The Lush and the Angel (New Hampshire Bears Book 10)

by Mary Smith

  “They’re busy.” This is a lie because I have no clue what’s going on in their lives. They could be doing nothing like me, for all I knew. However, it’s a simple answer to keep people at bay asking about them and our relationship. Sure, people think it’s rad to be a part of triplets but trust me it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. I know deep down inside they truly hate me, no matter what they try to tell me.

  I decide I’m finished working out. There is nothing else for me to do, and I’m starving. I know Cabel brought me the breakfast burrito this morning, but that was hours ago. I tell Vance I’m heading out and go to the locker room to shower and change. Cabel is sitting in his stall scrolling through his phone.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey.” He looks up. “How was the workout?” There’s no real emotion in his question.

  “Good. I thought you left?”

  “How were you going to get home had I left?”

  “I could have walked or called an Uber. Hell, Vance would have dropped me off had I asked.”

  “I’m here now. Go clean up. I’ll wait.”

  I know there’s no reason to argue with him. I’ve tried many times before and lost every single time.

  After I shower, clean up and change into my regular clothes, he’s still in his stall on the phone waiting for me. I grab my bag and clear my throat, letting him know I’m ready to go. Cabel puts his cell into his pocket and picks up his bag. I follow him out to his Hummer but stop short when I see…

  “Bax.” Cabel announces my brother’s name. “How the hell are you?”

  “Great.” Bax smiles and shakes Cabel’s hand. “How are you?”

  “Can’t complain too much.”

  I stand outside of their conversation like a child would when their parents are having an adult conversation.

  “Hey, Bas, got five minutes for me?”

  My brothers and I have slight differences in our facial appearances. It’s how people can tell us apart. Now, it’s our hair. Mine is long on the top with shorter sides. Bax wears his buzzed short, but it works for him. Beck’s hair is shaggy and long. At least, it was the last time I saw him on the telly.

  “I’ll wait in the car for you, Bas,” Cabel says.

  “I’ll just take him home,” Bax says. “Okay, Bas?”

  Glancing at Cabel, I want to say no, but it’s just a car ride, and I don’t live that far away. “Yea. Sure. Cabel, I’m cool. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nods before getting into his car and driving out of the parking garage.

  Bax and I just stand there for several moments saying nothing. I stare down at my shoes for a little while waiting for him to say something first.

  “How have you been?” He finally speaks.

  “Fine. Great. Swell.” I half-mutter.

  “You’re lying.”

  I jerk my head up. “What the fuck do you know?”

  He holds up his hands. His deep brown eyes—just like mine—stare at me. “I’m not here to fight. I want to talk to my brother. Please.”

  “What do you want?” I sigh.

  “Let’s go for a ride.” He nods to his car. “Just us two for right now.”

  “For right now?” I question.

  “Beck would like to talk to you as well.”

  “Oh.” I scoff. “This is a brotherly meet up then. Let’s all hang out together and pretend we’re all ten again playing with trucks.” I shake my head. “I’m going home.” I turn away from him.

  “Bas. Stop,” he yells. “We want to talk to you, and we want to do it today. It’s the only day Beck and I have free. Please. Please, do this for me. For us. Your brothers.” His short quick sentences tell me he’s nervous.

  I face him again. It’s written all over his face. It’s important. “Fine.” Practically stomping over to the passenger side door, I get in and slam it shut.

  Bax gets in behind the wheel and starts the car with a push of a button. I keep my gaze forward. I don’t want to make eye contact with him because that’ll give him reason to talk and that’s what I don’t want.

  He drives out of Manchester and my heart sinks. I know where he’s going, and it’s bad.

  Very bad.

  Technically, I know Beck lives in Concord, but I don’t know where. I’m fine with not knowing. Bax pulls up to a small brick home. There’s no way on this green earth Beck lives here. He’s the flashy one of the three of us. Everything had to be bigger and better for him. We had to be somewhere else because Beck Zorn isn’t going to be living in a single level home.

  No fucking way.

  “Let’s go.” Bax gets out of the car. Feeling as if I don’t have a choice, I get out and follow him.

  “I’m not going to like this, am I?” I growl in frustration as he puts his hand on the door knocker.

  He simply shrugs. Bax can’t lie to save his life. This means I’m going to hate every single second.

  The door swings open and there’s Beck. His brown hair is long just past his collarbone. It’s shiny and I instantly wonder how many hair care products he uses to make it this way.

  “Thank you, Bas, for coming,” he says.

  “I was kidnapped.” I inform him. “What the hell is going on? And tell me quickly, I want to go home.”

  Beck steps to the side, holding the door further open. “Come in. We can talk privately.”

  Bax strolls in first, but I’m planted to the ground. Is this one of those interventions? Had Cabel or Erin put them up to this? No, there’s no way they would do something like that. They’ve not been around me in a long time. Besides, I don’t need one anyway. I will get a handle on this small blip, and it’ll all be over.

  Yep, I can handle this on my own.

  Beck’s place is very plain. I mean, really plain. His den has a small flat-screen TV and a couch with a tiny end table next to it.

