by Sophia Henry
Because I’m nineteen, I haven’t been to many bars. I’ve been to the kind of bars that are also restaurants, where kids are welcome during lunch and dinner hours. I’ve been to countless concert venues, and yes there’s drinking, but since the bar is not onstage, I usually couldn’t even direct someone to it.
The building I followed Landon into was definitely a bar. The dark wood paneling made me feel like we’d fallen into a hole, and since we had to descend a few steps when we entered, I guess I could call it that. The decor screamed “dive bar,” or at least what I imagined a dive bar would look like.
Neon beer signs with logos representing every Detroit sports team, as well as a few Michigan college teams, filled the walls. A Golden Tee golf videogame loomed in a back corner next to a vintage Pac-Man table. A few two-person and four-person tables were scattered around the room, but one huge pool table dominated the entire place. Anyone sitting at a table would get a cue stick to the back of the head. Or to their face, depending on which seat they’d taken.
Landon sidled up to the bar and took the seat next to one of the three other patrons, so I would be able to sit without someone on the other side of me.
“Jesus, Landon, it’s three-thirty in the fucking afternoon.” An enormous man with a more-salt-than-pepper handlebar mustache growled the hostile greeting. He tromped toward us while wiping his hands on a dingy bar towel. As he walked, a ponytail that matched the color of his mustache swung back and forth.
“Yeah, Uncle Brian. I know.”
“Never gonna make it to the NHL with this kind of schedule. Don’t you have practice today?” Brian grabbed a tall beer glass, set it under the tap, and tipped the Pabst Blue Ribbon handle down.
“Had it this morning.”
“Oh, good. So does this fall under a clean eating routine?” He slid the beer in front of Landon and looked at me, his eyes and tone flicking from gruff irritation to warm and welcoming with a simple blink. Quick adjustments between customers: a successful business person’s ultimate trait. “What can I get you, sweetie?”
“Um, a Sprite?” I stammered at the abrupt change in his tone. “Please.”
He winked and pulled a glass from under the bar. Then he filled it by pressing a button on the soda gun.
“You been running?” Brian set my Sprite in front of me, but his question had been directed at Landon. At least I hoped so, because his brusque tone returned.
“Gaby, this is my uncle. Uncle Brian, this is Gaby.”
“Gaby, you say?” Brian’s eyebrows lifted.
Someone should write a book about Brian’s eyebrows. They had a personality all their own. Full and bushy with gray and white wiry hairs sticking out in every direction. Which totally fit him, because he didn’t look like an eyebrow-grooming kind of guy.
“Yes.” My voice caught on the word, a bubble of hope stuck in my throat at the thought that Landon might have mentioned me to his uncle. “Gaby Bertucci.”
Brian snatched a credit card receipt off the bar and tucked a pen behind his ear. “That’s where I knew the name. How’s your dad?”
“He’s doing better. Thank you.” I removed the straw he had dropped next to my Sprite out of its wrapper and popped it in the glass.
The first sip of pop washed away the bubble of excitement lodged in my throat. My name rang a bell because local business owners in Detroit knew of other local business owners. They probably talked about Papa’s heart attack like my family talked about what was happening in the community. Sometimes Detroit felt like a small town where everyone knows everyone. I thought it was different because of our fierce loyalty and desire to get the city back on top, but it was probably like that in large cities across the world. Or in certain areas, if not the entire city.
“Glad to hear. Joe’s too young for that shit.”
I nodded. Papa was a well-known figure in our community, not a celebrity, but he always made sure the Bertucci family continued my great-grandpa’s mission of being positive role models in the city, no matter what difficulties our family had on its plate at the time.
“Fucking Fabian,” Landon whispered into his glass before he lifted it to his lips and took a sip. Or rather, a chug. He’d finished half the beer in one tip back.
Without thinking, I rubbed Landon’s back and said, “You’ll get there. I know you will.”
When he turned to face me, his eyes were wide, and his mouth curled up into a sad but hopeful smile. That’s when I realized the back I rubbed didn’t belong to one of my brothers, and I quickly grabbed my Sprite with both hands.
“Thank you, Gaby. Sometimes I need that.”
“Need what?” I asked.
“A pat on the back. A confident word about how I’ll make it to the NHL. It’s hard to have people riding me all the fricking time.” He lifted his gaze toward his uncle for a split second before dropping it back to his glass.
“Everyone does.” This time I thought hard about it and placed my hand on his shoulder anyway. “Everyone needs encouragement. Especially during the hard times.”
Landon lifted his beer to his mouth again and drained it in one gulp. “How about you, Gaby? Do you ever need encouragement?”
“All the time.” I removed my hand from his shoulder as I spoke. “Right now.”
“Why now?”
Suddenly reality hit me, and I realized that I didn’t have the skills to shoot the shit or beat around the bush, so I spilled it.
“It’s so random to be sitting in a bar with you when we’ve never talked about anything but fruit, veggies, or Legos.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Landon’s shoulders shook briefly in a silent laugh.
“Why did you kiss me at the concert? How do you know so much about me? What brought on all this random attention?”
