by Lauren Rico
“Did she? Jesus! How is it that you can remember that and I can’t?”
“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. “That was one of the happiest days of my life. I hated that nasty old bitch.”
I think about her finger poking Jeremy’s chest. Yes, I’m sure it did make him happy to see her dead.
We sip in silence as a few locals get loud at the bar, laughing about something we can’t quite hear from where we are. One of them walks over to a vintage jukebox and drops some coins in.
“So, are you and Maggie still living together, then?” Jeremy quizzes me over the beginning of Linda Ronstadt’s ‘Blue Bayou.’
I nod. “Yup. We were at her place for a while, but it was tight. So we ended up moving out of Brooklyn and into a brownstone apartment in SOHO a few months ago.”
“Sounds pretty serious.”
I shrug noncommittally.
“So …no wedding bells ringing then?” he fishes.
“Not yet.”
He faces forward as he takes a long, slow swig of his beer. When he puts the bottle down on the bar, he turns toward me again.
“Huh,” he muses with the slightest furrow of his brow. “You know, that’s interesting, because I ran into Sharon Ginsburg. You remember her from McInnes, don’t you?”
Shit. I know exactly where he’s going with this, but he doesn’t wait for my reply.
“Yeah, she plays with the Broadway touring company of ‘Hamilton’ now. I ran into her when the show came through town last month. She was pretty hammered. And horny. And chatty. But not a bad lay, as it turns out.”
I give him my best ‘spit it out’ glare.
“Anyway,” he continues, oblivious to my irritation, “she seems to think she’s invited to your wedding. The one you’re not having.”
I hold up my empty bottle for the waitress and she nods that she’ll bring me another one. For a second I consider asking for a shot of tequila instead. Or, maybe, in addition to.
“Do you really not want me to come?”
His affectation of hurt is nothing short of brilliant. But I know better. My brother doesn’t do hurt.
“Why? Do you really want to come?”
“Of course! You’re my only brother. I want to be standing by your side when you pledge your eternal love to your blushing bride.”
I’m about to snort when my bottle of beer arrives.
“Thanks,” I mutter to the server before turning my attention back to Jeremy. “Oh, please,” I hiss. “The only reason you want to come to my wedding is to stir up shit. Not gonna happen. I don’t want to see you anywhere nearby. Not at the church, not the reception. And not even God himself will be able to help you if you should somehow pop up anywhere nearby on my honeymoon. Got it?” I point my bottle at him, making direct eye contact. I need to know that he understands what I’m saying to him. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Okay, okay! All you had to do was say ‘No, Jeremy, I don’t want you to come.’ That’s all.”
“Fine. No, Jeremy, I don’t want you to come.”
An awkward silence settles over us. I offer an olive branch by way of a change in subject.
“How’s the Philharmonic?”
He accepts the offering.
“Not bad. I’d rather be playing first horn, but all things in time.”
“I hear Jennifer Ruiz is an amazing player.”
“She’s not as good as they say,” he informs me flatly and takes a long pull from his bottle before continuing. “But the truth is that it isn’t her fault.”
I nearly choke. “What? Please, are you seriously trying to tell me that you don’t hold a grudge against her?” I scoff.
My brother shrugs sheepishly. “Well, maybe a little one,” he admits. “But, here’s the thing … my beef isn’t really with her because she didn’t want the principal spot. She didn’t audition for it. She was trying out for the third horn spot.”
“Which you now have,” I point out.
“Yes, which I now have. I’ll admit it, I was ready to make the little twit’s life a living hell, but I didn’t have to.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“The afternoon of her first rehearsal, she shows up in tears. She takes me aside and explains that she went to the idiot Orchestra Director and begged him to swap our spots.”
“She did what?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Nobody turns down that kind of an opportunity.
Jeremy is nodding adamantly. “Oh, yeah. I confirmed it with one of my moles in the administration offices. She wanted out of that spot bad, but the asshole flat-out refused.”
“But why? If it was what she wanted …”
“Christ, Brett! Do I have to spell it out for you? She wanted third horn but they gave her principal. I wanted principal but they gave me third. You see where I’m going with this?”
I resist the urge to tell him to fuck off. I want to see if he’s going where I think he’s going with this.
“So you think management is fucking with you,” I deduce.
“I don’t think, bro, I know. The Director is over-the-top pissed off that I managed to sneak into the auditions right under his nose … and actually win. Now the little shit can’t fire me without a huge lawsuit on his hands, so he fucked me over the only way he could.”
Holy shit.
If I didn’t know how dangerous Jeremy can be, I might just laugh at the insanity of this situation.
“So, what are planning to do?” I ask at last.
“Not much, as it turns out. She’s taking care of it all by herself. The stupid bitch is a basket case before every concert and our new maestro hates her. The whole thing is just a ticking fucking time bomb,” he declares with a satisfied grin.
That’s my cue to leave. I’ve already heard too much. I drain the last of my beer and slide off the barstool. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a long day so I’m gonna head back to the hotel …”
He puts a hand on my forearm to stop me. “I heard that Philip Tonka is resigning as cellist of the Walton this season.”
