by Karen Renee
“Now that’s a bunch of hooey,” she declared, with her hands on her slim hips.
I tilted my head a touch. “Seriously, he’s interning as a cop.”
She scoffed, haughtily. “So? Plenty of cops out there, and they’re heroes. What’s wrong with you being with an officer of the law.”
“The fact that I used to be a hooker–”
“Christ, girl! Your past is your past. I thought they drilled that business home to you in rehab,” she interrupted.
I shook my head. “Well, I’ll always be a recovering addict.”
MeMaw gave me a long look before she shook her head at me. “You love him? Because if I didn’t know better, it sounds like you love him.”
I sighed, but it didn’t ease the ache in my chest. “I love him, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not right for him.”
MeMaw mimicked my earlier look of annoyance with flat lips and bug-eyes. “Love always matters, Cecilia. Have I taught you nothing? You love him, you do not let him go. And you damn sure don’t push him away!”
My gaze drifted to the floor. Could she be right?
“I see those wheels turning in your head, CeeCee. Tell me what you’re thinking?”
I looked into MeMaw’s wise eyes. “I’m scared. I’ve never felt anything like this, and I’ve damn sure never done anything like this.”
With a gentle smile, MeMaw shook her head. “All you can do in life is try your best. So what can I do to help?”
Until she spoke, I’d forgotten Neil was in the room with us. “MeMaw, I don’t think there’s much more we can do to help.”
MeMaw looked like she wanted to say something else, but the door opened, and Warren Sullivan sauntered into the room. My grandmother and sister turned to look at him, but MeMaw’s head whipped back to me in a flash.
I looked to Warren. “Hi, Mr. Sullivan. This –”
“Warren, Cecilia. You need to call me Warren. And hello to you. I can see this must be your lovely sister, Tennille. Which means, this must be your grandmother.”
“Yes, Warren. This is Tennille and my MeMaw, or you can call her Minnie, I’m sure,” I said, pointing huge eyes at MeMaw.
She winked at me, but turned to Warren with a hand outstretched. “Hello, Warren. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Minnie Lyons, and I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you your son is quite the gentleman. We had the pleasure of meeting him a couple weeks ago.”
Warren’s torso appeared to jostle as if he were holding back laughter. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s nice to meet you too, though I have to say I wish the circumstances were different.”
“We all do,” Neil said, extending a hand to Warren. “You were right. I’m Cecilia’s sister, and everyone calls me Neil.”
He smiled at her and murmured his pleasantries to her while I couldn’t decide if I should be embarrassed or relieved, since he saved me from having to explain myself to MeMaw about Brock.
I cleared my throat. “Um, Brock should have been in the hallway–”
Warren nodded at me. “Oh, he was, and his brother, too. I just wanted to check in on you, my dear. He said you should be getting out of here soon?”
I smiled, but before I could say anything Harold came into the room, only to stop dead... again. He leveled a look at me. “Girl. We got to get you outta here, or I’m gonna have to call my sisters. You have a regular episode of The Bold and the Beautiful going on. Looks like we got Eric Forrester here, and I don’t know who these lovely ladies are, except they are definitely related to you.”
“Harold, please,” I said in a low voice.
Warren chuckled, and I noticed he was inspecting the tops of his shoes.
Harold ignored this and put six sheets of paper on the table next to my bed. “You’ve been discharged, Miss Cecilia. These are the instructions for your caregiver and the last page is a note for your employer. Prescriptions for pain meds have been submitted electronically to your pharmacy, and they should be ready by the time you get there. Do you have any questions for me?”
I smiled. “Any chance one of your sisters wants to take me on for a day or two?”
Warren’s eyes jerked to me, MeMaw and Tennille gasped, but it was Brock’s growly voice that took my undivided attention. “That shit is not on, Sunflower. And you damn well know it.”
“Your man’s right, but just to say, no. Neither of my sisters could take you on for a day or two. Once you’ve changed back into your clothes, you’re free to go.”
