Pretty Remedy

by S. E. Hall

“I’m well aware, but thanks.” I finally get a sip of coffee down as the hair dryer shuts off. “Not one fucking wisecrack to her about whatever you think you know, or heard. You embarrass her in any way, and I’ll knock you into next week. Hear me.”

  “I swear, you are the only person alive who’s not in a better mood after sex. Maybe you’re not doing it right?” He laughs.

  “He’s doing it right.” Reece bounces around the corner, face vibrant, blond hair silky around her shoulders. “And he’s still here, so apparently, so I am!” She snickers and gives Jarrett a high-five!

  “See?” He stares at me but points at Reece. “That is an appropriate post-mating mood! Jesus, tie a string around your wrist so you remember that shit. So, Reece Teaspoon, you seem happy. Get it? Witherspoon, Teaspoon?” He’s way too proud for having just thought of that obvious play.

  “We get it,” I mutter, still a little shell-shocked by Reece’s sassy entrance. I’m drained by all that is my brother, and I don’t care much for “Teaspoon” coming out of anyone’s mouth but mine. I snag an arm around her tiny waist and tug her up against me, handing her my steaming mug. “Just made it. He’s on one this morning, drink up.”

  She glances at me over her shoulder and smiles. “Thank you.”

  “Reece, hello, I wasn’t done. Tell me, what exactly are your intentions with my brother?” Jarrett grins from teasing her—which I could swear I told him not to do.

  “Well,” she drawls with a giggle at the end. “Let’s talk later. I might need your input, but I don’t want him to know.” She points back at me.

  “Alright.” I loudly spoil their fun and spin her to face me. “Maybe we should get some work done today. Whadda ya say, Lucy? Ethel? You both in?”

  Every ounce of happiness she’d awoken with, a very nice stroke to my ego, evaporates instantly. Her mouth turns down at the corners, little body rigid against mine, and she’s about to chew her nails ‘til I stop her hand.

  “What is it?” I ask her.

  “I, uh, just think maybe it’s better if I go in alone today.” Her worried mumble’s aimed at the ground.

  “Why?” Jarrett pops his head out from the freezer, frozen waffle halfway to his mouth. I’ll have to explain the parameters of “making yourself at home” later. “I’m ready to jam, get started! Oh, and I may have mmphfmh wedmfy—”

  “Jarrett,” Reece coos at him, stepping away from me. “We can’t understand you with the waffle in your mouth. Why don’t you try again while I cook it for you? Rhett, you want some?”

  I can’t eat now, my stomach’s heavy with worry, guilt. “No, I’m good thanks. Jarrett, you first. What was the waffle part at the end there?”

  “Cheryl mentioned open mic nights on Thursday at a club she co-owns downtown. I thought we could scope it out for some talent?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Reece says enthusiastically. “But who’s Cheryl?”

  “Shit! Maybe I’ll just call her Teaspoon.”

  “No, you won’t,” I inform him. “Try calling her Cheri.”

  “Oh, Cheri,” Reece catches up. “Should I even bother asking if you know the name of this club?”

  “Um, Tempo? I think,” he answers.

  “There’s really a club here by that name, so let’s assume you’re right.” She grins at him. “Popular place, I had no idea it was hers. That’ll be fun, I’m in. And here you go. Syrup and butter’s in the fridge.” She hands him a plate of two fully cooked waffles.

  “Downshift, babe.” I smile at her. “He wasn’t done, could get ugly. Finish the story, Jarrett.”

  “Like I said, I knew Reece could scout some more awesome talent, so I said we’d be there.” He takes a bite, chewing so slowly he might actually be putting the food back together. “And after I’d said that, is when she dropped to her knees.”

  “We’re gonna be here all damn day! So while your dick was in her mouth, you agreed to what?” I bark, urging him on with a roll of my hand.

  “That’d we do a couple songs to get the night rollin’.”

  And there it is.

  I look at Reece and find her beaming. I shock myself with the realization, that this isn’t terrible. It’s actually not too damn bad at all, a chance to play, and golden compared to the hundreds of other things I would’ve guessed he was gonna say.

  “I’m good with that if you are.” I shrug and tell her. “We’ll definitely need to get in the studio and knock out some serious practice sessions in the next two days, but it’s doable.”

