“That can’t be real. It’s shit that they write for movies or books,” Vance states.
“It happens more often than you can imagine,” Pierce counteracts. “People are greedy, and they’d do anything to get their eager hands on their inheritance. Rich people are bored and vindictive. If you don’t do as I say, you won’t get what you want is their favorite game.”
“I don’t want William’s money,” Mills declares, placing a platter filled with grilled vegetables in the middle of the table.
“None of us wants it,” I remind him. “He knew it, and that’s why he’s screwing other people if we don’t comply with his stupid wishes.”
“Tupid!” Arden shouts. Mills glares at me, then brings the fucking swear pitcher where I drop a hundred-dollar bill.
“That should cover me for a week,” I state, and he shakes his head disapprovingly.
“Creative, bored, vindictive…those are a few ways I describe the people who draft those kinds of testaments,” Pierce says. “I still don’t know how we pissed off the old man.”
“Maybe he thought that by hurting us, he’d hurt our mothers?” Mills asks.
Beacon laughs. “My mother gave me away to my grandparents when I was a toddler. He knew she doesn’t give a shit about me. I haven’t spoken to her in years.”
“He knew Mom died years ago,” I say, patting Beacon’s shoulder. Poor kid. I wish I could take some of that pain he carries with him. Being abandoned by your parents just because you’re an inconvenience is heavy. “Our mothers aren’t the answer to this riddle.”
“Mine isn’t happy because she won’t get to see Arden unless she comes to visit,” Mills announces.
Vance shrugs. “Mine is delighted that I quit my job.”
We look at Pierce and Hayes who haven’t said a word.
“It’s complicated,” Hayes confesses. “Mostly because I’m with Blaire and Mom isn’t a fan. Then, there’s the part where I quit my practice.”
“My mother is beyond upset. Let me count the ways,” Pierce says. “Well, I quit the firm, I moved out of the state, and I’m living with my estranged wife—who she hates. I’m sure there’s a lot more, but those are the ones she reminds me of every time we are on the phone.”
Once the food is on the table, Pierce takes a seat and continues, “I agree, it’s not about our mothers. There are some letters that the firm has to give us. We might get some answers when we read them.”
“Not that I care,” Beacon grunts.
“When are they giving them to us?” Hayes asks.
Knowing my nerdy brother, he wants it now.
“I assume that we’ll get them when and only if we finish this eighteen-month sentence,” Pierce answers. “There’s a note that says, ‘Jerome Parrish will deliver the personalized letters to each one of my sons according to the instructions.’”
“What instructions?” I ask.
“There’s nothing in the testament about those instructions,” he responds. “Which is why I assume it’s going to be once we meet all the stipulations.”
“Do you think we’ll have the answer?” Beacon asks.
“Knowing William, the letter has a fucking message saying, ‘The joke is on you. I won’t leave you a cent, but nice try!’” I reply.
“It’d be a good way to fuck with us, but it is impossible. A lawyer wouldn’t carry on a prank. Plus, we could sue them. In fact, I’m still finding a way to fuck those guys over. The letters William left have to be notarized if they contain any clauses, stipulations, omissions or…if he wanted the lawyer to execute anything. There’s more involved than just a handwritten letter. Also, they’d have to be delivered immediately. If not, they don’t have any legal power to take away the assets. They have to distribute the assets once we’ve complied with every stupid stipulation he added to his will.”
“So far we’ve complied,” I state.
Pierce glares at Beacon. “You can’t live outside the house.”
“I live in this house,” he argues.
“If the lawyer realizes that you’re living in the studio, we’re fucked,” I debate.
“I don’t live there. As a matter of fact, there are no beds or places where you can stay.”
“Huh, I thought you had two bedrooms,” Pierce says. “For your bandmates. We saw when the furniture was delivered. It could fit in a big ass ranch house.”
“There’s nothing,” he insists. “You can come over and check the place. They sleep on the floor.”
Hayes glares at him and shakes his head.
“What?” he asks innocently.
“I swear, I’d let Vance break every bone in your body if you get us in trouble, and I won’t fix you,” Hayes says, and I have a feeling that he knows something that I don’t.
“I’m being careful,” he complains and then asks, “Have you been able to convince them to let me go on tour, Pierce?”
“No, and I think it’s time for you to reschedule those dates or cancel them. It’s not going to happen,” he concludes.
Then why did he give him hope earlier today? I want to ask him, but I choose not to engage. This is between them.
“Try harder,” Beacon demands.
“Your agent and I have been working hard, but we can’t get them to do it.”
“Do you know how long it took me to convince G to play with us during this tour? We’re fusing her fans with ours.”
I stare at him blankly because the famous G is unknown to us. Really, who is G?
“Imagine getting Bach to play with the Beatles,” he says as if answering our question.
“In this case, Too Far from Grace is the Beatles,” Mills explains, as it’s so simple. “G is Bach.”
“Obviously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t even know who G is,” Pierce complains.
“G is his childhood friend,” I offer what I know because I don’t understand the Bach reference either.
Beacon looks at us and sighs.
