The Reward

by Jade A. Waters

  “Makes sense.”

  “And,” he said, his mouth sounding closer to the phone, “I got two comp tickets for the Saturday one for you.”

  With all the talk of Ryan’s shows, I’d been waiting for this. “No way!” I squealed.

  “Yes. It’s a good one, too. I’m hella stoked.” He mentioned the name of the venue—the Eclipse Club, a loungey place in the city I’d been to on occasion for small shows over the years. It drew a decent crowd for lesser-known bands.

  “Ryan! That’s great!”

  “You have someone to bring, yeah?”

  I thought of Dean, because I’d wanted him to hear how well Ryan played, and it would be a great opportunity for them to break outside the box in a different setting. But I realized he’d be out of town Saturday. It occurred to me then that with Dean leaving tomorrow, and Ryan leaving next week, the two of them weren’t going to get to attempt to connect again at all.

  I frowned but said, “Yeah, sure. Selby will jump on board. She loves watching you play. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  I slowed as the highway reached the edge of Half Moon Bay, becoming more of a business route in its path through town. Frustrated I wasn’t able to get them together one more time before Dean left, I peeked at the clock, an idea popping in my head. “Hey, how far are you from me?”

  “From Half Moon Bay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ryan thought a second. “Maybe forty minutes. Forty-five. Why?”

  I nodded to myself, satisfied with my brilliant plan. Dean had said the point was to get me closer, not to change up my entire life. Which meant we were supposed to become part of each other’s lives. Our whole lives. “I’m going to run it by Dean to make sure he doesn’t have anything planned, but he’s leaving tomorrow, and I so want you two to hang out—one last time, because I know you’ll get along. What if you came over for dinner?”

  “Tonight?” Ryan’s voice wavered.

  “Yes! Why not? Come on, I’ll whip something up, or Dean and I will. It’ll be fun.” When he didn’t say anything, I added a touch of sugar to my tone and said, “Think of how much calmer it’ll be without all the wedding stuff going on. Please? For me? Because you know you adore your fantastic sister...”

  At that, Ryan gave a snort before he caved. “Okay. I need a little bit of time to wrap up here, though.” He didn’t come off entirely enthusiastic, but these two just needed more time to see how awesome the other one was.

  “It’s all good. Let me call Dean and confirm.”

  “Sure.”

  “This’ll be fun!” I hoped Dean wouldn’t mind. I didn’t think he would, anyway. It was our last night, but we’d had a hell of a night yesterday, and I could always make it up to him after Ryan left. Of course, I couldn’t deny my anxiousness. They’d been so intense in their face-off at the wedding, and I didn’t want to fool myself—but I had to try. They did, too. “I’ll call you right back,” I said. Two seconds later, I was on the phone with Dean and had proposed my idea without taking much of a breath while crossing my fingers on my steering wheel. Dean, like Ryan, remained quiet for such an awkwardly long moment that an angsty roll took over my belly.

  “But it’s our last night together,” he finally said, the disappointment in his voice palpable.

  It was sweet he wanted to spend it with me, but come on. I didn’t want to pick at him, so I pointed out the obvious. “Sweetie,” I coaxed, calm, “he won’t stay over long, and we can have a late night after. It’ll be fine—”

  “You know how early I have to leave, right? I’ve got to meet Dylan to handle a few things before he takes me to the airport.” His words came out firm and matter-of-fact, suffocating my burst of enthusiasm, and I sighed.

  Ryan had taken his wall down. Couldn’t my boyfriend?

  I wriggled my lips, trying to temper the frustration starting to bubble in me. “Yes, I know, but it’s our last chance. Who knows when Ryan will come back? And with all your projects lined up, we couldn’t even fly east if we wanted to.” I sat through his pensive consideration, hoping like my life depended on it that he’d see how important this was to me. Then I opted to sway him further in the best way I knew how. “Besides, I can make it up to you after.”

  Dean perked up. “And how do you propose to do that, Maya?”

  “Any way you want,” I purred.

