Anything For Family

by Lola StVil

  “It’s okay to be freaked out. It’s okay,” she vows as she pulls me into her embrace. “I once dated a guy who opened the door for me. I damn near fainted. And when I found a guy who actually put my bra back after making out, I asked him to marry me.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m so messed up. I’m so broken, how can anything happen with us?” I plead.

  She holds me at arm’s length and looks me in the eye. “Hey, you listen to me and listen well. Your bastard of a husband tormented you for years. He tried to destroy you, but you fought back by leaving. You’re a fucking rock star. And this Gage guy is lucky to have you. And if he doesn’t see that, then he’s not as smart as we thought he was.”

  “I haven’t told him about…everything. What if I tell him and he runs?”

  “Then he doesn’t deserve you. You could have been swallowed up by all of your ex’s drama, but you found your way out. And you will find a way to start over. If not with this guy, then another guy. Or better yet, no guy at all. Shelly, I’ve known you almost all my life; you’ve never needed a man to shine. That hasn’t changed. I promise you will be fine. So, take a deep breath and remember who you are—a fucking rock star.

  “Now, I need you to do me a favor and stop crying. Because if nothing else, you’re weeping on a Carolina Herrera blouse that’s easily two thousand bucks.”

  I laugh and bury my face in my hands. She orders me another glass of wine and demands that I tell her—once again—what Gage looks like. I tell her, and she says she hates me and hates that I got to him first. When things settle down, I tell her she can go back to “lawyer” mode.

  “Are you sure?” she asks.

  “Yes. I’m okay. Thank you. Tell me about the latest round,” I reply, trying to brace myself.

  “Well, I think I have some good news.”

  “Really? What is it? Did he sign the papers? Is he willing to give me a divorce?”

  “He’s willing to consider it. And what’s even better, he’s willing to throw in the summer home in the Hamptons, the vacation property in the Virgin Islands, and twenty-five percent of his stock portfolio. That’s twenty-five million.”

  I feel a cold chill run down my body. My husband has never been one to give without asking for the impossible in return. If he gives you one thing, he will find a way to take two things from you. And then take back whatever he originally gave. He’s a cold, heartless bastard who couldn’t care less about being fair.

  “Janet, what does he want in return?” I ask.

  “He wants to see you.”

  “No.” My voice is firm and unyielding.

  “If you agree to see him, he’ll grant the divorce and the money—”

  “I don’t care about the money. I just want my divorce. He can keep everything. Just get that. That’s all I want.”

  “Shelly, you feel that way now, but when it’s all done, you’ll regret not asking for anything. And as your lawyer, I can’t advocate you walking out of a marriage worth two hundred million dollars with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your family had money when you two married, not as much as him, but you are owed that. And I don’t think you—”

  “Janet, stop! Please. Look, I loved all of that. I loved the shoes, the spa days, and traveling. But none of that is worth what it would do to me to see that monster again.”

  “You can’t leave this marriage with nothing.”

  “In my marriage, I was nothing. He made sure to tell me that—every day. I’m done with that. And I’m not walking away with nothing. I’m leaving with myself. I haven’t seen the woman I used to be in years.”

  “Shelly, he will try to take everything from you.”

  “Yeah, monetary things—he can have it. He already took what was most important. He can have the rest. Just get me my divorce.”

  “And what will you do without the money?”

  “Maybe I will never have lunch on this side of town again. Maybe I won’t get invited to the best parties or see the newest fashion show to premiere in Fashion Week. But that’s okay. I have a master’s degree in economics from Stanford, and I speak four languages. I’ll figure something out.”

  She sighs and shakes her head in disbelief. I place my hand on top of hers.

  “I know you want to help. And I love you for that. But you don’t know him like I do. He will use this meeting to try and get in my head. He’ll try to bully and run over me. It took too long to get here. And I’m not going back. Not for all the money in the world. No meeting. Never.”

