by Monica James
“But will you let me explain what really happened? You’ve heard his side,” he spits. “Can you now listen to mine?”
I nod, afraid of what I will say if I speak.
“Damian and a group of his jock friends jumped us. We were just there to have a good time. Bull attacked us first because we were arguing over some girl. A cheerleader. It got out of hand, and before I knew it, the guys were on us, out for blood.
“It was self-defense. It was either us or Damian. None of us meant for it to go that far. They were rich high school kids, and they saw us as nothing but white trash. Bull gave as good as he got, and when he picked a fight with the big boys but couldn’t follow through, his brother lost control. Bull was the one who started the fight, and we were the ones who finished it.
“We ran because we were scared. We knew we fucked up, but we couldn’t go to the police. Our lives would be over if we did.” Christopher lowers his eyes. “But that night, it still haunts me to this day. It haunted Lachlan, too.”
I need a minute to digest this.
His version of events seems like a completely different story. Bull insisted the attack was premeditated, and they tortured Damian before they killed him. But Christopher says that’s not the case. He states it was self-defense. Bull blames Christopher and his friends because he started a fight he couldn’t finish, and his temper resulted in his brother’s death.
It was a tragic accident, one that Christopher and Lachlan regretted.
I did notice a change in Lachlan’s behavior around that time. He became withdrawn, and that’s when we grew close. When he was supposed to be running wild with Christopher, he used to sneak into the trailer and watch movies with me.
At first, I didn’t think anything of it; I was a fourteen-year-old girl in love with her older brother’s best friend. But he never touched me. He was well aware of my feelings, but he didn’t make a move until I turned sixteen.
“Why did you leave, Christopher?” I try my best to keep my emotions under wraps. “You leaving broke me in half.”
He hisses as if my words wound him.
With hesitation, he reaches across the table and gently grasps my hand. “I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong, and I will seek your forgiveness for an eternity, but I was riddled with grief and shame for what I’d done. I took the coward’s way out, but also, I couldn’t be around you when I knew the truth about Lachlan. I needed time away to heal. The path I was going down was going to end in only one way.”
Damian’s death changed him. It changed us all.
“I’d looked after you my entire life; it was time I looked after myself. That’s why I left Detroit. This town has caused me nothing but pain.”
His touch along the back of my hand suddenly feels…wrong, so I subtly remove my hand from his.
As far as excuses go, I can’t help but feel a sliver of resentment toward my brother. He did take the coward’s way out. Instead of facing the consequences of his actions, he ran when I needed him the most.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I needed this. I went off the grid, traveling without a destination in mind, soul searching for what my purpose was in life, and I found it when I met a woman—Bianca.”
Something comes over Christopher, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. It’s a mixture of love but also hate. Just what happened between them?
Once he gathers his composure, he continues. “Bianca taught me all there was to know about succeeding. I learned from her and built a name for myself, investing in stocks from all over the world.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. That’s all he is comfortable sharing, it seems, but I don’t buy it. I can’t shake this gut feeling that some of his dealings aren’t aboveboard. Christopher shares what he wants to. But it’s the things he doesn’t want to divulge that I want to hear about, like who busted his nose.
He told me he got into the ring, and it was an accident, but I don’t believe him. That mistrust is there because no matter what he says, he’s lied to me.
From the sounds of it, he has lived a full, happy life, while I have struggled to survive. I don’t tell him this because I don’t want to seem resentful, but I am angry that he left me. I understand he needed to leave, but for him to be MIA for so long hurts.
He’s been living the high life while I’ve been stuck here, wondering if I would ever see him again. It’s always easier for the person who left to forget because their life is filled with new adventures. But for the ones left behind, we’re merely left with memories.
We aren’t the same people anymore. Yes, I love him dearly—he’s my brother—but there’s something that I can’t put my finger on that seems…off.
His story is tied together with a big red bow, and usually, those stories are utter bullshit. But I don’t want to rock the boat and cause him to disappear again.
His presence has changed Jordy’s behavior dramatically. Jordy is smitten with him. And it seems the feeling runs both ways. Christopher has stepped into his uncle role without a hitch. He picks Jordy up from school when I can’t and has taken him to a couple of basketball games.
He said he has lots of lost time to make up for. With Jordy and with me.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m back for good. It’s just us from now on. No one is going to stand in the way of us being a family again.”
I wish my brain would shut off, but it can’t. Whenever Christopher says something nice, about wanting to be a family, I can’t help but think it’s too little, too late.
Where was he when I rushed Jordy to the hospital with a fever of a hundred and five? Or what about when he fell off his bike and needed three stitches under his chin? Where was he when I didn’t have enough money to feed my son? And where was he when I decided to start working at The Pink Oyster because I couldn’t make ends meet?
The answer to all my questions is the same—he wasn’t here.
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, thankfully keeping his hands to himself.
Every part of me screams that it’s not that easy. But when Jordy skips over with a grin I haven’t seen on his face in a long time, I eventually nod. No matter how much resentment I have toward my brother, I don’t want to disappoint my son.
