by J. Bengtsson
“So…,” I interrupted. “What brings you here?”
“Mom and Dad would very much like for me to talk some sense into you.”
“Oh, isn’t that nice of them?” I said through faked enthusiasm. “And why are you here, Kyle?”
“I…” Kyle stood there with bag in hand, looking back and forth between us. “… actually don’t know. I have nothing relevant to add. I just came because Jake offered me food.”
“Didn’t want to be alone with me, huh?” I asked.
Jake gave a slight nod. “He’s here as a witness.”
“For me or you?”
“I suppose that depends on how our conversation goes.”
“Um, guys, am I needed here?” Kyle asked. “If not, I’m just going to scoot on over to the table and lay waste to this bag of heaven.”
“Knock yourself out.” I motioned him to the chair.
Jake looked around. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”
“No. You haven’t.”
“Where’s your freeway?” he asked, my backyard always a source of amusement for the family.
We walked over to the window, both watching the traffic creep by. “Is it weird that I find this strangely inspiring? I want to pull up a chair and sit here all day and write songs.”
“Not weird at all. I do it all the time.”
Jake continued staring out the window, stalling. Or maybe he was waiting for me to start the conversation.
“Dad invited Tucker Beckett to the house without telling me. You know who he is?”
Jake nodded. “I know who he is.”
“Basically wanted to pawn me off to the worst manager in Hollywood. Oh, and on a side note… Have you ever heard Dad mention having a bad relationship with Grandma and Grandpa?”
Jake seemed surprised by the question. “JimSuey?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s never said anything. Why?”
“Nothing. He was just acting weird.”
“He’s been under a lot of stress lately.”
“He has?”
“Yes, Quinn,” Jake said. “Because of the phone calls.”
“What phone calls?”
“The ones Dad’s been fending off for you from Next in Line’s higher-ups for the past three days. They’ve been threatening him and you.”
I knew he’d been getting calls but didn’t know to what extent. “I don’t understand why they keep calling him.”
“Because you won’t answer, and apparently you gave the show his number as an emergency contact. And now he’s the one stuck dealing with your business because you won’t. He’s not your manager, Quinn. He doesn’t know this business, and it’s not fair to put this on him.”
“I know. That was shitty of me. I’ll fire Dad in the morning. Kyle,” I called out. “You’re my new manager.”
My brother looked up from his chalupa. “Sweet.”
Jake drew his hand across his throat, nixing the plan.
“I can see you, Jake,” Kyle said.
“You can’t even effectively manage yourself, dude. Kenzie sent you to the store for one thing—baby formula—you came home four hours later with a sixty-four-inch smart TV… and a puppy.”
Kyle wadded up the wrapper, only to pull another item from the bag. “One time, Jake. That was one time… and I got the formula.”
“Kyle,” I said. “I’m sorry, man. But due to recent evidence, I’m gonna have to let you go.”
“Eh. It was fun while it lasted.” He shrugged and laid into his taco supreme.
“About your other problem,” Jake said. “The way I see it, you’ve got three options. One: Go back to the show. Two: Quit music and find something else to do with your life. Or three: Hire Tucker Beckett.”
“Why him? Tucker told me his plan, Jake. He wants to start a band with me as frontman to escape Hollis’s solo artist clause. I can hire a different manager and do it myself.”
“You can hire anyone you want. But if you hire some meek-ass manager just so you can push him around and make him do your bidding, how far do you think he’s going to take you? Yeah, Tucker has a reputation as an asshole. News flash, Quinn—so do you. But being an asshole isn’t a bad thing as long as people are still opening the door when you knock.”
“How do you know they’ll open the door for him?”
“Because I’d open the door for him.”
“Why?”
“You know his story, right? Tucker didn’t just create AnyDayNow. He made them. Just because you put five good-looking guys together doesn’t guarantee success. Tucker made a series of decisions for the band that sent them soaring straight to the top…and, more impressive, he kept them there for five years. A boy band, Quinn. Imagine what he can do with a band that has more staying power.”
“Jake’s right,” Kyle said through a mouthful. “I watched a documentary about the band. Tucker Beckett was their driving force. The dude’s a genius.”
“And face it. You need someone with a significant amount of clout in this business to get you out of the hole you’ve dug. Someone who can stand up to Hollis. Someone ruthless.”
“Someone like Tucker Beckett.”
Both Jake and Kyle nodded.
“Oh, man,” I said, sinking down into the chair opposite Kyle and rifling through his Taco Bell bag. “Why do I feel like I’m trading one dictator for another?”
“That’s what your contract is for. Limit his power. Make him work for you.”
Kyle’s phone rang. “I know how powerful my input is here, boys, but it’s the ol’ ball and chain. I gotta take this,” he said, smiling at the image of his wife filling up his screen. Kyle licked his fingers as he ducked into the hallway to take the call.
I laid my forehead against the table.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Quinn?”
“It’s just a lot of pressure. I don’t know if I’m good enough for all this hype.”
