“Papi, can I head back to Seattle?” I walk from one side to the other and Matthew lies on top of the bed, watching me, fuming because I want to cancel a few dates of our big tour. “Norah…she’s sick.”
“Jacob Christian, you can’t cancel because some girl is sick.”
My throat closes up, my stomach hardens. No one can understand how important Norah has become to me.
“Not once in my life have I canceled a date. And I’ve played since I was seventeen.”
“Well, your career has always been more important than your family. I’m not you,” I snap because neither one of my fathers gave a shit if we were sick. They had work and would be doing their shit. “My soon-to-be fiancée is sick. For the past two weeks she’s been throwing up, tired… I don’t have to give you an explanation. We’re leaving for the States.”
“Fiancée? We haven’t even met the woman.” My father never yells, but lately I’ve been triggering the asshole within him, and today is no exception. “Land those feet on the ground and stop behaving like a diva. This tour is costing you more than what you’ll earn. And for your information, Gabe and I always worked our schedules so one of us would be with you. If you don’t finish your dates, I won’t sign another album deal with you.”
He hangs up, leaving me with a sour taste and the last word stuck on the back of my throat. I make another call.
“Prince Charming, to what do I owe your call?” AJ’s sardonic voice isn’t much different than Chris’s. “It’s been ages.”
“Talk to Chris. I have to head back to Seattle. Norah is sick.”
“Oh no, I’m not getting in the middle of this shit. What happened to being neutral?”
“Do you want me to tell our parents that you’re dating Porter?” Her typical angry gasp is my answer. “I thought so. Tonight we’re booking our tickets. Have him move the dates. This should be ironed out by tomorrow.”
“You’re a jerk!”
“You’re a bitch, and I don’t complain.”
“That was uncalled for.” Matthew stands up and pushes me against the wall. “We never call her that when we’re upset. I hope you know what you’re doing because I surely have no clue. The only thing I’m certain of is that I don’t like you one bit, asshole. If you ever talk to our sister that way again, I’m going to deck you.”
AJ came through for me. I doubt she’s going to speak to me anytime for the foreseeable future, but I don’t give a shit. Being home with Norah is what matters. I arrived earlier today. Her fever isn’t yielding, but I hope that by tomorrow everything will be better. The circles under her eyes have become two deep, black holes, and her rosy cheeks have disappeared.
She had been throwing up for the past week. And since we hadn’t had sex, and I can’t get her pregnant, there wasn’t the option of that being the issue. I offered to take her to the hospital and pay for any expenses, but she declined. For now, I have made her agree to come over with me. Matthew didn’t like the idea of having her in the apartment, but there’s not much he can do.
I told him to go to his new home—the penthouse he bought a couple of weeks ago with our money. Originally we had planned on sharing it, but now, with Norah and Hunter, I am thinking about buying a house. A nice place where our boy can grow up—happy. No more leather couches, video games, and hockey tables occupying the dining room. My next move will be to a tiny, white picket fence house, like the one Norah dreams about.
“Write me a song, JC Decker.” Her request creates a black hole in my head. It’s not the first time she’s asked for it. I can’t. Nothing comes out. I love her, but my soul can’t connect with my heart when it comes to her. MJ jokes that Pria had taken my soul with her. It hadn’t been Pria, but what happened after Pria, that had killed some part of me. The moment Norah asked me not to ever think of Pria, or to write something for her, the music disappeared. I can follow what my siblings write, but I’m unable to create anything. “You wrote so many for her. Why not one for me? Immortalize me like you’ve done to that girl.”
AJ and MJ have no trouble composing shit out of the blue without having to have a muse—the way I used to, pre-Pria. I need to make this happen.
“You speak like you’re going to die.” I press her closer to my body. We agreed that if none of what the doctor prescribed for her helps, she’s going to the hospital next week. “You’ll be immortal in my heart.”
“Will I?”