Shit! I was so fucking close to a getaway …
“Well, he’s here in Detroit with us,” I begin, choosing my words very carefully, “but this will be his last concert for a while. He’s having some surgery that’ll have him out of commission for several months, at least.”
“Is it true that Julia is taking his place?”
I nod slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it finally falls, it falls hard and fast.
“I have to admit, Brett, I’m really surprised. I didn’t think you had it in you. I guess we’re more alike than I realized.”
The mere suggestion of that causes my blood pressure to spike. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growl, sitting once again so I can be sure to catch every nuance of every twisted word he’s about to utter.
“First, you convince Mom to cut me out of the will so you can have it all to yourself. Then, you exclude me from your wedding. And now, you choose Julia, that whore who trashed my reputation, over me, your own brother. Dude, how do you sleep at night?”
I make a weak attempt to hold back but it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Ah, fuck it. I laugh. I throw back my head and continue to laugh until tears are streaming down my face and I’m getting over-the-shoulder glances from the regulars at the bar. Jeremy goes still in his rage.
“Are you for real?” I snap, wiping my damp face with the back of my hand. “You want to know how I sleep at night? You’re fucking delusional, man!”
His lips twist into a sneer and his eyes narrow. This is my second cue to leave and I aim to take it.
“Goodbye, Jeremy,” I conclude, getting to my feet. “Thanks for the drink.”
“We’re not done,” he informs me, grabbing my forearm this time. I raise my eyebrow, which communicates that he needs to get his hand off of me. He gets the message loud and clear, releasing his grip.
I turn and walk out onto the sidewalk outs
ide of the bar, but my brother hot on my heels.
“Brett, I’m not kidding …” he calls out from behind me. “There’s more that we need to discuss,” he’s saying as he catches up to me and matches my brisk pace.
I stop and face him.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Jeremy,” I correct him calmly. “We are done. And I’m not just talking about this conversation. You and I … We. Are. Done.”
“You don’t mean that,” he dismisses me with his tone and his expression.
“I do,” I insist coolly. “There’s no coming back for you and me. I’ll never forgive you for letting Dad die.”
“Oh, please,” he scoffs, batting away my words with a flick of his wrist. “Dramatic much, Brett? He had a heart attack. Plain and simple.”
Mother. Fucker.
I take a step closer to him, a subtle reminder that I am still bigger and stronger than he is. That I could – and certainly would – kick his ass from here to Grand Rapids if necessary.
“Listen to me, little brother, and listen good. If you’re smart, you’ll make things work here in Detroit. You’ve got a great gig, and a nice life for yourself. There is absolutely no reason you can’t be happy here. As happy as you’re capable of being, anyway.”
He seems more amused by me than threatened. Time to change that dynamic. One more step and our chests are touching. My voice drops to a low, menacing rumble that comes from somewhere deep within my chest.
“Stay away from me. Stay away from Maggie. Stay away from Mom.”
“Or what?” he challenges, the corners of his mouth now curling up into a hideous grin.
“Believe me, Jeremy, you don’t want to find out. If you underestimate me, you’ll regret it.”
He shrugs with disinterest. “Whatever, Brett. Maybe I will stay away from you. Watching you isn’t nearly as interesting as, say, watching my son.”
I feel my heart jump right to my throat. To hear him utter those last two words is more jarring than anything else he could have possibly said. And he knows it.
“He’s getting big, isn’t he?” Jeremy continues, knowing full well that he’s struck a nerve. “Too bad he’s going to look like his Plain Jane mother. But who knows, maybe as he gets older …”
I grab my brother by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the brick wall of the building. Nobody seems to notice or care that there’s an altercation occurring right on the street. Just another Saturday night in Detroit.
“You like to think that you know me better than I know myself, right, Jeremy? If that’s true, then you will believe me when I tell you that your life won’t be worth shit if you get anywhere near that kid,” I warn, biting off each word and spitting it in his face. “You know I’ll do it, Jeremy.”
He smiles at me, but I can see the briefest flash in his eyes that tells me he does know. I let him drop to the ground and turn around, starting the walk back to the hotel. This time, he doesn’t try to stop me.
Brett 7
“He really said that?” Maggie shrieks. I can hear the creaking of the old swing that we sat on, just yesterday afternoon.
“Shhhh! Maggie, I keep telling you, my mother has superhuman hearing. You’ve got to keep your voice down …”
“Sorry!” she whispers.
“Yes, he said that,” I sigh tiredly. “It would just be so much easier if he’d make it work here in Detroit. But Mags, I know my brother. I can tell he’s hatching some crazy plan in that twisted mind of his.”
She’s silent for a long moment.
“Brett, here’s the thing about sociopaths, they do like to be exposed.”
“As what? Sociopaths?”
“As anything. They hate having their plans ruined. They hate being caught in a lie. And more than anything, they hate being exposed as anything other than what they want you to see them as.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Mags? That my brother can throw one hell of a temper tantrum? I already know that.”
