“Heard you got detention today,” Milo crossed his arms from where he was leaning on the railing across the porch, lowering his chin as he eyed Jackson. “And getting attendance violations? What’s going on?”
Jackson pulled out of Jon’s hug but kept one arm firmly around his big brother’s waist. Sniffling softly, pointed nose Rudolph red, eyes still shining, and lips still curled up into a smile at the unexpected reunion, Jackson met Milo’s eyes and shrugged.
Milo shrugged as well, mimicking him. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Nope.” Jackson pressed his lips together.
Jon wrapped an arm around Jackson’s shoulders and shook him softly. “Shouldn’t be skipping school, J. Quick road to hell, trust me.”
“But you skipped school all the time, and you did okay,” Jackson said.
“He got lucky.” Milo tightened his crossed arms. “The way most people never will. Not in their entire lifetimes.”
Jackson gave another half-hearted shrug while raising his eyebrows at Milo. Then he looked up at Jon, and the gentle smile was back on his lips in an instant.
Milo hesitantly opened his arms. “Can I get a hug too, or nah?”
Jackson hesitated, sighed, and then left Jon’s arms, crossing the porch to Milo and giving him a one-armed hug. Milo tried to wrap both his arms around him, but Jackson retreated quickly to make his way back to Jon, who had one arm held out to receive him. He took Jackson in a chokehold once he was close enough, then gave him a noogie, drawing a laugh from Jackson that lit up his entire face and showed his true youth.
“This is so nice,” Mary sighed, eyes gleaming with emotion, smiling gently at Jon and Jackson from the porch swing. “The whole family, back together again.”
“Don’t go getting all blubbery on us now,” Robert chided, cutting a hard look at Jackson as he climbed the steps of the porch and sidestepped him and Jon.
Mary slapped away the first tear that jetted from her eyes, drawing in a deep breath to get herself under control. “Should we go inside and eat? The turkey should be ready any minute.”
“Hold on,” Jon said. “I haven’t given Jackson his gift yet.”
“More over-the-top lavish jewelry?” Robert asked, coming up next to Milo and crossing his arms tight.
“Not quite.” Jon nodded toward the dirt road just as the sound of more than one growling engine became faintly audible in the distance. Right on time—as if they’d been waiting for their cue—two more motorcycles came rumbling in, kicking up dirt and dust as they zoomed toward the house at top speed. Viola found herself tempted to cover her ears as the snarl of the engines grew deafening. Coughing when globs of the dirt that the bikes had kicked up floated up to the porch and filled her lungs to the brim.
The two drivers parked their bikes next to Jon’s, ramming down the kickstands with their heels and killing the engines in time. There was a girl on the back of the first bike, her arms locked around the driver’s waist. One look at the blonde ponytail jetting from under helmet of the male driver on the second bike and Viola’s mouth dropped open.
Jackson’s did too.
They both said, “No,” at the same time, realizing what was happening long before anyone else. Then the driver of the first bike climbed off, removed his helmet, and confirmed their suspicions.
“Holy s—” Viola silenced herself when Betty shot her a look that begged her to finish that sentence.
Viola clapped her mouth shut and looked back toward the bikes.
With one look at the rider of the first bike’s olive skin, polished jet-black hair, and expressive hazel eyes, it took every ounce of will in Viola not to break out into a crazed scream. The distinctive tattoo on the side of his neck—a tattoo she knew served as one of dozens all over his body—confirmed that, yes, Adam fuckin’ Brand was standing less than a hundred feet away from her. His girlfriend, Shaun Green, climbed off the bike and removed her helmet next, releasing the forest of the giant Afro curls that Jon had referenced on the plane earlier that day. Both Adam and Shaun wore dark washed jeans with black leather jackets, the only difference in their appearance being the remarkable contrast of their skin tones.
Zac ‘Noodle’ Kernoodle climbed off his bike next and removed his helmet as well, releasing his signature blonde hair. Stick straight and inches from touching his butt, Noodle had the kind of luscious mane worthy of being whipped around in a shampoo commercial. The wind immediately picked up the runaway strands of his blonde ponytail the moment he removed his helmet, blowing them across his face and his exuberant blue eyes. She instinctively found herself searching desperately for a third motorcycle—for Yoshi Cho—but considering he’d recently surrendered his spot as the band’s drummer to start his own solo career, she wasn’t surprised to find him nowhere in sight. In less than a year, Yoshi had become one of the most successful breakout artists in American history and was currently in the midst of a world tour.
Still, Adam Brand and Zac Kernoodle were more than enough. In fact, Viola worried they might be too much for her poor heart to handle. The lead singer and bass player of The White Keys, breathing the same air as her. And the guitarist—who she’d just finished tonguing down hours earlier—within arms reach as well. It was a miracle she didn’t crumble into a heap on the wood slats at her feet.
Adam wrapped an arm around Shaun’s shoulders in the same way Jon had Jackson’s as they began making their way toward the porch. Noodle came up next to them and matched their strides, blinding smiles on all their faces.
“Hey, Ma!” Noodle shot Mary a thousand watt smile, throwing both of his tattooed arms into the air.
“Hey there, Noodle!” Giggling softly, Mary waved as she, Betty, and Beau stood from the swing. “Well, this is a wonderful surprise.”