“You’re good enough. I rewatched your performance last night, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve only ever heard you sing like that twice in your life. Once at my wedding. And then again on the Next in Line stage. Both times you were angry. Lost. Vulnerable. Remember at my bachelor party, we’d gotten into a fight and you were mad at me. The next day you performed that song you wrote for me at the wedding and you blew us all away. The other night, same thing. You were visibly pissed. Emotional. Before you even opened your mouth, I knew you were going to slay it.
“That’s the magic, Quinn. It’s what separates good from great. Find that anger that lives inside you, and instead of holding it in until you burst, take it out on the music. That’s how I learned to survive. All the darkness. All the pain. I threw it into my songs, and then I unleashed it on the world. And that’s what you need to focus on—the darkness inside you. Where does that come from? Why do you always seem like a simmering volcano? You’ve got this danger to you, but you’re always fighting it. It’s not a crutch, Quinn; it’s power. It’s what makes you great. Always sing from there. If you do that, I promise, there will be no one who can hold you back.”
“Even if I pick the shittiest manager in Hollywood?” I asked, bringing some levity into the life-affirming moment.
“Even then.” He smiled. “You’re that good, Quinn. You always have been—now you just have to believe it.”
Thirteen years of formal education and never had I learned more wisdom from a lecture than I had today. I finally understood what needed to be done. If I wanted to go all the way, that portal to hell I’d opened up on the Next in Line stage could never be closed again.
My apology long overdue, I said. “I’m sorry for what I said to you at Dad’s Mother’s Day party, Jake.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I was egging you on. You’re too easy, always one insult away from pulling the pin and…” Jake simulated an explosion with his hands.
“I’m serious. I should never have said those things to you.”
> My brother looked away, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Yeah, well. You’re not the first, and you’ll definitely not be the last. If I let shit like that affect me, I’d never leave my house. Maybe you ought to be more like me and stop listening to all the noise.”
Yeah, I thought. I definitely should.
13
Jess: History Repeats Itself
I’d just settled Noah onto his throne in front of the TV, a game controller in one hand and a chocolate milkshake in the other. If I were an eight-year-old boy freshly home from the hospital, I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way.
“Thank you, Mom,” he said, tipping his head up for a kiss, and I gladly obliged. There was nothing like nearly losing it all to make you feel like a winner.
I sank down in a chair opposite Noah and reread the last message from Quinn. It had come in yesterday, and I wondered if it would be the last.
Hey Jess. Not sure if you’re getting my messages but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Answer me back. Jesus, am I a stalker? I feel like a stalker
I smiled, almost hearing his voice speaking those words. God, I was so mean. What I was doing was cruel. I knew that, but I also knew how quickly things could change. I remembered being curled up in front of the TV, much like Noah was now, moments before my life caved in. My parents had already divorced a year before, but of the two, my mother was the stabilizing force. Days spent with my father were fraught with uncertainty. After Andrea took his livelihood away, he’d floundered, usually drinking his weekends spent with me away. I couldn’t wait to get back to my mother. The day she’d brought him home was the day I ceased being the center of her universe. Weekends spent with my father extended into weeks until finally she dropped custody claims altogether. Maybe if my mother had given me the same consideration I was now giving my son, she wouldn’t have chosen him over me.
And the worst part of it all was that it didn’t have to be that way. Even after she’d callously thrown me away, I would’ve forgiven her. And I would’ve eventually accepted her new husband into my life, just as Noah had accepted the handful of men I’d brought home to him. But my mother never gave me the choice. She’d made the decision for me and cut me loose. So, yes, maybe keeping Quinn away was an overcorrection, but I could not risk history repeating itself.
The doorbell rang. Noah looked up from his game, a momentary flicker of hope passing over his face.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe my dad?”
Don’t count on it, buddy, I thought as I peeked through the peephole. “What the hell?” I whispered.
“Is it Dad?” Noah brightened.
“No, it’s Andrea.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
“You have a sister?”
I could understand his confusion. He’d only met Andrea a few times in his life, and she didn’t come up often in discussion.
“I have two, dork. You know that. Now be good, I’m going to let her in.”
Why was I so nervous? She was my sister. But at the same time, housecalls were not our thing. In fact, I’d never been to her house, and she’d never been to mine. I was surprised she even knew my address.
Anxiously tucking my hair behind my ear, I swung open the door, my hand actually shaking in the process. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
We stood there awkwardly, staring at each other.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Um… do you have any weapons?”
A smile pushed forward. “No. Do you?”
“Just these babies,” I said, flexing my less-than-impressive muscles.
“I’ll take my chances.”
Andrea stepped into my apartment. I couldn’t even believe I was saying that. Andrea. In. My. Apartment. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on Noah.
“Oh, my god, Jesse, I can’t believe how big he’s gotten.”
“Yeah, these things…they grow. Who knew?”
Andrea laughed… in my apartment. First Quinn. Now this. Was I living in a TV show?
“May I?” Andrea asked as she approached Noah.
