“Go where?”
“Just off on her own. She went to Big Sky.”
“She went to a fucking resort?” she shrieked through the phone.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and waited for her to chill out before I responded. “Nice language, sis.”
“Like she’s taking a vacation or something?” Her voice was hard with contempt. I was her baby brother, after all, and she tended to be a touch protective of me.
Thus, I felt the need to stand up for Sophie a little.
“No, she went there to work.”
There was a momentary stunned silence on the phone. “Work? Doing what?”
“Housekeeper or waitress or something.”
“But, Brannon, why would she do that?” Mira murmured. “She’s rich.”
“No,” I countered, “her parents are rich. The reason she was here the other night is because she more or less told them fuck off. She doesn’t want anything to do with them anymore.”
“So, is she coming back?”
“Yeah,” I said, hoping she really was, all the while wishing she hadn’t totally taken my balls with her. I felt like a total pansy. “Eventually.”
“Eventually?” Mira let out a long, deep breath. “Like how eventually?”
“I don’t know, Mira. As long as she needs. But I couldn’t force her to stay. Even if…” My voice trailed off. Because I couldn’t finish that thought aloud. Even if she never came back.
See? No balls left. I may as well have grown a vagina.
“You love her,” she said softly.
I was quiet for a minute before I answered. “I do.”
“Awe,” she sighed, and was interrupted by the cacophony of her boys hollering in the background. “Do you want to come over for dinner?” she shouted over the racket.
“God, no,” I laughed.
“Brannon—”
“I’m okay, Mira. I’m not going to barricade myself in my room or turn into a raging drunk again. I just already said I’d help Denny tonight. So it’s okay.”
“Maybe tomorrow then?” she asked hopefully.
“Can you sedate those kids of yours first?”
“Good grief, Brannon,” she snorted, “they’re nothing compared to what you were like at that age. Just be here at six.”
And with that she hung up, not giving me any more opportunity to argue.
The days came and went, dragging along in a painful creep.
“I miss you,” Sophie quietly said into the phone as we talked into the early morning hours. Those three little words always sent a conflicted ripple through me. It made me miss her too. It made me want her home. Yet it made me feel connected to her and sort of reassured me that she would eventually come home to me. Someday.
“Well, I'm glad you miss me,” I dryly chuckled, lying in my empty bed. This had become more or less a nighttime ritual, our voices coming together in the darkness. Her so distant up in the mountains of Big Sky, me aching for her in the valley around Ophir.
She sounded dreadfully far away as she spoke. “I really do, though.”
And for just a second, I allowed the pure, raw emotion resonate in my voice. “I miss you, too, Sophie.”
For a second, she didn’t say anything. I heard a faint sniffle through the phone lines, and then she released a long, slow breath. “Why am I doing this?” she whispered.
My mind screamed at me.
Tell her to come home.
Beg her.
But I didn’t. I resisted. I did everything I could to be strong for both of us. “Because you've never done it before.”
“But does that means I should?” Her uncertainty tortured my fragile resolve, and it was all I could do to stay resolute… for her.
“Soph,” I softly asked, “have you ever watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
“What?” she sniffed again.
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was one of my grampa’s favorite movies. He used to make me watch it all the time.”
“I'm not sure that I've ever seen it, but one of those pictures in my old apartment was modeled after her.”
“Yeah, Holly Golightly. She reminds me of you.”
“Brannon, I don’t look anything like Audrey Hepburn.”
“No, Soph,” I said softly, “it’s not how she looked, but something she always said.”
“What did she say?” she whispered.
“Whenever someone asked why she did something, she'd say it was because she'd never done it before.” Sophie didn’t say anything in response aside from another quiet sniffle, so I kept talking, filling the silence to keep her with me. “Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve been on a quest to do things you’ve never done. And you’re doing them, baby. One by one. Just like Holly Golightly.”
After a long pause, she spoke again. “How did that work out for her?”
She broke her own heart and that of the man she loved, but, in the end, she came back to him.
I couldn’t really say that, though. It would have been a total ball-less douche thing to spit out, and I was already bordering on ultimate pitiful schmuck territory.
But, in the end, I kinda told my ego to fuck off and left the door wide open for her. “When you come home,” I promised, “we'll watch it and you can find out.”
The longer I was at the Copperline, the more I wished I hadn’t agreed to this shit tonight. Typical Friday night gig for the Mofos, but being there without Sophie was actually pretty damn excruciating. More so every time I went there over the past couple weeks.
I just really fucking missed her.
We talked on the phone almost every night. Sometimes later than others if she was working a late shift or I was out with the Mofos, but one or both of us always tried to connect.
The first time I called and got her voicemail at night, I actually panicked. Where was she? I’d thought to myself. Who was she with? How fast could I drive to Big Sky and kick the fucker’s ass?
The truth was, I’d been a fuckwad for so long that it was hard for me to trust her. I knew what sneaky bastards guys could be. They could smell dejection and loneliness, and they’d use it to sway her. To pull her away from me. So I lived in constant apprehension that she’d cut me loose.