He pulls out his phone, taps it several times, and classical music begins to play through the speakers. Well, it’s modern music played with a cello.
“That’s Grace Bradley,” I say once I recognize the piece. “Sophia and I have been to Carnegie Hall a few times to listen to her. She’s a huge fan. Invite her to visit us. Sophia would love it.”
They all turn to look at me.
“What? I like her music.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Hayes says and then looks at Beacon. “Kid, I love you, but I don’t trust your judgment. I’m pretty sure that if Pierce doesn’t get your permission, you’re going to bail on us.”
He’s right, and I don’t say it out loud, but I’m pretty sure our father gave him this curfew and special permission to tour just to fuck with us. He knew Beacon doesn’t follow rules well, and he hates limitations. Put the kid on a curfew, and he’s going to break it.
Fuck you, William!
“Cancel the tour. I’ll pay for any monetary loss,” I order, offering compensation. “We’ll vote on it to make it fair.”
“The girls aren’t here, and they get to vote too,” Beacon says, grasping for straws.
Blaire, who is inheriting part of my father’s assets, has a vote when it comes to the companies. Now he’s including Leyla and Sophia too. We’re lucky he doesn’t ask for Arden’s vote.
Hayes pulls out his phone. “Babe, we need you to vote.”
“All of them,” Beacon presses. “Tell them what Henry is making me do.”
I gawk at him. He’s making me look like the asshole? I’m trying to save us here. Hayes shakes his head and explains everything that just transpired. Then he puts us on speaker and says, “All in favor of Beacon officially canceling the tour raise your hand or say ‘me.’”
All of us raise our hands. Arden joins us raising both arms and laughing. Maybe I should’ve let him vote. The women say “me” unanimously.
“Seriously, none of you trust me?” he asks appalled.
&
nbsp; “Given the choice, Beac, you’ll choose your band and G over us,” Mills speaks. “You didn’t make me move to this forsaken place with these azzoles just so you could bail.”
“Azzoles?” I ask amused. “That’s a new one. You know your kid might start calling us that soon. Wouldn’t that be funny.”
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say another word.
“I believe in Pierce,” Beacon says firmly.
“It’s impossible,” Pierce declares. “I don’t think I can get this changed. I understand why you’d put them before us, but I need you to remember that this isn’t about us.”
Beacon looks at me. “What if G chooses not to reschedule?”
“She knows your situation. Why don’t you invite her over to spend a week with us so she can understand what it is that we’re doing?”
“What are we doing, Henry?” he questions. His eyebrows pull close and down as he crosses his arms.
“Saving a town from a demented man who believed he owned every inhabitant and us. We’re changing the landscape and creating something different. I hope that with our help in two years this place is going to be better. Big enough that they don’t have to drive to Portland to run errands, but still small and inviting for the tourists.”
“Was that Henry?” Blaire asks. “Maybe miracles can happen.”
I glare at Hayes who chuckles at his fiancée’s comment.
“Fine,” Beacon exhales loudly. “But expect the bill because I’m going to send a signed T-shirt to every person who bought a ticket.”
“Kid, don’t be an asshat,” Hayes says. “Stream a concert from the bar or…find something that focuses more on your music and less on fucking your brother.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up because it’s our Aldridge free night,” Blaire states.
“Just a reminder, you have to spend the night at home,” Pierce says.
“We’ll be there soonish. Keep away from the family room because we’re using it tonight,” Leyla warns us. “We’re bringing ice cream, but can you go to the bakery and see if they have any of Sophia’s favorite cookies?”
“I’ll go and get them after dinner,” I offer. “Drive safely.”
It’s around two in the morning when I wake up. I slept for about two hours, right after I heard Hayes had been kicked out of his bedroom and Sophia was staying for the night. The friends are having a slumber party. They had Vance go to Sophia’s hotel room to pick up one of her bags. My poor brother got to sleep on the couch but swore that the next time Pierce will be the one giving up his room.
I don’t lay on the bed for long though. Instead, I pull out my laptop from its case and head outside so I don’t wake up anyone. It’s already ten in the morning in London. I can get a lot done between now and the time I can go out for a run. It’s past four when I hear the entry door opening.
“Do they know?” I hear Sophia’s voice before I see her coming out of the house.
“Know what?”
“That you don’t sleep,” she states.
“I sleep more than I used to, but I still don’t have dreams,” I confess and ask, “What are your dreams?”
“Lately, I’m searching for a knife to stab you,” she answers, taking a seat next to me. “I never understood why you dragged managers from one hotel to the other, disrupting their lives and complicating everything. Now, I think you just do it because you’re bored and demented.”
“I know you doubt my methods, but I do what’s best for everyone.”
“For your bottom line,” she states. “I’ve applied for four positions within the company, and you awarded them to people less knowledgeable. I could have managed your company without any issues. Yet, here I am.”
Hayes told me that if I explained to her my reasons, she’d be more understanding. I’m not sure if that’d be the case. I don’t trust that she’ll get it, not yet. Perhaps I don’t trust that I know how to let my walls down and let her see all of me.
“What do you think is more important, Ms. Aragon?”
“Between?”