My brows furrowed. “Where are my clothes? I don’t even remember changing out of them.”
Harold aimed his thumb and index finger at me like a gun. “That’s the effect of a concussion, Cecilia. Your stuff’s in a bag right here.”
“Thank you,” I murmured to Harold, amazed I had blanked that part of my hospital visit out of my mind.
He nodded, but before I could move my sister’s phone rang with a man belting out the word, “Mama!”
She looked at me. “Don’t change just yet. I’m sure she wants to talk to you.”
With serious effort, I refrained from rolling my eyes. Then my sister handed me her phone.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Honey,” she whispered.
“I’m okay, really.”
She spluttered with outrage. “You are far from okay, Cecilia Jane! You’ve suffered a concussion. Now, your father and I should be there in another hour, so you tell your roommates to make sure that pull-out couch has sheets at the ready.”
I sighed. “Mom, you two are not staying with me.”
Her voice went straight to stern-Mother. “It is not up to you.”
“Well, Brock’s determined that I’m staying with him.”
She paused for so long I nearly thought the call was dropped. “Really?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yeah.”
“Well, thank heavens!”
“And they’ve just told me once I change my clothes, I can leave the hospital.”
“Fine. I remember where his apartment is. We’ll meet you there.”
“Mom–”
The phone beeped twice, telling me she hung up. Great.
Brock
BY THE TIME I PULLED away from the hospital, I calculated Cecilia and I would have twenty-five minutes of alone-time before her family descended on my pad. Prior to leaving the hospital room, I suggested to Razor that he take Tennille and her grandmother to the gym so one of them could lead him back to my place driving Cecilia’s car. That didn’t go over well with my girl, but I did not want her car sitting in that parking lot any longer.
Cecilia sat staring at the windshield, exceptionally quiet.
“You doin’ all right, Sunflower?”
She inhaled deep before she answered. “I guess. I just feel fuzzy, but I like how you managed to split us from my sister and Razor for a little bit.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but it will be short-lived.”
“Not necessarily. My pharmacy is a good thirty minutes from here, and it’s rush hour.”
My hand darted out to her thigh. “About that, honey, I asked your nurse if he could call it into a different location of the same drug store. Since I’m takin’ care of you, it makes more sense to have your meds available close by.”
She made a noise, but laid her head against the headrest with her eyes closed.
While I concentrated on driving, I thought she might be taking a short nap. Then she asked, “Why do you still have my phone?”
“I didn’t want you getting any bright ideas, honey.” The light ahead turned red, so when I stopped, I leaned forward, pulling it out of my back pocket to hand it to her.
She felt it on her thigh and tipped her head forward to take it. Quickly, she pulled up her voicemail, and it surprised me she had it on speaker.
A woman’s no-nonsense voice filled the car. “Ms. Lyons, this is Diane Oliver with the casting department. I regret to tell you we have selected another applicant to fill the role for which you auditioned this morning
. Have a good day.”
My jaw clenched and I heard her long, slow exhale telling me she was covering a sigh of disappointment.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I murmured.
Her head turned to me slow. “That’s the cherry on top of this hellacious day. God, I could use a drink. Hell, that’s why I went to the damn gym. So I could work off my anxiety from waiting to hear back.”
I rubbed her thigh. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure mixing alcohol with your meds is inadvisable, Sunflower.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hell, I’ll be lucky if I don’t–”
“Stop, Cecilia,” I clipped out. “Do not finish that statement. You’ve worked too hard to slip now.”
She sighed. “Easy for you to say.”
“It’s easy for you to say too. There will be other auditions, honey,” I said, squeezing her thigh.
Her legs shifted and my hand fell away. I ignored that since my turn was fast approaching. Once I pulled into a parking spot, I leaned toward her, grabbing her hands.
“Is that your dream? To be a Disney performer? ’Cause I’m pretty sure it isn’t to be a gift shop cashier, right?”
