by Frankie Love
When she finishes, I put her back in her crib, wishing that everything were different for her. For me. For us. That Rachel was here, not for me—not at all—but for Etta. A girl needs a mother.
I return to bed myself; Cat’s arms lazily wrap around my torso. Taking care of both of them tonight makes me feel good, knowing I’m making things right when it would be so easy to get things wrong. I close my eyes, trying to fall back asleep, knowing sleep never comes easy.
I wish so much were different. And I wonder, if I hadn’t let my brother Nolan out of my sight, would I be a different man today? If I’d been able to save my brother would I so badly feel the need to save everyone else?
But saving people, fixing things, taking care of everyone, is my mode of operation. It’s what I do, trying to atone for my sins.
Some people joke, saying I’m Jude, patron saint of lost causes.
The truth isn’t hard to see, though, if you really look.
I’m Jude. I’m lost. And maybe I’m the one who needs saving.
I’m trying to keep my eyes open. It’s early—eight AM, the time all my days start—but today feels different.
Maybe it’s because my cock could still get hard at a moment’s notice, with Cat walking around my kitchen in her underwear and my T-shirt. Her perky tits so damn perfect, her hair piled on top of her head, and her eyes so wide, alive, awake.
Her bright eyes are taunting me.
“Damn,” she says. “Are you always this grumpy in the morning?” She opens the fridge, frowns.
“I’m not grumpy. I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Well, I slept fucking great. I swear I don’t know if it’s your bed that’s just so comfortable, or the blackout shades. For some reason I really thought sleeping here was going to be a complete cluster.” She tilts her head toward Etta, who’s banging her fist against the tray of her high chair. Cheerios fall to the floor. “But it didn’t suck, like at all. Does Etta always sleep like that?”
“She woke up three times, Cat.” I shake my head, not finding the humor in her deep sleep. I guess the joke’s on me.
“Seriously?” Cat laughs, closing the stainless steel door. “You have no food here. What do you eat? Like, there’s not even coffee.”
“Fuck. I knew there was something I was supposed to do yesterday.”
“No worries,” Cat says. “We can go get coffee. And after, we can grocery shop.”
“Just like that? Making a honey-do list for me?” I shake my head, a grin still spreading across my face. Feels nice to have someone trying to take care of me.
“Hey,” Cat says, but the finger she waves at me tells me she’s all talk. “This is a hook-up. Remember? There need to be some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?” I full-on laugh now, which is fucking impressive considering I’m not a morning person.
“Okay, maybe not ground rules, per se,” Cat says. “But maybe we should make some.”
“Oh, yeah?” At this, I narrow my eyes, trying to find her angle.
“Yeah, because I’m sleeping here again. Fuck Holden’s guesthouse. I haven’t slept like a baby in over a year. Your house is magic. Like a drug. I’m hooked.”
“Cat,” I tell her, not letting her words penetrate—because, to be honest, I don’t know if she means it or if this is just a joke. Besides, I’m focused on getting an Americano and an almond croissant. “It’s kind of cruel, don’t you think? To tell me how well you slept, when I was the one actually caring for a child last night?”
“Jude,” Cat says, walking toward the bedroom, where I presume she’s planning on dressing. “Don’t pretend you aren’t already planning our late afternoon fuck.”
“Damn, girl,” I say as I unbuckle Etta from her high chair. “I thought the whiskey was trouble, but I was wrong. It’s you. Plain and simple.”
I lift Etta from the chair, walking her toward her nursery to get her dressed for the day. My pissy mood from getting up earlier than I’d like is already dissipating.
“I’m not trouble, Jude,” Cat hollers. “In fact, I think I’m good for you.”
I don’t answer, not sure what I want to admit. But I know she’s absolutely right.
Chapter Twelve
Catalina
I don’t know what he and I are doing, but I like it. Sure, maybe someone might diagnose my behavior as living in la-la land, and analyze this as some bizarre fantasy where I can just completely escape and fall into someone else’s life. But is that really the worst thing ever, making Jude happy? He’s maybe the most deserving guy in the world.
