Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

  A small gathering of Jordan’s neighbors frolicked down on the dunes, a circle of hazy golden light in the darkness of the beach. The laid-back group, having some kind of barbecue around a pit, had invited me over several times. I declined. I wasn’t exactly the best of company right now. It was one of the main reasons I was out here, letting the sound of the wind and lapping of the waves soothe my nerves. Oh, that and a kiss from my nicotine mistress of course. The waves crashed eagerly on the sand, farther up than before, sending the frolicking neighbors shrieking and laughing to higher ground. My fingers itched for my surfboard.

  I heard the screen door slide open but didn’t turn around.

  “Did she get to sleep all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Jordan slid the screen door closed behind him. “She finally relaxed and fell right out.”

  She’d certainly been through enough. We’d taken turns comforting her on her emotional roller coaster as she’d gotten out the story through sniffles and tears. I’ll save you the trip and give you the highlight reel: she is pregnant, she isn’t sure if Jordan or her new beau is the father, and even though she is ecstatic, she doesn’t know what she is going to do with a baby right now. Now back to you in the newsroom, Bob.

  By the time she’d finished and calmed a bit, it had gotten late. I’d recommended that she stay in one of the guest rooms, to the surprise of everyone, including myself. She’d accepted and given me a hug. Then we’d all snacked on pizza in front of the TV—her choice of show had been one of the vapid Housewives shows I loved. Damn. But for the fact she might be having my boyfriend’s baby, I could actually like that girl.

  When I glanced back, Jordan was mussing his perfect hair up into some sort of faux hawk. When he dropped his hands, the terrified strands fell back into place. “I tried to give her warm tea, but she has a sweet tooth to rival yours,” he said. “I gave her some milk and a few of those cookies you’ve been hiding in the bread bin.”

  “You mean the ones you weren’t supposed to know about?”

  “I hope you don’t mind.” He sounded faintly amused.

  I shrugged. What are a few cookies when your life is imploding?

  He didn’t say anything about my cigarette, which was worthy of at least some sort of nationwide treaty, and sat beside me on the squeaky clapboard step. “You okay?”

  I took a long drag and let out a cloud of smoke. “Do I look okay?”

  He drew his knees to his chest and looped his arms around them. “No,” he said simply.

  A baby. I knew it shouldn’t change everything, but it just did. No, I was not okay.

  “Talk to me,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder.

  I knew he was trying to give me time and space to process. Freedom to ask questions without getting anger or defensive answers in return. I was appreciative, but frankly, I just didn’t know what to say. Or think.

  “I’m not in the mood to pretty it up for you, J. I’m having a little trouble with this.”

  “So am I.”

  “I mean, this is just irresponsible. Like the Maury Povich show irresponsible,” I blurted out. “Haven’t you all ever heard of a tiny little thing called protection?”

  He didn’t seem to mind my rudeness.

  “They were using double contraceptives. So were we,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s on the pill, and we used condoms. It’s… it’s unexpected to say the least. She’s still in shock.”

  Though I’d spent most of the evening out on the deck, I knew she had to be. Conducting an investigation on Rachel had given me an unfair, intimate glimpse into her life. What made her tick. I knew that she was career driven and focused, and having a baby right now was nowhere in her master plan. I’d imagine the term “shock” was an understatement.

  “Can you please put that out?” He looked at my cigarette with intense dislike.

  I ignored him, taking another drag and letting out a smoky breath. A finger appeared in front of my face as he plucked the offending cigarette out of my mouth and stubbed it out on the steps. I shrugged and pulled out another. Flicked my lighter and lit the end. Took another puff. He grabbed that one too. I glared.

  “They come in a pack, J. I guarantee you’ll get tired of this before I do.”

  He stubbed it out and tossed it in my ashtray, sitting one step above us. He glared right back. “I thought you’d quit.”

  “Please. If I hadn’t been a smoker before, today’s turn of events would have made me start.”

  He was quiet a minute before he spoke. “I’m sorry. Sorry for all of it.”

