Make Me Stay II: A Second Chance Romance

by Avant, Amarie

Another comment read, “That bitch never supported Deaf Culture.”

  Sprinkled throughout were comments from people who just didn’t care and asked DCAU why Avery Castle was even relevant? Others expressed that they were “sorry” that she was choosing to lose her identity. Scattered thinly were the folks who did not care at all or argued that Avery had the right to do with her body as she so chose.

  Tears began to blur her vision.

  Carly grabbed the laptop that seemed to rest heavily on her palms, patting her cheek. “Hey, stop crying. I’m calling that bitch right now! I’m going to—she’s a lying piece of shit, Avery.”

  Antonio caught her attention. “Dad will have the website completely erased—”

  “I don’t care.” Avery turned away from them both, needing the silence that only living inside of her own head could give. “It’s all a bunch of lies.”

  She headed back the half mile toward the house. Her cell phone buzzed in her hand. It was Donavan. Great, now he knew. She responded to his message, hoping that her attempt at humor was enough before shoving the phone back into her pocket.

  Mentally, Avery told herself to be strong. She’d never really been bullied, just a few laughs or words from someone new while growing up. Truly, Donavan had been one of them, unknowingly, and then she’d looked into his eyes and fallen in love.

  She’d noticed him the second he got out of Greg’s car. While the chauffeur came around to open her door, Avery had watched the boy fork a hand through his hair that rained golden under the sun. Now, it stuck up like a rooster. He didn’t have the mannerisms of most of the other kids at the private school. His navy-blue blazer looked stuffier rather than tailored against his frame.

  She got out, confused as he turned and began to head back down the steps of their elementary school, and then he’d ran into her—

  Avery worked it in her mind to remember the precise moment she saw Donavan’s honey brown eyes. It didn’t matter the crap that came out of his mouth. She’d fallen in love.

  “Ouchhh . . .” She fell straight onto her bottom. The little bastard was going to keep walking.

  “Excuse me!” she shouted.

  He came back, cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Can’t you see?”

  After all the debates and arguments Avery had had with her father, she didn’t know what to say. She just focused on his mouth. She’d never liked a mouth before. In her world, they served a purpose. They were a means of “listening.”

  Usually, this was the part where she smiled while he asked if she could “see.” She didn’t feel like smiling. She felt like wrapping her hands around Maxine’s neck and squeezing all the lies out of her. She didn’t realize that she’d let herself into the house and was already heading upstairs when a Black man, the new Room Six, whom he shared with his wife and had the room next to Junior’s for their two children, was descending past her.

  “You alright?” He asked, stopping.

  “Great. I hoped you enjoyed the . . .” Her brain went blank. “Breakfast.” Hello, AC, of course breakfast is in the cards at a B&B.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Feeling like an idiot for mentioning the obvious, she added, “If you need anything let myself or Carly know.” She continued up the steps and into her room.

  Anya was in a reclining position on her baby bouncer. The timed tranquility music had gone off. She was looking at the toys positioned before her.

  “Are you ready to wear stars and stripes?” Avery grimaced, feeling as if her tone had to be rather lackluster to Anya. So much for cutesy baby talk. She couldn’t muster enough emotion for it.

  Anya’s lips sunk in, and her chubby cheeks became even more puffy. She pouted, sensing her mother’s distress.

  “Oh, don’t worry baby. We won’t be having any loud fireworks here, okay?” Avery sniffled. “I just plan to dress you up for your first Fourth of July and . . .” Again the words roamed through her head. Avery couldn’t quite complete her statement as rude thoughts swam through her mind.

  Avery grabbed her cell phone, leaned her forearms against the crib, and texted Maxine.

  AVERY: I hope you feel really great.

  MAXINE: I heard the deaf community was small. Real small if it took you almost a week to read the blog?? It went up the night after your cochlear appt.

  She glanced away from the phone and down at Anya, wondering why she’d just fed the horrible monster.

  MAXINE: Hello . . . no response. It’s not like we can chat on the phone yet. Oh, unless you want to TTYD?? I read up on some of your issues.

