“Logan.” She smiles. “Terrible kisser. Why didn’t you talk to me and save me from that date? Mae and you are to blame for that day.”
I point at myself, and she nods, grinning from ear to ear as if she’s recounting the best days of her life.
“This cheesy song began to play on the radio.” She grabs her phone and starts tapping on it. “Back then I was this crazy obsessed teenager. Don’t judge me. I downloaded and played it multiple times, dissecting it. Then I played it to my sister and she said, ‘Move on, you idiot, that’s not you. Wait until you’re old and can brag about bagging a rock star.’ Mae was the smartest person I knew back then, so I followed her advice and went out with Logan. After him, a lot of things happened before I decided to take a chance and date Robbie.”
She scrolls through her phone. “Here it is.”
The piano starts just as I remember; the guitar takes over, and my voice comes up next. Neither one of us speak. Pria watches the stars while swaying her head to the beat of the song. This isn’t the radio version. The ending doesn’t promise Twinkle that someday we’ll meet again.
“As long as the stars shine, as long as there’s a heartbeat in me, as long as you’re out there, nothing will change what we shared.”
“I take it you’re a fan.” I don’t confirm or deny the origin of that song.
However, it is hers, like so many others. Like every song I wrote from the moment I met her until I couldn’t write anymore. Closing my eyes, I can hear a few new notes fighting to come out from the darkness, but I push them away.
“Yeah, a big fan. Which brings me to my next big question… Why did you stop writing?”
My eyes snap open. I scratch my jaw. I want to be furious at her, at life, at the world for everything that’s happened. I want to be upset that she knows more than I want anyone to know and that I have no idea how or why she does.
“First you were playing very stupid lyrics along with those romantic tunes.” She brings up my own music career. “There were so many of them—cheesy and romantic. Next you’re raging and yelling at some snobbish girl to take that stick out of her ass—which I hope wasn’t me. Along with the stupid, nonsense lyrics that I adore—MJ’s. Finally, nothing that your band played was yours. Now you’re retired.”
“Hiatus, the band is on hiatus.” I correct her and check the time on her phone. Almost eleven thirty. “We have to leave. They’re about to close the park.”
I push myself up, stretch my hand to her, and help her off the ground. We walk in silence toward the parking lot where only a couple of cars are left, including ours.
“I should drive you. We can come back for your car tomorrow.”
She shakes her head. “Thank you. You gave me a great birthday present. It’s good to know that it meant something to you too.” Joy echoes in her voice. “Don’t go out to drink or fuck a nameless person. Think about Norah, and your family, before you do something stupid.”
I remain quiet, as there’s nothing logical I can say about what she said. I think about Norah, about what I couldn’t give her when she was dying, and that’s why I drink. The guilt consumes me. I loved her and yet I couldn’t save her or make her happy during her last days. I take Twinkle’s hand and head to my car.
“Twinkle, stay with me for the night.”
“Dad went to bed early. I have to be there when he wakes up.” Right, the party Maeve concocted with AJ included messing up his schedule. “Carson, the nurse, will arrive an hour or two later and I can’t leave my sister alone with him.”
“Then I’ll sleep on your couch tonight, please?”
“Jace, I want to know more.” Her voice wavers. “Will you tell me someday?”
“Maybe, Twinkle.” She takes a deep breath and hugs my waist. I give in a hold her back. It’s the first time that we’ve held each other like this in over a decade and it feels right. My heart releases another wave of tension. If I didn’t know better, this would be like a welcome back home. “I’m not making any promises, except that you have a long-term contract with me. I’m a fucking mess.”
A gray-haired man has me at fake gun point, a broomstick resting on my forehead. “If you move, I’ll shoot you.” I gulp because there’s no way I’ll retaliate against him, yet I have no idea how to react to this scene. “You think I’m stupid, but I won’t let you rob my software ideas.”
“Daddy, breakfast is ready!” Maeve holds a plate close to him. “Waffles with blueberry jam. Your favorite.”