“This is my uncle. He’s like a millionaire,” Jordy proudly says to Ian, a friend from school. He’s a good kid. I’ve picked him up from class when his mom’s running late. She too is a single mom, so I do what I can.
Christopher chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re just saying that so I’ll give you more money for the arcade.”
Jordy replies with a mischievous smirk.
Christopher digs into his pocket for his wallet, but then stops suddenly and looks at me. “I don’t know if your mother approves, though, Jordy.”
Narrowing my eyes, I suddenly have the urge to slap him for putting me on the spot like this.
When Jordy spins my way, his grin is soon replaced with a frown. “Mom! Uncle Christopher said his money is ours.”
“Oh, is that right?”
Christopher raises his hands in mock surrender when I glare at him. This isn’t funny. This is exactly what I was talking about. He looks like the knight in shining armor while I’m the boring one who always says no.
“It’s okay, kiddo. Listen to your mom.” There isn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone, which makes me feel terrible.
This is a common occurrence with Christopher. One minute, we’re okay, and the next, we’re not. But it seems to be one-sided. I’m the one who has everything I ever wanted, but I can’t decide if the grass is greener.
“Mom!” Jordy whines, but I stand firm.
“Jordan, baby, if you want money, you ask me. Not your uncle, okay?”
Christopher sits back in the booth, not saying a word.
“Okay,” he says unhappily.
Christopher slaps his hands together, breaking the sudden awkwardness. “Let’s order. I’m starved.”
Jordy nods, sliding
across the booth to sit near Christopher, and Ian slips in after him. It seems no one wants to sit near the boring mom.
A passing waitress takes our order. Jordy rattles off what he wants while Christopher laughs at how his order is fit for a king. Looking across the table, I see a picture-perfect family; it’s what I’ve always wanted. So, no matter the bothersome scratching just below the surface, I decide to stop doubting this.
Christopher is back, and we’re going to be a family—I’ll make sure of it.
Washing my hands in the bathroom sink, I’m beyond terrified of my exhausted reflection. I don’t remember ever looking this tired before, but I have far more important things to worry about.
Looking at my watch, I realize it’s time to go. I’ll be late for Avery’s appointment if we don’t get a move on. Tossing the paper towel into the trash, I open the door and bump straight into an unsuspecting man.
“Oh, god, sorry!” I quickly apologize when he reaches out to stop me from falling on my face.
“It’s fine.” He laughs. “Are you okay?”
“I should be the one asking you that,” I reply with a smile.
Before he has a chance to reply, a huge shadow casts over us, and the man quickly removes his hand from my bicep. I don’t know what’s going on because it’s so unheard of. I don’t know if my exhausted mind is imagining things.
But when Christopher shoves the poor man into the wall, it seems I’m seeing things clearly. “Get your hands off her!” he yells, gripping my wrist and attempting to place me behind him.
But I shake him off, furious. “Christopher, calm down.”
He does the complete opposite. “You touch her again, and I will end you,” he threatens the man, who raises his hands. He knows better than to challenge Christopher.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to help your girlfriend.”
My stomach turns, and bile rises. “I’m his sister,” I clarify, which suddenly makes this situation worse.
“Well, she doesn’t need anyone helping her. She has me, and that’s all she needs. Get out of here.”
The man doesn’t need to be told twice and splits, not looking back.
Christopher turns, examining me from head to toe. “Are you all right? He had his hands all over you.”
“Hardly,” I reply with bite. “What was that? You can’t go around threatening to end someone.”
“Watch me,” he says, gripping my elbow. He starts coaxing me toward the door, but I recoil from his hold.
“I appreciate you going into big brother mode, but I’m not a kid anymore. I can look after myself. I have been doing so for a very long time.”
It’s a low blow, but I can’t help it. He went from naught to a hundred in a second. Christopher has always had a temper, but this is something else. This behavior is erratic and completely irrational.
Reading my seriousness, he takes a deep breath and transforms from beast to man right before my eyes. It’s that easy, which troubles me.
“Sorry, you’re right. I fucked up. I’m just overprotective. You can’t blame me for wanting to protect you.”
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. People are giving us sideways glances, and I realize we’re making a scene.
Jordy bounces over, none the wiser. “Are we going? Uncle Christopher, you promised we’d play ball.”
Christopher nods, composing himself, while I wonder what the fuck just happened. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Our reunion isn’t what I thought it would be. We have a lot of healing to do.
“Lily, you don’t have to wait with me. I’ll catch a cab home,” Avery says, interrupting me from my thoughts.
Shaking my head, I grip her cold hand in mine. “You will not. I’m staying with you.” Avery’s comment is the wake-up call I needed to focus on what’s important—her, and not what happened today.
She gives me a weak smile in response.
Her trial treatments are taking their toll on her. Even though her doctors say this is normal, she looks worse than when she came in. They pump her full of drugs and then send her home, awaiting her feedback on the side effects.
They document everything and hope when she gets tested in three months’ time, her results will show some sort of change. But they aren’t hopeful.
