Uncut (Unexpected Book 4)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  “I know,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Instead of saying goodbye, you should stay over for the weekend. Have fun with the butterfly and me while we work at the bar.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He salutes me and leaves again.

  Sitting at the breakfast table, I grin. Maybe things between us will never work, but now he has a different concept of who I am. Instead of the obnoxious brother of his business partner, I'm now a friend and a potential partner too. I call that a win-win situation. I browse through the news on my phone while finishing breakfast and place the dirty dishes in the sink when I'm done. Heading to take a shower, I plan the rest of the day, including going to the Silver Moon. Thursday is busier at the bar. I have to beat the crowd in order to talk to Thea about editing the Nix books. I need to hire a new editor soon, and the faster I convince her, the better for both of us. She needs the money, and I need the help.

  I clean my forehead. Working at a bar for six hours is as exhausting as working out at a gym for two. The Thursday night crowd doubled from yesterday. My fault, according to Thea. MJ Decker at the Silver Moon trended all night through several social media engines. By eight o’clock we closed the doors and called Mason to send extra security details. Even after we shut the doors, a long line of patrons stood outside the venue waiting for hours to be let in. All for their turn to be close to one of the famous Decker triplets. Reed loved the attention, and was happier once Tristan arrived to help him wait the tables.

  “Here,” Tristan handed Thea a wad of bills, “your cut of the night.” Thea frowns at him and doesn’t accept it. “That’s what we do at my places. The waiters have to give a cut to the bartender.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks, handing me over an envelope.

  “What is this?” I ask as I go through the bunch of cash inside.

  “Tips,” she says with a whispery voice. “Thanks to you we made almost a thousand dollars in only one night.”

  I take the wad Tristan was handing her, place it inside and hand it back to her. “Keep it. You're the one that busted her ass all night.” I take off her cap and watch her hair fall down as I untie it. “Better. I like you that way.” She serves me with an eye-roll that makes me want to kiss her, but I don’t. “Reed has to hire someone else. Next week I can’t be here until Friday.” Then I look at Tristan. “You?”

  “I can stay until Sunday morning. If I move some shit around, I might be able to fly back Tuesday evening.” Tristan pulls out his phone and taps it several times. “Then return to California on Friday when you’re back. Will that work for you?”

  “Sounds doable,” I say, looking at Thea. “What do you have on tomorrow around noon?”

  “Rest, catch up with my business stuff. Not sure . . .” she trails off suspiciously, “why?”

  Reed approaches us; it’s time for her to go home. “We’ll pick you up then.” I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Sweet dreams, Butterfly.” Tonight I don’t follow the bouncer to make sure she makes it next door. I have to discuss our schedule with Reed and Tristan.

  During the morning I worked via Skype with Scott, my assistant. Setting up my schedule for the next couple weeks wasn’t as hard as I imagined it’d be. I’ll have to travel only twice next week, but after that I can stay longer in Seattle. At eleven, Matt reminded me that we had a thing to do today. Hiking with Thea. The idea of going out for a hike convinced me to change and join him. The company was a plus. Except now I realize this might be awkward.

  “Why am I here?” I power on my tablet as Matt drives us to pick up Thea. “Sounds like you’ve planned some kind of date with her. I’d hate to become the third wheel.”

  He laughs. “Dude, when I take her on a date it’ll be to some place fancy.” He moans. “Shit, I said when, not if. That’s bad, right?”

  “Or good, depending on how you see it, Matt,” I respond, tilting my head to the driver’s side and wondering what he’s thinking. “When was the last time you took someone out on a date?”

  He shakes his head. “Never. Unless you count our early breakfasts as dates.”

  “That’s unexpected. Even I have had dates, Decker.” It’s been a long time since I dated. “Not even a high school girlfriend?”

  “No, I was homeschooled.” He pulls in front of the Silver Moon and kills the engine. “I’ve never taken anyone out. Maybe one day I will, maybe it will be with her. I don’t know. Today is not the day though. We’re heading out to the trails as friends.” He pauses and looks across at me intently. “Can you do me a favor? Please, don’t overthink what we’re doing.”