  “I’m great with it,” she says.

  “See, you worry for nothing. You guys gotta learn to trust me. So we need to get to work. Which brings us back to Reece’s thing. What’s with you going in alone today?” Jarrett asks her.

  I watch her subtly squirm, then do the answering as I scrub the back of my neck. “I kicked the shit out of that Warrick guy last night.”

  “Hold up, the dude yesterday who said he was her fiancé? Ozzie filled me in, and I assumed, when I got here and you weren’t on the couch, you’d figured it out too. So why’d you kick his ass? Get ahold of him before you two talked?” He motions between Reece and me.

  “Nope, he was in Reece’s face, grabbing her arm when I got here.” My hands clench in anger, the scene replaying in my mind.

  “Sounds justified to me. What’s the problem?” This time his question is directed at Reece. I don’t intervene, because I need to hear her answer too. I need to know exactly where her head’s at this morning.

  “It’s complicated.” Her shoulders droop with her defeated sigh. “Warrick has power because my father gives it to him, and my father has power because I haven’t taken it away. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. But they won’t go easy on this, and I’ll be forced to make some bold decisions. I just think it’ll go smoother,” she scoffs, “if I tackle today alone. Get it over with and out of the way.”

  Jarrett says nothing. He already knows it’s not an option.

  “I’m going with you,” I state, no lack of conviction.

  “Rhett—” she starts to argue, but I’m already walking down the hall to finish getting dressed.

  Ozzie meets us in the lot before the car Reece called for is even parked. I climb out then offer Reece a hand.

  “Fun night?” Ozzie sports a sly grin, I think. The man doesn’t exactly have an array of expressions to choose from.

  Reece is glowing scarlet, giving away the answer to the question he wasn’t asking, and when Ozzie notices and it registers… whadda ya know. We’re back to his expression one of two—lethal scowl.

  “I gather you heard about my altercation with Warrick?” I ask pointedly while Reece utters an “oh” beside me. I succeed in caging my laugh, but Jarrett doesn’t.

  “I did.” Ozzie broadens his stance and crosses his arms. “Not that I believe a word of what he’s up there whining like a schoolgirl about, but humor me. What happened?”

  “Warrick’s here?” Reece gasps. “I told him not to come near my building.”

  “And I told him not to come near you,” I seethe, ready to find him and make good on my threat. I give Ozzie the short version of events, long past patience, with Reece adding a few comments in my defense.

  Ozzie scratches his jaw in silence and considerable contemplation. “Okay.” He jerks his head determinedly. “Might as well head in. Except you.” He side-steps to block my path. “You and I will pull up the rear. Have ourselves a chat.”

  Reece bites her lower lip, so with a comforting smile, I reach to her mouth and stop the torture. “It’s fine. We’ll be right behind ya.”

  Jarrett throws an arm over her shoulder and guides her away, leaving me with the man whose wrath is literally emanating from him.

  “Did you know I have no family?” he asks, continuing to talk when I would’ve answered. “No wife, no kids. Spent the better years of my life serving the Crescendo family. First there was Mr. Carter, Reece’s grandfather—wonderful man and leader, God rest his soul. Next
, Mr. Kelly. But always, always, I’ve seen to my sweetpea, Reece.” He glowers at me. “We better start walking, so listen fast. I’m glad to see you came to your senses about that nonsense yesterday and are here with her today. Good man wouldn’t send her into this mess alone.”

  “Never,” I manage to get in as we walk quickly to catch up.

  “Waiting to see how you handle the thick of things right inside these doors. I don’t like you yet, drummer boy, but I been hatin’ them for years. So you do right today, and right by her always, and I’m thinkin’ to take your back. But.” He stops, and stops me with a tight grip on my arm. “You do one thing to hurt that precious little girl in any way? You’ll never even see me coming. Do we understand each other?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Good talk.” He slaps me on the back. “Now that we got that settled, nice job on his face. He puts his hands on her again, you better break ‘em.”

  “Might do that anyway. Might be today.”

  “Guess we’ll see.” He opens the door for me. “Showtime.”

  We walk inside, and only Jarrett awaits us in the lobby.