  “I do like that.” The deep shift of his voice made me squirm in my seat. Visions of how he might take advantage of the offer traipsed through my head, and I curved the fingers I’d kept crossed a little bit tighter around the wheel in a moment of ease. This felt better, and if he said yes, the makeup would be sexy for both of us, for sure.

  “Please?” I whispered.

  “Yes. Fine. I’ll start cooking.”

  “I can help!”

  “I’ve got it.” He didn’t sound thrilled, per se, but I liked that he was trying.

  Bonus, he’d agreed, and I didn’t have to cook. “Thank you, love.”

  I didn’t miss the half-grumbled “Yeah, okay,” before Dean hung up, but I figured it was best to let it go. I’d surprised him with this last minute, so it was a fair reaction, and at least he was putting forth a little effort. Thank God.

  By the end of my short call back to Ryan to settle the plans and pass along our address, I’d parked my car in the driveway. Neither of them was over the moon about this plan, but as I hurried inside, I decided they could deal, for me. They were bound to get along.

  I dropped my purse on the table by the door and found Dean in the kitchen, investigating the contents of the fridge. He didn’t pause to scoop me up in his hold like I was used to, so I snuggled under his arm and smiled up at him.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I kissed his cheek, but he barely stirred. It set off my nerves. Was he more annoyed than I’d thought? I squeezed him with the arm I’d wrapped around his waist for some indication, to no avail. “Can I help?”

  “You’re fine. Debating what to make...” He gestured behind him, his brow tight, and I didn’t feel fine. “Also, the house is a mess.”

  I brushed it off with a shrug. “It’s no biggie. Ryan knows we’ve been mid-move, and he doesn’t care, anyway. Are you kidding?” There was no missing the trace of annoyance obvious in Dean’s face even with him not saying anything, but if I wanted this to go well, I couldn’t let the heaviness in the pit of my stomach take over. “I’ll pick up. You cook. It’ll be great,” I said, though saying so started to feel like it was more for me than him.

  Dean’s “Cool” was the most facetious thing I’d heard from him ever, and I fought the brief wave of anxiety threatening to dim my optimism for the night.

  I wandered out of the kitchen to handle cleanup, casting one last glance at Dean with a sigh under my breath.

  And people said women were complicated.

  * * *

  Somehow, Dean, Ryan and I managed to make it halfway through dinner without any real problems. Dean had perhaps unintentionally simplified things by having dinner ready the second Ryan arrived, so we’d all shared casual greetings before sitting to enjoy the meal. Dean had whipped up a delicious batch of country fried potatoes and green beans to accompany the sirloin steaks he’d grumbled about defrosting in the microwave, but after he’d seared them up with garlic, chives and butter, they’d been amazing.

  Of course, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed both men were tense from the moment Ryan had walked in the door. At the table, Dean sat beside me, his jaw tight whether he was discussing architecture or sailing, or listening to Ryan talk about guitar, and his back stayed rigidly straight—straighter than I thought even his great posture should allow. Then there was Ryan who, like he had on their first dinner together, couldn’t be bothered to flash a minimal smile
. He wore a perpetual frown, in fact, and his shoulders switched between hunched and drawn back. I did my best to navigate them through topics I thought they’d both agree on, and as the conversation idled back into Ryan’s music career, I jumped up from my seat.

  “Hey, how about more beer?” I asked. I’d been pushing that the whole meal, because it could do nothing but help. Dean was nearly done with his second bottle, and Ryan his third...and I was ready for another. I was struggling to play buffer once again. When both of them nodded, I breathed out a sigh and headed off to the fridge, but I stayed tuned in to the conversation. They’d put on their best game faces for me, which wasn’t saying much, and unfortunately this dinner was proving maybe I was wrong. Maybe these two couldn’t be the best of pals, which I couldn’t get over knowing they were both capable of such friendliness most of the time.

  The thought made my head ache as I popped off the bottle tops of the beers I carried to the dining room. Sitting back at Dean’s side, I slid my free hand under the table and onto his knee. He met my eyes, the heavy strain of his slate-gray irises sinking my heart. Were the two of them doomed to never get along? I clenched my teeth before squeezing Dean’s knee. He gave the slightest lift of his head and turned back to Ryan.

