Five

by JA Huss

  It’s just a big house with a big gate.

  Hmmm.

  I park the rental car, get out, buttoning my suit coat as I cross the street, and press the buzzer on the gate.

  “Yes?” The answer comes almost instantly.

  “Five Aston,” I say.

  Silence.

  Hmmm again.

  Then a buzzing sound from the walk-in gate off to the left. Can these people be any more annoying?

  Whatever.

  I go through, follow a stone path leading up to the house, and end up at the front door of the most ostentatious-looking Tudor revival mansion I’ve ever seen.

  The Astons are old money. We are rich. But my parents are modest. We live in an old four-bedroom house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in Fort Collins, Colorado. Ostentatious it is not.

  Now my grandma, she’s a little more like this. Her house is a massive four-square in City Park with an imposing brick wall and massive iron gate. And even though her house is just a few miles up the road, City Park and Cherry Creek are worlds apart.

  The door opens before I can knock.

  “Mr. Aston,” the butler says.

  “Yes,” I reply. “I was invited to a party?” I try to see past him, my curiosity in overdrive right now, but he’s a big guy. About three inches taller than me and I’m over six feet tall. Plus, he probably outweighs me by thirty pounds.

  “This way,” he says, moving aside just enough to let me pass.

  I end up in a two-story foyer with a chandelier that probably cost more than the rental BMW parked on the street.

  Again, no music, or people, or decorations.

  “This is a party, correct?” I ask.

  “Follow me, sir,” the butler says.

  So I do. What choice do I have?

  We pass numerous hallways, rooms, and servants as we make our way to the back of the house and here—finally—is what I’ve been looking for.

  A large tent. The kind used for wedding parties or grand family reunions. But it’s empty, save for workers still setting up.

  There is a small gathering on the far side of the lawn. I take it in as the butler opens a set of double glass doors and waves me through.

  A dozen men are sitting around a table, all wearing white linen suits and smoking cigars, looking pretty much like The Great Gatsby come to life. They laugh, sip amber liquid from cut-crystal glasses, and generally act very full of themselves.

  One of them spots me and stands. “Ah, Mr. Aston! Finally!” He maneuvers away from the table as all the other men turn to look and stand. He meets me on the lawn with an outstretched hand.

  I shake it out of habit, saying, “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. I’m not sure why I’m actually here.”

  He claps me on the back like I just made a fantastic joke. “I’ve heard about your bluntness, Aston. All in due time, son. All in due time.”

  Son. It makes me bristle a little. He’s not old, maybe thirties? And I’m not really that young. Not when you take into account who I am and what I’ve done with the twenty-one years that came before this one. So… son? Really?

  “Bring Mr. Aston a drink.”

  I’m not even sure who he says it to. The other men approach. A few are my own age, but most are in their thirties, like this guy.

  “I’m Grant Pittman, Mr. Aston. And these are my colleagues in the Young and Mobile Society.” He rattles their names off one at a time. I have an uncanny memory, just like my father. So I hear the names, shake each hand, and catalogue them for later.

  “What should we call you, Mr. Aston? I hear you have a rather interesting nickname.” This comes from a guy called Stanford. Stanford Young. He’s one of the older guys.

  “Five,” I say. “I’m Rutherford Aston the Fifth, but everyone just calls me Five.”

  “I knew your father,” another man says. He might be the oldest in the bunch. Maybe early forties. Severance VonPatrick. What a fucked-up name.

  “Did you?” I ask Severance.

  “Yes,” he says, bellowing laughter. “And from my recollection, nobody called him Four.”

  “No,” I say, stepping back to give myself a better view of the grounds. Large trees give us shade. A long table with a cream-colored tablecloth is set with fine china. Whiskey bottles, cigar humidors, and, yes, a fucking badminton net is set up off to the side. “He’s just Ford. And I’m just Five. Does one of you want to tell me why I’m here?”

  “Cuts to the chase,” another man says. Young, like me. Montie Christian is his name. “Just like his friend.”

  “Friend?” I ask. I really don’t like these people.

  “Jack Joseph. You went to Oxford together.”

  Well. That explains a lot. Jack Joseph is a pretentious bastard.

  “Did I hear my name?”

  And there’s the asshole now. Coming out of the main house, dressed just like these society men, with the biggest wild grin on his face. He’s British in every way you can imagine. I think his father is an earl or some shit like that.

  “Five!” Jack exclaims. Like this is the most fortuitous meeting ever and not a setup, even though it clearly is a setup. He walks up to me, taking my hand to give it a good ol’ boy shake, and claps me on the back, just like Grant did.

  I wince at the touch, but pull myself together quickly. Just make nice, hear them out, say no as politely as you can, and leave.

  Good plan, Five. Good plan.

  “Jack,” I say, turning to him. “I’m afraid I have no clue why I was asked here.”

  “Sit, sit,” he says, motioning to a chair at the head of the table. “You’re the guest of honor today, Aston. Enjoy it. It won’t happen again for decades, if that.”

