Greta and Shane took off early for the Celtics game and Mike gravitated to the kitchen. Harrison's mom, Stella, was finishing up food preparations for their late afternoon meal. It had become customary for Mike to help. Harrison was normally in charge of keeping the kids away from the heavily active kitchen, and the rest of the men played pool or watched the basketball games on TV.
Mike helped with clean-up. He took out trash, washed dishes, wiped off counters. During one of his trips to the garage for trash detail, he was stopped from coming back inside by Stella.
Stella had jet black hair that was mid-length and straight. It was currently pinned back on the sides by little gold reindeer. Her bright red turtleneck and jeans were covered by a frilly apron that she had probably made herself, and that proudly declared the holiday season. Greta had gotten her mom's eyes. An ice-cool blue that resembled pyrotechnics when she was excited or happy.
Right now, those eyes were warm... and cautious. She stepped into the garage and closed the door behind her, drowning out the sound of music and happy conversation.
“Let's have a visit, shall we?” she asked, taking a seat on the step right where her son had sat next to him just the day before.
This didn't bode well.
Stella O'Neil was known for her “visits.” She would, on occasion, pull one or a couple of the boys outside and have a “visit.” They ranged from reprimands to lectures to interrogations. The woman was a master. She could glean information like nobody's business, and they would still end up thanking her in the end.
Mike was fairly certain he hadn't done anything to warrant a “visit,” so he wasn't as nervous as he normally would have been. Still... Stella was the mom he really wished he had had, so thinking that he had done something to upset her had him feeling ready to apologize.
He sat down beside her, resting his forearms on his bent knees.
“What's up, Stellar Stella?” he asked.
Her lips tipped up on the sides and she looked down at her house shoes. She was quiet for a long time before she sighed and reached into her apron pocket, pulling out a small, wrapped package. She turned it over in her hands, her fingers trailing through the ribbon. Mike recognized her signature wrapping style.
“You know how much we love you, right?” she asked softly.
Mike wasn't expecting that question. He answered immediately. “Of course.”
She faced him, her eyes somber, searching. “I love all you boys. I never once resented how completely you took over our lives and our home.”
Mike licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“But you, Mike,” she hesitated, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were wet. “You were my favorite.”
Mike actually knew that. He gave her a sideways grin despite her serious demeanor. He knew she didn't love him more than her own children, but Mike was a favorite.
“Luke.” She sighed. “Luke didn't have a mother long enough to know what he was missing. Blake's mother loves him unconditionally, he was just always too rebellious to let her. Sway's relationship with his folks is tense but active. But you...”
Now Mike knew where this was going. Or at least he thought he did.
Stella stopped speaking as she tried to collect her thoughts. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and blinked back the tears. Then she looked at him again. “You have always had this fantastic optimism. You see the best in people. You never give up. Always believing the apology, or the promise to change, no matter how utterly devastating the wound.
“I have no idea why your mom could have the gift of a son like you, and throw it away.”
Mike's throat began to tighten. They didn't talk about his mom. No one asked, and he didn't share. But her rejection was fresh in his mind since he had just told Clarke about it the other night.
He didn't like to talk about it because he didn't like to think about it. He loved his mom, he always had. What little boy didn't grow up thinking his mom was the greatest person in the whole world? So it was easy for him to overlook her “issues” when he was younger. She only missed the occasional school event. He'd find her passed out on the sofa once a week, but he didn't start seeing her drunk until he hit middle school.
Looking back, he realized it had increased in frequency when he began to lose his little boy look and started to look like a man. Not just any man, but his father. The man who had completely destroyed her when he had left.
She wasn't violent or abusive. She was just very... absent.
By the time he had gotten to high school, he was paying the bills and making sure she at least made it to bed instead of passing out on the living room floor.
After he'd graduated, an event she had missed, Stella and Gerard had paid her a visit. She was shamed, humiliated. She sobered up and he suddenly didn't have to take care of her anymore. So he was free to pursue his dreams with his friends. It was fun for a while. She had a few more episodes that would last for a couple of months before pulling out of it again. It was usually set off by a birthday or anniversary of some kind.
When Mike overdosed in Germany, reporters were all over her.
It happened to be during an episode.
They reported her drunkenness with lustful abandon. Of course her son was a junkie, she was a lush. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.
She was embarrassed. But not for the reasons you would think.
When Mike got home, she cried bitterly about how they had printed hateful, untrue things about her and what if he had seen them? She had still thought that his father cared about them enough to pay attention. After nearly thirty years without a peep from the man. Then she threw him out. Said she never wanted to see him again. Said she wished he had died in Germany.
So, yeah, he didn't like to talk about it.
“Mike,” Stella said, bringing him out of his reverie. “We wanted you to have this.” She offered him the package and he took it.
He was aware of her nervous energy as he undid the ribbon and opened the box. He recognized it immediately. It was the O'Neil family crest on large platinum ring. All the men in the family had one. The ladies had it on a necklace. Harrison never took his off.
