Bossy Brothers: Alonzo

by JA Huss

  “Then what’s the real story?”

  “The real story is just as incredible as the fake one. It’s just… a curse. That’s all. For the men born to each girl child in our lineage.”

  I frown at him.

  “We never marry. Only the daughter ever gets a family. And...” He shrugs up his shoulders. “It’s held for hundreds of years. The boys all go off to do beautifully dangerous things. But they never return.”

  “Hmm.” I lie back down and look up at the dark sky. Is he trying to tell me something? Like… This is fun, Tara. But that’s all it will ever be.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Lonnie says.

  “What am I thinking?”

  “You’re thinking… this is his way of breaking up with me.”

  I look straight up at the stars. Do not turn my head one smidge. “Are we even together?”

  “We are.”

  “So are you breaking up with me?”

  “No. It’s just a fucking story.”

  I huff out a breath. “Then why did you tell it to me? Why bring me all the way out here in the middle of the night?”

  He turns his body now. Props his body up with an elbow on the rock. Leans the side of his head into his palm. “You know why I have mermaids all over my body, Tare?”

  I shrug. “You’re fascinated with the idea that your great-great-great-grandmother was a mythological creature?”

  “No. Not at all. They scare me.”

  I can’t help it. I have to look at him for this part. So I turn my head until I see moonlight shining in his hazel eyes. “Why?”

  “Because they remind me that beautiful things are dangerous.”

  I close my eyes.

  “You can do dangerous things for beautiful reasons or beautiful things for dangerous reasons. But it really all comes down to risk.”

  I open my eyes again. “Risk?”

  “Yeah. Risk.”

  “You’re talking in circles. I don’t really get your point tonight, Lons. But I feel… sad.”

  He nods his head and then lies back down. “Me too. But this rock feels good. And kissing you feels good. And I’m glad you’re here. So fucking glad you’re here. I just want you to know that. I really like you, Tara.”

  “But…”

  “But I come with a lot of baggage, sunshine.”

  “Hello? Witness protection program? Dude called Diablo?” He and I both sigh-chuckle at the same time. “Nice to meet you, kettle. My name is pot.”

  “Yeah.” He sighs. “I have to admit, learning that you have baggage kinda makes me feel a little bit better.”

  I smile. Because he’s not breaking up with me. He’s testing the waters. He lied to me. He knows I hate the lies. But he hasn’t told me everything and now he’s worried about the secrets he’s still keeping.

  There’s two ways this could work, I guess.

  One. He does tell me everything. I’m OK with whatever it is and we become partners in his dangerously beautiful life.

  Or two. He tells me nothing beyond this elusive myth story of who and what he is. I shut up, ask no more questions, and we live the lie forever. Or at least until we both can’t take it anymore.

  But maybe there’s a third way?

  Maybe I expose his secrets, never tell him I know, and then make up my own mind—leaving him out of the decision altogether?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - ALONZO

  “So. That’s my story.”

  “That’s it, huh?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You’re just the oldest cursed male in a long line of cursed males.”

  “You could say that.”

  “And you’re just OK with that?”

  I pause to consider this instead of agreeing out of instinct. Because I am OK with it. This is who I am. Deep down in my core I am the eldest son of the siren’s daughter. “Well,” I finally say. “Yeah. I’m OK with it. But I really like you, Tara.”

  She turns on her side and props herself up with an elbow. “I like you too. But I think your story is bullshit.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh, letting my lips morph into the lines of a smile. “I thought you might.”

  “If you don’t want to be with me—”

  “Hey, I never said that. I just want you to know I come with baggage.”

  “Of the mythological siren variety.”

  “It’s just a metaphor.”

  “I understand that part. The part I don’t get is… why tell me any of it? Why not just go on pretending? I mean, listen, Lonnie. Our whole friendship, relationship, whatever you call it—it’s all based on lies we told each other.”

  “Let me ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Did you set out to hurt me when you told your lies?”

  “I didn’t really lie to you. I am Tara now. I am a librarian. I wear pencil skirts. People are allowed to reinvent themselves. And there’s no law against changing your name and starting over.”

  “OK. I agree with that. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you mean to hurt me?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. So if I did—”

  “You didn’t.” She sighs. “Maybe a little. But that’s not the point. I just like the truth, OK? I just hate the feeling that someone is lying to me. I can’t deal.”

  “I’m not lying anymore. You see me now. You’ve met my family. You’re here with me in real life. My only question is… will it be enough?”

  “To sit on the sidelines, you mean? While you go off and do these… dangerously beautiful things?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  I rub a hand down my face. “Even if it’s in your best interest?”

  “How do you know if it’s in my best interest?”

  “It’s illegal, OK? What I do? It’s illegal, Tara. And I don’t want you mixed up with it.”

  She lies back down and stares up at the sky.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Of course I heard you.”

  “Then… do you have anything to say?”

  “Well, yeah. I would like to know what it is you do that’s illegal.”