“Merkel Hotels & Spas or this town?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No. Give me an honest answer. If you have to save one, which one would you choose?”
She remains quiet, and I wish there were more light so I could see her better, read her. Knowing her, she might be compiling a list of assets that would make it possible to save both.
“If you were in my place, which one would you concentrate your best assets on for the next eighteen months?”
I modify the scenario, knowing it’ll be easier to answer instead of her trying to reorganize my company in her head so she can convince me that it’d be best if she goes back to New York.
She looks at the horizon, then closes her eyes for a second before answering, “The town.”
I nod absently, staring at the sun rising between the peaks. “Leaving you in New York was never an option, Soph. You can save the factory, you know Merkel better than anyone…and most of all, I don’t have the need to jump on a plane and say ‘Fuck it, I’m bailing’ because you’re not next to me. For Beacon, it’s his band. For me, it is you. Not my company.”
Her brown eyes open wide just like her mouth.
“Go and change,” I order heading back inside the house. “We’ll go for a run around town, and then we can work out at the gym.”
I hope the bullshit Hayes fed me works. Being open and honest has never been a practice of mine. I was taught to be my own man and just act as it’s more convenient for me. Sophia is all that matters, and changing my ways is not only for her benefit, but mine.
Sophia
It doesn’t take me long to adjust to my new routine. I’m aware that it’s temporary, but I prefer to think of this as the next phase of Sophia’s life. Not that I’ll tell this to Henry, but so far, I’m enjoying the new pace.
I don’t know if it’s because I live in a small town, or my current office is just a few minutes away, but I see my parents more often. I don’t say this lightly. I used to visit them every day so I could help Dad with Mom. Now I have more quality time with them, which is refreshing.
My things arrive on time, but we have to store them because the house isn’t ready yet. The modifications and additions Henry ordered for the house are taking longer than Easton projected.
Henry and I have our own routine. We start with an early run around town. Then, we drop by the gym he set up with his brothers. Inside the gym, they built a studio in case we—Blaire, Leyla, or I—want to use it for pilates, yoga, or any other activity. I am in love with the place because I can practice yoga every morning without worrying about knocking something down as would happen at my place in New York. After an hour of meditating, stretching, and practicing my asanas, I head to my house.
Henry is usually waiting for me, already showered and dressed in one of the tailored suits that make him look hot as sin. It’s become part of our routine. Once I’m done, we walk to my parents’ house where Dad serves us breakfast. I leave them chatting and go to my house to get ready for the day.
By the end of the second week, the construction in the house where I’ll be living for the next two years is ready. Since I’m too busy with work, the Aldridge brothers volunteer to help me on Friday after work, but before dinner.
Everyone arrives around five. Dad comes over to help too. Since there are too many hands around the house, he goes into the kitchen where he prepares dinner for everyone. It doesn’t take us more than two hours to set almost everything. I just need to unpack my closet, but as I explained to them, I need time to figure out how I’m going to organize it.
It’s after seven when we’re all sitting down eating the feast Dad prepared.
“Wait, where did you get all the food?” I ask Dad, frowning at the empty platters.
“The refrigerator was full, just like the pantry,” he answers.
I go and check. Everything is indeed filled with my favorites. I turn to look at He
nry who is chatting with Pierce and Hayes.
Why would he do this? I’m usually the one who stocks his house and donates everything he doesn’t use before the next food delivery.
“Dude, you should open a restaurant in town,” Beacon says after eating his third arepa. I look at Dad, wondering if he misses his old life. I know he’d rather be caring for Mom, but what about him?
“Everything you prepared tonight was delicious,” Blaire agrees.
“I’d second the restaurant,” Vance says, reaching for the last flauta on the platter.
“Or just invite us for dinner often,” Mills amends, patting his stomach.
Everyone agrees.
“I’m glad you guys liked it,” Dad smiles with satisfaction because there’s nothing better than knowing they loved his food—I know how happy that makes him.
“Now that I have more time,” I say, “You should teach me how to cook.”
He chuckles. “You’re always busy, and the kitchen isn’t for you, Mija. You should marry a man who knows how to cook, or your children are going to starve.”
“Single is the new happy,” I state before he nags me with the same old I wish you could find a good man.
Even when Henry is talking with his brothers, he glances Dad’s way and frowns. Lately, he’s been quiet, too quiet. I don’t know what to expect from this man who behaves too…professional and calm, unlike the Henry I know. He’s been attentive with me all week, and as he promised, he hasn’t tried to kiss me.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t been fantasizing about that…or more. The more isn’t just sex, which I’ll never have with him. It’s the time we used to spend working together. Maybe it has to do with the fact that we’ve been hiring executives for Aldridge Enterprises. Since his brothers are involved in the process, we haven’t spent much time just the two of us. He’s always arguing with the other five.
Is it wrong that I miss our bickering and I’m jealous that his brothers get that attention?
I don’t resent them. The truth is, I like this bunch. Yet, I feel like there’s something missing between Henry and me. We used to work together all the time, and now…I have to share him. It’s okay that he has his family, and I really don’t mind hanging out with them, but at work it should be just the two of us.
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