by J. Bengtsson
I let out the breath I’d been holding. God damn, Jake was deep.
As I had my whole life, I didn’t feel worthy… not even of this conversation. He was so much more than me. But maybe that was okay. Maybe I didn’t have to be Jake. Right up until tragedy came knocking, I’d actually been loving being me. I loved Sketch Monsters. I loved our music. And despite everything that had happened the last time we’d been on that stage, no one could dispute that the guys and me—Matty, Mike, and Iron Maiden lovin’ Brandon—we’d fuckin’ shone.
“I wish I had a bottle of tequila so I could take a shot every time you said something profound, Jake.”
“I have my moments.” He grinned. “So, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. What do you want, Quinn? Really think about it. What is the most important thing to you? Focus on that first, and once you have that nailed down, go to the next most important thing and nail that down.”
“Jess. She’s most important to me. I don’t want to lose her.”
“Then you start with Jess. Here’s what I’ve learned about women—get that shot glass ready—you can’t just say it, Quinn. You’ve got to show it. Meaning you can’t walk back into the guesthouse and tell Jess you love her and think that will make everything go away. First you show her. Then you tell her. Then you get your shit rocked. Easy.”
I laughed. The first time I had in a while. In his straightforward, low-energy way, Jake gave me hope.
“Word of advice, though,” he said. “Put a stop to the rumors. Don’t let Jess shoulder this herself. She’s only in this position because she had the misfortune of stumbling into the McKallister family. However you have to do it, fix it!”
A plan began to populate in my head. I could do that. This was good. At least now I had goals. A purpose. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn this sinking ship around.
“What do you think I should do about the band?” I asked. “Do we retire Sketch Monsters or rename it? Or do we keep it the same now that we’ve got the sympathy factor on our side?”
Jake’s face soured. “Like I do, you mean?”
I froze. “That’s not what I meant.”
He shook his head. “You think I had it so easy, don’t you?”
“No. I know you’ve never had it easy.”
“I mean professionally. You think they took one look at my tragic backstory and swung those doors wide open for me. Jake McKallister. The kidnapped kid. Come one, come all. But what you don’t know, Quinn, is that I was a joke. A novelty. I was supposed to be a one-hit wonder—a way for music execs to make a quick buck off my tragedy. And they were right. People did come. They came to gawk. To point. To laugh. To pity. But they didn’t come for me. And they sure as shit didn’t come for my music. I don’t think you understand what it took for me to get up on that stage, knowing what I knew. Knowing that I was a joke. And then add to that, I was still a kid. A kid with a lot of psychological issues. I wanted to quit every day. I hated everything about the exploitation and the mocking and the disrespect. So, when you say my tragic backstory got me in the door, technically you’re right. But it only got me in the door so they could slam it in my face. I could have given up and come home. I could have put my guitar down and never played again.”
Jake paused a moment, maybe collecting his thoughts.
“So why didn’t you?” I probed, needing the answer more than he knew.
“Because I refused to let them win. If they insisted on turning me into a circus animal, then I insisted on getting my just dues. I started defying their orders, and instead of playing the cover music they tried to force on me, I started singing my own songs—the ones I’d written from that place inside that makes me great. And people stopped laughing. They stopped talking and started paying attention, even singing along. And I got stronger and stronger until finally no one could stop my forward roll even if they tried.
“That’s what you have to do, Quinn. Stop listening to the noise. You’re not the poster boy for this tragedy. Get back on that stage and shut them up!”
I had no words. Nothing. We sat in silence for a long while until I finally found my voice.
“All these years,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve treated you like shit, blaming you for everything that went wrong in my life and my career. You must hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. You are a pain in the ass, though.”
“I know.” I agreed. “I’m sorry if I ever implied you sailed along on your name alone. It was easier for my ego to credit your success to the kidnapping rather than admit it was your superior talent that got you where you are today. In my defense, I’ve never known much about your early life. Mom and Dad kept it from me, and once I got old enough to go searching for the information myself, I was too wrapped up in my own pettiness to care about you. The truth is, I’ve always felt like an outsider in this family. You guys all have this shared experience, and then there’s Grace and me. We’re like imposters in your world.”
“You’re not imposters. Maybe your experience wasn’t the same as mine or Emma’s or Kyle’s, but you had struggles none of us faced. My childhood, before Ray, is something I can look back on and smile about. Can you say the same?”
I thought about that, trying to remember the good times, the ones that genuinely filled me with joy. Where were they?
“No,” I admitted, surprising myself with the reply.
“That proves you’re not a hanger-on, Quinn. You’re a McKallister—just like the rest of us.”
34
Jess: Jump Back In
“Wake up.”
I felt the fluttery kisses first, then his soft voice urging me awake. For a moment, I forgot it all. There was no shooting. No wounded boyfriend. No damning information about me circulating. It was just Quinn and me in my apartment, simple and free.
I opened my eyes. He was standing over me with a lopsided smile on his face. I looked him up and down. Had he…? Yes. My god. He’d showered and gotten dressed. Something about this scene wasn’t right, and it wasn’t just his newfound interest in grooming. Maybe I was dreaming. Because when we’d gone to bed last night, Quinn had been solidly stuck in his head.