  “I can’t tell you that. I shouldn’t have told you this much. But I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Huh. Because you’re doing a pretty good job at convincing me I should leave. Just go back to Colorado and take my chances with the guy named after Satan.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. I hope you believe that.”

  “Then what are you really asking me, Alonzo? What is your point?”

  “My point is…” I inhale and hold it for a few seconds, all the possible ways I could phrase this running through my head in an instant. “My point is… Luke is happy. Emma is happy. My mother is happy. And none of them know the truth. So it’s possible to be with me the way my mother is with my father, and live a very good life.”

  “And it’s just as equally possible that knowing you’re the oldest male child of the siren’s great-great-great granddaughter has already determined your path in life and there’s no way for this thing to turn out any other way than the one foretold in the story.”

  “OK.” I sigh. “That’s fair. I’m tainted by myth.”

  “It’s been drawn in ink all over your body.”

  “I get it.”

  “We’re literally lying on top of the fucking myth, Lonnie.”

  “I said I get it. I’m not gonna talk you into anything.”

  “I’m a naturally curious person. I told you that.”

  “I know. I’m not gonna ask you to change for me.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “What’s not fair?”

  “You. Being all… understanding and shit.”

  I turn my head to look at her. I smile. I reach for her with my hand and place it against the side of her cheek. “Full disclosure, OK? I fell in love with you some time last year. I can’t really put my finger on the exact
moment, but I know it happened a while back. So me being all understanding and shit isn’t a ploy to deceive you, or trick you, or change your mind. I’m just respecting you.”

  “I appreciate that. But… what if you stopped what you were doing?”

  Again, my natural inclination is to say no immediately. But again, I pause to think about this. Am I beholden to this family myth? Did I set myself up for this disappointment based on some stupid story written on a rock three hundred years ago? “I guess I could.”

  “I don’t want to push you. I’m not going to be responsible for your decisions. Not at this stage in the game.”

  “I’ll tell you what.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’ll seriously consider it. No. OK, listen. I love you. I want to get to know you better. I think I want to marry you, and have babies with you, and spend the rest of my life with you. So… give me a week to think about it.”

  “Think about leaving your dangerously beautiful life behind?”

  “Yeah.” I nod my head. “Yeah. It’s a fair ask, Tare. I’m more than happy to try to find a way.”

  She closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a few moments. “This day is so fucking weird.”

  “Should we be done with it?”

  “Go back?”

  “I’m ready if you are.”

  “I’m so tired I’m actually thinking it might be easier to spend the night here.”

  “Fuck that.” I get to my feet and extend my hand to her. She takes it and I pull her up in one smooth motion. “I have a little house, on a quiet street, and there’s a bed in that house calling us home.”

  “Like a fucking siren song.”

  We both laugh.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Like a stupid fucking siren song.”

  I row us back to the boat and she falls asleep on the bench seat next to me with her head on my shoulder as I navigate back to the marina. And then I carry her, piggyback style, the few blocks to my house.

  We get in bed half naked, her only wearing a t-shirt and me only wearing sweat shorts, and snuggle into each other’s bodies like we’ve slept together in the same bed for thousands of years.

  Her breathing goes soft and silent almost immediately. But I can’t sleep because I can’t stop looking at her.

  No. That’s not quite it.

  I’m afraid to take my eyes off her.

  I’m afraid she will disappear.

  I want to tell her everything about me, not just the romanticized parts. Not just the myths. The real shit.

  But Jesse’s confession the other day stops me. He showed Emma a part of himself and he almost lost her. My little sister’s strength and assertiveness is what got them their second chance. She believed in him and in her place at his side. She took charge and made it happen.

  I’m afraid Tara will see through me and say, “You know what? Forget it, Lonnie. You’re just not worth all this trouble and consideration.”

  And I can’t let that happen.

  I need to keep my secret just a little longer.

  Just long enough to convince Tara that I’m worth it.

  I have to be up at five AM for a client so I don’t sleep at all. Just lie in my bed with Tara in my arms, thinking and over-thinking all the ways I might handle the precariousness of our relationship.

  Then, just before the sun begins to rise, I get up, shower, and dress, looking at Tara in my bed as I pull a shirt over my head and make a decision.

  I lean down and kiss her on the cheek. “Hey. Tara. I have to go to work.”

  She turns over on her back, sleepily mumbling, “Hmm?”

  “Don’t forget about Jesse.”

  She tries to open her eyes. Fails. Hums a few more protests about the early hour, then seems to wake a little and tries again. “What?”

  “Remember? The Boston brothers. You said you’d help me?”

  “Oh. Sure. I forgot about that.” I figured she might. “OK. What time will you be home?”

  “Four, maybe. It’s an eight-hour deep-sea tour. Sorry to leave you alone all day.”

  She smiles up at me, eyes still only half open. “Go do your beautiful dangerous things. I’ll be here spying on people.”

  I take one more look at her and then kiss her again before turning away and walking out of the house.

  She can spy on the Boston brothers all she wants. Let her dig up all their secrets.