  “So,” he said, “your next show, is that Saturday?”

  Ryan sat back, abandoning his steak. “No. We’ve got one Thursday and Friday, too.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “Yeah.”

  Crickets. More crickets. I shuffled my feet, hating the anxiety circling ’round in my gut before Ryan crossed his arms.

  Dean said to me, “But you’re going to the Saturday one?”

  “Yep. I’m excited. And by the way, Ryan,” I said, throwing a hand in his direction, grasping on to the opportunity to lighten the mood, “Selby’s all over dinner beforehand. You game?”

  “Sure. Since backstage won’t work—”

  “Right, you big-time superstar!” I cheered. Long ago, we’d been able to hang in the greenroom at smaller venues, but those days were gone with Ryan moving up in the places he played. I chuckled, but he didn’t provide much in the way of a response other than a casual shrug.

  “Where is the show again?” Dean asked.

  “The Eclipse Club,” Ryan and I said in unison.

  Dean didn’t find that amusing. He murmured, “Never been.”

  “It’s a fun place. Selby and I went there for shows way back when. It’s got a funny crowd, kind of alternative meets grunge sort of mash-up, I guess?” I confirmed with Ryan. “They host a lot of underground and indie bands from what I recall.”

  Ryan agreed. “Though it’s gotten a little seedier.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yup. The whole neighborhood has.”

  Dean peered at me after Ryan said this. “You ladies will need to be extra careful there. Especially you, okay?”

  I smiled at Dean’s comment. He wasn’t really worried—Dean knew damn well I could take care of myself—and I understood he liked looking out for me.

  But Ryan sat forward to rest his arms on the table. “What’s your deal?”

  Both of us pivoted back to Ryan. Dean didn’t speak, his mouth pinched.

  Confused, I muttered, “What?”

  “Why do you do this?” Ryan said to Dean, gesturing between him and me, his stern gaze locked on Dean. “It’s not the first time I’ve caught you acting this way, either.”

  Caught you acting? What did that mean? The sharp turn of Ryan’s voice seemed to imply Dean should know what he was talking about, which was why I was stunned when Dean reared back and slammed his hands down on the table.

  “Oh fucking come on,” he said.

  Ryan barreled through him, his voice louder when he started interrogating me. “How can you not see it, Maya? Are you that blind?”

  Huh? I opened my mouth to speak, but Dean threw an arm out as if to block me—or quiet me?—and snapped, “I told you, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  What was he talking about? Fuck, what was Ryan talking about?

  “That, right there, is loud and clear to me!” Ryan stood with a point at Dean’s outstretched arm, and Dean huffed out a breath before yanking it back and standing up tall, like he was making a point to tower across the table from Ryan. I stared between them, too bewildered to have a clue what to say. Ryan scowled at me, concern occupying his eyes. “It’s a goddamn pattern. Look at how he’s behaving!”

  “What?” I cried. Dean stepped back, his hands clenching midair like his frustration had hit a new height. “What are you talking about? What pattern?”

  “Ryan, you don’t understand,” Dean said.

  “I understand fine.” Ryan threw the napkin he’d crumpled in his hand down on the table and shook his head at me. “I’m sorry. I can’t watch this anymore. I hope to God you snap out of it.” He walked backward, and my stomach twisted. What the fuck was going on? Ryan pitched toward Dean. “I wasn’t kidding about what I said. Don’t you forget it.”

  Dean gritted his teeth as Ryan stormed off to the entryway, casting one last glance at me like he was observing a sad little puppy.

  Baffled, I chased after him, except he was out the door with it slammed behind him before I made it to the living room. Dean called my name when I threw open the door, but I didn’t care. This was too weird. Ryan was almost to his car, and I shouted after him. “Stop! Ryan! What the hell is going on?”

  “Good luck, sis. I’ll see you Saturday.”

  I made it two steps out onto the stoop before he climbed in his car, started the engine and tore out of the driveway.

  My heart rattled in my chest. I’d never seen my brother so fired up, at least, not in a long time, and I still hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.