“I know you're too old to adopt, and I know you're a grown man and you don't need things like this. But you've always been a part of our family. We wanted you to know.”
Mike smiled at the ring, his arm came out and went around the shoulders of the tiny woman next to him. She turned her face into his chest and hugged him tightly.
“Thank you, Stella.”
Best Christmas ever.
Chapter 13
Sirens
Returning to California after the holidays was easy. Mike had no reservations whatsoever this time around. He stopped at his place in Boston first and packed a few more things. He arranged with his cleaning service to put his account on hold. Then he shipped most of his stuff just to avoid the possibility of losing it through the airline.
He reclined in the spaciousness of his first class seat and checked his phone before the attendant had to remind him to turn it off. He scrolled through the last conversation that he'd had with Clarke the night before that had spilled into this morning.
Key Largo had just happened to be on television, and he couldn't resist seeing Bogie and Bacall light it up again. So he'd informed Clarke of his viewing choice. She had found the channel and texted him that she was watching it with him. So he had gone ahead and called her.
“There's really no point in even trying to watch a movie without you anymore,” he grumbled into the phone. “It's just not as fun without hearing all the things you know or think about what's happening.”
“Are you sure that's not annoying?” Clarke snickered through her end. “Because Brady hates it when I talk through movies. He's threatened to gag me before.”
Mike chuckled. “It's not annoying.”
Clarke was quiet for a few minutes, and Mike wished he knew if she was just watching the movie, or
if she was thinking what he was thinking. It was really better that he didn't know for sure. It was also a good thing they had so much distance between them right now. At least physically. Emotionally, she could very well have been curled up next to him on the couch.
He stared at Lauren Bacall on the huge screen in his main room.
“You do that, you know,” he found himself saying.
“What?”
“The Look. That thing that Bacall does with her eyes. You do that.”
Her soft laugh filled the line, and he thought he detected a hint of embarrassment. “I wanted to share more with her than her name, so I practiced The Look all through middle school.”
Mike smiled lazily. He really liked that.
“I've tried to stop doing it, but it's basically habit at this point.”
“Don't stop.” He continued before she could respond, “And you have her voice a little bit, too.”
“You flatter me, Mike Osborn.”
“I would never do that to you, Clarke.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence again and Mike realized for the twenty thousandth time since he met her, that he would never grow tired of her. Even this far away, just menial topics at hand with a movie and a phone the only things connecting them over the miles, he was at peace.
Content.
Himself.
Expectations didn't exist here. Only the quiet acceptance of each other. Just how they were.
They mumbled things back and forth throughout the movie. She agreed to help him find some furniture for his bare condo, he agreed to come to Lia's New Year's Eve bonfire, but only because there was the possibility that Lia would pull a knife on someone again.
They hung up promising to see each other soon, but not setting a specific time. That's how things had started to operate between them, it was an unspoken understanding that they would talk again soon. Neither one asked when or where, it was just accepted as fact that they belonged in the immediate memory recall of the other. Random texts that could last anywhere from one or two short lines to huge long conversations that spanned the day. The phone calls were the same. And they didn't talk every day. Sometimes they went a few days to almost a week without communication. But the knowledge was there that the other would answer if the phone rang.
Mike liked how low-maintenance Clarke was. They weren't in a relationship and she just wasn't the kind of girl who expected a definitive statement from him. She was as cool about taking each step as it came as he was.
***
Clarke widened her eyes and tried to stretch her eyelids a few times with overly pronounced blinks in an attempt to wake herself up. She could really go for a coffee run right now, but she didn't have time.
She'd been up late last night because Mike had come over with Chinese food and To Catch a Thief. He'd left early enough that she should have gotten some decent sleep. But Walter had gotten so amped up with Mike's visit that he ran all over the top of Clarke while she tried to sleep. He wasn't a small cat either. He was more like a puma.
“Clarke?” Lia walked into the open door of Clarke's office.
“Hm?” Clarke asked without looking up from the spreadsheet in front of her. That was another thing adding to her fatigue, these damn financial reports from New York. Trippy was claiming they hadn't received payment on numerous invoices, so Clarke was checking things line by line. It was taking forever and she still hadn't pinpointed what they were talking about. It looked like Soaring Bird was paid up.
“There's a gentleman here to see you. He said he's a friend of Mike's.” Lia half-shrugged one shoulder.
Clarke chewed on her bottom lip and frowned. She pushed back from the desk to stand up, both hearing and feeling the stiff creaking in her spine from being hunched over for so long.
She rounded the top of the stairs, eyes tracking to the front counter when he came into view. A half-smile tugged up one side of her mouth. Though she had never met him, it was impossible not to recognize him.
His eyes were a brighter hue than Mike's and the eyebrows above them twitched in interest as he openly appraised her during her approach.