  ***

  Last night when Bot called me into the agency, he gathered us to tell us some disturbing news about Operation Snake Head. They had narrowed down the list of suspected traitors. It turns out the leak is coming from one of the senators on the Intel committee. That shit is too insane for words. The very people who are supposed to oversee the CIA are fucking selling us out. I’d like to get my hands on that guy.

  When Bot was done telling us the group we should be looking at, he also advised us to tread lightly. It’s true. If we accuse someone—a US senator—without any rocksolid proof, it will go down very badly for us. Right now, there are ten members on that committee. We can’t just blindly point the finger at one. So, as of now, they are being watched and carefully monitored.

  If Lawson has it his way, he’ll just beat the shit out of members of the committee until one of them confesses. I share his anger but if we don’t get the evidence we need, going after any one of these guys could be a disaster. I got him to back down for the moment, but there’s no telling how long I can rein him in.

  It doesn’t help when a few days later, another operation goes south—this time in Paris. Thankfully, we were able to contact the agent in time, and no one was hurt. But we failed to get our hands on a vital piece of intel.

  While work has me twisted in knots, there is one part of my life that is working out very well—Shelby Rush. We’ve gone out almost every day for two weeks, and it still feels too good to actually be true. I’ve never dated a woman like her.

  She’s just as comfortable eating from the hot dog cart as she is dining at a five-star restaurant. She has an easy smile, just as big and genuine if she’s speaking to a millionaire art lover or the janitor. In short, she’s spectacular. She’s on my mind far more often than she should be. In fact, she pretty much dominates my thoughts. If it weren’t for my job—which requires complete focus—I’d be in real trouble.

  I was headed for a night out with her, but had to cancel because my youngest brother threatened my life if I didn’t come by his house for dinner. Before, Wyatt’s house was the place we all loved. He’s an amazing cook. But since Rose passed away, he doesn’t even boil eggs, let alone make dinner. I get why he’s that way. The two of them used to cook together; they were making their way through a cookbook when she fell ill.

  I knock on Wyatt’s door, and he opens it. He’s not an ugly guy. Or so the women I know have told me. He’s tall, works out, and has Dad’s eyes. He’s the nice one of the family. Out of us five boys, he’s the one with the heart. My other brothers are good—deep down—but they can be fuckers if they are pushed; especially Logan. That bastard is skilled at killing and ducking bullets. It’s a wonder he’s not in prison. Thank god he works for our government.

  “Get in here,” Wyatt says after a quick hug.

  Wyatt’s townhouse, much like mine, isn’t heavily decorated. Like all us guys, we mostly work; home is an afterthought. He hands me a beer and tells me he ordered pizza. Had he been anyone else, I would have canceled and gone to see Wonder. But it has been a while since I’ve seen Wyatt. In the Hunter family, when you go too long without being seen we come for your ass; like it or not. We’re close, although that was before Rose’s passing. Now, we’re each kind of finding our way, I guess.

  I open the beer and down it as the pizza guy rings the doorbell. Wyatt tells the guy that I will be the one paying him.

  “What the hell?” I ask.

  “Hey, I
’m NYPD. We make no money. You’re Mr. Big shot. Pay up.” I give in and pay the guy. Wyatt doesn’t need money from the police department. Most years, he donates his income to a charity. That’s the way it is with most of us. Our jobs have nothing to do with cash, thank goodness, because cops get crappy pay. We down a few slices before we start to really talk.

  “What’s up? And since when do you call the shots and demand I come over?” I ask.

  “Well, I missed your charming face. It’s so cold and lonely here without you,” he jokes.

  “Fuck off, Detective Hunter,” I reply with a smile.

  “You talked to Dad?” he asks.

  My stomach clenches. It’s never good when we start out a conversation like that. Dad is one of the toughest guys we know. Growing up, we each sought to be like him. He was Army most of his life and guided us with a strong hand. And yet, for all his “tough talk” and rules, he was a softy when it came to Rose. She was his heart, and now that she’s gone, he’s gutted. So if there’s news about Dad, I fear it could be something bad. He may not be handling this well—not that any of us are.