“When I left the store after your dad’s heart attack, you looked absolutely lost. I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t know what to do. I tried to check in without sounding too nosy.”
“I got your messages and the flowers. They were gorgeous. But you never left your number.”
“Yeah.” Landon laughed. “Fail on my part. I’d heard you say you were going to the Twenty One Pilots concert in Chicago. We had a game there the night after so I bought tickets and—” Landon put his head in his hands. “Jesus, I sound so fucking creepy right now.”
“Well, no one has ever tracked me down before.”
“That didn’t help, Gaby.”
I patted his upper thigh. “Now that I know your motivations, I don’t think you’re creepy. It’s sweet that you would go out of your way to find out what I liked. I mean, you could’ve just asked me. But, ya know.”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you forever, Gaby. Like, really talk to you. And then your dad had a heart attack, and I stood there like an idiot.” Landon lifted his empty glass toward his uncle, who shook his head “no” as he filled up a pint glass for another customer.
If Landon’s drinking angered Brian, why did he serve him?
“What are you talking about? You called nine-one-one. I was so freaked out I totally froze. My dad would probably be dead if you hadn’t been there.”
“You said it was a mild heart attack, Gaby.”
“Right, but mild could’ve turned tragic when an idiot like me doesn’t even think to call nine-one-one.”
“You are not an idiot, Gaby. You’re far from that.”
“Again I remind you that we don’t know each other, Landon.”
“I thought I proved we did.”
“No. You proved you’re kind of a stalker.”
“Not a stalker, a good listener.” He chuckled.
“Everything I know about you is public information any fan of yours could find out. I don’t eavesdrop on your conversations,” I teased.
“So you’re saying you’ve Googled me?”
“Well, yeah, I mean,” I stuttered. How could I spin my obsession? “You’re a successful hockey player who’s been coming to our stores for years. I like to kee
p up with your career.”
“Have you ever Googled ‘Landon Taylor naked’?”
“Nope. I can’t say that I have.”
“Let me know if you do. I don’t want to have that in my search history and I always wondered what was out there on me.”
“Do you have anything to be worried about?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Oh.” My hopeful heart deflated like a pierced balloon. Of course he had to be worried. We lived in the age of conceited puck bunnies with smartphones and social media.
“I’ve always gotta be on alert. I have three brothers with access to my baby bath photos. And I’ve had hundreds of teammates over the years. Hockey players like to play pranks. Mean pranks.”
I laughed while my heart settled back into place. I didn’t think Landon was a virgin or anything, but I’m glad he hadn’t shoved it in my face how many girls might have naked pictures of him.
“Yeah, Drew has told me about quite a few of the pranks.”
“The X-rated ones?”
“Probably not. I don’t think I need to know about those. There are some hockey traditions that should be left to the players.”
“True. Muggles just don’t understand.”
“Did you just use a Harry Potter reference?”
“I know you think I’m a dumb jock, but Landon. Can. Read. I bet I could be part of your book club.”
His comment made me choke. How many posts would I have to go back and hide on our group’s Facebook page so Landon couldn’t access the overanalyzing girlie discussions about him?
“Why don’t we start our own book club?” I suggested, lifting my drink to my lips.
“The Gaby and Landon Read and Act Out Erotica Book Club?”
There wasn’t enough Sprite in the world to hide my embarrassment, so I pushed the glass out of the way, folded my arms on the bar, and buried my head in the hole it created.
“I keep forgetting I have to be careful with you.” Landon patted the back of my head.
I turned just enough to catch him with a side glance. “I’m not fragile. Or naive. I’m just quiet.”
“You haven’t shut up this whole time.”
I lifted my head and sat up, straightening my back against the barstool. “Okay, I’m quiet around certain people.”
“Glad I’m not one of them.”
“When people go through life and death situations together, I think they tend to bond quicker.”
“That’s true. So let’s bond.” Landon set his foot on the rung at the bottom of the chair and leaned toward me. “You have two brothers. One who plays hockey and one who can’t run a store to save his life.”
I inched my chair closer to him. “Yep. That sums it up.”
“I know Drew. I played against Drew in Midgets. I didn’t know he had an older brother though.”
“Joey does his own thing. He never went to any of Drew’s games.”
“Does his own thing how?”
“Smokes weed, plays videogames, moves across the country, and sleeps on his friends’ floors so he doesn’t have to pay rent.” Not that there was anything wrong with that.
Landon grinned. “Ah. The slacker. Odd for a firstborn.”
“What about you? Are you a typical middle child? Rebellious. Nobody loves me. Older brother is perfect. Younger siblings get everything they want. Stuck in the middle, overlooked by the success of the oldest and the needs of the youngest.”
It was a joke, it really was, since Landon seemed to me to be the most successful of the Taylor brothers. But instead of laughing, Landon dropped his eyes to his lap and began picking at his cuticles. Which told me my exaggerated rant about middle-child stereotypes hit the cliché nail on the head without even realizing it.
“Oh, sorry.”
“When you put it that way, I sound like an ungrateful jerk.”
“I didn’t mean that. I was—”
“You’re absolutely correct, Gaby,” he interrupted my apology. “I am an ungrateful jerk. I just don’t know how to rectify the situation.”