“Babe, for as many years as you’ve been subjected to your brother, I’ll bet you’ve barely seen the tip of the iceberg with him. He obviously still sees Julia and Matthew as the people who destroyed his perfectly planned rise to fame and fortune. He resents the hell out of your mother for cutting him out of your father’s will. And then there’s you...”
“What about me?”
“He perceives you as disloyal. In his mind, you abandoned him to be with me. You cheated him out of the money from the garage. And, probably your worst sin, in his eyes, is your disloyalty for befriending Julia and Matthew. You’re right to think he might be plotting something. All I’m saying is please keep your eyes open. Someone like Jeremy will go a long way to protect himself. And the rage that comes with that is mind-boggling.”
I rub my eyes and stare longingly at the minibar. I’ve been avoiding it, trying to get by on the two beers that I had back at the bar, but I’m starting to think a teeny tiny bottle of liquid loving might be just what I need to take the edge off and get to sleep. She must sense that I can’t deal with this right now, because she softens her manner.
“I’m sorry, Brett, I didn’t mean to get you all stressed out while you’re exhausted and on the road. What about your concert tonight? Did it go alright?”
I kick my shoes off and flop on the extra-springy hotel room mattress.
“Could’ve been better, that’s for sure. I kept glancing into the audience to see if he was out there somewhere.”
“And was he?”
“No, not that I could see, anyway.”
“Well, no matter. You’re done with Detroit now, right?”
“One more show; a matinee tomorrow. The others are hanging for an extra day to catch a concert by the Detroit Phil. They’ve got a new hotshot conductor from Europe.”
“But you don’t want to see Jeremy again,” she finishes my thought.
“Exactly. So, I’m thinking I’ll catch an earlier flight tomorrow evening. Julia will be in Chicago by then, too. I’ll take her and David out for dinner or something.”
“You’ve gotten really attached to that little boy, haven’t you?”
“More than I ever thought I would,” I admit. “Knowing he’s half Jeremy should be a repellant, but turns out it’s just the opposite. I know it sounds kind of strange, but I think of David as the kid my brother should have been.”
Maggie thinks about that for a long moment.
“I get that,” she whispers her reply into the phone. “There’s something very familiar about him to you. It’s like he’s your brother, but better.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you given anymore thought to telling your mother about him?”
We’ve had this discussion before, but she doesn’t like my answer. So, she brings it up again from time to time, hoping it will change.
“I can’t do that to her. Not right now.”
“But, Brett, I think she needs something like this. Especially right now!”
“It’s not like replacing one dead goldfish with another,” I snap.
Shit. I didn’t mean to do that. I hear her take a deep breath on her end of the line.
“Fair enough,” she agrees quietly. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I was implying.”
“No, I’m sorry. I know you weren’t …”
“I’m just saying that your mother has lost her life’s companion. And, while having Elise in the picture again is a good thing, imagine what a grandson would do to lift her spirits!”
I’m skeptical and she knows it.
“Okay, okay, just promise me you’ll give it some thought,” she relents.
“Fine. I promise. How’s Mom doing, anyway? I thought Aunt Elise would’ve disappeared again by now.”
“Quite the opposite, actually. She’s been here twice this week already, once to help us go through your father’s things and then she brought Dianne by for dinner last night.”
“Dianne?”
“Her partner.”
&nb
sp; “Oh! Dianne. I didn’t know that was her name. Is she nice?”
“I think she just might be the funniest woman I’ve ever met in my life. I swear, when I woke up this morning, my sides were sore from all the laughing. Your mom enjoyed it, too. She’s actually considering their invitation to come and spend a little time with them at their lake house.”
“Seriously? That’s really great. I’m glad they’re reconnecting. Does that mean you’ll be joining me on tour soon?”
“Sorry, no. This working girl has got to get back to the daily grind. I’ve got young minds to mold and families to reunite. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun phone time now,” she says suggestively …and a little too loudly for my comfort level.
“As tempting as that is, we probably shouldn’t. I told you, my mother hears everything.”
“Oh, please! She’s all the way over on the other side of the house. And the windows are closed. And the radio is on. And on top of all that, your next-door neighbors are having a very loud spat. Something about the wife, a guy named Buddy, and a chainsaw. Unless your mom’s a bat, there’s no way she’s going to have any idea what we’re discussing.”
“Okay, fine, then. What is it, exactly, that we’re discussing?”
“Mmmm …. how much I’d love get naked right now and let you lick strawberry jam off every square inch of my sticky body.”
Wow. Well, that’s a new one for me. But then, I’ve been meaning to open myself up to more new experiences.
“How soon can we try that one out for real?”
She giggles. It’s a sexy giggle.
“Well,” she considers, “I guess that depends on …” she stops mid-sentence and the squeaky swing stops abruptly.
“Hold on,” she whispers into the phone. “Yes, Trudy?”
I can hear muted voices. She must have her hand over the receiver. “Okay, I’m back,” she says finally.
“What happened?”
“It was your mom.”
“What about her? Is she alright?”
“Yes, she’s fine.”
“Good. What did she want?”
Maggie clears her throat. “She just wanted me to remind you that strawberries make you break out in hives.”