  “Is Dad alright?” I ask.

  “He has a reunion coming up with his old Army buddies. They are supposed to meet upstate.”

  “He doesn’t want to go?”

  “Actually, I think he does. But he doesn’t want to leave Mom alone. We need to be there for her while he’s away.”

  The pizza in my mouth suddenly tastes like rubber. I wash it down with the beer, which is now bitter. I put the bottle down on the counter and walk away towards the kitchen window.

  “What is it?” Wyatt asks.

  “There’s a lot of stuff going on in the agency. Our house is not in order. I won’t have the time to—”

  “Don’t bullshit me. She’s your mother.”

  “Hey, you don’t need to tell me who she is to me.”

  “Then act like her son! You’ve been gone from her life—our lives—for weeks now.”

  “I call to check in,” I reply, knowing it’s a poor excuse.

  “That’s not enough, and you know it.”

  “Hey, Cash is the one who took off. I’m still here.”

  “No, Gage, you’re not. You’re hiding. And I get that shit, I really do. But that time is over. You need to check on Mom.”

  “You think I’m some asshole who abandoned his family, right? That’s who I am now?”

  “No, man. You’re the guy who loves his family so much he can’t stand to see them in pain. So, you’re running. But you need to come back now; Mom needs you. I need you, man. I’ve seen Mom down before, but this is different. She’s in a hole too dark to get any light. Dad is doing the best he can, but, Gage, she hasn’t gotten out of bed in days.”

  “What? No one told me that.”

  “Yeah, we were hoping she’d get better, but she’s not. And I don’t know what to do. Logan, Jackson, and Dad, we’re all just trying to figure it out but…” Wyatt can’t finish his statement. This is bad. He’s the optimist in the family. He looks wrecked and exhausted. Shit, I’m such a dick. He’s been the one to have to put on a brave face while I did my best to stay away. I am an asshole.

  “Hey, don’t worry about Mom. I’ll take care of her.”

  “You will?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go stay with her while Dad’s away. Don’t worry about it. I know you and the others have been trying to get her to cheer up, but it’s my job; I am, after all, her favorite,” I remind him, knowing it will bring on an argument and some much-needed levity. Wyatt smiles and shakes his head.

  “Ha! You really think you’re her favorite? You were the ‘trial and error’ phase. Then she got better with each kid. Meaning, she struck gold with me,” he says.

  I laugh at him and call him a liar. “We both know that Mom had all of you to see if she could strike gold twice. And she did—with Rose and me.”

  Wyatt’s stunned. I have yet to say her name since she passed. I can understand his shock. But it felt good to say her name.

  “I miss her,” I say mostly to myself.

  “Yeah, me too. But you’ve never talked about it…” Wyatt says.

  “I know. And I didn’t make it easy for you guys to talk about her around me. And I’m still not there yet…but I’m working on it. I talked to someone about her—briefly.”

  Wyatt raises his hands up to the heavens dramatically. “Oh finally! All of us have been saying you need a shrink. And not just for the Rose issue. Even outside of that, you’re a messed-up guy. I mean, really, ketchup on eggs?” he snickers.

  “You down an entire bottle of mayo in one sitting,” I remind him.

  “On a dare.”

  “I’m not seeing a shrink, so fuck you very much.”

  Wyatt laughs at me. “So, who did you talk to about Rose?”

  “This woman I met. We’ve been…dating.”

  “Holy. Shit.”

  “Yeah, she’s kind of…incredible.”

  “Well hell, start talking. Who is this woman?”

  “Her name is Shelby, and man, I’m in deep.”

  “How deep?”

  “I think I’m in love with her.”

  I think I could literally knock my brother over with a feather right now. I would say he’s shocked but that would be a gross understatement. I didn’t plan on telling him, or anyone else for that matter, but fuck it, I found something wonderful, and I want my family to know about it. God help me.

  “Gage man, what the hell? Tell me about her,” he demands. I down the rest of my beer and then tell him about Shelby. He’s paying close attention as I run down how we met and about everything that’s gone down.

