I’m just happy she recognizes me as a part of her family. I’m not going to lie, something in me does a little jig knowing my girl is right there with me. Jess made enough of an impression on my grandmother to carve out a place in the fading echoes of her mind.
“Jessie couldn’t make it today but I’m sure she’ll be by soon.”
“Andrew, you need to marry that girl before another man swoops in and steals her right from under your nose.”
“Is that right?” I laugh and this time it’s genuine. “What if I told you I messed up? That Jessie doesn’t want me anymore.”
“I’d say fix it. A girl like that doesn’t come around every day, son. She’s beautiful, rich, compassionate, and she’ll give me pretty grandbabies.” Dull brown eyes nail mine. “If you ever get around to proposing.” My grandmother huffs.
“I’ll try, Grandma—Mom,” I correct.
“Don’t try, son. Do.” A frail hand reaches for mine, offering a weak squeeze.
Our conversation shifts to flowers and shoes and maybe music, but I stop listening to the words and focus on her chest struggling to rise and fall with each breath. I watch the remaining light in her eyes dim, then flicker, before her eyelids droop and finally close. I feel her fingers loosen around my hand and the rattle in the back of her throat as she takes her final breath.
She’s gone.
My knees buckle with the weight of the realization, but somehow I remain standing.
It’s then that I realize Chris and Ben, both my brothers, are at my back. Holding my weight. My grandmother’s room is now filled with aunts, cousins, and uncles. All the people who cared about her.
Well maybe not everyone.
This is my family, the one I was born into, but there’s a family that should be here too. One that I chose, that I’ve shared my life with, my family away from this family, my band, my girl. They’d want to be here. Not just to pay their respects, but for me as well.
The family remains at the house until the funeral home arrives to collect the body and then we disperse with conversations about funeral plans and tasks that need to be done. I can’t leave fast enough.
“D. I know you have tequila somewhere in this fully stocked backlit bar,” Chris yells from inside the lower cabinets under the bar.
After leaving my grandmother’s house, both my brothers decided to tag along with me. None of us in the mood to be alone or willing to admit how deep this loss hits. We also needed to shave our heads to begin the grieving process in honor of the Hindu religion that my grandmother practiced, and while we’re shearing our locks, I’m sure we’ll get disastrously drunk in the process.
However, tequila is a no-go for tonight. The tequila in question was finished off the last time Jess was here. If I close my eyes and squint just so, I can see her naked body splayed on my kitchen table, coffee-colored nipples drawn tight as I ran a lime around the areole and sucked tequila from the peak. The bottle crashed to the floor when I climbed on top of the table to get a better taste.
“There’s a million and two bottles in there. Pick one. Vodka, gin, rum, fucking whisky. Take your pick. They’ll all get you drunk too.” I walk into the living room with three shot glasses and a bag of unopened pork rinds.
“I want to get tequila drunk. To kill this shitty-ass day. If you don’t have it just say you don’t have it and I’ll move on to one of the other distilled spirits you so kindly listed.”
“All right, smart-ass. There’s no tequila.” I plop on the sofa, leaning forward to place the glasses on the coffee table.
“See, was that so hard?” Chris asks, taking the recliner opposite me. His hand clutched around the glass torso of the beautiful woman-shaped bottle of Vavoom Vodka. In the other hand he has a bottle of Macallan 18.
“It really was. Almost as hard as my co—” The doorbell rings, successfully cutting me off.
“Hold that thought, perv.” Chris gets up to answer the door.
“He order takeout?” Ben asks, strolling in from the bathroom. Still rubbing a paper towel over damp hands.
I shrug, tearing open the bag of rinds. I pop a couple in my mouth and bite down on the fried fat pieces, humming around the salty goodness. I damn near choke when I hear the voices on the other side of the door.
I give Ben wide eyes before looking around the room for a place to hide. I’m not ready to face my friends. Not yet.
“Is he okay? He and your grandmother were so close.” Sin’s husky voice carries through the door.
