by B. Celeste
I snort, sliding in across from him. Only then does he turn to me, an eyebrow drawn when I speak up. “That’d be Roderick. He’s always looking to expand. Ever been here before?”
The pretty boy’s dark eyes roll as he checks out the lounge. “No. I know this place is your hangout. Plus, the club scene has never really been for me.”
The Lazy Croc is where a small inner circle knows where to find us. Despite the many ups and downs surrounding this place, we always gravitate toward it.
I grin. “I suppose that’s because you always enjoyed playing house with little Bishop instead of spending it with people your own age.”
His responding glare makes me snicker, but he doesn’t deny the claim. “Why did you even ask me to come here?”
“Because you’ll give me unbiased advice unlike everyone else I know. The boys will tell me to do whatever I want, my mother will give me a five-day lecture on every reason why it’s a bad idea, and Chase is a wildcard. Wily, that one.”
Curiosity floods his otherwise taut features, his arm flexing where it still rests across the back of the booth. He says he’s over the drama my brother caused him and his girl, but I can see there’s still irritation flickering whenever I mention the youngest Matthews. “Aren’t you close with your mother? If you know she won’t approve, then you probably shouldn’t do it.”
I lift a shoulder in contemplation. “I’ve done far worse things. This is saintly compared to half my life decisions.”
He’s silent, taking in my vague introduction into what I’m about to say.
“I’m thinking about getting married.”
He blinks, cocking his head. There’s a microsecond of surprise before he wipes it away and shows his indifference again. “Repeat that for me.”
Amused, I repeat myself and watch as his eyebrows dart toward his hairline. “It’s one of my better ideas, really. In hindsight, Mum would be celebrating this one if we had to rank some of my past choices.”
He drops his arm and settles into his seat, giving me a dumbfounded look. “You do realize you can’t marry yourself, right? I know how much you love yourself, but it’s not legal. You’ll need another human. I know you’re not picky, so you have your options open, but then you’d have to be stuck with them. There’s a lot to consider. Wait a minute.” His eyes narrow. “Why the hell are you even considering this? You’ve never had a serious girlfriend once in your life.”
Even though me and the competition eying me down have never been close, he’d still know whether or not I want to put a ring on it because of how many mutual acquaintances we have in the industry that gossip worse than bored housewives. “There’s a first time for everything. Look at you. You’ve been salivating over the same girl for years. How is Leighton, by the way?”
“That’s not true and you know it.” He gives me the same overprotective look he always does when I bust his balls about her. “And she’s doing fine. Asks about Chase sometimes. And you. Mostly you out of solidarity.”
“Little Bishop loves me more than that and you know it.”
His glare strengthens.
Chuckling, I relent. “Her name is Rylee.”
He eases his tense muscles. “How long have you known each other?”
“What are you, my mother?” I counter in amusement, watching as he shakes his head in exasperation. “We’ve known each other for about a month now give or take.”
He gapes.
“What?”
“A month,” he repeats.
I smile casually. “Yes.”
“Thirty days.”
“Or less.”
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s never heard of this before.
“How many people have married after barely knowing each other two weeks? There are literally reality TV shows of people getting engaged after a day. Haven’t you seen the one where they’re in pods and can’t even see each other’s faces? They talk through a wall until their insanity gets the better of them, and by day five all of them are claiming true love by the person’s voice alone.”
Kyler drops his head forward. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you watch that kind of shit. Or that you’d pull this.” Scrubbing his chin, he asks, “So what is this about anyway? Is Rylee pregnant or something?”
“How many times have I told you, mate? No glove, no love. It’s the golden rule.”
“Treat others the way you want to be treated is the golden rule,” he disagrees.
I wave him off. “Same difference.” The muffled snort I get from him has me smirking. “I need Rylee’s help to get the media to move on from Zayne and Violet Wonders and she needs mine for her own personal reasons. It’ll be mutually beneficial for the both of us by getting married. At least with a marriage, they’ll move on faster than if Zayne is leaving.”
“Is he leaving?”
My teeth grind. “Isn’t that the question of the century?” I’ve asked the man in question point blank, and he’ll never look me in the eye when he gives me a one-word answer. No.
“The more pressure on him, the more he could decide this life isn’t worth it,” I say, voicing my concern aloud for the first time. “He doesn’t need that. Not after last time he made headlines.”
Kyler doesn’t need to know the person who outed Zayne is the one I want to put in a wedding dress and slide a ring on, though I’m sure his reaction would be comical. He says, “It sounds like your mind is already made up about this marriage thing, so why am I here? If this is your way of saying you want me in your wedding—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got plenty of mates for that. You may be able to pass as the flower girl, but I’d have to talk to my girl about that, and you’d look terrible in purple. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. I need your advice on what you think.”
“Of the wedding you’re already set on?”
I nod.
