Crazy Stupid Bromance

by Lyssa Kay Adams

  Marsh reached for the box with the lights. “It’s not my standards I’m trying to hold you to.”

  “I don’t need this shit.” Noah turned on his heel and stomped toward the door, but his hand paused over the handle at Marsh’s next words.

  “I saw the news. Did you do it?”

  It shouldn’t hurt after all this time to have Marsh doubt him, but it did. It hurt like a motherfucker. Almost as much as to have Alexis doubt him. Noah turned around, jaw clenched. “I came here to talk to my mom, not get interrogated.”

  Marsh came down from the ladder and walked toward him, his steps weary and his face tired. He suddenly looked old. The porch light turned his grayish hair a dark silver and deepened the grooves in his forehead. Noah suddenly swayed with the realization that this is what his father would look like now.

  Marsh nodded toward one of the two Adirondack chairs on the porch. “Sit down.”

  Noah trudged to one of the chairs like a kid who’d just been sent to his room. And the fact that Marsh could still make him feel like that only fueled the fire inside him. He dropped into a chair. Marsh stood at the bottom of the porch steps, stance wide and confident. His father used to stand like that. It was a military thing, a manly thing, an I know how to take up as much space as possible thing.

  “I asked you a question, boy. Did you do it?”

  “No, I didn’t fucking do it!” Noah shot to his feet. “But you know what? I wish I had. Everyone assumes it was me anyway, so I might as well get the satisfaction of bringing down another company with blood on its hands.”

  Marsh shook his head. “You haven’t learned a goddamned thing, have you?” He gave Noah a sad once-over. “Look at you. Hands clenched. Jaw clenched.”

  “Because you’re annoying the shit out of me.”

  “No. Because you’re still a pissed-off kid with a computer and a need for vengeance.”

  Noah’s knuckles cracked under the strength of his curled fists. “What the hell do you want from me? I went to college, consulted for the fucking FBI, and make millions now. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  Marsh raised his eyebrows. “You think you’re successful? You’re not. You may have turned your life around, but you’re still just as mad and reckless as you were then. And until you get over that anger, everything else—the money, the company, your celebrity friends—it’s all just window dressing.”

  Noah inched closer, compelled by a need to lash out at something, anything. “You’re right. I never got over the anger. I hope I never do. Because the day I stop being furious that my father was killed while the crooks responsible for it got rich is the day I stop breathing.”

  “And that attitude is exactly why I should have let you rot in prison like I wanted to.”

  Oxygen escaped Noah’s lungs in a giant whoosh.

  “And I did want to,” Marsh continued. “As far as I was concerned, you were an ungrateful brat. Trying to bring down the country your father died fighting for was a disgrace to his legacy. If I’d had my way, you would have gone to trial and let the chips fall where they may.”

  Betrayal burned Noah’s throat. “What changed your mind?”

  “I made your father a promise,” Marsh said, voice thick. “He died in my lap and made me promise I would look after you, raise you to be a man.” Marsh’s lips thinned. “You have no idea what responsibility is, Noah. Not until you realize you’re the one thing that stands between life and death for another human being. And not until you realize that someone made that choice for you, and you’re all that’s left behind.”

  Noah pounded down the steps until he was inches from Marsh’s face. “Is that what we are to you? The shit that got left behind? The heavy burden of responsibility on your shoulders? This is not what my father wanted. He didn’t want my mother to never move on with her life because she’s trapped in yours, dragged down by your own guilt. He didn’t want me to live my entire life trying to live up to some version of manhood that no person alive could emulate. The only disgrace to my father’s legacy is you.”

  The punch came out of nowhere. Pain exploded in Noah’s cheekbone and radiated across the planes of his face. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he stumbled and dropped to the ground.

  Marsh loomed over him, fists clenched and breathing labored.

  “Oh my God! Noah!’’ The front screen door slammed open and shut, and his mother ran down the steps. She crouched next to him on the ground, her worried face hovered over his.

  Noah held his hand to his nose and came away with bloody fingers. “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” His mother shot to her feet and glared at Marsh. “What is wrong with you?”

  “That boy is a disrespectful liar.”

  “That boy is my son!”

  Marsh’s hand began to shake. “You’re coddling him. You always have.”

  “And you’ve treated him like a no-good loser!”

  “I’ve tried to treat him like a son.”

  To Noah’s shock, his mom got in Marsh’s face. “You’re not his father!”

  “Really? Because I’ve spent far more time raising him than anyone else. Including you.”

  “Hey!” Noah rose on woozy feet. “You can say whatever you want to me, but do not talk to her like that.”

  The door banged open again as Zoe ran out. “What the hell is going on?”

  His mom’s hands shook at her sides. “I need you to leave, Marsh.”

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I need you to go. Now.”

  “Sarah, please.” Marsh’s voice had lost its bite. He was a man suddenly faced with the loss of something that mattered to him, and Noah recognized the signs all too well. Noah almost empathized with him.