And besides, it’s been one night. This is not a burgeoning relationship. This is a hook-up, just … extended.
Pushing the stroller, we’re cruising through a neighborhood I’ve never set foot in. It’s different than the kind of neighborhoods Holden hangs out in—a little more artsy, a little less playboy.
I like it. It has a hipster vibe going on, and that makes sense, considering Jude’s an indie filmmaker.
Add that to the list of things I like about him. He isn’t like other guys, the ones who are status quo—wanting their women to be plastic, their cars pristine. Jude drives a classic Dodge Challenger, which in and of itself is sexy as hell. And it makes the fact that I’m wearing yesterday’s clothing feel grunge-chic, as opposed to just plain old sloppy.
With coffees in hand, an Americano for him and a plain no-sugar latte for me, we walk toward the beach. It’s still really early in the morning—I mean, early for me, considering my morning wake up time has been verging on the eleven AM hour.
Okay, maybe it’s closer to noon. But I also don’t usually fall asleep so soundly. Usually I toss and turn for hours, staring at a screen until I eventually pass out on boxed wine and M&Ms.
But Jude is a real grown-up, and I’m kind of getting the impression that if he started asking me, like … say, three questions about myself, he would realize that I’m still a complete fuckup.
Jobless, homeless, pointless.
Instead, I take the handle of the stroller and push Etta down the block toward the beach. The movement puts her to sleep immediately—which, let’s talk about that for a second. Babies seriously have morning naps around ten AM? Why does anyone want to grow up, ever? Etta pretty much has the perfect life.
I’m kind of glad I didn’t say any of that out loud, because Jude might give me an annoyed look to remind me that, while she’s sleeping, her life isn’t perfect. Her mom abandoned her two weeks ago.
“Etta and I go on walks every day,” Jude says. “The house gets stuffy, and I’m not really working—I mean, beyond the stuff I can do online. I’m working on the script in a Google doc. It’s all really remote right now, which is great, all things considered. Still, we get stir-crazy. So we walk. Gives us something to do.”
“That’s great. I mean, walking is on the upswing in general—you know, because of Pokémon Go,” I joke. “I’m a walker, too. In fact, it’s the only form of exercise I can actually get behind.”
“Yeah?” Jude asks. “You don’t do other sports, like soccer or yoga, nothing like that?”
“Yeah, that’s definitely not my style. I don’t do classes. Or leagues. I’m a loner.” I laugh—semi-nervously, but not really. I laugh because I feel like I should, as an explanation for the fact that I’m an introvert. And being around lots of people never gets me pumped up.
Add that to the reasons why Yuri and I were a complete disaster together.
“I get that,” Jude says. He takes a sip of coffee, and we’re quiet for a moment. “Cassius and Holden, having them in my life is actually a good thing. I tend to stay behind the scenes, but those assholes are always going to clubs, dragging me to parties or some show. It’s not the worst thing in the world to have a life, or at least to mix it up every once in a while.”
“Holden and Bexley tried to get me to come out with them last night,” I tell him. “I brushed them off, obviously. I had no interest in going to some bar for appetizers and sma
ll talk. Besides, those two are in a whole other league these days. Bexley was nominated for a freaking Oscar—I mean, that’s all due to you, but still. An Oscar? It’s impressive. She moved here about the same time I did, and look how far she’s come. It makes me think I should probably get my act together. I have nothing to show for myself.”
“I don’t know,” Jude says. I park the stroller next to a bench; we take a seat. I immediately slip off my flip-flops so my toes can sink into the warm sand. “It’s pretty relative, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you have to show for yourself at some arbitrary age? I mean, look—I’m twenty-eight, and you’re what, twenty-two? Five years ago, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted. And now here I am.”
“And now you have a baby. A house. A career. A successful career, I might add.” I smile, not wanting this morning to become heavier than it needs to be—especially by my doing. “And you have hook-ups.”
I smile again, and he does, too.
