And he's starting to feel the pressure of his old age, and he's in your ear to talk to me, trying to get in good with both of us. To make sure someone will take care of his ass when he can't anymore. Since he killed the person who wo
uld have been willing to do it.”

  Vaughn huffed. “And you don't feel like that's a little unfair?”

  “Unfair to who?” I asked.

  He shook his head, dropping his fork from stabbing at the mound of collard greens on his plate. “He paid for your livelihood, B. He gave you the building where you live, run your business – hell, two business. You can at least give him some credit for that.”

  I pushed my hair back over my shoulder and dropped my fork too, so I could look my dumbass brother right in his dumbass face.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked. “I know you're not trying to throw his guilt gift in my damn face. He made some big grand gesture because he felt bad for being too busy face deep in another woman's pussy to show up at his only daughter’s graduation. Or hell… maybe I shouldn't say only, knowing him. But the point is, hell no I don't feel like I owe him anything for this. Maybe if it had been presented out of the kindness of his heart, instead of a bribe to get our mother back to falling for his shit, I’d feel a little different.”

  Vaughn sighed. “You know you're not her, right?” he asked. “You weren’t the one in a relationship with him. You don't have to make him pay for the mistakes he made while in it.”

  “Oh, that's not what he's paying for,” I correct with a smirk. “He's paying for the mistakes he made as a father - for not showing us what it looked like for our mother to be treated well. For the mental anguish and emotional abuse he put our mother through, and it’s so disgusting to me that you’re just so cool about it. But I know you're his protégé, so maybe you don’t get it.”

  “Hold up,” Vaughn grunted, frowning. “You're not about to make me out to be like him with that shit.”

  “Tell that to Netta,” I reminded him. “I was the one answering the door when she came looking for your trifling ass at the house, crying because you wouldn't do right by her. But you wouldn't break up with her either. You kept her ass dangling on a string, just like your father did to our mother. The only difference was, you wouldn't marry her, and what a bullet she dodged with that. Oh, but she stabbed your ass for all her troubles, at the end. Maybe Mama should’ve done that.”

  “Wow. Wow. You’re so bitter about shit that doesn’t have anything to do with you, that you’re going to attack me for it?”

  “If you keep bringing it up, trying to play like you and your daddy are innocent, hell yeah. Every time,” I snapped. “If you want to talk about something, anything else, I can be your lovable little sister that gets on your nerves but is still great company, anytime you want me to be. But you don't get to bring up some shit I asked you not to, and then get mad at what I've got to say about it. It doesn't work like that.”

  “Well let me change the subject then, so I can get back on your good side. Since this is how you wanna act.”

  I shrugged, taking a sip from my drink. “Yeah, you do that.”

  I sat back in my chair, annoyed as hell that he’d taken me there. All I wanted to do was talk and laugh with my damn brother, but nooo.

  He just had to take it in a different direction.

  “So about your boy Rafael,” Vaughn said, apparently serious about changing the subject after we’d both taken a minute to chew a few bites, and take a few drinks, and cool the fuck down.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”

  “Just a lot of speculation. You know I follow all types of sports, listen to the podcasts, all that. He'll be coming up on what… almost two years since that accident in just a few months,” Vaughn mused. “He getting back on that bike or not? And I don't mean just for romantic getaways with my little sister.”

  “And now you're in business that isn't yours,” I laughed. “But you'd have to talk to Raf about that.”

  Vaughn tossed up his hands. “Yeah, I’ve tried. His agent says the brother isn’t responding to his press requests anymore. I’ve got Wil Cunningham-Bishop coming to do a live show as part of this podcast tour she’s doing. It’s going to be a live-streamed thing, and go out on the radio too. She knows Raf is from here. Wants to talk to him.”

  My eyes went wide. “Seriously? That would be huge,” I admitted. “But… again, you’d have to talk to him about it. I’ll put it in his ear for you, but that’s all I can promise.”

  If Raf really was intent on retiring, it wasn’t something he’d get away with being completely silent about. Cycling may not have been a sport with the highest profile, and he wasn’t exactly on every sports fans’ radar.

  But the people who knew, knew, and there were certainly plenty of them.

  Those people would have questions, and concerns, and after the support he’d amassed, the fans who loved and looked up to him… it wasn’t exactly an unfair conclusion that they “deserved” answers.

