The Fire Between High & Lo (Elements #2)

by Brittainy Cherry

  I felt incredibly relaxed as we pulled into the parking spot. For the first time since I arrived on Friday, she didn’t ask me why I came home unexpectedly. She didn’t try to pepper me with questions. Everything felt like it was finally back to normal. It was the best conversation we’d had all week.

  “There’s your father,” Mom pointed out as soon as we walked through the front door.

  Zachary Jordan II was sitting at a table near the front politely ignoring the flirtatious waitress. Even from across the room, I could tell by the hair flip and arched back that she was flirting.

  It wasn’t unusual for women to flirt with my father. He was a handsome man with an awesome wardrobe, courtesy of my mother. He regularly got complimented on his light brown eyes and long lashes, in which I was fortunate enough to inherit.

  Besides the fact that he was a great father, what always resonated deeply with me was that the successful pharmacist made it clear that he only had eyes for my mother. And as if on cue, he looked up and spotted her. His grin stretched from ear to ear, but his eyes always seemed to hold so much adoration for her. Even after almost thirty years of marriage, when they were apart for any amount of time, he looked at her like she was the only person who existed. Looking at that type of love and devotion caused my heart to swell.

  One day someone will look at me like that. Hopefully.

  Once the hostess led us to his table, Dad stood to kiss his wife before pulling me in for a bear hug.

  “Hi Dad.” I pulled out of the hug and removed my coat. Once we were all seated, I noticed the table was set for three. “Zach isn’t coming?”

  My older brother never turned down a free meal.

  The look my parents exchanged gave me pause. I shifted my eyes from one to the other. “Is Zach okay?”

  “Yes, of course. He’s working,” my mother answered before the waitress arrived.

  We ordered drinks and our favorite dishes without glancing at the menus.

  “Okay, what’s going on?” I asked cautiously, nervousness coursing through my veins.

  “Zoe…” Dad took a sip of water before he leaned forward. “Is everything okay?”

  They know.

  With a deep breath, I nodded slowly, looking between them. “How long have you known?”

  My mom clasped her hands in her lap. “It’s a two-day exam and you arrived on what would’ve been the second day. We’ve known the whole time.”

  Averting my eyes, I nodded and attempted to get my thoughts together.

  “Did something happen?” My father’s brows furrowed with concern.

  “No. I’m okay. I just…” The words wouldn’t form and my sentence just trailed off into the light buzz of people around us.

  “This isn’t like you. You’re impulsive at times, but you don’t shirk your responsibilities. And you’re not frivolous with money,” he sat back in his chair. “I don’t understand, Zoe.”

  Shit! I didn’t even think about the money. Eight hundred dollar exam and five hundred dollar exam prep course…courtesy of my parents’ generosity.

  My manicured hand covered my mouth as I realized just how royally I fucked up. “I will pay you back every dime.”

  Although they always assured me that I didn’t need to work while I was in school, I showed up to work almost every night to take care of myself. But they paid for my school expenses—which included everything related to the bar exam.

  “It’s not about the money, Zoe. Your father and I just want to know what made you decide to skip the biggest exam of your life and immediately come here. Don’t get us wrong, we loved having you and seeing you so soon after Christmas. But there has to be an explanation.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to explain it. Fortunately, the waitress dropped off our food and the conversation halted for one full minute. Even after the waitress left, the awkwardness of knowing they were waiting for a response and not knowing what to say only suppressed my appetite.

  “I never meant to keep it from you,” I started, looking between them. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”

  “What is it that you’re not telling us?” My mother’s exasperated voice filled me with dread because I knew I’d disappointed her. I’d disappointed both of them.

  I blinked at her, contemplating my truth.

  I’m freaking out.

  I’m not ready.

  I’m overwhelmed.

  Because taking that exam changes everything.

  “Zoe.” My father’s baritone pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “I’ve been selected to participate on The One.” The words flew out of my mouth before I had time to think about it.

  “What? What is that?” He looked at Mom who was staring directly at me.

  “A reality dating show,” she answered without taking her eyes off of me. She tilted her head to the side slightly, assessing me, assessing my answer. “You didn’t take the California State Bar Exam because you are going on The One? The same show you said, and I quote, ‘was setting women back’?”

  She doesn’t believe me. She knows me too well.

  I had a choice. I could either admit that I was essentially going through a quarter-life crisis or I could dig in and commit.

  “I’m interested in knowing more about Julian Winters…”

  Which is the truth.

  “Filming starts next week…”

  Also the truth.

  “I decided to just sit for the next exam. In July.”

  All facts.

  My dad seemed content with my reasoning. “Well that makes sense. You should do something different before beginning your career and take at least one risk. So this makes sense.” He nodded. “I get that. We traveled before starting our careers. And you haven’t dated anyone since Tate so this should be good for you. Have you heard from him?”

  I looked over at my mother for help, but she seemed to still be sizing me up, focusing on the holes in my story. I quickly returned my gaze to my father.