“Yes, there’s no one else but you.”
“You’ll never talk or think about her again?” She touches my leather cuff, the one that hides my “soulless” tattoo.
“About who? There’s no other girl in my life but you.”
“Promise, JC.”
“I swear. No one will ever take your place.” I kiss her lips softly as I enjoy the warmth they produce against mine. “Want to head to bed, babe?”
When she stands up, her blouse elevates somewhat, and a reddish spot on her waist catches my attention. I pull her blouse a little but she snatches the fabric from my fingers and fixes it. “Don’t get frisky, we’re not having sex. For God’s sake, you can’t even write me a song. That’s not love.”
“I’ll have it soon. I love you, babe.” I follow behind her. I don’t understand her anger. We have time. I will write her a song. Why does she keep denying my love for her? It just doesn’t make sense.
“What kind of song are we talking about?” AJ asks on the other line. “Just so I can work a little on it while I’m on the plane.”
“Sweet, but not smothering,” I respond. “I want it to be timeless. A song that in fifty years will still be played on the radio. Think The Beatles, Queen—”
“Classic, I get it.” AJ speaks over the sound of closing drawers and ruffling plastic bags. “I booked my flight. The plane leaves in a couple of hours. See you then.”
I have no idea what to do in the meantime. Norah sleeps in the guest room. The fever has decreased, but it hasn’t disappeared completely. She promised me that after we finish her song, if her symptoms were still present, she’d head to the doctor.
The cagy sensation in my chest has a permanent residence. Nothing like the crippling fear I carry. What if Norah has some freaky illness? Cancer, a bizarre unknown infection… The memory of Maeve, Pria’s sister, comes to me, but I can’t be certain of anything because I’m not a doctor, and she won’t tell me anything.
Tired, feverish, not hungry, throwing up, coughing… The web has so many answers to those symptoms that I couldn’t come up with anything concrete.
Why did I promise her not to drag her to the hospital until I finished her song?
Simple. I love her. If there is one thing I learned in the accident, it’s that you can’t believe you will always have all the time in the world to love someone. The widow never thought she would lose her husband or her son, so that is why I have grabbed hold of this relationship with both arms. She is good for me. We are a good, strong unit together, and I am thankful.
“Dude?” Matthew comes out of his room with a somber face. “Is AJ coming over?”
I nod.
“Norah should be in the hospital.” He goes to the refrigerator. “Not here. I’ll stay with you, but honestly I wanted to go to my place. I haven’t slept there since I bought it.”
“When we finish the song.” The three of us would finish the song within a day or two, from beginning to end, including recording it. The trick would be to convince my father to release it soon.
“Then we could start without AJ,” MJ proposes.
“No.” I shake my head. “I want her to outline the lyrics. You and I can add to what she writes.”
“You can’t write the lyrics?” I don’t respond to his stupid question. He hands me a bottle of water and drinks some juice out of the carton. “AJ will have whatever you ordered by the time she arrives.”
I hope so, because
the time to face reality and head to the nearest hospital is closing in. I wonder what I’ll do when Norah calls her family. We’ve been together almost six months and I haven’t met anyone—only Hunter.
Would they really take her away like she said?
Norah calls them overbearing. I understand part of it. If my sister were sick like her, my parents would take her back home and place her inside a bubble until she healed.
“Dude, Norah will be fine.” Matthew pats me on the back. “Stop worrying so much. I’m going to take a nap, or I won’t last until AJ is here.”
I open the front door to find the smallest of the Colhurst-Decker family. Ainsley, my triplet—the one who looks nothing like us but my parents swear is my female version in many aspects. Like the lack of patience, the bossiness, and the talent. Brown, curly hair tied into a ponytail, green eyes staring at me with worry.