The silence between us sat heavy and thick, like a soggy sleeping bag left outside during a rainstorm at a campsite.
“My parents adopted my older brother, Jason. Did you know that?”
I shook my head. So that’s what he meant when he’d said he was the only one born into the family.
“My mom and dad wanted kids right away. They barely wanted to wait until Dad was done with medical school. Mom said she was born to be around kids. She wanted to be a mother and a teacher her whole life.” Landon paused to take a sip of his beer. “The teaching part came about right away. She got a job and Dad went to school and worked nights as a grave digger.”
“No way.” I leaned back quickly and my chair wobbled with the impact of my surprise. As I reached for the bar to save my fall, Landon held my chair, keeping me steady. “Thanks.”
“Crazy job. I know. But he had to work. And he needed time for school and studying, so he needed a job with odd hours. Anyway, after a few years of trying and a few years of testing, they still didn’t get pregnant. They couldn’t afford in vitro, so they looked into adoption. Mom didn’t care if the kids came out of her body. She just wanted kids. They found Jason through an adoption service. A few years later Mom got pregnant, on her own, with me.”
“That’s awesome.” I reached out to touch the hand, resting on his leg.
“Yeah. I know Mom and Dad were both really excited. Surprised, but happy, ya know?” he asked.
I nodded. In my multiple interactions with Sharon and Charlie Taylor at the stores, they seemed like stand-up people. I can’t imagine they ever treated Landon poorly.
“For the longest time, I was the baby. The miracle child they showered with attention. When I was around ten, my parents decided to start taking in foster kids. They’ve probably had thirty or more come through the house over the last eleven years. And it was awesome. It felt good to be able to help these kids that came from such horrible situations. And sure, it felt good to have someone look up to me for a change. Then they adopted Calvin and Nathan three years ago and all these really jealous feelings came out of nowhere.
“Up until then, I never thought Mom and Dad loved any of the other kids more than me. Then my younger brothers came along. Everything changed with them. Everything revolved around them. Ten-year-old twins who stole my parents’ hearts and time and attention. I sound like a jerk.”
Yes, you do, I thought.
“Thanks for not judging, Gaby.” Landon’s sarcastic jab slapped me upside the head.
Whoops.
“Well, I’m sorry, but you do. Your parents are wonderful people. You’re jealous because they started giving more attention to two kids from a screwed-up home whose parents didn’t even want them than they did their successful hockey-playing adult son who they’d raised and loved their whole lives? Sorry if I don’t feel bad for you.”
“I know I sound horrible and selfish. I don’t want to be.” He leaned back, taking a deep breath and tilting his head toward the ceiling. “I just don’t know how to make the feelings go away. Every time someone else gets called up to the NHL, I feel like I’m missing an opportunity to make them proud. Make them see me again. I didn’t want my parents to wash their hands of me at eighteen.”
“Have you told them how you feel?”
“Well, if you think I’m a complete jackass, I can’t even imagine how they’d feel about me.” Landon raised his voice as he spoke. When Brian lifted his head to observe our conversation from the other end of the bar, Landon lowered it.
“I love my brothers. I love all the kids we had in our house through the years. I love that we made an impact on their lives, even if it was for a short time. I still love helping. I volunteer at an after-school program a friend of mine started. I work with the Pilots PR people to coordinate the team’s community service. This is my community.
“I just wonder why my parents didn’t think I was good enough. Why couldn’t
they leave well enough alone after they had me?”
His last comment caught me slightly off guard. Almost as if an internal thought came out by accident.
“Your mom is a teacher. Your dad is a doctor. That tells me they wanted to make an impact on the world even before they ever adopted anyone and even before they had you. Maybe they weren’t finished being parents yet. It’s hard when your kids grow up and leave the house.”
Not that I knew very much about that since I still lived at home. But Mom went through a slight depression when Joey moved away, and she had a full-on breakdown when Drew left for college. Part of me thinks she was happy I didn’t take the college route. Maybe she thinks I’ll be at home forever?
Probably will be, with my current social situation.
“If I could just make it to the NHL, I could be back on their radar,” Landon stated.
“And then maybe if you score your first goal. And maybe if you get married and give them grandkids. It’s always going to be something, Landon. Maybe you should start living for yourself instead of trying to please someone else.”
“You driving?” Brian’s voice cut through the air.
Startled, I eyed my empty Sprite glass.
“Yeah.” Landon leaned back as he pushed his glass forward for his uncle to take. “Ready, Gaby?”
“Yep.” I jumped off the barstool and rolled my shoulders back. Then I turned back to the bar and waved to the bartender. “Thanks so much, Brian. It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, Gaby. Give your dad my best.” Brian gave me a nod and I followed Landon out.
I must’ve pissed him off, since he hadn’t said anything to me since my comment about being jealous over his brothers. I should apologize. I should tell him it wasn’t my business. I should tell him I had no right to call him jealous. But I should really tell him to get his shit together.
“I’m sorry, Landon,” I said after we’d settled into his car.
“Don’t apologize, Gaby. You said exactly what I needed to hear.”
“But I didn’t really have a right to say anything. I barely know you.”