“Harrison said you were attractive, but he didn't warn me you were a knockout,” Sway greeted her when she was close enough to hear him.
Clarke felt her cheeks get hot even though she was expecting nothing less from the notorious rock star in front of her. “Sway Schaeffer, your legend precedes you.”
His full lips gave her a cheeky grin. “Legendary. And that's the smart-ass part that Mike told me about.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Mike called me a smart-ass?”
Sway's grin spread into a wide smile. “I think he used the words 'brilliantly sarcastic,' but I knew what he meant.”
Clarke rolled her eyes. These guys. How did rock stars find each other? Was there a test you took in school that asked, “Are you incredibly cocky, talented, and have absolutely no shame? Here are others whom you might have something in common with.”
Sway took a step toward her, his eyes flicking up to Lia, who Clarke assumed was watching in that ever-present way of hers.
“Winter weather canceled my family festivities last week, or at least my participation in them. Harrison said there was talk of a bonfire for New Year's, so I got here as soon as I could.”
“With a day to spare, even,” Clarke noted. She glanced over her shoulder at Lia, then back to Sway. “It's not my bonfire, you'll have to ask the hostess.”
“It's fine.” Lia appeared next to Clarke like a wisp of smoke. “No loose women, though.”
Sway cocked a smirk at her, but didn't argue. His attention shifted back to Clarke. “I'm also going to be taking you out to lunch today.”
“You're so sure of yourself,” Clarke quipped.
“Well, I flew in this morning and Mike said he was planning on taking you, but he got caught up with something, so I volunteered to fill that role.”
Clarke felt a twinge of disappointment and bit down on her bottom lip for a second, Sway's eyes noticed the movement and his expression softened.
“I can actually be very pleasant company during a meal,” he said, and she just knew he was reading way more into her reaction than she was comfortable with. So she lied.
“No, I was just thinking about canceling on him anyway because I have a lot of work to do.”
Sway took a slow breath and looked around the bustling shop. They really were quite busy today, year-end sale and all. It wasn't too far of a stretch to think she had to work all day.
“Clarke,” Lia spoke up, her voice firm. “I would really prefer it if you took your lunch break. You need nourishment, and he seems perfectly harmless to me.”
Sway gave Lia an appreciative wink and pivoted on his toes, sticking his elbow out for Clarke to grab hold of. “How 'bout it, Sparky? You're part of the entourage now, you're gonna have to get to know me eventually anyway.”
It wasn't that Clarke wasn't aware that she would end up having to meet the rest of the band, it seemed that was a given. But it still took her by surprise. Mostly, she was a little bit let down because Mike hadn't told her himself. Oh well, now was as good a time as any.
“Don't make me regret this,” Clarke teased as she took the offered elbow.
His eyes warmed as they slid over her face. “Never.”
Clarke couldn't help the smile that she responded with. She relaxed and allowed him to escort her from the building.
***
Sway hadn't been around much in the past couple of months. Basically since the last DBS tour ended. He hated sitting still for too long, and a friend had called asking for a favor.
A favor. Sway couldn't believe his damned luck. A band that he had idolized as a child and teenager was going on a world tour and they need a back-up bass. He said yes before the question was finished being asked.
He and Clarke covered that topic in detail when they first sat down in the small restaurant at the end of the block.
Their food came and Sway
took advantage of her distraction to look her over more thoroughly.
In a word, beautiful. Hair and skin both bright and sun-kissed. Dazzling eyes that were a swirl of green and blue with a hint of bronze. Open, just on the polite side of a reserved smile. Harrison had described her appearance, Mike had only mentioned her energy. He said something about her having a calming effect on those around her. Sway picked up on that right away. Comfortable in her own skin. Not just that, comfortable in her own thoughts as well.
Sway could see it, the easy way she would fit into their lives.
“So, you and Mike seem to be pretty close,” he said, talking down at his plate, fishing around for the secrets he knew were there somewhere. “Does your boyfriend have a problem with you hanging out with him?”
Clarke choked on her food and reached for her glass of water. Sway looked up in surprise. He waited until she'd swallowed a few times, then raised his eyebrows. “You okay?”
Clarke cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Yeah, sorry, wrong pipe. I, uh, I don't have a boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Sway answered, like it was all the same to him. “Do you like working for Shane? Where is he, anyway? I thought he was supposed to be back by now.”
“Shane is a great boss.” Clarke took another drink of water and went back to her food comfortably. “And I suspect, though I have no proof, that Shane and Greta ran off to get married.”
Sway's eyebrows went up and he stared at her. She saw him gaping and grinned. “They think I don't know, but I'm not as stupid as I let people believe.”
Sway chuckled. “That really doesn't surprise me about Greta. She's always been a little wrecking ball. And I don't think people think you're stupid at all.”
“Ah, but you're new here,” Clarke tilted her head pointedly. “They always think they're going to pull the wool over my eyes.” She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “But I've got both eyes open. I see what's going on around here.”
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