She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. The past five months are the longest I’ve held a single job since I was twenty.”
I gave her hands a small shake. “Then cut yourself some slack, woman. If there’s anything that’s become clear to me, it’s that the world works in mysterious damn ways.”
She dipped her chin in agreement. “Yeah,” she whispered.
“Now, let’s get you upstairs. Your mom and dad should be here anytime, and I need to be sure Gabe and I didn’t leave any shit layin’ around.”
Inside my apartment, I brought out one of my pillows and a blanket so Cecilia could relax on the couch.
“Come lounge on the couch, honey. You want something to eat? Some ginger ale?”
She sunk into the couch and looked up at me with her eyebrows raised. “You have ginger ale?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Gabe was sick, remember? Pop, or more likely, Marnie, brought some by because his stomach started acting up, too.”
“Hmph,” she grunted. “Well, I’ll take a ginger ale if you don’t mind.”
By the time I’d put a glass in her hand, we heard a hard, heavy knock at the door. I had no doubt her father knocked at the door. When I opened the door, I saw a burly, stout man standing in front of Cecilia’s mom.
His eyes took me in, top-to-toe before his left eye squinted. “You must be Brock?”
Meeting a girl’s father was never much fun, but something about the way this started rubbed me the wrong way. I powered through it and held out my hand. “Yes, sir. Brock Sullivan.”
From the look on his face I expected him to squeeze the hell out of my hand to prove a point, but he didn’t. “Dave Lyons,” he said.
I let his hand go and opened the door wider for him and Debbie to come inside.
Debbie walked right up to me and hugged me. “I’m so glad you were there to help our girl,” she whispered in my ear.
“So am I,” I muttered while I pulled away.
“Ceil,” Mr. Lyons called as he moved toward the sofa.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said, peeking over the back of the sofa.
My attention went back to Debbie when she said, “He’s gruff and sometimes difficult, so don’t let that bother you.”
I nodded, but it didn’t help my being-rubbed-the-wrong-way feeling. As I moved to the sofa, the sight of Mr. Lyons sitting close to his daughter gently stroking her head brought me up short. He definitely loved his daughter, and his concern was plain on his face.
A strange ring tone sounded, and Debbie pulled a phone out of her purse. “Hello?”
Her long exhale was audible and I felt a strange energy hit the room from her, so I looked her way. A tentative smile curled her lips. “Hang on, Minnie.”
An apologetic look crossed her face. “Minnie is determined to bring Cecilia some Chinese food. She knows her granddaughter’s favorite items, but she doesn’t know what you, your father, and your brother like.”
I grinned at her. “It’s not likely Pop will be by tonight, but Gabe loves anything General Tso; whether it’s chicken, shrimp, or beef really doesn’t matter. As for me, either Cashew Chicken or Sesame Chicken is cool, as long as there’s wonton soup.”
Debbie’s eyes flared at me for a moment, and I could hear Minnie’s voice squawking from the phone. She turned slightly away. “All right, all right, Minnie. Yes... no, I don’t know if they’ve had Chinese together already or not, but we’ll need two quarts of wonton if anyone besides these two plan to have it.”
She moved to the kitchen island to put her purse down while Minnie spoke. Then, “You know, get one of both. I don’t know what Cecilia would prefer, but hell if I’m gonna interrupt your son while he’s talking to her right now. The ride down was hard enough for both of us.”
Pause.
“Okay, Minnie.”
Pause.
“See you soon. Tell Razor to drive safe.”
Dave’s gruff voice caught my attention. “They bringing Chinese?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Wonton soup and Cashew Chicken for our girl?”
Debbie chuckled. “And her young man.”
“Really?” Cecilia asked, looking to me.
I smiled at her. “Well, I said that or Sesame Chicken. I’m not picky, the soup is where it’s at, though.”
She grinned at me for what felt like the first time all day, and my smile widened. “No, honey. The crunchy noodles for the soup are where it’s at.”