  At some point, he’d have to give them.

  “Why do I get the feeling you know something you aren’t telling me?”

  I laughed. “Uh, because I know something I’m not telling you,” I confirmed. “You’re big bro and all, but these lips are closed.”

  “Yeah, and you keep ‘em that way. Before I fuck ol’ boy up. I thought I could trust him with you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  “I notice you didn’t deny it when I said you were on a romantic weekend getaway with that nigga. Just friends my ass.”

  “Wow, so everybody is gonna be on my back about this, huh? I can’t have some business of my own?”

  Vaughn chuckled. “Oh yeah, you can have it. But didn’t you say I couldn’t get mad about you having an opinion on my business? Goes both ways little sister.”

  “That was different.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you think so,” he replied. “Share dessert?”

  I grinned.

  “Duh.”

  Chapter Eleven

  What kind of man are you going to be?

  I laid back in my bed, alone, letting that question play in my mind.

  It had been there, brewing, since nearly a week ago when I'd tracked Sean down. To tell him my plans, and see what he had, if anything, that would fit my current need.

  He had something.

  A property that needed work, but was pretty much move-in ready. It had been sitting empty since his team finished the major work – things like the roof, plumbing, fixing the electrical wiring. But it still needed paint, the kitchen and bathrooms were majorly outdated. The floors needed refinishing in some places, and for pet-ravished carpeting to be pulled up.

  Most importantly though… it could be mine.

  It could be mine soon.

  Which made it perfect.

  The thing was though… before I told even B about it, before I expressed to Sean that I was seriously interested, my mind automatically took me to a question I felt like I was way too used to wondering.

  What would my parents think?

  Okay, maybe it wasn't necessarily a bad thing for a grown man to want the advice and guidance of his parents. When there was a healthy relationship in place, it was a good thing to still have that type of connection with them.

  But… now that I was really starting to question exactly how “good” my relationship with my parents was, I had to give some profound consideration to the level of dependency I had when it came to them.

  I hadn't had to be a real adult.

  My parents were managing me, supporting me, taking care of everything that wasn't racing, so I could focus on that. I had to admit it had paid off in terms of me building a collection of medals and trophies. Bringing my name to a place that was synonymous with “champion”.

  But I had to be real with myself at this point.

  In a lot of ways, they hadn't been helping me at all.

  They’d been choking the life out of damn near every other facet of my existence, in favor of nourishing just this one. I had to figure out how I was going to navigate that, now that I was hell-bent on doing this shit - living this life - for myself.

  I
t started with a wire transfer.

  I paid for the house in cash, without running it past anybody but Sean, the home inspector, and the very excited realtor who got to handle the short transaction. I got their advice because they were professionals, and it was the smart thing to do. Not out of uncertainty, or waffling, or a need for someone else to make the decision for me.

  This was mine.

  And I got to decide who to share it with.

  I didn't say anything to my parents about it at all.

  Maybe that was the punk move, but I fully understood the benefits of timing. Yeah, I could shout it all loud and proud, and be subjected to the possibility of having to disrespect my parents to get them off my back about it. Or, I could just move quietly and get the shit done. No questions about it, and your opinion didn't fucking matter from the other side of my front door, did it?

  I had, however, declined to stay in their suite, deciding to finally get that room for myself I’d been thinking about. I stayed the first night just because there was so much - too much - going on for me to gather and arrange my thoughts in a way that supported getting anything done.

  And besides that, they were still my parents.

  Even with the Lucia bullshit, even though I was getting more and more unfortunate clarity about our situation day to day… I still felt bad about boxing them out. Killing communication for my little pilgrimage to the Heights really wasn't cool, no matter how I looked at it.

  But sometimes… you just had to do what you had to do.

  Maybe it was selfish, maybe it wasn't fair, but if it was what was necessary to keep you from spazzing out, to keep your mind intact…

  Sometimes you just had to do it.

  Like buying a house.

  Or dodging a few calls.

  Or moving to your own damn hotel room.

  I was twenty-six years old, and sure - I had plenty more years to live and a lot more wisdom to gain. But in the meantime, I was not going to be sneaking around like a fucking teenager.

  That was not the type of man I wanted to be.

  I also didn't want to be a man who threw away his relationship with his parents.