  “What does sorry do?” I muttered, sticking another cigarette in my mouth. I tossed the crinkled, half-empty pack on the top stair defiantly. He didn’t get to tell me what to do anymore. I didn’t even know if we were an “us” anymore.

  “Sorry is how I feel for putting you through this. But not how I feel about the baby if it is mine. I didn’t plan on having kids at all, much less right away. Even when we’d been engaged, we’d planned on five years down the road. Minimum. But now that we’re here, I have to deal with what is.”

  I could feel his eyes on my face, but I couldn’t manage to look at him. Not when he was making sense. Not when I was picturing a little Jordan-and-Rachel baby running around in our lives. Beautiful, smart, overachieving little thing with two corporate lawyers for parents and a strange “uncle” that kept Daddy company. Or a more depressing picture, when mother and father decided they should be a family. And that “Uncle” had been a phase.

  He ran a hand through my hair. Anchored at my neck. Rubbed the muscles there in a way that made me lean toward him unconsciously, like a flower to the sun. His hand moved soothingly. Absently. He did it so often, I wasn’t even sure if he knew he was doing it anymore. I didn’t want him to ever stop. God. My eyes felt a little wet. Love is for chumps. And masochists.

  I needed to get as far away from him as I could before I promised him anything. Anything he wanted, just don’t leave me. I pulled away and jammed my fists in both eyes. Hard. Crying was also for chumps. I just needed to get… out of here.

  “I don’t want you to go.” His voice was quiet.

  My eyes shot to his, and I wondered briefly if I’d spoken aloud. But then I realized he just knew me. Knew what I did when things got rough.

  “But I owe it to you to be honest,” he said, looking a little miserable himself. “If it’s my baby, I plan to take care of it. Rachel and I don’t have to be together, but we’ll be the best coparents we can. Make the best of a situation turned… unique, if you will.”

  Unique? I lit up again, staring stonily at the ocean. Try miserable. Try horrible.

  “She’s going to talk to Donovan in the morning. Then you and I can have breakfast. Talk.”

  Donovan, aka possible baby daddy number two. I gave him a humorless smile. “I’m a little old and jaded for the ‘tomorrow is a new day’ philosophy.” I took a drag of my cigarette, my last, and stubbed it out viciously. “Tomorrow is the same fucking day with a different name.”

  “I’m not asking you to be okay with everything. Just… we’ll talk, okay?”

  He took my hand and pulled me up from my refuge. I followed behind obediently as he led the way inside. I’m sure to someone observing us, it probably looked like we were a normal couple, going inside to start their nighttime routine. But nothing was normal about this day or night. After showering the sand from my body and changing into pajamas, I found myself curled on the couch, tucked in a blanket.

  Jordan padded into the living room twenty minutes later, freshly showered, in pajama bottoms and an old college T-shirt, rubbing his hair into spikes with a towel. The soft, worn shirt read Duke U. on the front in faded print.

  “It’s getting late,” he said. “I’m going to head to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  “You want the light on or off?”

  “Off.”

  He flicked off the overhead light, and the room was plunged into darkness, saved from pit
ch only by the flickering of the TV.

  “You’re going to fall asleep out here.”

  “Then I fall asleep.” I kept my eyes trained on the animated late-night host, even when I felt him staring at me in the doorway.

  After a long, metered moment, I heard him sigh. He pressed a kiss into my hair. “G’nite, baby.”

  Our eyes met at the word “baby.” He sighed again, and my eyes went back to the TV. I strained all kind of eye muscles watching him out of my peripheral vision as he disappeared into the bedroom. He didn’t close the door like we usually did.

  I stared at the gaping hole, now dark. It seemed… almost symbolic. He was leaving the door open for me to walk through, but at what cost? Was I just setting myself up for more heartbreak? How many signs did I have to pick up on before I accepted the answer? He wasn’t ready for this… wasn’t ready for me. I couldn’t even say if he loved me or not. Sometimes I thought he might—just something in his eyes or the way he touched me that made me think he loved me the way I loved him. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on my behalf. And maybe I was checking the definition of the same word in eighteen different dictionaries, hoping for a different answer.