“If your husband doesn’t kill him first, I got dibs.” Adam’s voice reaches me through the mild panic, making me chuckle when I thought I’d never laugh again, at least not this soon.
“’Scuse me, Chris.” Miles’s deep voice rumbles seconds before he comes into view, followed by Adam and Sin.
I push to my feet, uncertain about what to do next, what to expect, but they don’t give me a chance to do anything because in the blink of an eye I’m wrapped up in three sets of arms and the tears I was able to hold back at my grandmother’s house fall hot and heavy down my cheeks.
“Why didn’t you let us know? We would have been there for you.” Sin pulls back to catch my eyes.
I wipe both palms down my face, taking the time to formulate an answer. Why hadn’t I called them?
Because I was stupid?
Scared?
Embarrassed?
Embroiled in some messed-up cocktail of emotion that made me believe they couldn’t possibly see me as more than the comedian.
“I thought…I just wasn’t sure if…”
“D. We argue. We fight, but we’re always family,” Adam cuts me off.
“You called them?” I ask Chris, who is standing on the other side of the coffee table untwisting the top off the bottle of vodka.
“Damn skippy, bro.” I hadn’t realized Ben left the room until he walks in setting three additional shot glasses on the table. Chris moves the bottle over the top of the rim of all six glasses, getting as much liquor on the table as in the glasses.
“I knew that you needed family. All your family, which means these jokers too.”
“Did I ever mention how brilliant I think you are?” I ask, bending to pick up one of the wet shot glasses.
“’Bout time you recognize that I’m the smart one. I was certain for years but the D and R at the start of my name pretty much confirmed it.”
“So pretentious,” I mutter.
“Says the rock star living in a rooftop penthouse.”
“Touché, monsieur pussycat.” Adam and Miles take a step back, their arms falling from around me, but I still feel their support. Sin remains close a moment longer, her head barely reaching the center of my chest, squeezing me so tight that I grunt with the strength of her embrace.
“I really am sorry for your loss and if there’s anything you need or anything I can do, please let me know.” The words that would probably be an empty platitude from anyone else carry significant weight coming from her because I know she means every word.
God, I’m happy that they’re here. We’ve always called ourselves family, but I’ve never been the one who needed them in that way. My parents are still married. Outside of my bandmates, my younger brothers are the closest people to me. I recognize family. I’ve seen the dynamics my whole life, but with my grandmother’s passing it leaves this void that I’m not sure is fillable. For the first time in my life, I’m not sure what family looks like, and my friends—my other family—showing up when I need them most, even when we’re on the outs and I messed up, gives me hope that I’ll be okay.
Adam, Chris, and Miles each grab one of the shot glasses. Sin joins in once she lets me go. Last but certainly not least, Ben picks up his glass and we all hoist our glasses up in the air.
“This one’s for Nai Nai,” I say. The glasses clink together, and we all toss back a
shot. The liquid burns my throat going down but not enough to stop me from taking a second and third shot.
At the hour’s end we’re all drunk, but it’s not the joyous kind of feeling when you’re out at a bar partying. It’s a somber intoxication that leads to deep thoughts and a spiral of ruminations because it’s one of loss. I feel it twofold because my grandmother is gone, and even though having my friends here is great, my girl should be here. Jess should be in this house, in my bed, in my life.
“She’s supposed to be here.”
“D. I know you and Grandma were close. But…” Chris’s slurred words fall off as confusion dents between inky eyebrows.
“I’m not talking about Grandma. I’m talking about Jessie. She’s supposed to be here.”
“Ah shit, here he goes…” Miles mutters. “I told you messing around with Jake’s little sister was a bad idea from the get-go.”
He’s right. He did. “Because you’re a real one.” I lift my half-full glass, tilting it in his direction before raising it to my lips.
“Why didn’t you tell us about Jess?” Sin asks.