  “You will not talk to my son like this anymore,” his mom said. “I should have intervened long before now. Just go.”

  Marsh’s face sagged. He backed up, hands digging into his pockets for his keys. Noah, Zoe, and their mom watched silently as he climbed into his car and backed out.

  “What the hell was that?” Zoe demanded, trailing behind them. “Did he seriously hit you?”

  “Come inside,” his mom said, tugging on his elbow.

  Noah gently shook her off. “I have to go.”

  “No. Not until I look at you and you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Noah followed his mom inside and to the kitchen, where she told him to sit at one of the stools lining the island. A timer began to shriek, and Zoe jumped halfway to the ceiling.

  “It’s the lasagna,” she said. “I’ll get it.”

  His mom went to the sink and dampened a wad of paper towel before returning to him. She dabbed at the blood beneath his nose. “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “Let me fuss over you.”

  He relented and tilted his head back so she could gingerly wipe the blood.

  “Have you ever been punched before?” Zoe asked from the stove.

  “Not like this. No.”

  “I wonder if you should go to the emergency room,” his mom said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I can’t believe he hit you.” Her voice shook. “What happened?”

  “Just a lot of stuff that’s been boiling for a while.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  He lifted a corner of his mouth. “The kind of stuff I shouldn’t have let boil over.”

  She gave him a frustrated look before returning to the sink. She tossed the bloody paper towel into the trash can and then washed her hands. But instead of turning around, she gripped the edge of the sink. “Zoe, can you leave us alone for a minute?”

  Zoe snuck a glance at Noah before quickstepping out of the kitchen. He had no doubt, however, that she was hovering nearby to eavesdrop.

  His mom turned aroun
d. “He’s in love with me.”

  Noah felt the words like another sucker punch to the face. “He told you that?”

  “Years ago. I wasn’t ready for another relationship. It felt like a betrayal of your father.”

  “Are you . . . with him?”

  His mom shrugged with a heavy sigh. “It’s too late for that now. It’s been too long.”

  “But are you in love with him?”

  “He’s been here for me in so many ways. But the way he treats you, I . . . I think that has always been what held me back. But then you seemed okay with him, so I never wanted to intervene, especially after you turned your life around. I didn’t know how much tension there really was between you.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t want to burden you.”

  “You’re my son. Nothing about you is a burden.”

  Yeah, that was some bullshit. Noah had been nothing but a burden for a good five years after his father died. He rose from the stool and walked to her. Without prompting, their arms came around each other.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick.

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  She squeezed him around the waist. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

  “I put you through hell.”

  “You were going through hell.” She pulled back and gazed up at him. “But it’s all over now.” She winced as she brushed her fingers over the spot where Marsh’s fist had connected with his face. “We need to ice this.”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” He set her back and leaned against the counter again. “Hungry, but fine.”

  “You should have brought Alexis. Why was the surgery rescheduled?”

  Noah’s breath caught in his lungs. He tried to hide his reaction, but it was too late. He couldn’t hide much from his mother.

  She tilted her head, concerned. “Is everything okay with Alexis?”

  “Fine,” he lied, dropping another kiss on her head.

  He walked to the cupboard to take out some plates. “You can come back now, Zoe,” he called.

  Zoe stumbled in as if she’d been standing by the doorway the entire time. When Noah finally left two hours later, his cheek had stopped throbbing even if the bleeding in his chest hadn’t.

  He pulled into his driveway and stared at his dark house. He could back out again and drive straight to Alexis’s house and beg her to forgive him.

  But he didn’t. Because she wanted space.

  Noah walked inside, grabbed an unopened bottle of bourbon, and carried it to the couch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

  Jessica stared at Alexis when she walked into the cavernous zoning board room as if she’d just flown in on fairy wings.

  Alexis took the seat next to Jessica. “I’m here for the meeting.”

  “Right. But . . . why?” Jessica looked back to the entrance of the room. “Is Noah with you? Did you decide to stop here on the way to the surgery?”

  “The surgery is off. Noah is . . . not here.” Her voice caught on a swell of a goddamned emotion she wanted nothing to do with, so she swallowed it away. “So I figured I might as well come to the meeting and listen to Karen’s bullshit myself.”

  Jessica gripped Alexis’s arm. “Okay, what the hell is going on? What do you mean the surgery is off? Since when? And why does ‘not here’ make it sound like you and Noah broke up?”

  “I think we did.” Oh, God. The air seeped from her lungs. It still didn’t seem real. She’d gone to bed last night hoping that she’d wake up to discover it was all a bad dream. But it was real.

  “Alexis, you have to give me more than that.”

  “I can’t. Not right now.” Her voice shook.

  Jessica squeezed her arm. “You don’t have to be here.”

  “Yes, I do.” Because she had nowhere else to go. Her entire life was suddenly a drifting boat in the middle of rough seas. Every anchor she’d relied on to hold her steady for the past year was gone. Severed.