  MAXINE: Hey, I can’t even get a fucking job, AC.

  Biting her lip, Avery knew that her dad had something to do with this. “Well, I literally tried to get your friggen job back,” she mumbled to herself. “Joke’s on me.”

  Her palm vibrated again. Avery looked at Anya, who still had her mouth in a tiny pucker. Forcing herself not to read the last message from her nemesis was becoming a feat. Her eyes went to the iPhone screen.

  MAXINE: Wanna know how I’m aware about your choice to get a cochlear implant?? It has something to do with being bored, with a journalism degree, and being unemployable!

  She heaved the cell phone toward the bedroom door just as it opened. Antonio ducked his head. “What the—”

  “Sorry.” She grimaced. Avery looked down at Anya who stared at them wide eyed.

  “Dad’s on my phone.” Antonio jiggled his cell. “He’s going to handle it. Okay?”

  “No.”

  “He’s not taking no for an answer.”

  “Tell him I won’t speak to him for a year, Antonio. He has no right.”

  With slumped shoulders, her brother mumbled something into the phone before hanging up. He stared at her, chin down, as if trying to dissect why she had lost her temper. “Dammit, are you gonna make me turn into our father right now, AC? Because seeing you cry makes me angry.”

  Avery closed her eyes and blinked back another onslaught of tears. Her shoulder’s jolted when Antonio gripped them and shook her violently.

  “Stop it! You have to let me talk to you!” She could see he was shouting, but she didn’t respond. Avery looked down.

  When Avery looked up, he stopped screaming.

  Her palms pushed off his shoulders. He stumbled a few steps, face darkened with anger. Avery growled, “Why are you shouting at me, Antonio? I cannot hear you!”

  “This is frustrating. I don’t know how Donavan allows you to do this. You have to be in the here and now, Avery. That’s the only way you can ‘listen.’ We have to be able to communicate with you.” His leg shook.

  “Sometimes, I don’t feel like chatting, arguing . . . hearing the voice of reason.”

  His hands flew up in defeat. “I need some kush, arguing with you. Avery, you are a Castle. We don’t give a damn what people think of us. You know that! Heck, not giving a damn was the reason I cultivated and sold my own indo in high school, do you understand?”

  She nodded. Being ignored was the worst thing in the world to him, which was exactly how Antonio felt when their parents gave Avery all their attention as a child. All her life, Avery had been the big sister that Antonio could look up to. During his mother’s quest for him to become cultured via tap dancing—just as Avery had done with piano while younger—she’d been his sounding board. Antonio had hated her when he thought she’d taken off to travel before starting college. He felt like she had abandoned him. She’d been perfect without a single flaw until he found out about Sunnymead Resort.

  “You just don’t understand. It’s like being a mixed-race child in the South, and neither race will claim you.”

  Antonio was shocked.

  “The deaf community is tiny. They’re not all like the people in the comments below. But then again, you don’t know about oralism.” She paused from signing, the pain so palpable. “You don’t know what it’s like being forced not to sign and having your identity taken away from you, brother, so just leave me alone. Give me a few momen
ts, and I’ll be okay.”

  He shook his head and then signed, “No. I won’t. I won’t leave you alone. I’m a little brother. I was made to pester you. So tell me.”

  “Antonio, I didn’t meet another deaf person until I was six years old. I thought I was the only person in the world. And before that, I’d already got it into my mind that Dad didn’t like having me around being deaf. I spent countless hours—days—an accumulation of at least a year or two of my life on speech training. I could’ve done other things. Hours holding my face in a certain position, pushing my mouth, trying to make the right movements because speech is normal.”

  Antonio reached over and wrapped his arms around Avery. The hug made her feel better and worse at the same time. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping not to be so overcome with emotion that she cried. Crying allowed that vindictive woman to win.

  “I’m sorry, sis. Damn, you make it sound like two different worlds.”