  I give him a tight smile; how is it possible that in such a short time he knows what I think? No one knows me as well as he does. There’s something about him—a strong desire to care for everyone and believe that everything is possible.

  Matt clears his throat, crossing his arms.

  “Just a hike, I get it.” Then tap my head. “Not allowed to think, only walk. Happy?”

  “So you own several bars?” Thea questions before taking a bite of her hamburger. I nod. “But why move from the East Coast to California?”

  We walked for a couple hours. I followed Matt’s lead, but his lead included talking. Our conversation flowed easily for as long as we hiked. We covered a lot of ground. Thea is great at asking questions. Neither Matt, nor I, missed any of the ones she asked, and they were many. Of course I told her about my beginnings. That I’m from Hartford, Connecticut, went to Yale, and how I dropped out and went to California to make a name for myself.

  “At the time it sounded like the best place to start fresh,” I say, drinking my shake. As I’m about to ask where she’s from, a young woman approaches us.

  “Excuse me,” she stutters, looking at Matt. “Aren’t you MJ Decker?”

  Matt rubs his face, straightens his posture and smiles at her. “I am.”

  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” She fans her hands toward her face, her eyes light up, and she bounces a few times before speaking. “Could I get your autograph? A picture with you? I can tweet it and be like so famous.”

  “Sure. I’m cool with the autograph, sweetheart, but the tweet not so much,” he denies, taking the pen that Thea supplies from her purse. He signs a napkin and hands it over to her. “What’s your address? I can have my people send you over a signed T-shirt if you relax and forget where you saw me. Can you do that for me?”

  “But I want a picture with you,” the woman insists.

  Thea fetches her phone out of her purse. “What’s your name?”

  “Sienna,” the girl responds.

  “Sienna, do me a favor and snuggle closer to MJ,” Thea instructs. Sienna obediently leans closer to Matt, hugging him like a puppy she wants to cherish forever. “Now smile.” She taps her phone a couple of times. “Ready, we’ll print this and have his publicist send over the signed pic.”

  “Will you really?” Sienna asks, writing down her address. “I promise not to mention that you’re here. Just don’t forget to send me the shirt and the pictures.”

  The woman leaves, and Matt is the first one to speak, “Didn’t I say these are the best hamburgers you’ve ever eaten in all of Seattle?”

  “So where are the best hamburgers that you’ve ever eaten in the entire world?” Thea takes another fry, dips it in her vanilla shake, and eats it.

  “Still searching for that one, Butterfly,” he says, eating the last bite of his second hamburger. “It’s all about the hamburger, shake, and fry combo. The three have to complement each other.” Thea feeds him a fry dipped with shake and he grins at her. “See, best combo ever.”

  We laugh at his comment and go back to the easy conversation we were having before a fan interrupted us. After finishing lunch, I suggest walking instead of taking the Jeep, as we’re only a couple of miles from Thea’s place. I’m not ready to end this . . . whatever we want to call it. Not yet. They both agree. We laugh, chat, and enjoy the company the entire time, until we reach the building.

  “
Thank you, it was great. It’s been so long since I’ve had so much fun.” She fidgets with her keys, her head lifts, and her eyes look from Matt to me. “See you later tonight?”

  “Yes,” we both respond. I lean down and kiss her cheek, and Matt does the same. It takes some strength to pull back and not wrap my arms around her.

  How is this possible so quickly? Does Matt feel the same?

  Thea turns around and enters her home without another word. My mind starts thinking about today. She’s right. It was a great day.

  “You’ll be okay tomorrow?” I ask Thea. We pushed our trips. Instead of leaving on Sunday, Tristan left earlier today and I am heading to California tomorrow. The crowd hasn’t diminished since the day I sent that tweet, and many corroborated that I come to the Silver Moon often.

  “Yes, stop worrying about me. You should ask Reed.”