“You didn’t have to send him to pick me up.” AJ tilts her head toward Arthur Bradley, the trustworthy bodyguard. He is more like our uncle, or something closer than our own immediate family. Not a parent, of course. Arthur has worked for Chris since he played in Dreadful Souls. We grew up with Arthur at our parents’ side twenty-four seven. During summer, he’d bring his son along—Mason. The dude was fun. “I’m old enough to take a cab. No offense, Mr. Bradley.”
“None taken, dear.” He hands me over AJ’s guitar case and her bag. I set them on top of the couch and prepare to say goodbye to him. “But please, call me instead of a cab. I want to know that you’re safe.”
AJ kisses his cheek and he waves at us before heading out.
“You okay?” AJ touches my cheek. “How bad is it?”
I explain to her, step-by-step, what the past two weeks have entailed—the throwing up, nausea, tiredness, fever.
“Flu symptoms, pregnancy symptoms… WebMD mentioned cancer,” I continue. “She’s pale and…began to talk about immortality.”
I ruffle my hair while scratching my scalp.
“She’s always saying to live as if there isn’t a tomorrow.” I take several sips of air trying to inflate my broken lungs.
“That’s why you want to give her the song?” I nod.
AJ opens her arms and presses me tightly against her. Another set of arms, much longer and more muscular, come up from behind me. Matthew. It’s strange how having them both close sometimes makes me feel stronger.
“Don’t pull a Gabe on us.” Matthew squeezes me hard one more time and releases me. “Leave the drama to the expert. She’s sick, but she’ll recover soon.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Norah walking toward where I stand, a deep frown painted on her forehead as her eyes narrow on AJ. My back tenses as I worry she has taken the embrace the wrong way. AJ lifts her face and looks at Norah, smiling at her.
“You must be Norah.” She releases me and walks to her, giving her a tight hug.
An out-of-character move from AJ, who isn’t too friendly with outsiders.
“I’m AJ.” She releases Norah, and my girl’s frown deepens.
Her head tilts a few times. She looks from AJ to us, and then looks at the floor as if putting some puzzle pieces together or trying to figure out what pieces would fit.
“I expected her to be taller,” Norah continues, inspecting AJ. “A different eye color—blue, to be exact. You must look like your mom. I’m sorry about that.”
Why on earth would she be almost…mean to AJ? And what the hell is she sorry about? Weird.
AJ angles her head and watches Norah with curiosity.
“I don’t have a mother.” She purses her lips tight and stares at me. “This is weird. Can we start with the song?”
Matthew gives me that look that says you should have told AJ.
Yes, I should have mentioned to my sister that Norah is under the impression that our mother left us when we were babies.
“It’s okay to be in denial.” Norah pats AJ’s shoulder. “But your father must love you.”
“Denial?” AJ repeats. “What bunch of shit did you tell her?” She looks at me when she says that. Turning her attention back to Norah, she continues, “No. I’m not in denial, nor in need of some psych evaluation due to the lack of a maternal unit.” Then back at me, “See, that’s exactly why I’m mad at the ‘rents. I hate their bullshit, and you’re no different than them.”
My sister, ladies and gentlemen. I bet she either had a fight with Porter, or Gabe has a new fake girlfriend on tab.
“Forget it.” She shakes her head. “This isn’t about me. I’m eating something and then we have work to do.”
I follow AJ toward the kitchen and listen to her rant. “Do you know he has a new skank? I saw a few magazines while waiting for my flight. I should start a scrapbook: ‘The deceiving ways of Gabe Colt.’”
I roll my eyes. I knew there was a reason for her bitchy mood. My sister hates that Chris and Gabe make up a second life to shield us from the media. Gabe has a different girl every year, to pretend that he is a permanent bachelor. “AJ, can you tone down your bitchy side?” I request with a warning glare.
“Sorry, I…sorry.” She starts eating whatever she has in her bowl.
One day, my parents and my sister would come to terms and go back to adoring each other, a time when the princess believed the parents would conquer the world just for her. Until then, Matthew and I will stay neutral while watching them do their thing.