  “Dad.” I shook my head. “No.”

  My father loved Tate Lewis. Even though Tate dropped me as soon as he got an NFL offer and broke my heart three years ago, Dad was still in denial that the situation was seriously over.

  “Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands and gave me an easy smile. “So this is one of those shows where the last woman standing gets to be with the man?”

  Just hearing it reduced to that made me ashamed of even pretending to go on the show. I almost balked and told the truth, but I heard my mother’s words in my head.

  Giving up is the first step to failure.

  The words played on a loop.

  I took the first step toward failure. Walking away from the test, running home because I got scared, that’s a failure.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes. This season the man in question is Julian Winters. He’s a songwriter and music producer. On a fundamental level, I don’t believe in reality dating shows. But I figure, if I participate and I am myself and stay above the fray, it could actually help the image of women that is being conveyed. And he is very intriguing.”

  I sold that so smoothly, I almost bought it myself.

  My dad nodded in agreement. My mother was a harder sell.

  Pulling out my phone, I pulled up the picture of Julian.

  “This is him.” I showed my father first and then my mother.

  She looked at the phone and then me and then the phone again. A smirk played on her lips. “Ah, I see. Well the look on your face earlier makes a little more sense now. I look forward to watching you on the show, Zoe.”

  She didn’t look completely convinced, but she was dropping the issue.

  Shit, it worked!

  I was surprised, but grateful. But then it hit me.

  Shit! Now that means I have to actually go on the show.

  The One on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01D0Z73QA

  Unspeakable by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Prologue.


  Ryder

  My fingers gripped tighter onto the handlebars as I read the sign: Vilas – 5 miles. I was nervous. It was fucking ridiculous and entirely pathetic, but I was scared of rejection. I had never felt like a bigger pussy for admitting that fact to myself, but there I was. My heart wouldn’t calm down, not even with every deep, slow breath of fresh mountain air I forced to pump in and out of my lungs. My brain was a jumbled mess of uncertainty, but there was no turning back at that point.

  As the road curved slowly down the mountainside, my mind tripped back to where it had all begun.

  “Mom?” I climbed onto my mother’s boney knee in the middle of the afternoon. Our front room was blazing hot from the sun pouring in through the sheer curtains.

  She helped me get settled into her arms, the ash of her cigarette landing on my shoulder. “What is it, Ryder? Mommy’s watching her soaps.” Even as a five-year-old, I could tell how much she didn't want me just by the tone in her voice.

  “Why don’t I have a daddy? All the other kids at school have daddies.”

  She put her cigarette inside the empty Old English bottle next to her foot and chugged out of her glass of grain alcohol with ice cubes clanking around. “Your daddy didn't want you so he never came home.”

  Sniffling, I tried to wrap my tiny mind around what those words truly meant. “But why? Aren’t daddies supposed to love their kids?”

  “Yours doesn't love us. Now piss off. Go play in your room. Mommy’s tired.”

  I scampered off to my section of the studio apartment that was my ‘room’. I grabbed my Thomas The Train blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders as I sniffled and cried over a dad that had never been there.

  It was a plain as day memory that had plagued me for more than ten years; that’s how long it took me to grow the balls to confront my mother again about my father who had never loved us. That’s when she finally told me the truth: that she had been a few years older than my dad and could have been charged with statutory rape when she was fucking him, so she’d run away, only to send a letter to him years later, once she assumed she couldn't be sent to jail for raping a minor.

  What a fucking awful eighteenth birthday present.

  My mom swore that she had sent it, but who knew if he had gotten it, read it, or even if she was telling me the truth or not. I wasn’t even entirely sure why I was looking for my old man after eighteen years, but there I was, twisting and curving along an old mountain highway, not knowing if my father would know his own son when he saw him. It was freaking insane. Nothing else had panned out for me in my life so far, so something had to give…right?

  What if he doesn't even know I exist?

  It was my biggest fear.

  My forearms were sore from the four hour ride, but I didn’t give a shit. All I was focused on was finding a place to grab a beer and get my head on straight again.

  I pulled off into a parking lot with a few trucks and a handful of bikes near the front.

  Seems like my kind of place.

  I swung open the heavy wooden door and puffed my chest out while all the guys lining the bar and at the pool tables stopped dead to stare at me making my way to an empty stool. There should have just been a damn sign on the wall: No fucking outsiders welcome; it would have made things way less awkward.

  The middle-aged bartender smiled sweetly at me as her long, curled dark hair bounced along while she made her way over to me.

  “What are you havin’, sugar?” she asked, wiping the counter.

  “Bottle of Bud Light.”

  She nodded, dug in the trough, and put the brown bottle in front of me. “My name is Crickett, love. If you need anything, just holler.”

  I smirked at her name, but held back. “Thanks,” I muttered.

  In two gulps my first beer was gone and another was slammed in front of me. My nerves were coolng…finally. I just had no idea what I was going to do next. I had an address of where my mom had sent that letter years ago, but so much time had passed. It was a complete shot in the dark, but it was better than nothing.