  Dean said, “Maya, come back, okay?” behind me, and I whirled around.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  Dean’s fists rested against his sides, his forehead wrinkled. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

  “You’re joking.” I paced back to the dining room, but Dean wasn’t budging. I stood in front of him and he gave me a look that suggested I shouldn’t ask. Fuck that. I had a flashback to the huge fight we’d had months ago after the threesome we’d had with Ansel, when Dean had battened down the hatches and tried to run away from the conversation. We were past that. So past that. “Talk to me!” I barked. I didn’t even care how harsh my voice sounded.

  This was bullshit.

  For an endless stretch of time, Dean stood silent. The worry I’d felt at seeing him and Ryan duke it out at the wedding and later avoid the conversation returned in a ferocious wave, except in a bigger swell, a massive tsunami about to eat me up with how bizarre they’d both behaved. I’d managed to put it aside, but with that dinner showdown? I was beyond annoyed. I was pissed the fuck off. Ryan wasn’t just being weird—he’d thrown in a level of protectiveness that made no sense. Then there was Dean, what, guarding me from some conversation he’d shared with Ryan? With all Dean and I had been through in the last year, communication between us was supposed to be easier and clearer now. If there was a problem, we wanted to tackle it. If we had a difference of opinion, we would find a common ground.

  So while I got that Ryan might be behaving like the pain in the ass he could occasionally turn into since we were kids, Dean playing statue and standing there like he was in debate over whether he wanted to enlighten me launched me into space on a rocket ship of anger.

  I wanted answers. “Can you please fucking talk to me?”

  Dean shot out and around me, whisking off for the kitchen and instantly preoccupying himself with gathering plastic containers for leftovers. He returned to start clearing the table, making every effort to avoid my gaze. I lost it.

  “Um, hello? What are you, five?” I sn
apped.

  Dean glared at me. “I’m right here,” he said, his voice calm when he moved away again, but the thud of dishes he dropped on the counter made me jump.

  “Are you really going to do this?” I followed after him, raising a hand to my hip and leaning against the counter. Dean kept right on going with his cleanup, scooping food into containers and moving dishes into the sink and dishwasher. I couldn’t believe he was avoiding like this. What was the goddamn deal? “Why are you being so weird? Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

  “When?”

  I clapped my hands to my cheeks. “Oh my God. Just now. At the wedding! Take your fucking pick!”

  Dean stopped moving, the annoyance in his shadowed eyes rivaling what I felt. “Let it be. We don’t need a fight between us.”

  Was there a fight between them? “We need to talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Your brother and I don’t have to be friends. We’re...too different. He’s got his own perception of who I am and what we are, and I’m not going to deal with it. Not if he’s going to be a dick about it. The end.”

  My mouth fell open. What the hell did that mean? And what was Ryan’s perception? I tried to piece together what lunatic crap Ryan had rambled before he stormed out the door, all of it making me want to scream. But it wasn’t like Dean wasn’t being a dick about it now, either, which compounded everything. I shook my head and began again. “What—”

  “No.” Dean’s voice held firm when he peered back at me. “End of subject. We’re not going to fight over this. Let it go, Maya.” He carried the container of potatoes to the fridge, his back to me, and ice could have coursed through my veins.

  This was how he wanted to play it right before he left town?

  Dean closed the fridge and spun around to fold his arms over his chest. “Can we please have a nice last night?”

  I wanted to. I really did. But it was a little late for that.

  I exited to the living room and turned on the TV, leaving Dean to do whatever else he wanted in the kitchen to ignore the elephant in the room. Which he did through half the length of a show I couldn’t keep my focus on, irritation an incessant stab through my gut, before I started flipping the channels. After I settled on a stupid sitcom, Dean joined me and sat on the opposite end of the couch in silence. We shared no more than two sentences over the next hour before both of us abandoned the living room to get ready for bed, and when we crawled under the covers and Dean flipped off the light, I was sure a good night was the antithesis of what we’d had. My face felt tight, my heart heavy. I curled my hands into balls and held them to my chest. Dean rested a hand on my shoulder in the darkness after we’d lain there a few minutes, his body inches away but somehow feeling a thousand barren miles from me.