My head tilted. “You are not wrong, Sunflower.”
“Jesus,” Mr. Lyons muttered to his wife. “You weren’t lying.”
“I rarely do, dear,” she replied.
A key scraped in the lock, and Gabe strolled inside. “Hey, Brock.”
He stopped when he caught sight of Debbie, and I introduced him to Cecilia’s parents.
After he shook hands, he moved closer to his bedroom. “It was nice to meet you both. I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Our buddy Clint has offered for me to stay at his place tonight, so, if you or Cecilia’s MeMaw needs to stay here, my bed will be open.”
My jaw clenched and I didn’t know if I wanted to thank him or throttle him. On the one hand, it was a helluva a nice thing for Gabe to do, but deep down that was his way. On the other hand, it meant I’d either have Cecilia’s parents here; her sister and her fiancé here; or her incredibly nice but equally nosy grandmother here. None of those options were ideal. Then again, her doctor’s recommendations included refraining from physical activities such as sex —so I couldn’t say it would cramp my style.
Still.
I wasn’t kidding when I told her I would prefer it if we had our own place. I wanted to live with her. The threat to her made me start to put it into action, but now, there was no doubt about it. Wherever I ended my day, I wanted to know she would be there too.
Hearing my brother trudge to his room, I called out, “Hey, man, Cecilia’s MeMaw called for your Chinese food order. I told her to bring you anything General Tso, so maybe you can stick around for dinner?”
Gabe looked between me, Cecilia, and her parents. “Sure. Sounds good, man. Thanks.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Queen Bee of Meddling
Cecilia
When my dad showed up, he immediately went into ‘Papa Bear’ mode and sat right next to me to make sure I was all right. As time went on, I wondered if this wasn’t also a tactic to keep Brock at arm’s length from me. My father’s moods were mercurial at best. He loved us and we all knew it, but he was strong-willed and headstrong to a fault. Literally.
In my opinion, it was his fault my sister was busting her ass selling cars. Don’t get me wrong, Tennille could probably sell a car to a blind man, but my father could not see that because he was blinded by his own sexism. His headstrong nature informed his notion that his mower business was no
place for his daughter, and his strong will propped up his determination to make that so. His sexist views prevented him from seeing my sister as the asset she would be to his own business. It wasn’t the reason I found myself turning to drugs and the wild side, but watching him deny my sister a chance because she was female didn’t help. If my sister wasn’t good enough to work in the family business —when we all knew she damn well was— then what the hell was I supposed to do?
Tennille and I were what some called Irish Twins, but as far as I was concerned I grew up in her shadow though it didn’t become glaringly apparent until my teenage years. When her shadow lifted from my life in high school, I started heading down a bad path. That also coincided with Dad adamantly telling her she would not be working in his shop. No matter how much she knew about mower engines, chokes, throttles and carburetors. With that going on at home, day-in and day-out, I didn’t have a focus other than finishing high school, and I focused just enough to get out.
It still boggled my mind as to how I was accepted into the community college program, just before it became the state college system. Like I’d told Brock, that was when I found parties where the pot led to stronger drugs like ecstasy and such. But that wasn’t why I gravitated to the parties. I sought them out to escape Daddy’s stifling energy. He had expectations for us girls, but he never spelled them out. Until we defied those notions.
Thinking back on that time, I realized that was when I felt completely adrift.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t blaming my father for my plight. I made my own decisions, but I was realizing the influential role my family played in those decisions.
Daddy’s fingers gently stroking the lump on my forehead pulled me from my memories. “You sure you don’t need to lie down, Ceil?”
His eyes were gentle on me, and I smiled. Right or wrong, I was the youngest, and I got more than my fair share of babying. Seemed I hadn’t grown out of it even now. Normally I couldn’t stand being babied, but I enjoyed him being so concerned.
“I’m sure, Daddy. They told me not to do anything too taxing, and Brock has to wake me up every two hours anyway. I’d rather stay awake for right now.”