  I won’t be associating with any of these fuckers for more than an hour, let alone decades. But I sit anyway. It’s the fastest way out of this meeting.

  They pour me a drink, offer me a cigar, joke in their offhanded we-all-know-each-other way, and then settle back into their seats.

  Grant sits at the opposite head of the table. He picks up a gavel, pounds it on what is clearly hardwood underneath the tablecloth, and says, “Let the meeting come to order.”

  From there it’s a whirlwind right out of my own worst nightmare.

  And I rescind every thought I had earlier about winning.

  Chapter Five - Rory

  “So what should we do about this?”

  I’m at Kate’s now. She found me walking back to my car on College Avenue and I followed her back to her parents’ house. We’ve been best friends since childhood, so I’ve been here millions of times over the years. Just not recently. I can’t help looking down the hall where I know Five’s room is. He moved out to go to Oxford back when he was fifteen, and I’ve spent many a day longing for him in that room, and not a single thing has changed in it since he left. But I glance that direction anyway. Still longing.

  “I dunno,” I absently answer Kate. ‘Do about it’ is code for ‘cause trouble.’ “I mean, I can’t force the man to want me, ya know? Either he does or he doesn’t.”

  “He definitely does, Rory. Don’t be stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid to question things, Kate. He stopped all contact six years ago with no explanation. How should I take that?”

  “Yeah, but you said he was flirty with you at Anna Ameci’s. That’s gotta count.”

  “Flirty, fine. But no kiss. And then that old joke about being the boss of me. It’s stupid. And childish. We’ve worn it out. It’s not cute anymore. I mean, I’m a grown-ass woman, for fuck’s sake!”

  Kate eyes me with a look, a look that says I’m being dramatic. But I don’t care. “This morning I was in New Jersey getting ready to drive up to the Hamptons with my best friend and boyfriend—”

  “Excuse me?”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. She’s my best college friend. It’s not my fault we went to different schools. I have to have friends, Kate.”

  She wrinkles her nose at me. “And
the boyfriend?”

  I shrug. “He’s new. We’ve only been dating for a week. Plus, he’s Tera’s brother.”

  “Who the hell is Tera?”

  “The best friend! God, can you please keep up?”

  She chuckles into her glass of ice tea.

  “Anyway, my point is… I was living my life, happy as can be, and then Oliver just takes it upon himself to flip my world upside down. I should’ve never come home. Five didn’t come here for me, he came for some stupid meeting. And he’s not gonna stay, you watch.”

  Kate shrugs. I was secretly hoping for a healthy round of protests that included the words Five loves you and You’re the only one for him. Or, You guys were meant to be together.

  But even she has to admit… I could be right. And she’s his sister, so she knows him better than anyone. Plus, she’s gone to visit him at Oxford like a dozen times since he left home. So she definitely knows him better than I do.

  “Look,” Kate says. “You are just as much to blame for any of this as he is.”

  “No,” I say, putting up my hand, my phone screen facing her. “He’s the one who made me the app. He’s the one who pre-populated it with Love Notes. He’s the one who never sent a single message after we…”

  I stop because I almost told her what we did the last time he was home.

  “After you guys… did what?”

  “We… ah… you know.” I shrug. “Did it.”

  “It?” she says, coy smile spreading up her face. “As in… it?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “What?” She laughs, incredulous. “No one cares if you want to talk about it, Rory! You lost your V-card to my brother and never told me!” She stops then, her face crinkling up a little. “And by the way, what is it with you dating your best friends’ brothers?”

  “Stop it,” I say. “It’s just a weird coincidence. And I really don’t want to talk about it because it wasn’t that good.”

  Kate guffaws so loud, the family cat scurries under the coffee table, startled.

  “I mean… see? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “He sucked?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You sucked?” she asks, still laughing.

  My whole face heats up as I turn beet red.

  “Oh, sister. You should’ve come to me! I could’ve seriously helped you out in that department.”

  “No, thank you,” I say. “I’m so not taking sex advice from the girl who lets men stick it in her butt.”

  Kate glances around, suddenly serious. “Shhh, for fuck’s sake. You of all people should know better than to blab at home. Our parents are paranoid freaks. What if my dad has a camera in here?”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “My dad would kill Five if he knew he took my virginity. And I don’t even care if your dad hears this. There’s no way Ford Aston would have that conversation with my father.”

  “Hmmm,” Kate says. “So what you two really need is a do-over, right?”

  I just chew on my fingernail as I think about our first time. He was sixteen, I was fifteen, and that was the last time I ever saw Five Aston before an hour ago.

  “I can help you,” she says. “But I’m gonna need all the details of the first time in order to do that.”

  “Fuck you.” I laugh.

  “Not the sordid ones. Ick. He’s my little brother. The romancey ones.” She stops to think about this for a moment. “He did romance you, right? I mean, I don’t want to picture too much or anything, but I know my brother. He did anything and everything to make you happy all growing up. He’s the dumbest, sappiest dude with you. And only you,” she adds, hammering that home.

  Which I appreciate. Because let’s be honest, Rory. You’re insecure right now and you need all her BFF big-sisterly advice you can get.