It feels good, giving him a reason to smile, a reason to breathe easier—and I don’t even know the last time I wanted to make someone feel better. But when I’m around Jude, all I want is to make him happy.
How could someone do that to another person in the span of a few days? I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe just the wanting is enough; maybe there doesn’t have to be a reason.
“You’re different,” Jude says.
“Good different, or bad different? I get both.”
“To be determined.” Jude grins, eyes raised. He eyes my hand, and I know he wants to hold it … and I want to hold his, so I do. I reach for it.
Fuck the fact that we’re out in public. I like being with Jude. I like this morning. I like getting coffee and pushing a stroller, and I like the idea of having a reason to get up every day.
“You’re a real asshole,” I tell him. “Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Yeah,” Jude laughs. “Basically everyone, ever. Remember? I’m a bad boy.”
“So you say. I haven’t seen the bad part yet.”
“That’s because you’re meeting me now, Cat. Not back then.”
“And back then?” I ask. “What made you so bad.”
“Cat, this is a hook-up. Do you really want to go there?”
“The real question is: will your answer determine whether or not we have an afternoon quickie?”
“Oh, definitely not. I don’t think anything is messing that up.”
“In that case,” I tell him, “why were you so bad? And why are you now so determined to be good and help every disaster in this town? To be the patron saint of lost causes?”
Before he can answer, our conversation stops. Now it’s not just Evangeline finding us. It’s Evangeline and Cassius.
I didn’t think Jude’s friends hung out in this part of town, but I guess I was wrong.
In fact, I’m beginning to think I’m wrong about a lot of things.
Chapter Thirteen
Jude
What are the odds? I mean, I understand Evangeline coming by last night—but really, Cassius and her showing up here this morning? It’s not that I don’t want to see one of my best friends—Cash is a great guy and Evie is my cousin—but whatever’s going on between Cat and me is fucking real.
If I hadn’t been interrupted just now, I would have told her everything—told her about my little brother, told her how I messed things up so bad and how all I want to do now is make things right. So, yeah, I help people. I try to fix things. I let women like Rachel into my life and I don’t kick them out, even when I have a hundred and ten reasons why I should.
Because, damn it, I want my brother back. And since I know that isn’t happening this side of heaven, I do my damnedest to make sure no one’s going through hell under my watch. Never again.
“What’s up, man?” Cassius asks, bumping my fist, giving Cat a tight nod. Obviously Evangeline told him about Cat and me last night. “Look what we’ve got. Holden’s baby sister out here, hanging out with this douchecanoe.”
He’s talking to Cat, but she doesn’t look interested. The moment these two showed up, she got busy with the stroller, finding a bottle, covering Etta in a blanket, not meeting either of our eyes.
“Cat, I’m just messing with you,” Cassius says.
“It’s ok,” Cat says coolly. “I know you like to dish it, Cash. But I just don’t want this all to get back to my brother and I have a feeling it’s going to. So, yeah, the timing isn’t that great. Jude and I were having a nice walk.”
“Nice walk?” Cash asks, laughing. “That’s what you kids are calling it these days?”
“Kids?” I say, jutting out my chin. “I think I can handle my business, bro.”
“Dude, just messing with you.” Cassius shakes his head. “Evie and I were just getting brunch; you want to join us?”
“No,” Catalina says quickly.
I turn to look at her, trying to read whatever is going on in her face. I’m not quite sure why she doesn’t feel the vibe with Evie or Cash, but I respect it.
“Okay,” Evie says, taking a step back. “What’s with the mean girl vibes?”
“It’s not mean girl vibes, Evie. It’s just hella awkward, and I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. Before I go to brunch with you and Cash, I should probably have a conversation with my brother. Or my mom.” She looks at me, shaking her head. “You know what, maybe this is all going to get out of control. Jude and I were just having a good time. I was not intending it to become, like, this whole thing with all of his friends and everyone up in my business. Our business.”