I turn blurry eyes in her direction. “You can’t be serious. Your husband is a supreme dick. In his jealousy, I thought he was going to Hulk smash Adam who, by the way, doesn’t even like pussy.”
“He’s not that bad,” she grumbles.
“Hold up. Adam doesn’t like pussy?” Ben’s head whips toward Adam. “How did I not know this? Is it a new discovery?”
“We only found out when he started banging Sin’s bodyguard,” Miles chimes in.
“I always knew.” Sin’s smile is smug.
“Course you did. You had insider information,” Adam says, winking in her direction.
Ben raises closed fists to the sides of his head and opens his palms with an explosion noise. “Mind totally blown.”
“Keep living, young ’un,” Adam says. Pink creeps up my brother’s cheeks and big syrupy eyes skit across Adam’s features before falling away.
No fucking way! My little brother can’t have a crush on my almost-married bandmate.
“Knock it off.” I point an index finger at my brother who has the good sense to look embarrassed.
“What?” Ben shrugs.
“You know what,” I snap.
“And now we come full circle,” Miles says sagely, bringing his tented fingers in front of his mouth.
“Please, oh knowledgeable one, share your wisdom.” I reach for the now empty bottle of vodka. Frowning, I set it back down.
“Your immediate response was to warn your brother not to even think about looking at Adam. The bandmate and brother you’ve known for years. The one who is so pussy-whipped…” He stops suddenly and turns to Adam. “No disrespect. I’m by no means calling your man a pussy. Please do not send him to kick my ass. But is dick-whipped a thing?”
“None taken.” Adam runs a hand through his hair, gathering the strands into a bun on top of his head. “I can’t speak for everyone but, yeah, dick-whipped, it’s a thing. In my case, a very good thing.”
“Am I dick-whipped?” Sin asks.
“You’re booed up, Sin-a-sticks,” I say. “You have babies and a house.”
“Me and Seth have a house,” Adam interrupts.
“Not the same thing. Sin and Jake are married. Their shit is official. She had her man giving up a career to trapeze around the world after her ass. That’s some next-level kind of whipped.”
“Oh.” Sin tries to sound disappointed but with the contented look on her face she can’t quite pull it off.
“You, my dude, are shacking up,” I tell him with certainty that makes absolutely no sense. Adam and Sin are doing the damn thing. From the outside looking in, it seems like they have got this whole relationship thing figured out. I can’t even figure out how to get the girl to agree to be my girlfriend.
“My point…” Miles raises his voice to be heard. “Is even though you know Adam is a good dude, that he’s happily dick-whipped and shacking up with a man at home, you still bristled when you thought your brother looked a little too interested.”
Miles turns to Ben. “You holding out on us, Benny-boy? Something you need to share?” he asks, both eyebrows raised in question.
“N-n-no…” my brother stutters. “I’m not…My girlfriend wants us to try…and the guy looks like…” He clamps his mouth shut. The subtle blush tinting his cheeks has moved from pink to a not-so-subtle fire-engine red.
“This is a safe place.” Miles pats Ben’s knee. “So, your girlfriend wants a threesome with a mofo who looks like that guy?” We all see the yes in Ben’s face even though he doesn’t answer the question.
“I digress, but we’ll come back to that. The protectiveness you felt for your brother is the same way Jake feels about his sister. That’s why you should’ve manned up and told him. Then we wouldn’t have all this drama. First was Sin and Jake with the ‘go away, no come closer’ drama. Then it was Adam and Seth with the ‘I’m too wounded to find love…’” He tries to mimic Seth’s deep timbre.
“Hey,” Adam starts, but Miles shakes his head and rolls his eyes, dismissing whatever Adam is about to say.
“Then we have you sneaking and creeping like a 007 spy assuming we were either too dense, too self-absorbed, or too stupid to notice all the looks and well-timed exits. Well, news flash, people, we’ve been friends a long time, we notice the littlest shit and falling in love isn’t little. So why would we not notice?” Miles ends with a frustrated sound.
“Do you love her, Dan?” Sin asks with wide eyes.