  “Where’s Reece?” I ask too loudly, my rattled voice bouncing off the vaulted ceilings.

  “Her dad was waiting. She went with him to—”

  “Follow me,” Ozzie snarls.

  I let him lead even though I could easily run smooth over him right now. Ozzie takes us to the room where they’re gathered, and the instantaneous relief that overtakes Reece’s face strikes a protective cord in me.

  She stands and makes her way to us, her hand seeking mine. She clasps down on it firmly, her other hand at Jarrett’s back, and ushers us into the room. “Gentlemen, Father, this is Rhett Foster, percussionist, guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter; and his brother Jarrett Foster, guitarist, bassist, vocalist. You may recall the company has purchased two, almost three, songs written by Rhett already. He’s also the artist you heard in the demo I provided, as well as part of the live audition you’ll hear later this week.”

  “Mr. Kelly.” I step forward with my hand extended, but Reece’s father makes no acknowledgement and remains seated. A gimped-up Warrick stands beside his chair with two impressive black eyes and a butterfly bandage across his nose. Why he’s still in the room is plaguing me and pissing me the fuck off, but I’m gonna trust Reece to do this her way… for now.

  “I’m familiar with your work, Mr. Foster.” Her father looks at Warrick. “All your work. But I don’t think the entire board is, including my daughter. I’ve been waiting for you to join us, to avoid redundancy. You understand.”

  My scalp tingles with intuition, and I cast Reece a sidelong glance, curious anxiety riddling her face. I’m not exactly sure what he’s insinuating, but I know it won’t be good. The man’s fingers are steepled arrogantly under his chin, and the evil plotting in his tone is unmistakable.

  “Tell me, Mr. Foster, have you been completely honest with my daughter, or did you plan to prey on her wealth and naivety so well that once ghosts arose, she’d be too blinded by love to care?” he sneers.

  Jarrett steps up behind me, letting me know he’s there. Reece opens her mouth—I’m sure to stop this—but I squeeze her hand. When she looks at me, her eyes ask, I answer, and though she doesn’t like it, she nods.

  I try to reason with the man calmly, for her. “Mr. Kelly, with all due respect, I’d ask you to refrain from speaking ill of your daughter. And perhaps this issue you seem to have would be best discussed between you, Reece and myself, privately?”

  “Oh no, young man. You seek to procure your spot in the Crescendo family by whatever means necessary, so I’d say the whole family is entitled to hear exactly who you really are. Reece, you brought this impulsive, dangerous decision to our door, so I’ll let you do the honors.” He holds a manila envelope out to her.

  After another questioning peek at me that I again answer silently, she takes it from him. “Father, nothing in here should affect Rhett’s role at the label. You heard his demo and agreed he’s a true talent. Why are you doing this? Because he throttled Warrick?”

  Throttled? Good word, babe. Much more concise and powerful than “beat his sorry ass like the sniveling punk he is.”

  “His depraved attack on Warrick was as unfortunate as it was unwarranted, but it did serve in bringing some very pertinent information to light,” her father answers dispassionately.

  At least my father is a zealous asshole; this guy’s glacial, dictating and toying with people’s lives as though stating the time. He’s also got me by the balls, although he’s incapable of understanding exactly how or why. His last statement just told me what’s in the envelope, and I’m not the least bit regretful. I’m also completely unconcerned with what it means to my career and this label.

  But I’m scared shitless of how Reece will react.

  It’s always been my experience that no matter where it is you’re going, the trip there and the trip back are exactly the same distance.

  I no longer believe that.

  I don’t ever want to go back to the man I was before Reece barged into my life, taking me by continual surprise and reminding me a little more with every smile, laugh, and retort… that I wasn’t born to be miserable. I was born to look for, find, and embrace the good in the sporadic, once-in-a-lifetime people God tosses right in my path.

  Exactly like she did with me.

  I don’t care what’s in this envelope. Rhett is a moody, broody, fresh and fruity man with all of his own uniqueness… and I have a sneaking suspicion, he may be all mine.