  Crickett kept looking over at me, glancing and checking me out. It was unnerving, but nothing that I hadn’t dealt with in the past. Most of my mom’s friends would hit on me during their wine nights in our apartment; they pretty much made a game out of it. Cougars love their cubs after all.

  “Not from around here are you?” She finally decided to talk to me instead of just staring.

  I shook my head. “Just passing through.”

  She laughed a little. “I said that once, sitting in that very seat that you are now. I’m still here.”

  “That ain’t gonna be me, lady. I have one mission and then I am getting out of this fucking town.”

  “Well, good luck…” She trailed off, fishing for a name.

  “I’m Ryder.”

  “You look incredibly familiar, Ryder.” She squinted at me, presumably trying to place me. I had never seen her in my life.

  Two stools down, a few guys bellied up to the bar. A gruff voice called over to Crickett, “Hey, babe. Holt is going to be in soon to take over for you.”

  She smiled over at him as I froze in place. Holt—that was my father’s name. My blood ran cold.

  Crickett’s voice broke into my swarming thoughts. “Ryder? Another?” She was pointing at my bottle and I nodded. “Sh-sure.”

  Two men next to me started chatting. I tried not to eavesdrop while I peeled the blue label from my bottle, but it was hard. They were going on about one of their friends being sick and how hard it was to balance their businesses while trying to find someone to replace him. Pretty boring shit, but I had nothing better to do.

  The guy with the gruff voice turned to me. “Hey, kid. New around here?”

  Man, people sure were not used to outsiders in these parts.

  “Yes, sir. Just passin’ through. Trying to track down my old man.”

  The middle aged man sipped on his beer then sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “We’ve heard that one a time or two in this bar.” He winked over at Crickett and she threw a bar towel at him as he laughed.

  “Don’t mind my husband, honey. He has a dry sense of humor. What’s your daddy’s name?”

  I stared at the bar top, ripping apart the beer label. “Holton Walsh.”

  Raine

  I was numb. There was no better way to explain the shock of the news I was about to deliver to my parents. I was about to devastate my father and destroy my stepmom. With my brother’s hand gripped in mine, I ran through the front doors of their bar.

  “Raine, Collin? What the—?” My father’s gruff voice boomed across the quiet bar and I tried to catch my breath.

  “Dad.” Tears started to roll down my face as Collin fell into my side and I gripped him tighter. He was so close to my grandfather, Collin was losing it. My emotions finally decided to catch up with me. I forced my throat to choke out, “It’s Pop. He’s—he, oh my God, Dad!”

  I collapsed in my father’s arms as Crickett bolted around from behind the bar and wrapped my little brother in her arms as she started shaking.

  I couldn’t put it into words. If I said it out loud, then it would be true, and I just wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. There was nothing I could do other than grab my phone. I dialed my dad’s right hand man, who was already at the hospital. “Here, talk to Holt.”

  My eyes locked on a stranger that was sitting a few seats away from our family crisis. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he looked extraordinarily familiar.

  I watched as my father’s face twisted from shock to crippling grief. The phone fell from his hands, shattering the screen as he let out a scream that curdled my blood.

  “What is wrong with Rave?” Crickett yelled, grabbing my hand as my dad pulled her into his broad chest.

  “We need to shut down. We have to get to the hospital.” My dad’s members moved into action and kicked the only outsider out within seconds. His kind, green eyes pleaded as he left, like he want
ed to express his sympathies but didn't know what to say. No one ever knows what to say when they eavesdrop on the death of a patriarch.

  Flying down the road in my dad’s truck with my little brother riding shotgun as we followed my dad and Crickett on his bike, it felt like the drive took a lifetime even though the hospital was only fifteen minutes up the road.

  I ran through the front doors right into my dad’s best friend’s arms. “I am so sorry, Abel.” Holt’s voice shook as he hugged me back with one arm and put his large hand on my father’s shoulder with the other. Holton Walsh had helped raise me before Crickett came into our life; he was more than a friend, more than an uncle, he was my second father, and the comfort he offered in that moment blanketed the waiting room.

  “What happened?” Crickett cried as she gripped my father’s and brother’s hands.

  “He was run off the road. There was no way he was going to make it through that even if he had laid his bike down.”

  “Do we know who did it?” My father gripped my grandfather’s cut in his right hand, running his thumb over the patch that read President.

  “Not yet. But don’t you worry, we’re going to take care of it.”

  My father took a deep breath. “We need to have a meeting, now. Crickett, take the kids home. I need to take care of this.”

  Tears were leaking down her face as she grabbed my brother and me. “Come on.”

  Dad put his hand on her shoulder right as she was turning to leave. The hollowing look in his eyes was bone-chilling. With a low voice he got close to my stepmother, wrapping her up in his arms. “I will be home tonight babe.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You better be.”

  He nodded to my brother and me and that was that. It was club business now and they were going to handle it the only way outlaws knew how: an eye for way more.