I nod slowly, realizing Cat is uncomfortable as hell—and I don’t exactly blame her. This whole thing with Rachel is still so unsettled; it’s not the time for me to be hooking up with my best friend’s little sister.
I like that Cat says what she thinks to Evie. It surprises me, too, because she seemed so closed off when I met her before. Everything Holden has mentioned about Cat revolves around her lack of motivation, her tightlipped non-story about whatever caused her to move to LA.
Maybe I’m a fucking ass to think that I can get her to open up, to break out of her shell… but a major part of me wants to try and figure her out.
Besides, I’m not ready to end this hook-up, or whatever you call it. Not even close.
“Look,” I tell my friends. “Etta needs to get home, and Cat and I just ran out for coffees.” I raise my paper cup as if proving that statement. Like I need an alibi to be strolling the boardwalk.
“That’s cool, bro,” Cash says. “Just let us know when you’re ready to hang out. Evie told me what’s going on with you and Rachel. It’s kind of cold not to tell your friends when shit like that goes down, don’t you think?”
“Look, I’m not ready to talk about Rachel. At all.”
“Okay,” Evie says, rolling her eyes. “But you know, distractions won’t solve your problems. They’ll just amplify them.”
“I’m standing right here, Evie,” Catalina says. “And nobody is looking to solve problems today. Jude and I were getting coffee. We were taking Etta for a walk. As friends. Hell, you should go tell my brother that. He’s the one who’s been annoyed that I’ve been holed up in his house the last six months. Fuck, I’m getting a life.”
“Yeah, with Jude. As if that’s who you should be spending time with.” Evangeline huffs, crossing her arms.
“Why are you being like this?” Cat asks, sounding incredulous. “I thought we were cool.”
“Cool?” Evie sighs. “Rachel and I were friends. Are friends. You wouldn’t understand, Cat. Rachel doesn’t just float through life, and have a brother who can fix her problems, who lets her just flounder for months on end. And yeah, it kinda pisses me off that you’re sleeping with Jude two weeks after Rachel leaves. And Jude, I think it’s kind of messed up that you’re even willing to go along with this.”
“Go along with this?” Cat asks. “Are you kidding me right now? You know nothing about me. You’re judging me? Rachel le
ft, but somehow I’m the villain in the story?”
“I didn’t say you were the villain, I just said you were jumping Jude’s bones. And he’s just trying to survive right now. The timing is a little questionable.”
“Questionable?” I ask, getting pretty pissed off at Evie’s tone with Cat. I’m not Cat’s boyfriend or anything, but she doesn’t deserve to be talked to this way. “Evie, you need to seriously back down. Cat is not doing anything wrong here. I invited her over to my house last night. I invited her out for coffee today. Me. So if you want to get pissed off at someone, get pissed off at me. But do not put your shit on Catalina.”
I feel Cat’s eyes on me, and I know I said the right thing. Reading her body language, I can tell she’s ready to get the hell out of here and get back to my house.
Baby, I think, I’ll take you there.
“Sorry,” Evie says, stepping back. “I know I’m getting a little intense about all of this. And that’s not fair to you, Cat. Or you, Jude. I’m just worried about Rachel. And I’m worried about you, Jude. And Etta. When I needed help, you helped me—you got me a place to live with Holden, and you completely had my back with my dad. You’re the only family I have. I mean”—she looks up at Cassius, smiling softly—“mostly. But you are my only cousin. And I care about you. I hate seeing you hurt, I hate seeing your pattern—”
“My pattern?” I ask.
“Yeah, your pattern … with women. Rachel was always a mess, and the girls before that—Lindy, Julia, I don’t even know how many others. Just a long line of girls who all needed you to save them.”
“I don’t need saving,” Cat says.
But even I don’t believe her words. Even I know the truth: Cat does need someone to save her, to pull her out of whatever she’s stuck in. I just hate the way Evangeline is pointing it out so clearly. So publicly.
“Okay, so you don’t need saving, Cat.” Evie shrugs, lacing her fingers through Cassius’s. “What do you need? Because all I see is a girl who is lost.”