  “He should hire someone.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s not necessary. Matt, you’re the reason why we had so many visitors every night.” She places her hands on top of both cheeks and squeaks. “OMG. It’s MJ Decker. Please, please,” she squeals rubbing her body against me. “Give me your autograph, take me home. I want to have your babies.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows and smirk. “So, you want to have my babies?”

  “Ugh,” she growls, palm facing her forehead. “No. Those are some of the phrases that many of your crazy fans screamed while they were pawing you as if you were a piece of meat.”

  “USDA choice, prime select piece of meat. And you must call them my adoring fans,” I correct her, half joking. They’re borderline insane. The attention is exhausting sometimes, and the lack of privacy is frustrating. “Not crazy. They have feelings.”

  Thea frowns, lifts her hand, and touches my jaw. “You don’t like the attention, do you?” I stare into those magical eyes that look deep purple tonight. How does she know? “That smile of yours isn’t reaching all the way to your eyes like it usually does. I bet having all those adoring fans chasing you along with the reporters must be tiresome.” I nod. “There’s no such thing as privacy, and they want to know everything about you. From where you bought your last coffee, to how you sleep at night. Boxers or briefs. Meat or vegetarian. Coke or Pepsi.”

  “Boxer briefs,” I respond, then take her hand and place small kisses along her palm. “I don’t think they are that intrusive. But it’s the price you pay when you’re famous.”

  “It isn’t worth it to pay for it with your life.” She tries to take her hand back but I don’t let her. I’ve never discussed with anyone how I feel about the attention. No one would understand. For some reason, she does. “You end up running away from everything you had, and watch your back to make sure they aren’t right behind you. Every step you take is documented, every mistake judged and penalized. At night, all those followers are gone and you remain lonely. Hurt.”

  “I try my best to erase the intimate shit,” I explain, trying to communicate to her how I manage to survive. It’s the job of the media team I assembled to erase most of the crap that's posted about me. “Keeping the personal shit away from strangers is hard in showbiz. You know, when Jacob and I started our band, Without A Compass, it was fine. No one cared about us as people, only our music. There was an incident that changed it all. Some jerk tried to make money off us and the media got wind of who one of our fathers was—Chris Decker.” Something flickers in Thea's eyes, but she closes them briefly and when they open they look void of emotion. It doesn't sit well, but I shove it aside. “We adjusted our routines and made sure to keep the family’s identities away from us, keeping my sister safe. It was long ago though.”

  I shrug, stopping myself from telling her more. I don’t want to talk about the shit. It did hurt, because the event not only took away my privacy, it also hurt my family. Stupid Martin Levitz. He’s the former drummer of Dreadful Souls. Chris’s old band. The man tried to sue WAC because we included a few covers of their former band on our second album. It was with my father’s permission, but that didn’t matter. Martin Levitz took legal action against us, and even when we won the battle against him, he cracked our family by outing the so-called Decker twins. AJ hated that Chris recognized us in public and left her out. She cut ties with my parents because of that and other issues she carried. A couple years later my parents separated. The ripple effect of his actions almost destroyed what's sacred to me—my family.

  “I'm sorry.” Thea’s face drops slightly, and her eyes don't meet mine. “That must've been difficult, to find a new way to live after someone disturbed your privacy.”

  “There's nothing to be sorry about,” I say, my arms wanting to envelop her inside a cocoon to protect her from the obvious sadness she feels. I can't though as she takes a step backward.

  “Thea, time to go home. You had an exhausting day. We’ll close without you,” Reed shouts from the background. “Decker, time to finish cleaning and have a talk about next week.”

  “Butterfly, I'll be up there in a few. We have to talk about the gig.” She pinches the bridge of her nose while biting her lips. I wait for her to work out whatever she's contemplating. “Only for a couple of minutes.”

  “Only a few minutes,” she repeats, her words barely sounding out of her lips. Thea turns around, heading toward Reed who gives her a hug and whispers something to her. Once he's done, she leaves with one of the bouncers following behind.