I shot up in bed.
“What is it?” I asked. “Is everything okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“Easy, chick.”
Chick? Was he joking? I blinked, not understanding. “Am I dreaming?”
“That’s a valid question for sure. I am pretty dreamy, but no. You’re awake.”
I looked around the room, then whispered, “Blink twice if you were abducted by aliens.”
He blinked once.
“Who are you?” I asked.
All joking aside, he said, “I talked to Jake last night.”
“On the phone?”
“No. He came over.”
I had no recollection of that happening. “When?”
“About one thirty in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, so I called him. Turns out he never sleeps, so it worked out perfectly. Who knew? Anyway, I think I now understand what needs to be done.”
“You do?” I asked, hope blossoming. If Quinn could be all right, then so could I. I just needed him to walk through the fog first. “What needs to be done?”
“It’s a complicated series of steps. Jake’s going to get me a printout. But all you need to know is that you’re number one on my list.”
A smile swept over my face. “I am?”
He leaned down to kiss me. “You are, and I won’t mess us up, Jess. I can’t risk losing you.”
I slipped out of the sheets, stood up, and threw my arms around him. “You could never lose me.”
“You underestimate how resourcefully dumb the McKallister boys can be.”
“I factored in for that.”
He smiled. This all seemed too good to be true. For the past six weeks, Quinn had been spiraling into a dark place, and today he magically woke up a changed m
an? I wasn’t sure I was buying it. “Don’t get me wrong, I love this new and improved showered version of you, but how can you have one conversation with Jake and then suddenly everything is all better?”
“It’s not all better… but it’s been put into perspective. I don’t want to wake up seventeen years from now and realize I forgot to live for myself. I want to live like Brandon, drumming until I take my last breath. You and me, Jess, I want us to leave something beautiful behind when we go. I want Noah, and our future babies, to know we went out on a high.”
“Yes.” I kissed him. “Yes to everything.”
Quinn circled his arms around my waist. “Now. To Jake’s list. The first order of business is Nick.”
“Nick?”
“Yes, Nick. See, he’s going to be issuing a retraction today. Isn’t that nice of him?”
“How are you going to manage that?”
“I’m going to manage him just how you manage Noah. With bribery.”
I’d never been to Nick’s place, mainly because I didn’t know where he lived. But thanks to Tucker’s intel, we pulled up in front of his adorable cottage-style house.
“Seriously?” I protested. “Nick lives on a cul-de-sac? I’m going to kill him.”
Quinn unhooked his seat belt. “Maybe you should let me handle this.”
“Please.” I waved off his concern. “I’m fine.”
We got out of the car, and as we strolled up his decorative stone walkway, I couldn’t believe my eyes. “He’s got a succulent garden, Quinn! And mature olive trees. I bet his grass is even sod. The fucker.”
“Jess… I will buy you a flat of succulents if you keep your mouth shut when he opens the door.”
“Okay, but I’m just letting you know that if Nick has a hummingbird feeder—not the plastic red one but the bougie kind with the mason jar and the cute little yellow flowers—he will have to die.”
“Honestly, Jess. If you just want to fill the cart on Amazon, I can keep you out of prison. Now stay quiet and watch me spin my magic.”
“Yes, this is extremely exciting for me.”
Quinn knocked, and I bit my lip to keep from commenting on the gorgeous stained wood.
A moment later the door swung open— no need to check the peephole in this neighborhood. I nearly toppled over Nick’s dry-stacked stone retaining wall when a highly pregnant woman appeared, looking from Quinn to me, then back to Quinn.
“Um… Nick?” she called over her shoulder. “It’s for you.”
I couldn’t stop staring at her belly, but then that was the point, obviously. The woman was wearing nothing but a sports bra, short shorts, and her belly. I imagined she was a yoga instructor. I mean, why not?
How was it this man had been living the dream while Noah and I were eating off-brand peanut butter?
Quinn seemed to be reading my irritated mind and tapped my outer thigh with his knuckle. Be good.
Nick appeared at the door and immediately did a double take before settling into the reality of his ex-girlfriend and her rock star boyfriend standing on the other side of his farmhouse front door.
“What, uh… my god. How… uh… how are you doing?” Nick stumbled over his words. “That shooting, man, that was…”
I caught Nick’s eye, and mine rounded as I shook my head. Stupid. Stupid pampered Nick. Quinn was in the very earliest stages of drumming his way through life. He didn’t need Nick ripping the sticks out of his hands.
“How’s the band? Are you guys getting back together? I mean without Bran…”
My eyes couldn’t get any wider nor could Nick get any stupider. Good lord, the guy was oh for two in tone-deaf remarks.
“I’m doing okay,” Quinn said, not showing any emotion aside from a subtle tightening of his jaw. “And the band is up in the air at this point.”
“Oh yeah. That’s too bad. You guys were decent.”
Were? Decent? What a douche.
“You got a second?” Quinn asked.