He curses. “Garrick, I don’t need to be the one to tell you that this is a ridiculous idea. Even if you get married, the media is going to still surround you. And what happens if you get divorced? Is Rylee in the industry? Is she used to the publicity that she’ll get when your together or if you split up? Leighton still isn’t okay with the way cameras follow us around when we’re out. People are always going to be in your business even if you don’t want them to be. You’ll be making a bigger mess and adding another person in the mix.”
I can hear his just like you always do without him saying the words. It’s how he looks at me, speculative and judgmental. Not something I’m unused to, especially from a Bishop. I do tend to pull others into my bullshit, and usually without thinking it through.
“So, tell me this,” he continues. “Who are you really doing this for? Because you’ve never cared about what everyone thinks of you or your band. It’s why you’ve done whatever the hell you wanted even when it pisses people off. This isn’t about getting the press off the band’s ass or protecting Zayne.”
For once, I don’t answer right away. A noise below grabs my attention, causing me to watch a few bartenders arrive for their shift and prep the bar area. Stools are taken off the counter and placed on the floor, and the televisions are all turned on and playing the same boring ass sports channel that the guys all contently watch before they open to the public.
“Rylee needs this,” I finally tell him when he makes no move to force it from me.
A humming noise comes from him.
I inhale slowly and drop my head onto the cushion behind it. “I just need to convince her to accept the offer.”
“And if she can’t be convinced?”
For once, I don’t have an answer.
Sarcastic or not.
10
Rylee
The soil isn’t as rich as I would have liked, but I know Grandma Birdie wouldn’t have let that stop her from trying to bring something beautiful to life. She and Grandpa Al spent a lot of time in their flower and vegetable gardens, teaching me everything I kno
w. During the summers, they’d even sell what they didn’t keep at the local farmer’s market in Liberty, and I’d sometimes come and help out. They’d give me some of the money they made, which I always put into my bank account for something big.
All the money I’d saved up at random jobs as a teenager was put toward my move to the Golden State. I didn’t know what it was I was saving for whenever I’d deposit my paychecks, I only knew whatever it was would be worth it.
Staring at the cheap tools and plants I bought at one of my favorite stores in the city to make sure I have everything I need I get to work while the sun is out.
Garrick had to go into the studio today, though I may have eavesdropped on the conversation he had on the phone in the kitchen with someone from the band saying he could use the extra studio time. Whether he really does or if he was giving me space, I’m not sure. He hasn’t pressured me into answering his proposal since bringing it up yesterday, but we both know there’s a timeline. If Sarina expects a story from me by the end of next week, that doesn’t give me a lot of time to think. Or overthink, which may be a blessing in disguise. I always was a last-minute type of person, and the results usually showed it.
I’m not sure how long I’m outside when I hear the doors slide open behind me. I look over my shoulder and see Yasmin smiling at me with a broom in one of her hands. She’s a smidge shorter than me, with black curly hair and a few natural streaks of silver and tan skin that I envy. There’s nothing exciting about my borderline fair complexion or the slightly wavy hair that falls flat every time it grows past my boobs.
“It looks so different out here,” she says, resting the broom against the doorjamb and walking out.
I smile. “I hope he likes it.” When I asked if it was all right to do something to the space, Garrick told me to do whatever I wanted. Chase made a weird noise and rolled his eyes that made his older brother shoot him a look, but otherwise didn’t give his input even though this is his home too.
She walks over and examines what I’ve done from over my shoulder. “I think he’ll love it. He’s talked about hiring someone to do landscaping for a while.”
My brows go up. “Really?”
Her smile is light. “You seem surprised by that. Haven’t you noticed the attention to detail inside? It was only a matter of time before it reached out here. The boys are busy most of the time, but Garrick sometimes ventures out here and writes music. I’ve seen it myself.”
Sitting on my heels, I swipe beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “I wouldn’t have thought he cared since the front looks so…” I make a face. “Boring.”
Yasmin waves a hand in the air. “That’s for show. When he first moved here a few paparazzi tried getting photos. He didn’t want to give them anything to talk about.”
“Does that happen here a lot?”
“Oh no.” She walks over and squats down next to some of the yellow pansies I planted. “In fact, this area is typically secure. Of course, some people can be bought off, but it’s rare. Most people live here for the privacy so few will sell anyone out. But, you know how people are about money these days…”
Her words are soft, the statement not directed at anyone specific, but that doesn’t change how I react to it. I make a face as I stare at my dirt-covered gloves. “Yeah, money has a way of influencing people…”
A sharp inhale comes from her. “Oh, Rylee, I didn’t mean you! I’ve met some interesting people in my day, and you’re one of the genuine ones despite your past.”
My eyes fly over to hers. “You know?”
It’s the sympathetic look that goes right to her mocha-colored eyes that makes me flop on to my bottom and heave out a sigh. “I’m friends with Garrick’s mother Elaine. He confides in me like an aunt sometimes. Plus, he and Chase hardly talk quietly and Elaine’s youngest has always had a lot to say.”
I cringe. “I bet.”