  “Did you just move in?” I inquire.

  “No,” he says. “Have a seat.” He points to the middle of the couch.

  “I’ll just stand.” I tell him. No way am I getting in the middle of those two. “Just say what you have to say.”

  Bax takes a seat on the arm of the couch. Our gram would have yelled at him had she seen him. “We miss you.”

  “You’re our brother and you were always there for us when we needed you.” Beck adds. “We’ve heard rumors about you.”

  “What? What rumors?” I already know what he’s going to say.

  “You’re drinking, aren’t you?” Bax stares at me.

  “Don’t try to lie about it either.” Beck rushes to say before I can open my mouth.

  I look between them both. “I’m fine. I had a few drinks, but it’s over.”

  “Then why do you look like roadkill?” Beck crosses his arms.

  “Don’t even try this.” I point at him. “You think you’re all big and bad because you can catch a football?”

  “This has nothing to do with sports. Why can’t you understand you’re our brother, and we care about you? You left and then just quit talking to us. Thank the fucking moon we googled your fucking ass because we’d think you were dead otherwise.” Beck gets right up in my face.

  “Okay. Okay.” Bax comes in between us. “Let’s not fight.”

  “Who’s fighting?” Beck steps back. “I truly believe the only way he understands anything is if someone’s shouting at him.” He turns his back away from me and goes to the other side of the room.

  “Bas, we do care. We’re all here together and this is a big deal.” Bax tries to reason with me, but anger is the only thing fueling me now.

  “Fuck you all.” I shout. “You don’t give two shits about me and never have. Why the fuck do you care now?”

  Beck’s face goes from red to bright red. “Get out, Bas. Just go to whatever rock you hide behind and drink until your fucking liver stops working. I’m tired of losing sleep over you. I’m tired of trying to reach out to you and all you do is shut me and Bax down. Over and over again. If you think y
ou’re all big and bad and can handle this on your own, then go on. Handle it. I’ll be sure to answer the phone when the hospital calls and says they found you dead from alcohol poisoning or whatever finally kills you.”

  “I can handle this,” I yell back at him. “There’s nothing wrong with me. And don’t stand there like you’re Mr. Perfect. I’ve seen you drink.”

  “Drink, yes you’re right, but I’ve never, never been like you. You’ve been this way since you were fourteen.” His voice is low and I almost thought he choked on his words. “Bas, you’re a fucking prick.”

  “I don’t have to listen to this.” It’s my turn to put my back to him, and I head for the door.

  “Bas! Bas!” Bax is yelling, but I’m not listening. I run.

  I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I can’t stay there. I run.

  And run.

  It’s the one thing I do know how to do the best.

  I find a gas station a few miles away from Beck’s house and stop in. I purchase a fifth of vodka and pull up the Uber app on my phone. I’m going to get home one way or another, and it won’t be from one of my brothers.

  My hands are shaking when the Uber pulls up, and I jump in the back. I tell him where I’m going, and he gives me a confused look.

  “Just take me to Manchester.” I order. I crack open the bottle of vodka and take a big swig.

  “Um, sir, you can’t drink in here,” the nervous driver says while looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Just keep your eyes on the road and don’t worry about what’s happening back here.” He goes to say something else, and I reach into my pocket pulling out a hundred-dollar bill. “Just drive.” I toss it at his head and go back to my bottle.

  I should feel like shit talking to the driver like this, but right now I don’t care. Who do my brothers think they are? They have no right to talk to me that way. I’m not a teenager anymore. Hell, I’m technically older than them since I was born first. Not by a lot, but a few minutes count for something.

  I stare out the window as the Uber driver continues his route to take me home. I continue to drink straight from the bottle and try my best not to think about the past. It’s the one place I don’t want to be.

  But I can’t help it.

  “Bas, come on.” Beck pulls on my arm. “Hurry before Gram gets in here.”

  “You have to shower. Hurry.” Bax tugs on my other arm. “Why did we let you sneak out?”

  I groan in protest because my head was pounding harder than a drum. My mouth was dry and all I want to do is lay down.

  “Go away, you fuckers.” I tell them, jerking my arms away.

  “Why do you hang out with those guys?” Beck drops my arm. “Look what they’re doing to you.”

  I pop my eyes open. It takes a lot of strength to do it, but I accomplish the goal. “Don’t talk bad about my friends.”

  “Friends? Friends?” Beck scoffs. “No, they’re using you because you pay for all their alcohol and look at you now. You’re shit-faced. Again.”

  “Why do you care?” I snap at him. “You don’t need to care about me. I’m not your concern. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

  “No, you haven’t.” It’s Bax’s turn to release my other arm. “You act all big and bad but really if it wasn’t for Gram and Gramps, we wouldn’t even be together.”

  Somehow I manage to stand up without swaying too much. “Are you blaming me for our parents dying?”

  “What?” Bax scrunched his brow in confusion. “Absolutely not. They were in an accident. It’s nobody’s fault.”

  “It’s because of me.” I shout. “We all know it. They had to change their plans because of my games. Not yours.” I point to Bax. “And not yours.” I point to Beck. “It’s because of me.”