  Just keep her away from mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - TARA

  I wake to the sound of Belinda’s rapid-fire talking and for a moment I forget where I am and have several long, half-dream state thoughts about why she’s here in my apartment while I’m asleep in my bed.

  But then the events of the past four days come rushing back and I sit straight up in bed, breathing fast and hard.

  Diablo.

  Lonnie.

  Lies.

  Key West.

  Sirens and baby boys.

  Did that really happen last night? Yes. He took me to that island, told me that story, and while it sort of made a little bit of sense under the hazy shine of the moon and stars, it feels very surreal in the light of day.

  A gravesite. A siren. And a curse. Something about pirates? Maybe? That’s kinda fuzzy. But you know what’s not fuzzy? The word ‘illegal.’ I’m one hundred percent he used that word.

  He’s up to something illegal. And he doesn’t want me involved.

  He’ll never be husband material. I think that was the gist of it.

  More rapid-fire talking outside snaps me back into the present. For a moment I think it’s Vann, but then… no. That’s not his voice.

  It’s Jesse’s. Jesse Boston’s.

  And then Alonzo’s request comes back to me. Look into him. Find his secrets.

  I drag myself out of bed, throw on the same clothes I was wearing last night, and then wander out onto the porch. It’s a lovely, warm, sunny day here on the island.

  “So you have one client?” That’s Belinda sounding incredulous.

  “It’s a good client.” That’s Jesse sounding defensive.

  “That’s not really a job, though. How can you pay bills with just one client?”

  “I don’t need to pay bills. I’m a billionaire.”

  Belinda is in the process of rolling her eyes at him when she spots me. “Hey, stranger. I thought you were kidnapped last night. Where the hell did you guys go? Vann knocked on your door last night around nine and no one answered.”

  “Little boat ride.” I take a seat on the railing closest to her porch. The houses are very close together. Only about ten feet separate them.

  “In the middle of the night?” Belinda has her suspicious hat on today, I guess.

  “It was a date. And it was romantic.” It was kind of romantic. If you don’t count the gravesite and the curse. I’m pretty sure it ended with a piggy-back ride. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Jesse Boston here says he’s in Key West for a client. Says he’s some kind of famous”—she stops to make air quotes—“yachter. As if that’s a thing.”

  “It’s a thing,” Jesse says.

  “It’s not a thing. I grew up here. There were no famous yachters. There were rich douchebags with yachts. And anyway, that doesn’t explain why you were in the process of asking me all kinds of questions about Tara.”

  “Me?” I point to my chest. “Why are you asking questions about me?”

  “He says,” Belinda continues—and boy, she’s in some sort of mood this morning—“he’s here to give Alonzo love lessons.”

  I crinkle my nose. “What are you talking about?”

  Jesse turns to me. “That part is over. I wasn’t aware that he had a girl when I was sent here to help him out. Now I’m just here for guidance.”

  “Who sent you?” I ask.

  “It’s not important. But how can I help you while Alonzo’s at work? Do you need anything? I’m totally at your disposal.”

  And you know what? Maybe I should take this job a little mo
re seriously. On the one hand, when you talk to this guy without introduction, Jesse Boston kinda comes off like just another a douchebag yachter. But Lonnie already told me some of his secrets so to me, he’s actually just another incarnation of your run-of-the-mill shady mobster.

  I’m just about to tell him I’m good, when Belinda groans. “I do not want to talk to you!”

  I look across the street and see Lonnie’s brother standing on the cottage porch. Tony. That’s his name. The one Belinda used to date.

  Is it me or are all our lives suddenly becoming very tangled?

  “I’m not talking to you,” Tony yells as he hops down his porch stairs. “I’m going to eat breakfast at my parents’ house.” Then he stops. “You wanna come?”

  “No, I do not want to come!” Belinda volleys back.

  “Not you.” Tony juts his chin. “Jesse. You eat yet?”

  Jesse perks up like this is the best invitation ever. “I’m down.” And then he is down. Off the porch and crossing the street.

  Belinda walks over to my porch, trying to pretend she’s not watching them walk away. She growls a little as she climbs my steps and then flops down in a rattan love seat next to the railing. “God, I hate him.”

  “Tony,” I say. “Why though?”

  “Because he’s such a fucking liar, Tara. I swear to God, if I have to hear his practiced speech about how he can’t be serious with a girl one more time, I will choke him out with my bare hands.”

  “What was his excuse? Please tell me it was not a siren.”

  “A siren?” She shoots me a confused look. “Like a car alarm?”

  “Never mind. What was his excuse?”

  “He has to protect me. His work is too dangerous.”

  “His work?”

  “Yeah. I know. He runs some fucking sailboat business.”

  “Another douchebag yachter?” I snort.

  “Exactly! I can’t take it. I really can’t take it.”

  “Where’s Vann?”

  “He’s inside. Still sleeping, I guess. And that’s another thing. Vann is being all mopey because he thinks I still have a thing for Tony.”

  “Do you have a thing for Tony?”

  “Duh. Did you see him?”

  I laugh.