“Mae, you shouldn’t be out of your room.” The man lowers his weapon, resting it against the couch I slept in for the night. “Pria, are you ready to go to school? I’ll drop you on my way to work. Glenda! Where is your mother? I swear, that woman forgets to tell me where she’s at on a daily basis.”
“She went to the grocery store, Daddy.” Pria’s wobbly voice breaks my heart. “Mae, Carson arrives in twenty. Will you be fine?”
“Yes, take your office work out of here before Dad brings the mop and Jacob pees his pants.”
“Not funny, Mae.” Pria disappears down the hallway. “Jacob, get ready. We’re leaving in two to pick up my car. Wait outside.”
I push myself to a sitting position, put my boots on, and head to the door. As requested, I wait outside. A middle-aged couple stare at me with crossed arms. Pria opens the door and waves at them with a tight smile.
“Great, now they think I’m sleeping with a hooligan.” She power walks to the car.
“Hooligan is no longer a word, Pria.” I open the door of the car for her, closing it harder than I meant to, barely missing her foot.
“I didn’t call you hooligan, Jace.” She places her hand on top of mine. “Never would I… I’m saying the exact words my unfriendly neighbors or my mother would say. Dad called you that too, remember?”
I kiss her hand and start the car before hitting her with a couple of changes that I fear are going to sour the moment. Maybe breakfast will soften her—or I should dare and push her to the edge while driving?
“Your dad worries me. He almost knocked into me with a broom.” I hit the brake as the light changes to red. I have the time to turn around and watch her stare out the window. “Has he hurt either one of you?” Her shoulders fall, and she rotates slightly to turn up the radio. I turn it down. “That’s a yes. We have to find a place where he’ll be safe.”
“He’s my dad. The man who took care of my boo-boos when I was little. The same man who protected me during my dark days and made sure I overcame my fears. He didn’t leave my side. I won’t leave his side.” Her reaction is understandable. If either one of my fathers had Alzheimer’s I’d be devastated. Lost, because I wouldn’t know where to turn or how to handle the situation. Both my parents have been there for me, and stayed by my side, while my life spiraled out of control. “I’m trying my best—we both are. Drop it, please. He didn’t hit you, and thank you for not fighting him.”
Is this her closing the subject? I fear she might shut down my next idea which is to let me pay for an assisted living facility.
“Let’s talk about your car.” I jump to the next subject. “It’s dangerous for you to drive that piece of junk.”
“Leave my car out of this, Jacob,” she protests. “I can’t afford a new one.”
“Use one of the company cars.” I lie, because there are no fucking company cars. “They’re parked in my garage. You can pay for gas and that’ll give me the peace of mind that you won’t get into a car accident. We can help one another. Let’s call this a symbiotic relationship.”
“I’m certain there won’t be any symbiosis.” She deflates, her eyes are on me. I wish I could see them. “As long as it’s a loan, I’ll use it while working for you to get you off my case. Now feed me and stop trying to find a way to fix my life. You make me feel like part of The Biggest Loser, Depressing Edition.”
“You offered and
she said no?” Mason Bradley and I talk outside Pria’s house. Her father left their house, and this time without the tracker bracelet Mason had provided them. A week ago I offered to pay for his care and she refused. This has to stop today. She and her sister worrying about their father and barely covering his needs. “I have seven agents searching for her father. That’s more expensive than paying six months of rent at the most exclusive assisted living place.”
“I’ll pay for whatever costs you incur.” I stop in front of him. “Just…find him. Once he’s safe, I’m dragging the sisters to visit the facilities Pops recommended. They either choose a place or we’ll do it for them. I fear he’s going to physically hurt them.”
“You want to pay me?” He smirks as one of his brows lifts a fraction. Apparently, I’m amusing him today. “Priceless, but I’m shutting the hell up before my wife lectures me.”
“About?”
“You and Ana.” Mason studies me, then shakes his head and diverts his attention to his phone.