  Beck rolls his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking little sissy.” He pushes me hard against my chest and I stumble. “It was an accident. It wasn’t because of you. Whether it had been that week or the week after, the hill still would have been there and they still would have been going too fast and they still would have fallen off the side. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Sir? Sir?”

  I jerk awake to the voice of the Uber driver. “What?”

  “We’re here.” He nods to the door. He’s parked in front of my apartment building.

  “Great. Thanks,” I mutter and make my way out if his vehicle and up to my apartment.

  I remember opening the door.

  I remember walking in.

  And then…nothing.

  I must be experiencing an earthquake. There is a lot of shaking going on around me.

  “Bas, wake up!”

  It’s Erin.

  I manage to open one eye and see her beautiful face. “What?” I bark.

  “You have to eat. Come on.” She grabs a handful of my shirt and pulls me up to a seated position.

  She’s strong.

  “I’m not hungry.” I grab the vodka bottle setting on the table and try to take a drink.

  “No.” She yanks it out of my hand. “You sure as shit don’t need this.” She storms off toward the kitchen, and I can hear her pouring it down the drain.

  “I’ll just buy more,” I yell at her.

  “I don’t care,” she says to me. “Now, eat.” When she comes back into the living room, she points to a plate on the coffee table in front of me.

  I look down and see chicken, potatoes, and broccoli arranged on the plate. My stomach rumbles at the sight of the food because I’ve not eaten anything since this morning. I pick up the fork and plate and dive into the contents.

  “You can breathe in between bites you know.” She sits down next to me.

  “Have you eaten?” I ask with a mouthful of potatoes.

  “Do you truly care if I’ve had dinner?” Her lip snarls at me.

  I set my fork down and turn to her. “I do care.” It’s a moment of weakness for me. I wish she knew how much I do care about her.

  “Well, don’t worry. I had a plate earlier.” She sits back on the couch. “Go ahead and finish.”

  I continue eating the delicious entree she made for me. “What did you do today?” I suppose I should at least talk to her a bit. She was kind enough to make me dinner.

  “Worked.”

  “Create anything new?”

  She shrugs. “I’m talking to one chick. Victoria Denton.”

  I furrow my brow. “Name sounds familiar.”

  “She was born and raised here in Manchester and is stupid rich.”

  “The Shoe Lady. She made some app about shoes everyone talks about.”

  Erin nods. “Correct. Now, she needs help coding a new app and contacted me.”

  I set the, now empty, plate back onto the table and turn to her. “Are you going to?”

  “Hell yeah.” She smirks. “I can’t pass up the money right now.”

  “Do you need money?” A wave of concern washes over me.

  She holds her hand up to stop me from continuing. “No, I’m perfectly set in the financial department. However, I didn’t work as much as I wanted this year, so I want to make sure my nest egg is still nesting well.”

  I chuckle. “You say the strangest things.”

  She fakes a gasp. “I do not say such things.”

  Together we laugh. I can’t remember the last time I laughed.

  “How was your day?”

  I look away from her reliving my afternoon. “Shit.”

  “What happened? Does it have anything to do with your two lookalikes appearing here a couple of hours ago?”

  I whip my head around. “What? My brothers were here? How did they get in?”

  “The door downstairs is broken and the manager hasn’t fixed it yet. They were pounding on your door and I came out to see what was going on.”

  “What did you say? What did they say?” Suddenly, I felt like a news reporter on the telly trying to gain every bit of information I could, even though I really shouldn’t
care at all.

  “Well, I didn’t know you were a triplet. However, they just came to talk to you. I told them you left a while ago. I figured you were still passed out because last night I heard you stumbling to get in your door.”

  I sigh with relief. Erin covered for me. Again.

  “I heard them say you can’t handle it.” Her tone is softer than normal.

  I know exactly what she’s talking about. “I can handle it.”

  “Then you need to prove it.” She digs around the front of her hoodie pouch and pulls out a mini bottle of gin. “It’s sealed. If you have a handle on this, then it’ll be sealed in the morning.” She stands up, picks up the plate, and walks out without another word.

  I stare at the bottle, feeling the saliva pooling up in my mouth. Gin isn’t my first choice, but it’s the first taste of alcohol I ever had. I was fourteen and with several friends who were from Russia. They played hockey as well. It was after a game one night and Gram let me stay at one of their homes.

  We opened their parent’s liquor cabinet, and I had been shocked to see the selection. Sure my grandparents had wine with dinner and on special occasions and Gramps would have a scotch now and again.

  I remember the burning sensation that went down my throat and into my lungs when I took my first drink. I choked and coughed, feeling as if I was going to chuck up everywhere. But soon after the initial sensations left, it became the greatest feeling ever. And I didn’t stop after that. I have continued to drink. I’m able to forget all the troubles, all the pain—I can be…me.

  I want to be me all the time, but…but…something has happened.

  Maybe I don’t have a control of it.

  As I continue to stare at the bottle, I push away all thoughts—no matter how small—telling me I can’t control this.