“I don’t know…” I run a nervous hand over my forehead, looking down at the gray carpet under my feet instead of the curious gazes pointed in my direction. “I might.”
“No might about it,” Chris says. “You do.”
My eyes jump to my brother’s. That wasn’t a random guess. He knows. What in the hell?
“I knew we were dealing with something serious when I stopped finding him in random backstage corners and stairwells fucking strangers.” Adam shrugs.
“It was pretty clear to me and Kisha at Sin’s wedding. We were sitting on our balcony trying to enjoy the sun rising over the beautiful Mexican Riviera and, lo and behold, we see Seth stomping like a storm trooper away from his bungalow. At the time I didn’t know you were the cause.” He gives Adam a pointed look. “Then we see Dan leaving Jessica Johnson’s room, but not before we got a front-row seat to a make-out session. Kisha looked at me and was like, ‘Let’s go back in. We need plausible deniability. Shit’s gonna get real, babe.’ And did it not get real?”
“How do you always end up seeing everything?” Sin asks.
“I guess I’m just lucky like that. Wrong place. Wrong time.” The words drip with enough sarcasm and irritation that I almost want to apologize for placing the responsibility of holding mine and everyone else’s secrets on his shoulders.
“So, the moral to this story is secrets are bad, big brothers want to protect younger siblings, what’s done in the dark always comes to light, and family is family regardless of DNA. We all would’ve had your back if you had just told us what was going down.”
“Facts.” Adam nods his head.
The last couple of weeks of tension and uncertainty no longer matter.
“Does anybody have any idea how I can fix it?” I ask the group gathered around me.
“You start by being honest with the woman in your life,” Jessica’s voice comes from the door. Six pairs of eyes turn to look at her, but that beautiful hazel gaze is solely focused on mine.
“Welp, it looks like that’s my cue to get the hell outta Dodge.” In my periphery, I see Miles push to his feet.
“We’re going to head out too.” Sin stands, pulling Adam up by his arm. “Ben and Chris, I think Dan is going to need a little space tonight.” Sin corrals my brothers and sta
rts moving the group toward the front door.
“But we were supposed to cut our h—” Chris slaps Ben on the back of his head and looks pointedly at Jess.
“Oh right. We’ll do it tomorrow.” This earns him another slap.
“Not another word from you. Put on your shoes. Let’s go.”
I watch our merry little group disperse. Miles is out in the hallway by the time Adam, Sin, Chris, and Ben make it to the door.
“Jake is downstairs waiting for you. I told him not to come up since he wouldn’t promise to behave,” Jess says, giving Sin a side hug.
“He’ll get over it. It’ll just take some time.”
“There may not be anything for him to get over,” Jessica responds, her gaze fierce and still focused on mine.
“Take care, girl,” Sin says, slipping out the door, quickly followed by the remaining guys. The door closes with a soft thud and it’s just me and Jess with nothing between us but space, misunderstandings, and a shit-ton of hurt feelings.
I so don’t have this.
Chapter 35
Jessica
“You look tired," and so very broken. Daniel gives me a long, searching look before he sighs and runs his fingers through the long strands of hair hanging somewhat wildly around his back and shoulders.
“It was a long night.”
At that, we once again fall into a charged silence. I can feel the words on the tip of my tongue but can’t force them out. Frustration thick and cloying restricts the muscles in my throat, and I choke on the uncertainty of my presence here.
“Take a deep breath, poppet. It’s going to be okay.”
“How do we get there?”
“To all right, you mean?” he asks with a tilt of his head, taking first one step, then a second, and finally a third that puts him in touching distance. Eyes that are dark and troubled and so very sad trace over my face and neck. I feel it like a pushover, weak and clingy.
I nod.
Suddenly, the distance between us evaporates, and he’s right there. Close enough to touch and smell the scent of apples that haunted me in his absence. “Come here, Jessie.”
Exquisitely Yours: A Sin City Tale Page 24