  “So tell me,” Kate says. “How did that night start?”

  SIX YEARS AGO

  After months of planning and waiting, Five is coming home today.

  I have imagined his homecoming every way possible. How we will rush into each other’s arms. His eyes will find mine—staring deeply into them, like he can see right into my soul—and then we’ll kiss. It will be the most perfect, passionate kiss ever. Better than anything I’ve ever seen in a movie or read in a book. It might even be filled with longing and lust.

  I kick my covers off and swing my legs out of bed. It’s already almost eight and Five’s plane gets in at noon, so including drive time from the airport, I only have five good hours to get ready.

  The sun is shining—how could it not when the love of my life is coming home?—so I throw the curtains open and take in the—

  Hey. Why is Kate here?

  Outside my window, on the other side of the massive side yard, is an older silver BMW I recognize as the one Ford gave Kate for her last birthday.

  But that’s not Kate getting out of the car. It’s Five.

  How can it be Five? His plane hasn’t even landed yet.

  I open the window to yell out at him, but he’s so quick. He’s practically running into my dad’s shop.

  Five Aston came home early and didn’t even call me. Did he get in this morning? No, that can’t be. There’s only two non-stop flights a day from London. And today’s first flight won’t get in until later.

  Which means he got home last night.

  What the hell?

  I grab yesterday’s jeans off the floor, tug them up my legs, and then rush outside barefoot.

  It takes me a few minutes to cross the gravel driveway because gravel and bare feet don’t really go together. And by the time I’m about to open the door, Five swings it open, jumping back in surprise when he sees me.

  “Rory,” he says.

  “When did you get home? How come you didn’t tell me? And why are you out here sneaking around in the shop?”

  “Jesus,” he says, smiling that winning Five smile at me. “How about a ‘hello’ first, Princess? Or an ‘I’ve missed you?’ Or better yet,” he says, placing his hands on my hips and tugging me close, “a kiss.”

  A kiss. Yes. This is it, Rory! Your big moment with Five is here!

  My hands go up to his face out of instinct. I place them on either side of his perfectly square jaw, and lean up on my tiptoes.

  Our lips touch and there’s that spark. Exactly the way I remember it the first time he kissed me on Christmas just before he left for Oxford.

  He pulls back, his hand slipping under my pink nightie top and hooking into my belt loops.

  “Princess,” he says. “God, I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home last night?”

  “I just got in.”

  “Liar!” I say. “There’s only two flights a day. I have been stalking this stuff for eighteen months!”

  “It was a…” He stumbles for words. “A private jet.”

  “Wow,” I say. To call me stunned would be an understatement. “When did your dad get a private jet? He always said they were pretentious.”

  “It wasn’t his,” Five says, and then quickly adds, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m finally here.” He tugs me close, so our hips touch, flashing that grin at me that makes me forget about the entire world and just melt.

  “You’re here,” I sigh, leaning my cheek up against his chest. “I can’t believe it.” I love his smell. I’ve missed it so much, I might start crying. And then… “Why are you here?” I lean back a little so I can look him in the eyes. “I mean, at the shop?”

  He looks around for a few seconds, like he might be about to lie.

  “Five? What’s going on?”

  “I was just thinking… you know.” He shoots me a grin.

  “What?”

  “You know. Maybe we could use the old apartment to have some… alone time.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “If you get my meaning.”

  Yes! I want to do a great big fist pump. I’m gonna have sex today! Wit
h the love of my life!

  And then I frown. “Hmmm… I don’t know.”

  “What? You’re gonna deny me, Princess? Well, don’t blame me for trying—”

  “No!” I say. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m in. One hundred percent. It’s just… I have always pictured it in my bedroom, ya know? On my princess bed. Surrounded by my princess stuff. But the shop apartment is fine. Better than fine. It’s perfect. Come on, let’s go!”

  PRESENT DAY

  “You did not,” Kate says, breaking her rapt attention away from my story, “do it for the first time in my father’s creepy old shop apartment on your farm.”

  “We did,” I say, making a face. “And it was all wrong. I felt like a child, ya know?” I shake my head, trying to shake that memory away at the same time. I don’t like to think about it. “It was nothing like I imagined in my head.”

  “Hmmm,” Kate says. “Well, yeah, that sucks.”

  “We didn’t do it again, either. He had to leave early, remember? And he never came back. So I’m stuck with that one horrible first and only time with him in my memory.”

  “Girlfriend, you need to make a new memory pronto. He’s back now.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t care what he says, he’s not back for me. He’s up to something. Just like he was up to something that day we did it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean… I don’t think he was up in the shop planning for our first time. I think he was doing something else up there.”

  “Like what?”

  I have thought about that morning for years trying to make sense of it. But I have no clue. So I just shrug. “Dunno. It was just weird how he showed up on that private jet and then left after only a week.”

  “Hmmm,” Kate says again. I can practically see her mind spinning. “That was my grandfather’s jet. He was here from Hong Kong that summer. But now that I know all the details, you’re right. My baby brother was definitely up to something.”