“Uh…” Nick looked back at his woman before stepping outside with us and shutting the door. We walked along the front porch to his—breathe, Jess—patio swing.
My lips pressed together in frustration. Now he was just showboating. I couldn’t help but inquire. “Is Noah going to be a big brother?”
“Pending a paternity test, yes.”
“You always were so romantic.”
Nick shot daggers at me. “What do you want?”
“So, here’s the deal, Nick,” Quinn replied. “I need you to retract your comments and posts about Jess on social media. All of them. And then I need you to issue an apology.”
Nick scoffed.
Quinn didn’t flinch. “I’m not joking.”
“And I’m not doing it. No way am I going to issue an apology. Fuck you both.”
“You know what’s so awesome about being famous, Nick? I have a manager who does all my bidding. And you want to know what my latest bidding was? You. And your family. And all the shady deals you’ve got going on to keep your baby mama and son from getting a dime of your money.”
Quinn held up a folder. “It’s all in here, Nick. I can bury you. I can bury your family’s business. All you’ve got to do to prevent that is show some grace and do the right thing by your son’s mother.”
Nick wasn’t fighting back. Obviously, whatever was in that folder was damning enough that Quinn’s offer was at least somewhat appealing to him.
“And to further sweeten the deal, you’re off the hook financially—forever. I’ve already set up a trust for Noah. He’ll never want for anything. Imagine the relief of not having to hide your assets when it comes time for college.”
My ex was not finding Quinn’s wily digs amusing.
“So what? I make a deal with you and I never get to see my kid again? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Is that what you want?” Quinn asked, almost hopeful in his tone.
“No, it’s not what I want,” Nick blasted back. “He’s my son. Not yours.”
“Then act like it. Be a father, Nick. Go to the hospital when Noah jumps off a shed. Go to the principal’s office when he gets caught pranking his teacher by having his classmates move their desks back every time she turns her back. Go to his baseball games. Answer his phone calls. If you want to be his father, then be his father. Otherwise, get out of his life. Because I’m there, and I’d be more than happy to step into your empty shoes. I love Noah. I’ll provide for him and do all the things you won’t do. So, unless you want to lose him for good, I suggest you step up—right now.”
Quinn’s speech was like a mic drop. We all stood there, stunned. Quinn had laid it all out on the line, professing his allegiance to Noah while still giving Nick the ultimatum—the solution of which was entirely in his hands.
“I never wanted any of this, Jess. I was eighteen. A scholarship in my hands. And then you came to me, pregnant and threatening to derail everything I’d worked so hard for. I didn’t want Noah back then. I admit it, okay? Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be part of his life. But between you and my mother and now Quinn… it’s like I can’t make any decision that doesn’t have everyone screaming. You think I liked seeing my kid run to you on his birthday, Quinn? Tore my fucking heart out.”
Nick dropped into the swing, pissed. Defeated.
Quinn and I exchanged a glance. We’d hit a nerve neither one of us knew was there but now was not the time to cave to sympathy.
“So, what do you say, Nick? Are you going to retract the things you said about Jess so the contents of this file will go away?” Quinn asked, waving it around.
“What about the financial stuff?” Nick pressed. “Will I be totally off the hook?”
“Yes. You will have no further financial obligations to Noah or Jess.”
A clear line had been drawn in the sand, and which side Nick chose would determine all our lives going forward.
“Okay,” Nick said. “I’ll retract all the statements and issue an apology. But in return
I want to see Noah from time to time.”
“Supervised visitation,” I agreed.
“Whatever,” Nick replied. “And Quinn? I’ll want that financial agreement in writing.”
“So what damning information was in that folder anyway?” I asked as Quinn and I strolled hand in hand along the beach walk. We took it slow because, despite his changed attitude, Quinn was still a man recovering.
“It was filled with empty pages.”
I stopped, staring. “What?”
“I was bluffing, Jess. I haven’t been playing poker with my dad since I was two for nothing.”
“Oh, my god. You got so lucky.” I laughed.
“No, we got so lucky.”
“He’s not going to be a dad to Noah, is he?”
“Probably not much of one. Do you care?”
“No. I’d prefer him out of my life, but Noah loves him so I think we did the right thing by throwing him a bone. I will say, however, it would be nice if he could take over some of the principal’s visits.”
“Uh-oh. Was there another one?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t want to bother you with it because you were all smelly and sad.”
“So kind of you. What happened?”
“Um, let’s just say Noah aced his science experiment.”
“That’s good. Isn’t it?”
I cringed. “Wellll… not exactly. He brought bags of powdered instant mashed potatoes to school and scattered them all over the grass just before the sprinklers came on. I don’t think I have to tell you what happened next.”
“Oh, shit.” Quinn grinned. “It must have been like Thanksgiving on that lawn.”
“Oh yes, it surely was. And guess who got marched into the principal’s office, again.”
“Hmm… I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you.”
“Ding, ding, ding! Mother of the Year right here, baby!”
Quinn laughed, the raspiness warning me he was out of breath.
“Here,” I said, pointing to a bench. “Let’s take a break.”
