Joshua

by Beatrice Sand

  JOSHUA

  THE VANDENBERG CLAN | BOOK TWO

  BEATRICE SAND

  Sand Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Sand Publishing

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the written permission from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Cover design by Oliviaprodesign and Sandy Jansen

  Cover Photographs: DepositPhotos

  Editing by J.S. Editing Services

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or events is completely coincidental.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SNEAK PEEK MAC

  ALSO BY BEATRICE SAND

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To Mama,

  Thank you for always being there for us. You’re amazing!

  PROLOGUE

  joshua

  Twenty years ago…

  In an attempt to be stealthy, I try to find my way out under a cover of darkness as light suddenly floods the room.

  “Jeez, Jaz… are you trying to give me a heart-attack?”

  “Where are you going, Josh?” she asks, half curious, half worried, as she blinks rapidly against the harsh white light.

  “It’s none of your business. Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t. The music from the ballroom is too loud.” She cocks her head. “Why are you so secretive?”

  I sit down on her bed and put on my Nikes. “I’m getting some real food downstairs. Can I get you anything?”

  “You mean you’re going to steal food from the wedding party?”

  I look up at my sister, who was born three minutes after me, and gaze into her creepy green eyes; creepy because it’s like seeing my own. “I don’t think it’s considered a crime when a mother is starving her children.”

  She rolls her sleepy eyes. “Oh, please… Mom isn’t starving us. We’re vegetarians.”

  “Speak for yourself. No one can force me to eat just carrots, zucchini, and all that other tasteless raw shit. If we had a father, I’m sure he wouldn’t put up with all this soy crap.”

  “Mom says it’s healthier for us.”

  “Yeah, whateva. Did she show you scientific proof? I want to eat steak and bacon. I want to get as tall as Mac. Falafel patties won’t get me there.”

  Jaz chuckles. “Mac is fourteen; you’re barely ten. You’ll get taller, I’m sure.”

  “I better. So, you want any or not?”

  “A slice of wedding cake,” she says resolutely. “I saw it when they brought it in this afternoon. It looked wicked awesome. I almost broke off a piece if the kitchen staff wasn’t looking.”

  “Okey dokey. If there’s any left, I’ll get you some.”

  “If Mom catches you, you won’t be–”

  “She won’t,” I say as I push up from the bed. It’s not the first time I’ve sneaked out of the apartment to go on the hunt, looking for excitement together with Mac, although I admit it’s a challenge with Mom waiting tables and walking in and out of the kitchen, but I’ll manage. I grew up inside this hotel; I know every corner of every room as I know my back pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

  I rush down the stairs and scan the lobby with a trained eye. A few wedding guests – according to their fancy clothes – are scattered around the lounge, and the night clerk is busy talking to a young couple at the front desk. Casually, I cross the big open space, head down, but my eyes trained on my surroundings. Of all people, last thing you want is to bump into the hotel manager, aka Uncle Max, when you’re on your way to the hot and cold buffets for a late night snack.

  I turn the corner and then, fast and focused, I walk toward the Beacon Ballroom, to the reception. I sneak inside and make my way over to the buffet while surveying the setting. A big band is playing a jazz song, and couples on the dance floor are swaying to the music. Several waitresses move between the pink decorated tables while picking up used glasses and dirty dishes, but Mom isn’t one of them.

  I grab myself a plate and load it up with short ribs and spicy looking chicken wings to the point of overflowing. My mouth waters at the sight of all the tasty items sitting on the buffet. I also take a skewer, and then go for the most important element of this dish: a juicy burger with onion strings. Smirking, I shove one onto my plate.

  I glance around the room and no one seems to notice me thus far. I take another plate from the stack and walk toward the pink frosted cake. A few pieces of wedding cake are already cut and ready for grabs, and I choose the biggest slice, then bolt the room. I don’t need to bother with silverware, since we have that in our suite.

  I scan the area outside the ballroom and walk back to the lounge, but just as I turn to round the corner, I hear a familiar female voice.

  “Shit,” I mumble. Not many places to hide on this side. The meeting rooms are most likely locked, and going back to the ballroom isn’t an option. My best bet is the children’s playroom. I turn around and run through the hallway, then use my elbow to open the door and pray it isn’t locked.

  It isn’t.

  Quickly, I step inside while tripping over a toy, but manage to keep the food on the plates. If it weren’t for the two plates in my hands, I’d pump my fist. “Wicked frickin’ pissah!” I whisper.

  I frown when sighs and smacking sounds come from somewhere in the room, then find myself staring at Mac – making out.

  A girl with lots of hair, and wearing clothes that reveal certain body parts, is hanging from his neck. Their mouths are fused, and Mac’s hand covers one of her boobs.