  “Yes, planets. Two different planets.” Avery nodded. “Enough about that. There are so many performers in the deaf community that deserve better. They don’t receive the same amount of praise as their hearing counterparts. But these folks say I’m just a mediocre regular person—I don’t believe that. I just . . . I just felt like I was thrown away is all.”

  Almost as if she understood, Anya burst into tears. Antonio reached down to the bouncer, his large hands moving painstakingly slow as he unbelted her and removed her from the contraption.

  “You’re so cute.” He held her to his chest as Avery watched. “I could give you a cousin to play with.”

  The baby cooed.

  “Hey, don’t keep tempting me. I think I can make a little girl half as pretty as you.” He rubbed her back and returned his attention to his sister. “Sorry, AC. I don’t think uncles start to trend until kids are ready to sneak into R-rated movies and stuff like that. So, I had to make a promise of a friend for my gorgeous little niece, so she’d stop crying.”

  Avery almost smiled.

  Antonio’s face became sincere again. “You didn’t really grow up around anyone like you, AC. I hadn’t noticed that at all.”

  “It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Dad isn’t rich enough for a time machine.”

  “I just really feel like a pestering little brother now. Especially, since you didn’t have anyone to surround yourself with that understood you.”

  “Donavan tries.” Avery sat down on the edge of her bed while Antonio and Anya headed for the chaise by the door. “Remember that one time I went to a sleep over?”

  “Hell yeah. I was just starting to like girls. You were sixteen and hated them, and I kept asking if you wanted me to come with you. Shit, we have more of our dad in us than we aim to give ourselves credit for. I didn’t want you to go on a killing rampage by the end of the night when you got too annoyed with the girls.” His head tilted, and he rubbed the bristles on his chin. “You didn’t go did you?”

  “Nope. Donnie took me to Atlanta. Out of all the splurging on us Dad does, Donnie gave me the best surprises.”

  Antonio shook his head. “I don’t wanna know, sis.”

  “Ha, just listen. He surprised me with a theatre performance by a deaf production, and then one of the other people in the audience let us know about a late-night deaf comedy show. For the first time in my entire life, I enjoyed watching something without having to read lips or without reading a teleprompt.”

  Wide eyed, Antonio listened, having never conceived that such entertainment existed.

  Avery placed her hands on her knees, pretending to be tired, she stood up. “Hey, I think you stole my entire moment that I needed to have alone.” She grinned. “Thanks, Brother, you’ve made yourself useful for once in a lifetime.”

  He waved his hands around in an attempt to hypnotize her. “This is all an illusion. Little brothers are for terrorizing and arguments. Little brothers are not comforters or helpful, just lazy bastards that occasionally ask you for favors. Not the other way around.”

  She pointedly signed each word. “You’re an idiot.”

  44

  Hunter

  His childhood bedroom that had once been his prison now provided him solace. Mom brought every meal to him since he refused to eat downstairs with her. The LTG had lied. The bastard had stayed a few days before hitting the road again. And luckily, Hunter hadn’t heard from Hawk. He was still angry with Hawk. That ass had used his baby as a reason to double cross him. To hell with the whole lot of them.

  “Hunter, sweetie,” his mother said, entering his room.

  His gaze locked onto hers. His eyelid twitched, but he didn’t say a single word about her coming in without knocking.

  She offered a wry smile. “Sorry, my arthritis,” she said placing the tray down. “I hardly got up here holding it.”

  “You should’ve said something.” Hunter smiled, having learned how to play with emotions at the crazy house that Hawk had sent him to. “I would’ve at least come down to get my lunch. Mom, you spoil me.”

  “Aw, my sweet boy. I wish you’d come downstairs and sit with me for a while. It gets lonely.”

  He turned back to the laptop he’d borrowed from her and increased the volume, streaming Avery Castle’s music.

  “That sure is a pretty song. I could listen to that melody while I read,” she tried. He felt her reluctance to leave.

  “It isn’t meant to be white noise, Mother, while you transport yourself into some regency romance.”

  Her chuckle grated his ears. “You know me. I’ll take a rakish duke any day when your Dad is away.”