  “This woman sounds really special—wait, what’s she doing with you?” Wyatt asks.

  “You’re fucking hilarious,” I lie. Wyatt smiles and asks for more details. I guess this is new for us—I never talk about the women I date. Well, that’s in large part because I don’t date. I meet a woman, we fuck, have a nice dinner, and then go our separate ways. I’ve never longed for anything more.

  “There isn’t a topic that Shelby’s not well versed in. She can talk about everything from politics to Plato. She’s just as fascinated with the Hollywood stars as she is with actual stars. So, by the end of our last date, I knew who Brad Pitt was dating, who he should be dating, and which starlet he’s likely to seek out next. And on that same date, I also learned that a black hole isn’t black, and it acts more like a Venus flytrap than a vacuum.”

  Wyatt looks at me, confused. I grin. “My girl minored in astronomy at Stanford,” I say proudly.

  “Oh, so you’re learning while you’re screwing. Nice.”

  “Hey, it’s not like that,” I snap. There was no need for it; I know Wyatt wasn’t trying to offend me. I’m just as surprised as he is that I snapped at him.

  “Okay, sorry,” he says.

  “Yeah, okay. It’s not like that with us.”

  “So you don’t want to sleep with her?”

  “Shit, it’s been a fucking struggle to control myself since the day I met her. But we haven’t done anything besides kissing.”

  “Why not—wait; did Dad have the talk with you? Do you need a refresher?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t get it from you. The only thing keeping you warm at night is your badge and your ‘badge bunny’ of the week.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly how I like it! I don’t see me ever settling down. One and done. No hassle. No headache.”

  “So you don’t see a day when you and some woman make it official?”

  “Shit, no! It will be a cold day in hell. In fact, winter would have to come to hell to make me give up being single. But let’s get back to Shelby. So you two haven’t slept together because she’s holding back?”

  “We haven’t slept together because her mind and her body seem to be warring with each other,” I confess.

  “What do you mean?”

  I sigh deeply, rake my hands through my hair, and look up at the ceiling.
He looks on but doesn’t say a word. He knows how I am. No one can convince me of shit. I have to be willing to give info on my own. And he knows if I decide not to share, that’s it.

  “Look, I normally wouldn’t talk…”

  “Gage, it’s cool. Whatever you tell me stays here. What’s going on with you two? What do you mean she’s warring with herself?” Wyatt asks.

  “When we’re alone, I can tell she wants to keep going but when I look in her eyes…she’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Me.”

  “Ah man, what kind of sick twisted shit are you trying to introduce that woman to?”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Really? You travel a lot, Gage. Are you sure there isn’t some sick ritual you picked up from some far-off region—involving lube, a bucket of blood, and a Diet Coke? Come on, man; I’m your brother, you can tell me.”

  It makes me laugh.

  “Man, I fucking hate you,” I reply once I get ahold of myself. I know what he’s trying to do. He wants me to relax and know it’s okay to talk to him. He’s good at that. Whoever gets my brother will be a lucky woman. But I would never say that shit out loud. “Hey, dickhead, can I finish what I was saying?” is what I actually say.

  “Okay, go ahead. So when you two are together, she’s fearful of you.”

  “Yes, and I don’t get why. Moments before we kiss we’ll be laughing and talking and when we go to kiss there’s this cloud of fear that casts over her eyes. It’s as if she thinks that I will hurt her. But then when I pull away, she can’t figure out why. She tells me she’s fine and that she wanted to keep going but, man, that look in her eyes…there’s no way I can get past it.”

  “Past it? Hell no. You have to figure out what it is and get through it. There is no getting over. Only going through.”

  “And when the hell did you get so smart about women?”

  “I’m not. But I can read fear in my suspects. And until I get to what they are most afraid of, we won’t get anywhere. It’s different with you because you interrogate people who are trained to look like they are not hiding anything. But civilians wear their fear out in the open. And again, the only way to find what they fear is to go through that shit. Figure out why she wants you but also fears you.”