  The sight makes me grin. Seems I wasn’t the only one crashing a party tonight. Meanwhile I rack my brain for what to do, but I’m stuck. Those two are so busy swallowing each other, they haven’t noticed me, so I keep standing there, feeling like a fool, keeping as quiet as possible, staring in fascination as the girl moans when Mac squeezes her boob.

  She yelps when she catches me watching them.

  “Hi,” I say quickly. “I’m his cousin,” I explain as I nod in Mac’s direction, although that doesn’t justify my presence. “You’re here for the wedding party?”

  “Jesus, man... what the hell are you doing here?” Mac asks, finally realizing they’re not the only ones in the playroom. His hair is a mess, and his shirt is hanging out of his pants. For a moment, I wonder which one of us will be punished more severely if his dad caught us. If being the keyword here. We’re both clever enough to avoid getting caught.

  “Wrong room, sorry. I’ll be out of here in a minute.”

 
“You mean, you’re out of here now, before I kick your skinny ass out.”

  I nod. “Yeah, that’s what I meant,” I say, not particularly looking forward to getting kicked out by my oldest cousin. Tristan I could handle. Then again, he’s younger.

  Mac eyes the food, grinning at last. “Hungry, much?”

  “I’m a growing boy. Seeya!” I say to Mac and the still stupefied girl. “Sorry for the interruption.”

  I turn around and carefully put my head outside, scanning the area, then make a run for it when the coast is clear. I run up the stairs to the ninth floor and sneak back into our suite.

  Yes, another clean sweep!

  Panting, I walk into the bedroom I share with my sister, only to find her sleeping hard with her stuffed bear clasped into her arms. Careful not to trip again, I place the cake on her nightstand. It’ll be good enough in the morning, I’m sure. Softly, I close the door and saunter into the kitchen to get a coke, and then settle in front of the television.

  I start with the burger, followed by the wickedly sticky chicken wings. By the time I’m halfway through the ribs, my belly is about to burst, so I decide to take a short break. I mess around with a fun video game for a while, grinning when I think of Mac and the girl. His hand squeezing one of her boobs... I wonder what it feels like. Have to ask him tomorrow.

  ***

  “Hey, sweetie. What are you doing here?”

  I stare at my mom, then at the plate with ribs still sitting on the table. Shit, I must have fallen asleep, and now I’m busted. There’s no way she didn’t see the plate with food. “I was hungry.”

  “I noticed.”

  I rub my tired eyes. “Are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad at you; I’m proud of you,” she says unexpectedly. I’m not getting punished for eating meat? Seriously? “You brought your sister wedding cake.”

  “She thought it looked awesome.”

  “It did. She’ll love it.”

  “I don’t want to be a vegetarian,” I say in all honesty, now since she’s apparently not mad at me. “I want meat, like Mac.”

  Mom pushes my hair out of my face and smiles down at me as though she didn’t hear me. “You have such beautiful red curls; you and Jazzy both.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “It’s not red, it’s auburn brown, and those aren’t curls. It’s just wavy.”

  “And you’re growing up so fast; ten years already in a few weeks. I’m certain you’re getting a big party.”

  “You say it as though you won’t be there.”

  “I love you and Jaz so much, don’t you ever forget that. Promise me you’ll always remind your sister.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why can’t you remind us?”

  She releases a deep sigh. “Mommy is going away.”

  “Going where?”

  “To a faraway place.”

  “Can we come with you?”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. You and Jaz stay with Uncle Max and Aunt Louise and all your cousins. You’ll have a good life here, a bright future. You and Jazzy will be loved and always taken care of. You’ll never have to worry.”

  Okay, this is sounding alarmingly. “But...are you leaving us? Like Dad?”

  “I tried, baby,” she says, her fingers touching my face and hair all over again. “You have to believe me; I really tried. I just can’t anymore. Mommy is so tired.”

  Tears are streaming down her face, and I still don’t understand why she’s leaving or where she’s going when she’s tired. She drapes a plaid over my body and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Please don’t hate me, Josh. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

  “Are you still here when we wake up?” I ask, worried she’ll want to leave right away. I want her to stay; I want to understand now, not when I’m older, but I’m too sleepy to find the right words.

  She nods as she wipes away her tears. Good, then I’ll talk her out of it tomorrow. I’ll even become a herbivore if necessary, as long as she doesn’t walk out on us.

  ***

  I blink as I survey the living room instead of my bedroom. For a moment, I have no idea what I’m doing on the couch underneath a blanket, but then I remember everything that happened last night. The wedding party, Mac kissing a girl, Mom...

  I shift my gaze to the table, and notice the plate with ribs is gone. Mom took it away. I wonder if that weird conversation we had was real, or if my imagination ran wild.