  “Daddy?” I hear myself say it, and now I know what desperation for approval and compassion sounds like. “Rhett didn’t attack Warrick—he rescued me.” I push up my shirt sleeve. “See these? Warrick put these bruises on your child! He threatened me, called me names, and tried to force his way into my home, all because I refuse to be bullied into some crazy, concocted relationship! Why don’t you care about that? I am your daughter!” I feel tears dripping down my cheeks and Rhett’s strong arm barricade me against him, but nothing snares my senses as keenly as my father’s vicious laugh.

  “Enough with the theatrics, Reece. You’re acting like a child. There’s no need for emotions when you can deal in facts, black and white. Open the envelope, and let’s end this mockery once and for all.”

  Once and for all, he’s extinguished any hope I had left of ever having a decent relationship with my father. The man is a sociopath, he inherently lacks the ability to feel.

  But I have nothing but hope in Rhett, and if he doesn’t want me to open the envelope, I won’t. Nor will I ever mention it again.

  “Do you want me to open it?” I whisper to Rhett, taking his hand.

  “Oh, for God’s sakes! He was locked away in a boys’ home for mental evaluation. He lost control and attacked his own father, just like he did me!” Warrick screams. “He’s an animal!”

  Rhett’s body stiffens, his deep breaths thunder in my ear, his hand in mine now clammy.

  “Should you choose to continue with this lovestruck circus of yours, Reece, that story may just find its way to the press. We certainly can’t have vicious criminals amongst our family,” my father adds.

  “You can’t do that! He was a minor. That record’s been sealed for almost a decade. Come to think of it, you crooked fucking bastards, how do you even have it?” Jarett explodes and crawls—literally crawls—over the conference table headed for Warrick, who squeals like a little girl and runs… right into Ozzie’s chest.

  “I’ve had enough of you.” He lifts Warrick off his feet by his shirt and tosses him away like trash. “You”—he glares at my father—“and all your hypocritical, idle threats. Reece, you tried to do right, sweetpea, and I’m proud of you, but you’re done now. All the flashy lights and fancy noise around this company, people expecting a good time. But you get a look, and all those lights and noises are just a very sad car wreck. It ends today. Everybody in this room knows who owns this company, and
that’s Reece Nicolette Kelly, and there’s not a damn thing any of you can do about it. All these threats you’re throwing around? Do you really think Mr. Carter didn’t teach me anything, ensure I’d be prepared to watch over his granddaughter? I’ve been your driver, servant, confidante, and watchman for way too long. I’ve got more dirt on the two of you than a grave digger. So do not test me. I’ll sing like a bird.”

  That’s the most I’ve ever heard Ozzie say at once, and damn if he wasn’t saving it all up to ensure that when he dropped it, it’d go off like an atom bomb.

  My father speaks to him condescendingly, his nose actually tipped up in the air. “A disgruntled employee with no proof. How worrisome. Please, Oswalt, don’t waste our time.”

  Ozzie grins and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He’s been waiting a long time for this. He brings up his digital photo album and starts scrolling. From this angle, I can’t see exactly what he’s showing them, but my father and Warrick sure can. Their wide eyes, bobbing Adam’s apples, and pasty white faces broadcast their fear.

  “After this, we can all listen to the recordings, if the ‘whole family’ wants a real party,” Ozzie says.

  I decide to kill two birds with one boulder—one long overdue and the other just for fun. “We covered the burden of proof portion of your bluff, Father. Let’s take care of the ‘disgruntled employee’ part now, shall we? Mr. Waterman?”

  Our CFO hasn’t spoken this entire time, but he’s engaged now, a grin splitting his face. “Yes, Ms. Kelly.” He opens some folders, pulls out a few papers, and double-clicks his pen. “Mr. Riley?”

  “Ozzie,” I mutter out the side of my mouth, “that’s you.”

  “You’re right.” He laughs. “Nobody ever calls me Mr. Riley. Yes?” he asks Mr. Waterman.

  “Do you happen to have a dollar bill on you, sir? And while you look—Mr. Rhodes, wake up please. You’re needed for this!” Our CFO slaps the table, startling the sleeping man across from him.

  We might need to find a new attorney. Mr. Rhodes was, indeed, asleep.

  He comes to, clearing his throat and straightening his suit. “Uh, of course, of course. What are we doing?”