Norah doesn’t say much after, and AJ’s eyes go wide as my girl begins to convulse in my arms. Her entire body is shaking, her face is pale, and her eyes are trembling. I walk with her to the couch where I lower her. My body shakes too, as I have no idea what is happening. I hold her limbs tight while her body continues convulsing.
It is seconds, minutes, or maybe hours before she stops trembling, and it’s even longer before an ambulance arrives—though my sister says the convulsions lasted only a couple of minutes and the ambulance arrived within five minutes from the moment they called them. The difference between their words and what I lived differs. It was my other half who had suffered through all of it. As the paramedics work on her, I pace around the apartment. They don’t make any sense, there’s mention about some lymphoma marks, and…
Norah had cancer. The doctors didn’t disclose much information. I wasn’t family. I heard lymphoma, stage four while they talked to her family. They knew.
They prepared you for everything: Your parents for life. Your teacher for the next move. College for a job. The instances were infinite. But, nothing prepared you for death. Nothing.
Chris, who is a counselor, insisted that I visit a friend of his. Losing Norah and the shit I’d gone through had him scared. I went for an hour, every day, close to Norah’s room in the hospital. I refused to leave. The counselor coached me about letting go and accepting the loss. I listened to and answered the questions he asked at the end of each session the way I imagined I was supposed to act or think. He tried to bring up my past, but I never allowed it. A week later, her family said I wasn’t allowed to visit any longer. At least they let me enter her room for the first time since she arrived in the hospital.
“I’ll see you on the other side someday, babe,” she whispered, as I said my last goodbye to her. “Remember all your promises. Don’t break any of them.”
AJ and MJ remained by my side the whole time. I moved with MJ to the penthouse because being at the apartment was unbearable for me. Both said there was a huge pang that hit them right on the left side of the chest. We empathized with one another like this when we had broken a bone or something else really bad had happened. I never thought a feeling like losing a loved one would create the same phenomenon.
“Let’s get some tattoos,” MJ proposed to cheer me up. “Unless you have a better way to lighten up this sad-fest, AJ.”
“You want to hear something stupid?” AJ asked. “I had to schedule my first
time with Porter based on his stupid tour dates—romantic much?”
I laughed and cringed at the same time. Well, at least she’d lost her virginity.
“What kind of tattoos are we getting?” MJ headed to the door. “We should be heading to Europe, living our lives the way we know. You should start fucking again, Jacob.”
Fucking? I had just lost my world. My brother had no finesse or respect for others’ feelings.
This is the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. I walk toward the backstage. One last time. A few words. Robbie is great, but I won’t take the next step with him until I know what happened with Jace. I’ve been seeing Robbie casually for the past six months. He asked me to go steady with him, to take things to a serious level. In other words, have sex. The guy has been waiting for me long enough. I have to either say yes or send him packing.
“Where to, sweetheart?” asks a muscled man wearing a black staff T-shirt. His dark eyebrows dance while his eyes give me a flirty kind of look. “Want to see the boys?”
“Yeah, well, yes.” I fidget with the guitar pick that I now wear as a necklace. “I’m a friend of JC Decker’s.”
“You want to get re-acquainted? Because once you’ve gone through him, he won’t take you back.” My chest sustains a massive blow that leaves me breathless. “Show me your tits and I’ll let you in. If he passes, there’ll be plenty for you back there with any of the other guys. You have a sweet body.”
I gulp and debate on turning around and escaping, or showing him my breasts. If I do the first, I’ll never find out if moving on with Robbie is the way to go. If I stay and he rejects me… No, I decide I need the rejection. For me, for whatever happens next. More than two years of expecting he’ll call me is enough. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I lift my cami. I had planned on this, covered every possible base, and even left my bra at home.
“I could suck on those all night.” I flinch but say nothing. “Follow the hallway, take a left and you’ll find their dressing room.”
Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) Page 14