  He wanted to talk, but I didn’t really see anything to talk about. I was tired, and I could feel my baser nature taking over. I didn’t want to fight for our relationship. I wanted to give in and take off. I bit my lip.

  It wasn’t his fault, but I had done this once before in the not-so-recent past. I knew the signs. I could remember being Trevor’s “phase” and how he hemmed and hawed about us not working out. Worrying about being gay. Introducing me as his brother to coworkers. I’d chosen the pain of leaving when it’d begun to hurt just as much to stay. And I hadn’t felt even half of the things for him that I felt for Jordan. I should be grateful to Jordan for showing me early on that this wasn’t going to work. As my tired mind tried to work out the good in this situation, I flicked off the TV. Turns out, I wasn’t as wired as I’d thought.

  Besides, I needed my sleep. You had to get up pretty early to skip out on breakfast.

  Chapter 28

  MY NEW Audi was a color that Jett, the salesman, assured me was Ibis White. Jett had been casually interested in the sale as only the seller of luxury cars can be—buy it or don’t, I’ll be over here. His pitch had rubbed me the wrong way until I’d seen Audi—hereafter known as Audi Darling—crammed in between two Quattros. Slightly under twenty-five thousand miles, fully loaded, and no more vinyl for this behind. Oh yeah, and she was smoking hot. My hands had shaken when signing the purchase agreement, but speeding down the highway helped my anxiety a bit. Now I was just glad she was mine. Or would be in five years, anyway.

  Bessie had broken down on the highway for her last time… in my hands, at least. After Jett had laughed in my face at the idea of trade credit, I had Bessie towed and dumped on my Aunt Janet’s driveway as a gift for my youngest cousin, Tripp. She did not appreciate this. At least that’s what I gathered from the screeching message she’d left on my phone. I’ll call her back sometime around the time Bessie stops leaking oil on her driveway… so yeah, never. Tripp had also been less than grateful. He’d deemed it barely an upgrade from his skateboard. Saucy brat. But he was good with cars and had too much time on his hands (the hallmark of most teenagers), so I knew he’d take care of her. When I left, he’d been saying something about painting flames on her that I pretended not to hear.

  I cut the engine and stared up at Victoria Towers, a tungsten and steel high-rise that soared up twenty-two stories. The building looked cold and imposing, but I wasn’t in the mood for second thoughts. No, I wasn’t second-guessing my plan. I was pondering the code into Trevor’s building, trying not to press my memory too hard. It seemed the harder I tried to remember, the more codes, passwords, and pin numbers just oozed into one meaningless jumble in my brain.

  I still had nothing by the time I reached the well-hidden key pad. I stood by the entrance trying not to look suspicious, hemming and hawing over the right numbers. It was either his birthday forward or his birthday backward. The code wasn’t rocket science, but I only had one shot at it. And that’s if he hadn’t changed it altogether. Maybe it was Laura’s birthday now, backward or forward. Hell, maybe it was Finn’s. Or his mother’s. He’d always been too attached to her.

  I sighed and set my fingers to the keys authoritatively. Beeeep!

  The panel around the keys went luminescent green, and I forced myself to look unsurprised instead of doing the happy dance. As I pulled open the glass lobby door, I stopped short at the sight of the night doorman. From the look on his friendly, open face, he remembered me. I groaned inwardly. Way to get out unnoticed.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said with a large smile, standing at his usual post by the elevator doors.

  I smiled weakly. “Been working a lot.”

  Cheated on. Dumped for a woman. Again. You know, the usual.

  It was clear he wasn’t suspicious in the least. And why would he be? I’d been to Trevor’s place more often than my own in the last two months of our relationship. The last two months when I’d felt him slipping away and hadn’t known why.

  “Mr. Smith is out at the moment,” he informed me helpfully. “Are you here to walk Finn?”