Sniffing back my tears, I quickly help her stand when a nurse comes to get her. She is unsteady on her feet but refuses to use a wheelchair. She will march to her deathbed. I gulp at the thought. The nurse takes over for me and helps usher Avery into the consulting rooms.
“She’ll be out in an hour or so,” she informs me. “I can call you when she’s done.”
Settling on a plastic chair, I reach for a tattered magazine. “It’s okay. I’ll wait here.”
Avery turns over her shoulder, smiling. Although she doesn’t want to put me out, she’s glad I’m here. She shuffles along with the nurse, who closes the door behind them. The moment it shuts, I take a deep breath and bury my face in my palms.
I have no right to cry. I’m not the one losing the fight with cancer. I know it. The doctors know it. And Avery knows it. She’s dying. These trials may slow it down, but the inevitable looms—Avery is dying.
My heart constricts at the thought because I feel so damn helpless. My big plan of saving her seems so childish now that I know what I’m up against. I thought buying the ballet studio would help somehow, but at this rate, I won’t make enough money in time.
Sucking in a deep breath, I stop hiding and face the harsh light of day. Flipping through a magazine from the early 2000s, I try to focus on the interesting fashion and not on how I’m failing in every aspect of my life.
My cell rings, snapping me from my bubble of negativity. It’s Christopher. “Hey,” I answer, hoping my voice doesn’t betray what I was just thinking about.
“Hey, sis. Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital. Remember, I told you I was taking Avery for her treatment?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot. Do you want me to start dinner?”
Looking down at my watch, I see that it’s later than I thought it was. I don’t know how Avery will feel after her treatment. If she’s unwell, at least then I can stay with her.
“That would be great. Thanks.”
“That’s what big brothers and uncles are for,” he replies happily while I roll my eyes. He’s trying too hard, and it’s grating on my nerves. But I soon tamp down my annoyance.
Though what he says next just incites it once again. “What time are you working?”
Yes, that’s right, I’m still dancing at Blue Bloods—the club my brother co-owns with Carlos. And yes, I see how fucked up that is.
“Eleven,” I answer sharply.
“What do you feel like for dinner?”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I tell myself not to pick a fight with him, no matter how badly I want to.
“Anything is fine. Oh, I better go. The doctors are here.” I don’t give him a chance to get a word in edgewise before I quickly end the call with shaky fingers.
Inhaling deeply, I exhale with a sigh, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. When I signed that contract, it seems I signed it in blood. Even though my brother is co-owner, the contract was made with Carlos, so technically, he has nothing to do with it.
He said he’s tried to negotiate with Carlos, offering to give him the money lost if I break the contract, but Carlos won’t budge. He doesn’t want to damage his business relationship with him, but he’s fine with ruining our already strained relationship.
He said he didn’t know I was working at Blue Bloods. That it was merely a coincidence. But again, doubt lingers.
I’ve told him why I agreed to work at Blue Bloods in the first place, hoping he would offer to lend me the money so I could quit, but he hasn’t. God knows he has the cash. But the amount I need to buy Avery out is something he said he can’t part with.
He knows how much Avery means to me, but it doesn�
�t seem to make a difference.
I know I shouldn’t be angry. It’s his money. But I thought he’d at least offer me something so I could stop dancing. But night after night, he comes into work, seeing how I bust my ass being eye candy for the nasty pervs; yet, he still doesn’t help.
When he watches me dance, I feel…dirty. I’ve never felt this way before. But dancing for your long-lost brother while in a thong is as fucked up as it sounds.
It’s only for a couple of more weeks, I reason. By then, I will have enough money to go to the bank and ask for a loan. I’ve saved every dollar I’ve earned, and when I get that loan approved, I will be leaving—contract be damned.
My cell rings again, and I sigh in relief when I see it’s Kath. “Hey.”
“Hey, hun!” Kath has proven to be a true friend, and seeing as I don’t have many, or any of them, I am thankful our paths crossed. “Just checking you’re all good for tonight?”
I arch a brow. “Of course. Why?”
I can hear the change of background noise as though she’s moving into a quieter room. “Word on the street is that someone is recruiting dancers,” she says in a hushed tone. She must be at home, not wanting to wake her nine-month-old.
“Who?” I ask, my interest piqued.
“I’m not sure who, but they’re calling him the Robin Hood to strippers.” She chuckles while my stomach twists. “Apparently, he’s a real looker too. India said he could have asked her to sign over the deed to her house, and she would have agreed.”
Rubbing my brow, I beg to whatever god is watching over me that it isn’t him.
“He’s inked from head to toe, but it’s his eyes,” she reveals as I curse the fucking universe. “Seven girls from different clubs have taken him up on his offer. On the DL, I think they just want to get into his pants. Especially Cherry.”
My cheeks heat for many reasons, but at the forefront is the fact that Cherry is not only a brilliant dancer, but she is also beautiful, confident, and can have her pick of any man.
“What club does he work for?” I innocently ask even though I know the answer.