  Keeping his gaze on the screen, Hunter rolled his eyes. At the sound of his bedroom door closing, he breathed easy. Wheeling his computer chair over to the tray at the edge of the bed, Hunter sighed. This truly was the life. Too bad he couldn’t take his mom with him and Avery to Mexico. She could clean and cook.

  He picked up the turkey sandwich and slid back over to the desk. Whoever made the YouTube video of Avery’s CD had used a looping video of footage from Avery with a piano in front of the masses while young. For some reason, she did not tour after releasing her first and only album as a teenager. No amount of researching the internet would help him learn what she’d been up to. But she’d been the lead performer at a few concerts while young, which included USC, Carnegie Hall, and even a small piece with the pianist LaChelle at The Royal Albert Hall. He smiled at a particular picture of her around eleven or twelve. The piano, a dominating force, sat before her as she made the loveliest music he ever heard. He turned back to his food. Taking a bite of his sandwich, a bit of mayo dropped onto the keyboard.

  “Shit,” he grumbled, wiping it down. Keys began to stick. He hissed and folded his napkin until it was thin enough to fit between the buttons to wipe out more.

  When Hunter looked back up, the screen had scrolled down to the comment section. His pupils constricted, eyes popping out of their sockets as to what he saw.

  The comment was from someone named Mad Max, and it read, “If you’re still listening to this crap, here’s an update as to how Avery Castle is doing now.”

  With furrowed brows, he clicked on the link that took him to a blog. His hands balled into fists. For the next thirty minutes, Hunter lost himself in every single lying word of the blog post. He hadn’t even made it to the comments yet when he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Alright, Mad Max. I assume you’re Maxine Winters,” he mumbled to himself, eyes scanning the onslaught of lies.

  He started to scroll down and read more, but the page went white. With the faulty internet in his room, Hunter spent much of his time refreshing. Cursing the fact that his room was the furthest to the Wi-Fi portal, Hunter pressed the circular refresh button at the top of the screen. This time the search engine popped up, stating that the page couldn’t be found.

  “What the hell?” He positioned his mouse on the YouTube tab. He went down to the videos, and the newest comment was now from a year ago—someone stating that they�
�d broken up and listened to the CD on repeat. What happened to Mad Max’s comment linking him to the blog? It had simply disappeared.

  Hunter searched “Maxine Winters + South Carolina.” “For someone who just had so much to say, bitch, where’s your website?” The first thing that came up was the White Pages tab. No social media options at all, except Facebook, which canceled out the South Carolina. Then he noticed another site for reuniting old high school friends. He decided to use that site first and type in the same information. He found that a Maxine Winters did attend the same private school as Avery Castle.

  Though Hunter had decided to wait until hurricane season before meeting with Avery, he knew for a fact that with Maxine Winters in the world that he had to do something! He had to stop that plague of a woman from saying another word about his Avery.

  He got up, opened his door, and ambled down stairs with his tray in hand. His mother sat in the sunroom. She glanced up at him.

  “That lunch was good. I think I’ll sit here, grab a book . . .” He glanced at the coffee table and found an old Sports Illustrated magazine with a Carolina Panther star quarterback on the cover.

  “Oh,” she murmured in shock.

  “I know that it’s only been a few sessions with my new therapist, but I’m . . .” His voice broke at the perfect moment. “I’m not feeling like I’m suffocating anymore. And the meds . . .” Go straight down the drain.

  “I’m really proud of you, Hunter.”

  Me too, he told himself, smiling at his mother. Because the nicer he played for a day or two, the easier it made it to walk all over his mother. He had to meet this Maxine Winters and ask her a few things.

  45

  Donavan

  An hour before the blog site termination

  IED’s exploded in his head. Loud whistles followed by blast after blast.

  Donavan tilted his head, shaking away the sounds. His skin always crawled in the presence of the man who would one day become his father-in-law. Donavan had set aside money for the wedding and wouldn’t have to worry about help for his father for a while to come. He had already completed three assignments. All of which had some connection to Rich Boy.