  Blessed, nosy man. You’re damn right I am. “Of course,” I said airily.

  I let myself into the condo without turning on a single light—a feat I was proud and amazed I’d pulled off—and closed the door behind me quietly. In the darkness, the living room opened up to a wide wall of windows with a breathtaking view of the city. The dark night sky was speckled with orbs of blurred orange and white—streetlights and headlights illuminating a city gone dark. I could see the blinking red lights of the airport in the distance, and I briefly wondered how close it actually was.

  Ah, yes, the best part of a cat burglary. The part where you stand around in the person’s apartment and enjoy the view. I hastened myself into action and began calling Finn softly.

  I walked around, slightly stooped, my calling becoming less cajoling and more threatening. “Finn, if you don’t bring your furry…. Ouch!” I banged my shin on the sofa and gritted my teeth.

  Everything was placed differently. I couldn’t navigate in the dark anymore. The couch hadn’t been here, a rug was. I rubbed my shin absently. This just showed that Laura was an idiot. Who would put a couch there? That’s how people got hurt.

  I peeked into their bedroom, all red and gold overtones with a fluffy comforter and at least a million throw pillows on the oversized bed. Well, there was certainly one benefit to living with a woman. I’d never been that type of guy. I didn’t know a duvet from a hole in the wall. Apparently all I’d gotten in my gay starter kit was a pink half tee, a glitter stick, my how-to-crush-your-father’s-world guide, and a sudden affinity for dick.

  Suddenly there was a snuffle and a wet sneeze, and Finn ambled out of a red dog bed in the corner, shaking his overlong golden fur wildly.

  “Finn!”

  He dove for me like a dog possessed, and we went down in a tumble of fur and limbs. I finally grabbed his furry muzzle and planted a kiss between his eyes, right above a giant doggy smile. “I missed you, mutt.”

  See, he loved me best. All right, I didn’t know that. Maybe it was just because he hadn’t seen me for so long. I’m sure he loved Trevor too. But no time for extended reunions. I fastened the harness around his torso and clipped his leash to the D ring.

  “Let’s roll, Finn.”

  I heard the key in the lock a split second before the door opened.

  Please don’t be both of them, I prayed. Laura and Trevor walked into the darkened room, each carrying a restaurant doggie bag in the shape of a swan.

  Please don’t turn on the light. Light flooded the room, and I blinked in the sudden brightness.

  Please don’t let them see me! I heard a gasp, and I sighed. Obviously the big guy upstairs wasn’t a fan of breaking and entering.

&n
bsp; “Mac?” Trevor laid his swan on the table in the entry and then closed the door behind him with an audible wham. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I looked down at the dog and the leash and then back up at him. “Kind of obvious, Trev.”

  “I’m calling the police,” Laura said, palming her smartphone so fast I wondered where she’d been hiding it.

  “I am the police,” I sneered in a snotty manner that wasn’t quite true anymore. But she didn’t know that. Besides, I’m sure if I wheedled enough, I could get Robby to throw me in the drunk tank instead of with hardened, angry criminals who would love the fact that I was an ex-cop.

  “We’ll see about that,” she almost screeched. I had pushed the elegant Laura past her breaking point, and after she disappeared into the den, the door slammed shut behind her.

  Trevor’s eyes were full of understanding as they drifted over me, finally settling on my fingers clutched around Finn’s leash. “I know this is hard for you,” he said, soothing. “But you’ve got to let it go.”

  I followed him mistrustfully with my eyes as he circled around. “Finn is mine,” I said, my voice flat.

  “This isn’t about Finn, baby.” His voice puffed over the back of my neck, and I realized he was suddenly a lot closer than I’d thought.

  “Baby?” I swatted my neck. “And just what the hell are you doing?”

  “Laura’s overwrought,” he said, his breath misting my shoulder again. “I can probably calm her down, and you and I can settle this… man to man, you know.”

  I glared at him. “That’s for court to decide.”

  “You want me to let her call the police?”