I knew she’d also worry if she couldn’t reach me. With my libidinous past, she really had a great deal of a reason to. I had never really shown myself to be trustworthy to any chick before. So I damn near killed myself trying to make sure I answered her calls every fucking time. I didn’t want to give her any reason to doubt me.
She liked her job as a hostess in the restaurant of the Huntley Lodge, and she adored the people she worked with. She liked feeling independent for the first time ever, and was thrilled with how beautiful Big Sky was. At first, these conversations tore at my heart. They made me think it might not work out. That she might not care about me as much as I cared about her. Her voice was filled with excitement about this adventure in her life.
As time passed, though, the newness wore off. She was growing more confident, realizing that she actually was perfectly capable, but her voice grew more melancholy. She sounded more lonely. Like she was nearing a breaking point. I fervently hoped that meant she’d come home soon, but she wanted to finish out ski season, and that was likely to be a few months. With spring snowstorms, it could go through April.
So I didn’t ask her to come home, although it was at the forefront of my mind every time I talked to her. Instead, I tried to keep upbeat about it all. I tried not to let her hear the pitiful longing in my voice.
When did I become this pathetic motherfucker? I wondered, looking around the Copperline.
The bar hadn’t changed. Same sticky floor. The same barstool bunnies looking for a thrill. Fuck, even the band hadn’t changed. The Bangin’ Mofos had gotten better over the years, but they were sort of synonymous with the Copperline.
But I had changed. I didn’t view this world even remotely the same. I used to relish the rush I’d get from just w
alking through the door, and that was completely gone. Instead of a place I wanted to be, it was a place I couldn’t wait to escape.
Since Sophie had been gone, the usual suspects came around to make the usual illicit suggestions. Starting with Ruth, who didn’t seem all that surprised when I passed. Then Pauline, who seemed almost pissed that I turned her down. This didn’t really bother me all that much. Quite frankly, I was still kind of pissed at her, too, for going after Sophie a while back. Then Laura hit me up, and she got a little clingy. I didn’t turn into a total asshole, even though I was still pissed at her, too, but I did tell her to back off. That the shit they had pulled was not cool with me.
My mood was shit.
I just wanted Sophie.
So I hung out backstage, back in the curtains away from the bulk of the crowd. Waiting to go home and lie in bed so I could hear that sweet voice through the phone lines. I leaned forward to check the clock on the far wall and saw there were still a good couple hours to go.
Dammit.
Just as I started to settle back into my little antisocial corner, a flash of light blonde hair caught my eye over by the bar. Just like Sophie’s, I thought. And just like that, the ever-present pang from missing her intensified. Like I was conjuring her up out of thin air.
Then I realized that it was Lily beside her.
Holy fuck!
That was Sophie! What the fuck was she doing here?
My feet moved before my brain could process it. I didn’t make the conscious decision to head for the back steps off stage. All my mind could focus on was that she was here. Sophie was here.
She was back.
I skirted the room towards the bar, stepping up behind the girls to hear Sophie’s soft, panicked voice.
“I don’t see him, Lily. Maybe he’s not here.”
“I’m sure I saw him earlier, Sophie. And his truck was out back, right?”
“Oh God,” Sophie groaned, shaking her head, “you don’t think he—” She stopped short. “No, no he wouldn’t, right?”
“No,” Lily firmly said, “you’re right. He wouldn’t. The old man-ho Brannon probably would, but he’s not that guy anymore.”
“But I left him. Why wouldn’t he?” Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands. “Why did I leave him? I love him. Fuck, I love him so much. This isn’t going how I thought it would. And my damn phone is dead. I thought I had it charged, but it died before I even got to Bozeman. I can’t even call him or send him a text. I’m so close, and I can’t find him.”
Lily wrapped her arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Don’t stress, Sophie. We’ll find him.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a portable power stick. “Here,” she said, “plug your phone in and we’ll call him. We’ll find him.”
Sophie sniffed as she complied, fishing her phone out of her pocket. “I should have never left. He told me he loved me, and I left.” Her shoulders began to shake with sobs as she clumsily tried to connect the cable, then gave up and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. “God, I’m an idiot. I can’t even get this phone plugged in.”
Lily took over, attaching the power pack. “It should just take a few minutes before your phone has enough charge to fire up.”
“I just had it all worked out in my head,” Sophie sobbed. “I’d see him and he’d see me and…”
I leaned back to the bar and motioned to the bartender for a napkin, then stepped up behind Sophie and handed it to her, nudging it against her fingertips.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she took it, only looking at my hand. And she froze when she saw the tattoo on my wrist. Her head jerked up to see me watching her.
“You’re here,” I murmured dumbly.
She nodded slowly, but didn’t say a word.
I stepped a little closer, cupping her cheek in my palm, brushing her tears away with my thumb. “Sophie, baby… you’re here.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did,” I said in a choked voice, touching my forehead to hers. “Fuck, I missed you. How long are you here for?”
Please say forever. Please say forever. Please say forever.
“I’m here as long as you want me,” she whispered with trembling lips.
Good enough.
“Okay,” I smiled as I lowered my lips to hers, “forever then.”