  I throw back the plaid and sit up. My sneakers are neatly placed underneath the table. “Mom?”

  No answer.

  I push to my feet and check her bedroom. “Are you in here, Mom?”

  The room is empty, the bed untouched.

  My heart is pounding faster, my mind telling me something’s wrong. I try to think of our conversation and the exact words. If it was real, then she promised me she’d be here in the morning. Then again, did she really promise? I didn’t ask her to take a pledge, did I?

  Did she lie to me?

  I take the key lying prominent on the kitchen counter. It’s Mom’s key.

  I run down the stairs and check every floor until I reach the ground floor.

  “Have you seen my mother?” I ask the morning crew at the front desk.

  “No, did you check the restaurant?”

  “Not yet. Thanks!”

  I run toward the restaurant, the kitchen, the ballroom where the party took place, and even the sports center, although she’s not much of a swimmer. She practices yoga, but that’s on Thursdays.

  Worried now, I take the elevator up and rush back into our apartment. “Mom?”

  Still nothing.

  I step inside the bedroom and find Jaz sitting on her bed, eating the damn wedding cake.

  “It’s super awesome. Thanks, Josh,” she says, her mouth full and face covered with pink buttercream. “I won’t tell mom you had meat. This time,” she warns.

  “Have you seen her?”

  “You mean Mom? No, she’s probably still asleep. She worked a late shift, remember?”

  “She’s not in her bedroom. Her sheets are untouched.”

  Jaz shrugs. “Maybe she went on a date after her shift. Didn’t she leave a note?”

  “Our mom doesn’t date, she hardly has any friends. She only works and cries herself to sleep every night.”

  “Don’t be nasty, Josh. She’s our mom, and she’s unhappy. We shouldn’t give her a hard time.”

  “She’s giving us a hard time. We need to find her before she does anything stupid.”

  Jaz swallows down a bite of cake. “I dreamed about her last night. It felt eerily real.”

  I cock my head. “What do you mean?”

  “She sat down on my bed and caressed my hair, saying I was beautiful, as if she was saying goodbye to me. Usually she says, ‘Goodnight my princess, but in the dream she kissed my forehead and said, ‘Goodbye my princess.’ I wanted to ask her why she was saying goodbye, but she was already gone. Anyways, she’s not gone. I can still smell the exotic scent always surrounding her, don’t you?”

  “Fuck!”

  “That’s a week no gaming if she caught you saying that.”

  “Stay here, okay?”

  “What’s going on, Josh? Why are you acting so weird?”

  I run down the hallway, all the way to the other end where Uncle Max and Aunt Louise live. I knock on their door, but when there’s no immediate reply, I pound my fist against it. “Uncle Max! Uncle Max!” I yell, banging again, louder this time.

  Seconds later, the door flies open, and Uncle Max stares hard at me. Mac told me about his father’s freaky cold stares making you want to run for the walk-in freezer in the hotel kitchen. He swears it’s less chilly in there, and he should know, because he accidently locked himself in once. The morning crew found him the next day, frozen to his eyelashes and brows, disoriented from the carbon dioxide.

  “You want to wake up all the guests, Joshua?” he asks in an angry tone, without raising his voice. “You want me to get you a
bullhorn?”

  “No. I’m sorry Uncle Max.”

  “It’s six o’clock on a Sunday for crying out loud. You better come up with a plausible excuse for producing all this noise in the corridor.”

  Aunt Louise appears in the doorway, tying her long plum-colored robe embellished with peacocks and flowers. Her worried eyes examine my face. “Stop it, Max! Can’t you see he’s upset? Come in, sweetie, and tell us what’s wrong.” She hushes me inside and closes the door. “Is Jaz okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. It’s Mom, I can’t find her. I searched all the floors and the restaurant, but–” Stupid tears stream down my face, and I furiously wipe them away, but they just keep flowing. I shift my gaze to Uncle Max. “I think she left us.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  joshua

  Fuck the holiday season!

  And the carols that come with it.

  I roll out of bed and shove my hands through my too-long hair as I drag myself over to the record player cabinet. I can handle most days of the year, but right now I could drink an entire fifth of whiskey, and then some until I black out, if it weren’t for the fact I have a kitchen staff counting on me to have my sorry ass downstairs in forty-five minutes for lunch session.

  I search through my vintage record collection, and pick out Whitesnake. Grinning, I remove the dust from the controversial cover of a woman straddling a large snake and take out the album. Carefully, I place the needle on the vinyl and turn up the volume, drowning out “Deck the Halls,” echoing from somewhere, anywhere, in the square, then head for the kitchen, and a rendezvous with an already open bottle of scotch.