Reaching over, she pats my arm. “It’s nothing getting to know you can’t fix. I’m team Rylee. You’ve brought something into this house that’s been missing since Garrick moved in.”
What on earth could I bring here? “I don’t think there’s anything I can provide that he doesn’t already have. I’ve looked around the place and swear I find something new every time I wander.”
Yasmin laughs goodheartedly. “Life. That’s what you bring. Not that I’ll ever admit it, but I worry about that boy sometimes. Me and his mother both.”
“Garrick?”
Something somber crosses her features as she nods, standing up again and brushing off her dress. “He’s always so hesitant, so serious. It’s rare he makes spontaneous decisions, yet here you are. And I’m glad for it.”
It’s a moment before I ask, “Why?”
She seems to know what I mean. “He cares deeply about everyone and everything, so much so that he forgets to look after himself. If he meets someone who makes him rethink everything, who makes him happy, then I hope whoever she is sees what a lucky person she is to have him and he the same.”
My tongue swells as I try to swallow.
Yasmin walks back over to where she left the broom and picks it up. “You should plant violet pansies too. I think he’d love those.”
“Really?”
“Violet is his favorite color.”
I don’t say anything before she disappears back into the house, closing the door behind her as she goes.
It’s a cop out when I wait until the clock strikes one before I open my laptop and click on my best friend’s username. I nibble on my thumbnail as I click on her profile picture, an Avatar from her favorite anime series that her and her husband love watching together.
CannonIsMine95:
I need some advice.
I know it’ll be a few minutes to get a response, so I uncurl my feet and slide off the bed to look out the window of my room. The view is of the beautiful houses on the hills. Garrick’s house sits on a slightly elevated piece of land, which means there’s a wider view of the landscape around us, including a gorgeous sunrise in the morning that I discovered early on when I couldn’t sleep and would sneak out to the balcony to watch with a blanket wrapped around me wishing I had some of my mother’s famous hot chocolate she always made when the weather started cooling down.
I’m absently studying the other elegant houses neighboring this one when I hear the telltale ping of an incoming message.
Walking over, I graze the screen with my eyes and let out a tiny sigh knowing this conversation probably won’t end well for me.
IceQween:
Bring it on
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I rub the sweaty heels of my palms against my sweatpants and roll my shoulders back before typing.
CannonIsMine95:
Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if you were offered a chance at a better life, even if it’s temporary?
I know Moffie is at the school she teaches at right now trying to control her classroom. This time of day is when they usually go over whatever book of the week they were assigned to read with their families so they can come in and talk about it. My best friend has always been a huge nerd and loved talking literature with my parents since none of them could have a lasting conversation on the topic with me.
IceQween:
It depends on the hypothetical terms. What do I have to do for this life? What’s the cost? If it’s temporary, will I still have a better life than I did before getting that chance? Or would it be the same one I’m going back to when it’s over?
It shouldn’t surprise me that she’d have all those questions. She never makes a choice without thinking of every avenue something could take her down. It’s why I’ve always consulted with her before I’ve made up my mind about something important.
IceQween:
What’s going on, Ry?
Of course she’d know this isn’t a hypothetic situation we’re talking about. Then again, I’ve always started conversations like this when I needed her thoughts.
Like the time I asked her if, hypothetically, it’d be a bad idea to lose my virginity to Tony Walker on prom night our senior year of high school. She’d come back with a firm “it’s a bad idea for you to lose your virginity to him anywhere at any time.” Unlike Moffie Mae, I’ve always preferred having someone more experienced to teach me the ropes, but she’d convinced me Tony Walker was not the boy for the job. It’s probably a good thing because I heard he had to get treated for an STI before he went off for college, so I dodged a big bullet there.
CannonIsMine95:
I think I’m going to get married
Instantly, a videocall starts ringing through and my eyes widen as I stumble off the bed. Why is she calling me when she’s at work?
CannonIsMine95:
Aren’t you in the classroom?
IceQween:
PICK UP RIGHT NOW, RYLEE!
I groan and slowly sink back onto the bed, counting to three before I accept the call. Instantly, I’m greeted by screaming kids in the background of a brightly painted classroom that I helped Moffie decorate when she first got the job at Liberty Elementary.
When her face comes into view, I know the frantic nature of it isn’t because of the little demons running wild around her. “What the hell do you mean you’re going to get married?” Her voice is a whispered hiss, her hazel eyes lined with blue liner and shadow, her favorite color, before scoping out the screen like she’s trying to figure something out. “And where are you? That looks like a ritzy place. Can you even afford that right now? You shot down all the places I sent you because you said it was out of your price range.”
The accusation in her tone makes the guilt feel ten times heavier in my chest. “I’m not at a hotel right now…”
Moffie stares at me, then her eyes snap at something off the screen. “Timmy, I swear if you don’t put down that glue you’ll be sitting in the corner during the next playtime. Do you understand me? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I try to get out of this conversation as fast as I can. “You should get back to—”