Her lips were soft and warm and tasted of tears. She lifted her arms around my neck and pressed herself close to my body. And I held her, swaying just a bit in the steady beat of the Mofos’ song. I held my girl who was here to stay… forever.
She finally lifted her head from my shoulder and slid a tremulous smile up at me, the lighthearted intent completely overpowered by the unmistakable emotion in her eyes. “I guess I'll have to stay with you since you're holding my favorite toothbrush hostage.”
I chuckled, swallowing against the tight lump in my throat. “You love me for that toothbrush.”
“This will sound really stupid, but… I almost took it, and I couldn’t. It was like I needed it there so you'd know I was coming back.”
“Sophie—”
“Stupid, right?”
“I wouldn’t have let you take it, Soph,” I grinned. “I needed it to stay there for the same reason.”
Sophie smiled, but cocked her eyebrow dubiously.
“I'm not shittin’ you either. You'd have had a fight on your hands if you'd tried.”
As the song ended, I heard Denny’s voice cut through the room. “We don’t usually do dedications,” he said into the microphone, “but I actually wrote a song about a couple people who are here tonight. See, this sweet little bird Lily here,” he nodded to Lily who stood beside him on the stage, “just told me that our girl Sophie has come home.”
Sophie had looked up at the stage when Denny started talking, but at this last bit, her shocked eyes turned back to mine. “What is he doing?”
She looked so fucking cute that I couldn’t help but laugh. “I have no idea.”
“Sophie girl, look up here… towards the stage like. There ya go. So, anyway, sweetheart, I was still a bit surprised when you showed up at our place a while back. Even more so when my man Brannon brought you to the Copperline. He never brought bits of stuff to the Copperline. He left with plenty, but he never brought one.”
“I wish everyone would quit fucking saying that,” I muttered and glanced sheepishly down at Sophie who was biting her lip in apprehension, yet there was an amused light dancing in her eyes.
“And Perkins, too? Right then and there,” Denny continued, “I shoulda known there was something special. Yet, I was a bit surprised when he brought ya to the house a few days later. I'll keep some of those details to myself,” he sighed blissfully, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd, “but I will say, she may look like a Barbie, but she can smoke like Marley.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie gasped, “he just told everyone I smoked pot.”
I leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Just be glad that’s all he told them, Soph.”
Alarmed, she stared wide-eyed up at me, then knitted her forehead and nodded. “Good point,” she said.
“Besides,” I added, “half the people in here can’t understand a word he says with that fucking accent of his.”
I was rewarded with a thankful giggle.
“The craic was mighty for a bit,” Denny rambled on, looking over the crowd with an inborn showmanship.
“To be quite honest,” Sophie leaned up to say in my ear, “I'm not sure that I understand much of what he’s saying, either. What does crack mean?”
“It’s some Irish thing for awesome. Great fun… or some shit like that,” I explained. “I’m not entirely sure myself.”
Denny’s voice brought our attention back to him. “You see, for a while, Brannon was like a whole new man. Was kinda nice that he was settling down because it freed up some pussy for the rest of us. But, then he sorta fucked it up.”
Almost as though it was rehearsed, the crowd gave a
synchronous, melancholy “awe” and Denny shook his head wistfully, looking back over at us.
Sophie turned towards me with a look of concern and regret. “I sorta fucked it up, too,” she whispered, and I gave her a halfway guilty shrug before turning to glare at Denny rather murderously.
“Wasn’t a pretty sight,” Denny rattled on, “and the fella about drank his weight in whiskey for a week or so after, tryin’ to forget ya, Sophie. Let me tell ya, over the last month or two, that tosser has been the most mopey, pansy-arsed fella the likes of which I've never seen.”
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” I muttered under my breath, looking down to see Sophie watching me closely. I knew it was written all over my face. I could feel the vulnerability pawing its way through my unaffected facade. A warm flush burned at my skin.
But Denny just kept going. Bastard.
“I never thought it would happen to a guy like him, but he is feckin’ whipped. The girls don’t even try anymore because they know he'll just shoot them down. So, Sophie girl,” Denny continued, “do us all a favor. Wrap yourself up in Brannon’s arms and dance to this song I wrote for ya. And don’t let go of him this time, hi?”
A long twang of electric guitar sounded as Drew struck the first chord, and the Mofos began to play.
It was the song he’d written about us.
About a good little girl going off the rails. And an undeserving dick who loved her. Getting busy on a couch while he watched. It was all beauty and intensity and pure, raw passion.
“Okay,” I leaned down to murmur against her ear, “now he just told everyone the rest.”
As I drew back, Sophie lowered her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. A tremulous smile touched her lips:
“You warned me about that a long time ago,” she tearfully laughed. Then she lifted her gaze, and her eyes grew dark. Serious. And without another word, just a rush of emotion, she pulled herself up to kiss me.
Over the rough, raw guitar chords and the deep rasp of Denny’s voice, I heard what could have been applause. A whoop and a whistle faintly registered in my brain. But all I could focus on was the taste of Sophie’s kiss, the incredibly overpowering feeling deep in my soul that everything was right in the world again.
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