  All she had was her business. So she was here.

  At the front of the room, a mahogany half-moon table where the commissioners would sit faced the rest of the room. The audience section was mostly empty except for a small cluster of people who looked like city staffers and a lone blond head in the front row.

  Karen.

  As if she sensed Alexis’s gaze, Karen swiveled in her seat and looked back. Her eyes widened at first, obviously surprised that Alexis had decided to attend the meeting after all. But she recovered quickly with pursed lips and gave Alexis the back of her head again.

  A door behind the commissioners’ table opened, and members of the board filed out balancing overstuffed binders, coffee cups, and cell phones. Nameplates in front of each chair identified the board members as they settled into their seats.

  Empty seats began to fill up as more people entered the room. Alexis watched the clock and bounced her knee in time with the second hand.

  Jessica took her hand. “Remember,” she said in a voice mature beyond her years. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  The chairwoman’s voice interrupted as she called the meeting to order. The first ten minutes of the meeting were devoted to normal housekeeping matters and a single item of old business left over from the previous month. Alexis began to bounce her knee again as the chairwoman called for the start of new business and recited in a bland affect the details of the complaint against ToeBeans.

  “We received Ms. Carlisle’s written correspondence regarding the complaint,” the chairwoman said. “But we will also allow time for her to make a statement and answer questions, if she wishes. We’ll begin, however, with public comment. Is there anyone who wishes to address the commission on this item?”

  Karen shot to her feet. “Thank you, commissioners,” she said into the microphone at the podium. “My name is Karen Murray, and I’m the owner of the Long Time Gone antiques shop, which is across the street from the ToeBeans Cat Café.”

  Alexis met Jessica’s gaze, and together they shared an eye roll. Karen was using her best I’m just a concerned citizen voice.

  “I was, of course, thrilled when Ms. Carlisle purchased and restored the vacant storefront for her café. I thought it was such a charming addition to our unique business district.”

  Jessica nearly choked. Karen was definitely putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.

  “So please understand that the concerns I address this afternoon and in my complaint are only because I wish to protect and maintain the culture we’ve worked so hard to establish in our district. Our zoning laws were adopted for a reason, and no matter how compelling the reasons, we can’t allow someone to violate those rules. There are plenty of places within more appropriate zoning designations for where Ms. Carlisle could host her yoga class and her little support groups.”

  Little support groups. Alexis’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the trivialization of the important connections and healing that occurred every day in her café.

  “Ms. Carlisle already received a variance to allow for cat adoptions, which I did not oppose at the time even though I feared even then that the increase in traffic would create a parking problem for other businesses. But this is just a bridge too far, I’m afraid. All I ask is that the commission follow the zoning laws and instruct Ms. Carlisle to stop using her café to save the world and stick to what she’s supposed to be doing—serving food. Thank you.”

  Karen refused to look at Alexis as she scurried back to her seat.

  The chairwoman thanked Karen for her comments and then looked at Alexis. “Ms. Carlisle, we weren’t expecting you today, but since you’re here, do you wish to address the commission beyond your written correspondence?”

  Alex
is shook her head. Jessica squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?”

  Alexis felt the burn of Karen’s seething glare from the front row.

  No. Not again. She was not walking away from this battle. She stood. “Wait. Yes, I do have some things to say.”

  Heart pounding, Alexis walked past Karen’s stunned expression to the podium and adjusted the microphone to her height.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed and tried to hide her shaking hands on top of the lectern. “Ms. Murray is correct in most of what she said. It’s true that my café has become a gathering spot for survivors of sexual violence and harassment. It’s true that there have been days when customers have arrived in the morning and didn’t leave until the afternoon, but that does not make my café any different from any other coffee shop in the city where students sit for hours to do their homework or where book clubs meet to discuss their latest reads.”

  Alexis licked her dry lips. “I addressed the specific items regarding the zoning classifications in my written correspondence. I do not believe I am in violation of my permit, nor do I believe that my café alone is responsible for the parking shortage that has always plagued our district. But I will publicly reiterate what I stated in my written response that I will seek an additional zoning variance to allow me to continue to host my yoga class if the commission finds that it does, indeed, violate the current zoning permit.”

  Karen huffed behind her.

  Alexis stared at her hands. She could stop now. She’d addressed the primary issue in Karen’s complaint. She could do what she usually did and just ignore the rest.

  “Ms. Carlisle, does that complete your comments?” the chairwoman prompted.

  Did it?

  “Ms. Carlisle?”

  No. It did not complete her comments. Because she hadn’t really told her story yet, and if she didn’t do it, people like Karen Murray would continue to tell it for her. If she didn’t continue this fight, the battle would never end.

  Alexis licked her lips again and looked up. “No, I have a few more things to say, if I may.”

  The chairwoman nodded. “Please continue.”