“There’s nothing between us.” I speak loudly and correct him. “And her name is Pria.”
“Exactly. I’m shutting up.” He chuckles. If he weren’t so scary, I’d try to punch that smile right off his face. “Because your sister said we’re not supposed to intervene, but to let things flow organically…whatever the hell that means.”
My sister is missing a screw and should stop that organic trend she’s been following for the past year. She’s becoming a hippie.
AJ joins us and her husband hugs her tight. “I think I convinced them to accept our help.” I tilt my head, and notice that her eyes have that sadness to them that I hate. “He’s slapped Maeve a couple of times, almost punched Ana too. One of them has to stay with him. Their dad has been having accidents, but they can’t put him in a diaper. He’s too big for the two of them.”
I storm into the house, looking around for Pria. Mae’s eyes point toward the backyard. The door is stuck, and it takes several attempts until it finally gives and opens. It isn’t hard to find Pria. She sits on top of the overgrown grass, hugging herself tightly enough that she’s a human ball. In one swift move, I scoop her up and carry her toward one of the patio chairs.
“You’re not alone. I’m here.” Pria leans her head on my chest, crying harder. “He’ll be home soon. Later we can search for a safe place where they’ll take good care of him.”
“I’m supposed to take care of him,” she says between sobs. “Mom made me swear that I wouldn’t send him away. I just can’t keep everything together, not the way she used to.”
Now I understand the reluctance regarding his future. Pria’s mother made her promise the most outrageous things. To dedicate the rest of her life to her own mission: keep Maeve alive, and care for Fred Walker until the end. I hate her mother. She taught Pria to sacrifice everything for her family; friends, school, trips, clubs, sports. I remember some of the items from the long list of activities she mentioned years ago that she was into, until she had to quit because everyone was more important than Pria in this house.
“Decker,” Bradley yells from the doorway. “Kowalski found him. He should be here in five minutes.”
“Ready to find a new place for him?” She shakes her head. “Twink, we have to, babe. I can’t leave you alone with him—think about Maeve too. He’ll be better with a team of professionals.”
Pria straightens herself and her red blotchy eyes stare back at me; her deflated soul dims her entire face. “No, we can handle this. That’s what Mom would do, but thank you.”
I give her a reluctant nod, and we both head back to the house to wait for Fred. There’s only so much I can do, but I can’t force her to accept our help.
Jacob and Chris scan a copy of the communiqué I wrote. It’s funny to see how both are squinting while holding the paper at arm’s length, both tilting their heads to the left and bobbing.
It’s adorable.
They cuss the same way, and will immediately apologize if they spot a woman around to hear it, but neither one it is apologetic. Watching these two makes me want to have children someday. But then I remember the heartache I’ll bring into their world, or what they’ll face when I become sick, and I quickly disregard that option.
“Really, you’re planning on screening our musicians?” Jacob’s jaw twitches. “Carrying cups with you so they can give you a urine sample?”
“Did you read it, or skim through it?” I take my copy out and read that part out loud. ‘As this is a working place, musicians are expected to show up sober. As part of the amendment to the contracts, any musician can be asked to provide a urine or blood sample to prove sobriety. The clause applies also during concerts, as the musicians are working for Decker Records while on tour. Decker Records reserves the right to terminate a contract if any clause is breached.’”
They both look at me with skeptical expressions.
“Sweetheart, your intentions are… Help me here, Jacob.” Chris waves his hand as if trying to find some lost word.
“Stupid?” He drops the paper on top of the desk. “You can’t stop a person from doing what they want. I’m going to lose good artists because of this. ‘Let’s go to the fun studio. Why the hell should I stick around in this prison filled with tight-assed managers?’”
My chin hits the floor. He just called me a tight ass. Since his father is here, I bite back the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue. I’ll save it for later.
“Not what I wanted to say, but yeah, that too.” Chris shakes his head. “The article you published back when you began working for us hit the mark. My husband cried when he read the part about my past without divulging much and how I created a bright future and overcame the darkness—again, only enough to appease the piranhas. A really great article.”