I nodded, still too dumbfounded to process her request.
“Hi, Noah,” she said, extending her hand formally. “I’m Andrea.”
He shook it, a floppy eight-year-old boy handshake. “Mom’s sister.”
“That’s right. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, but it sure looks like your mom is taking good care of you.”
“Aside from the scraped-up face, the bruised spleen, and the broken arm, you mean?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s what I meant.” Andrea smiled. “I brought you a gift, Noah… if… oh, I’m sorry.” She turned to me. “Maybe I should have asked you first. Is it okay?”
God, so awkward. How had we gotten this way? That we couldn’t be in the same room without spewing politically correct verbiage?
“We’re equal opportunity gift getters in this house, aren’t we, Noah?”
“We are,” he confirmed, accepting the present with a smile on his face. I watched from my place near the door as he ripped open the paper to reveal a game inside.
“Totally Gross!” he called out, his eyes sparkling. My sister had just gifted Noah with the only game that catered specifically to a little boy’s love of grossness. “Can we play now, Mom?”
“Maybe later. Don’t forget your manners.”
Noah, in all his pureness and without any knowledge of the rift between my sister and me, rose to his feet and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” she said, taken aback by his gesture, awkwardly patting his back. “Aren’t you a sweet one.”
Had she made even the slightest effort to be in his life, I would’ve gladly shared him with her. As would I have with my mother, stepfather, and younger half sibling, Mabel. But none of them had ever shown an interest, so I’d gone it alone, raising my son without a tribe. It had been a lonely path to travel.
Andrea released Noah and turned to me. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, then addressed Noah. “We’ll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need anything.”
Once we were out of Noah’s earshot, I offered up a glass of wine to Andrea.
“Yes, please,” she replied, eyeing me as I poured a glass for both of us. “I didn’t think you drank anymore.”
“I do occasionally, but normally I don’t have much of a reason. You, here, is a reason.”
“Yes. It surely is,” Andrea said, pausing as if she were struggling for words. “I hope you don’t mind me buying Noah a gift.”
“Why would I? You’re his aunt,” I said, handing Andrea a glass and sitting down at the table. “I am sort of pissed that I now have to play the game with him, but…”
We laughed, and it was an odd moment for both of us. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d done that together.
“So, what brings you to my doorstep, Andrea? Is a meteor plummeting to earth?”
“Not that I’m aware of. When you called in and told me about Noah’s accident, I just… I realized that I didn’t even know him. All these years. How old is he now—nine?”
“He’ll be nine in a few months.”
“Unbelievable. It seems like only yesterday you showed up at my doorstep drenched, pregnant, and desperate.”
I couldn’t help but react to her nonchalant retelling of one the worst days of my life. Did she have any idea how hard it had been for me to throw myself at her mercy? Obviously not. Worse still, she didn’t seem to notice my surprise.
“Well, he’s a darling boy. And handsome. I can’t get over how much he looks like Nick with his light hair and eyes.”
“He got my headstrong temperament. Does that count?”
“I suppose it does,” she said, her speech faltering. “Speaking of headstrong temperament, I have news on Dad.”
My head shot up.
“I know you’ve been looking for him.”
&
nbsp; “You know where he is?” I cut her off, eager for more.
“He’s in a hospital in Pasadena with a broken leg. I’m not sure of all the details, but he was hit by a car. They say he’s shown some interest in getting clean, and they have him on a waiting list for a public rehab. A transitional housing facility close by you is willing to take him until a spot opens up.”
“When is he coming back?”
“Whenever you go and get him.”
I brightened at the news, even if her ultimatum sent a pang of irritation through me. Since when had this become a ‘me’ problem and not a ‘we’ problem? Since forever. “I’m so happy he’s been found. A broken leg, you said? It could’ve been so much worse. And maybe now he can get clean and get a job and…”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Andrea cut me off. “You know we’ve been here before.”
“Yes, but he’s alive, and that’s all that matters.”
“Is it?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s barely there, Jesse—a drunken, strung-out shell.”
“And whose fault is that?”
It just slipped out. Usually I had more control with my boss—who also happened to be my sister—but Andrea deserved everything she got.
“You think this is my fault?” she protested.
“If you hadn’t fired him, none of this would have happened.”
Andrea sat back in her chair, a stunned expression on her face. “And why do you think I fired him?”
Because you’re a selfish bitch, I wanted to say, but I held onto that thought, choosing instead to throw the question back to her. “You tell me.”
“Jesse! He was stealing from the company. Coming in wasted every day…if he came in at all. I had no choice. He had to go, or the company that my grandfather built would have been totally destroyed. You think I wanted to take over a company I had no idea how to run? No! I thought I’d have years to learn it, but he didn’t give me that option. I had to either sink or swim.”
Andrea paused, perhaps getting her blood pressure back under control before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened to you. It wasn’t fair, but that wasn’t my fault. If you want someone to blame, then point that judgmental finger right where it belongs… at that father you idolize for no reason at all.”