  “Eyes off the girl, Decker.” Reed pulls me away from the ogling trance. It’s not only because I’m attracted to her body. I stare trying to understand why the sudden change of mood. “I talked to my old bartender. He’s not coming back. We need to work a schedule. I have to search for what I want to do next before I let this bar go.”

  “I’ll talk to Tristan. How long do you think you need?”

  “Do you want me out already, boy?”

  “No, it’s just so we can plan.” I pat his shoulder. “Take as long as you need, Reed.”

  His gaze drops to the floor. He shakes his head and lifts it again. Sadness clogs his eyes, and I give him a hug before either one of us speaks. “And if you have second thoughts we’ll understand.”

  “Give me at least three months, and if I need more time I’ll let you know.”

  I squeeze his arm and nod. “Let’s sit down and try to come up with a schedule for the time being.”

  I clean the steam on the mirror and check myself one more time. My eyes aren’t as red as they were before I showered. The dry tears and sadness washed away by the water. Sadness brought by the memories of having my life plastered in public by my own parents. Not having a moment to myself since . . . I can’t remember a time in my past when I didn’t have to smile for the cameras and be pleasant. That sweet girl who had to play along to get some attention from her parents. The same parents who loved to make easy money and exploit any event, even if it meant exploiting their own child.

  They say there’s no stronger force than a parent’s love. The unconditional love, where two people or maybe just one keeps you secure, safe, and cared for. I never had that kind of love. If anything, my father is the person I fear the most. The one who at any chance pushed me further and further until I became . . . Aggie Levitz. The former child star that became a wild teenager. According to the media that hounded me day and night, I was arrested several times for possession of controlled substances, underage drinking, and a hit and run. My lungs burn, my ears fill with blood, and I can’t breathe.

  I close my eyes, controlling the wave that’s threatening to take me down one more time. Another panic attack in less than an hour. I’m thankful I controlled it downstairs in front of Matt. That it didn’t happen until I closed the door behind me. The urge to forget for one night grows by the minute. If I wait long enough, the bar will be closed and I can break into it. There’s plenty of Vodka to tame the increasing longing . . . or I can walk a few blocks down to the alley where I know there’s a guy that can sell me a painkiller—pot or cocaine. I shake my head, knowing I�
��ll regret losing myself for one night. Five years. I can keep fighting until I reach the next milestone—tomorrow.

  My breathing slows down, my chest loosens up, my legs regain their strength, and I’m able to let go of the sink. I’m not my parents. I have a few reasons to stay afloat. It’s the hope of a better day, the hope that someday someone will be there for me. That I’ll find a place where I belong, and will be loved because of who I am. It won’t matter who I once was.

  My eyes snap open with the sound of the doorbell.

  My heart skips a few beats, like it just knows it’s Matt.

  Against my better judgment, knowing that fighting with what’s right and what I enjoy is also playing into this moment of self-doubt, I finish dressing and open the door for him. That smirk grows the moment our eyes meet; my legs wobble a little while my heart sighs for him.

  “Took you long enough to open,” he says. I take a step backward letting him inside the hallway. “I was beginning to think that you forgot about me.”

  “Nah, I needed a quick shower.” I shut the door, turn around, and lead the way upstairs to my place. “Want some water?”

  Matt closes the gap between the two of us and his emotional blues try to interlock with my eyes. I glance over at the coffee table full with crafts. “You okay?” He lifts my chin achieving that eye-to-eye, soul-to-soul connection I tried to avoid only seconds ago. “Something happened before you left that put that lovely smile out of commission for the night. It’s weird, but it’s not settling well in here.” He touches his chest.

  “I’m tired, had a shitty day, and your story sounded . . . sad.” Wow. You sound pathetic and stupid, Thea.

  “Shitty?” He releases my chin and scratches his head. “How so? I think we had a good time at the bar and your earnings for the night were huge—not counting what they left in credit card tips. What happened, Butterfly?”