I want to tell him that it wasn’t an article, but a press release. My first step to clear their name, followed by rearranging the contracts and finding a better way to separate who we represent from who we are. However, I’ve encountered a couple of bands that think the lounge is a bar and the roof is for recreational drugs. My best idea was to write this memo to everyone, but they hate it.
As I’m about to speak, Jacob claps and agrees that my masterpiece helped. His father rolls his eyes.
“Pria—”
“Ana.” I correct Jacob for the millionth time.
“Whatever.” That dismissive tone drives me crazy. He refuses to call me Ana. “The contracts were amended, we don’t have to send them this shit—musicians, artists; they’re not Corporate America material. As we work toward the new concept of the studio, we’ll implement some of your anti-fun ideas.”
He rips the letter making his point.
“Then you’re giving me the green light to dismiss whoever I find high? Or will you fire me if I do?” Fear claws in my skin and my stomach churns. They could stop paying for Dad’s expenses, which are currently deducted from my pay checks. I clamp my lips shut and hope they forget I gave them such a stupid memo.
“We can’t fire you because you have to finish fixing his image,” Chris reminds me as he shreds the copy of the communication. He winks at me. “Maybe convince him to use his potential as a musician and a performer. To stop wasting all his time behind the desk. Then you can take over, Ana.”
“Pops, don’t start.” His eyes narrow in warning. “Head home to entertain your husband or something.”
“Unbelievable. He kicked me out of my own office. There’s no respect for the elderly anymore.” Chris turns his gaze to me, then back at Jacob, and his playful eyes crinkle. “I’m only leaving because I promised your dad we’d go sailing today.” He takes a few steps and then looks at me. “We’re expecting you on Sunday for dinner, sweetheart. You too, punk.”
I wave at him as he steps out of the office and closes the door behind him.
“How’s Fred?” Jacob asks before I can lash back a
bout the tight-ass comment. “Better yet, how’s our Mae doing, now that she’s out and about?”
Two weeks ago Dad moved to Sunny Hill, a community for seniors with moderate to severe dementia. Everything happened so suddenly. His health declined as fast as the market during the recession. He now requires a third person’s help to complete the simplest daily tasks, like choosing his clothing, dressing, and putting his shoes on the correct foot.
The meds were no longer helping him sleep and he was restless day and night, taking cat naps without a pattern. From not being able to wipe himself or flush properly, he no longer has control of his bladder or bowels, either.
We decided to use diapers, a task my sister and I couldn’t handle. Several times we ended calling Jacob to come over to the house and help us. Dealing with Dad’s personality changes hadn’t been easy, but these new symptoms were also draining us, emotionally and physically. Mae started crying one night. I joined her and I called Jacob. He had offered to pay for the care center several times and said that the offer would remain on the table for as long as I remained reluctant to the idea of sending Dad away.
“Mae’s doing incredibly well, I think.” I smile, proud that my sister is finally reaching her goal of living life to its fullest. “We don’t see each other much, as she’s using her free time to go outside, and I’m cleaning the garage, the office, and Mom’s closets. Later I’ll start painting and try to repair as much as I can.”
“You’re telling me that during your limited free time, you’re going and fixing all that shit? That’s it, I won’t let you out of my grasp then.” That irresistibly charming smile of his is contagious and I copy it like an idiot. “Tonight we’ll have dinner and I’ll take you with me. We’ll scout for new talent and you can help me with that thing that I usually do after I finish scouting—sex.”
Amusement sparkles in his eyes, and the laugh building inside my chest burst out loud. I’ve had to hunt him down and take him away before he makes a scene in a public place three different times now. I’ve picked him up from random bars five other times. All of them thanks to Matthew and Mason. Matthew receives a call from Jacob to let him know that he’s not having a good day. Mason locates him, and I make my entrance.
Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) Page 23