“God forbid you sit down to dinner with your family alone, huh?” Robert mumbled.
“This is awesome!” Jackson jumped up and down pumping his fists in the air, completely oblivious to his father’s grumbles.
“Thought we’d all hit up Yoshi’s concert tonight,” Jon said.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Jackson roared, jumping up and down.
“Front row, backstage passes,” Jon added.
“Yes!”
“Merry Christmas, bro.”
Jackson composed himself. “Are Mom and Dad invited?”
“Nope.”
“Yeees!” Jackson’s head nearly hit the porch ceiling as he went airborne with joy once more.
“He’s not going anywhere.” Robert shook his head from where he still stood, arms crossed, next to Milo. “You really think I’m gonna allow him to be rewarded after skipping school and getting caught smoking in the bathrooms?”
Jackson stopped hopping, his face and shoulders collapsing just as Adam, Shaun, and Noodle came up on to the porch next to him and Jon. The somber expression on Jackson’s face wiped the smiles off all of theirs, and they instinctively followed his tear-filled gaze across the porch to Robert.
Like any person who suddenly found themselves under the unwavering attention of everyone in the vicinity, Robert shifted, eyes narrowing.
“Bobby, it’s his favorite singer,” Mary whispered, taking hold of his arm.
Robert snatched his arm away with a shake of his head. “Over my dead body, Mary. He’s grounded. He’s not going, and that’s final.”
“Dad,” Jackson begged, lips curling down as tears instantly began pouring down his reddened cheeks.
“Oh, Robby, it’s his Christmas gift,” Betty breathed, taking the next shot while clutching his arm as well. “How could Jon have known he’d be on restriction when he planned it? He couldn’t. It’s Christmas, hun…”
Robert’s chest heaved as he drew in each deep breath slowly, lighting fire to Jackson with his eyes. A long silence fell, and for a moment Viola was convinced that every bone in every body on the porch had come to a complete standstill. Every heart stopped beating. Every set of teeth clenched and every set of nails dug into ever
y palm.
Robert clenched his teeth. “The moment—the moment—you get back from that concert, you’re grounded for the rest of break. No phone, no laptop, no friends, no nothing. You’re lucky if I let you wipe your own rear end—”
Jackson raced across the porch at top speed and threw his body at his father before he could finish, hugging him with all his might as every soul on the porch release a collective sigh of relief.
“All right, enough.” Robert took Jackson’s arms and removed himself from the hug. “Let’s get inside for dinner. Come on.”
Despite Robert’s naked irritation, the tension had already been broken. Smiles bloomed on every face once more as Adam, Shaun, and Noodle made their way across the porch, greeting the entire family, one by one, as everyone slowly began filing back into the house. Viola held her breath as the artists she’d been following for her entire life made their way through each person, hugging, joking, and catching up. Some part of her was aware of Milo—who could surely see her on the verge of complete collapse—coming up next to her. He may have even spoken to her, but she hadn’t heard him. All six of her senses had gone on hiatus knowing that, at any moment, Adam fuckin’ Brand would finally make it to her, shake her hand, and introduce himself. At any moment, she’d be touching Adam Brand. She wanted to pinch herself, convinced there was still a chance she could wake up from this dream.
The moment she looked up and locked eyes with Jon, however, half the family having already made their way back inside the house, she was reminded that this wasn’t a dream at all. Or perhaps, it had once been a dream but had quickly spiraled into a nightmare. It was a man she wanted with every fiber of her being that she could now never have. It was a lie her best friend was forcing her to tell that was going to cost her what could’ve been the most amazing relationship of her life, with the most amazing man.
The scowl on Jon’s face was the farthest thing from amazing, however, as he and Adam approached her. It was so poisonous, in fact, that she couldn’t even appreciate that Adam Brand—a man she’d only been acquainted with from the speakers of her headphones, the nosebleed sections in concert arenas, and the TV screen in her living room—was now within arm’s length of her. She couldn’t appreciate the playfulness in his hazel eyes as they dashed back and forth between her and Milo curiously, as if waiting for an introduction.
“This is Viola,” Jon deadpanned, motioning to her.
Adam’s mouth popped open, meeting Jon’s eyes while pointing at Viola. “Oh, shit, so this is the girl—”
“Nope.”
“The one from the plane—”
“Nope.”
“But you told us she—”
“Nope, nope, nope.”
Viola raised her eyebrows every time Jon shut his best friend down, nearly screaming when Jon refused to allow Adam to finish his sentences. They’d only been off the plane for a few hours, and Jon had already told Adam all about her? What had he said? Good things or bad things? The tone of Adam’s voice told her that it’d probably been good.
Instead of warming her up, however, that fact only made her feel ice cold. Like she’d been dropped into the middle of an iceberg floating on a frozen sea with no shoes or socks. Like the arctic chill was seconds from swallowing her up and hardening her from the inside out, drawing every drop of lifeblood from her heart, each beat coming slower than the last. More numb from the chill every second until it finally churned to a stop in mid-beat. The cold was almost too much to bear. Because, if Jon had already told his best friend about her—and apparently all good things—it’d meant he’d liked her.
He’d really liked her.
It was a realization painful enough to make her long for her last breath. Even the prospect of death seemed like a sweet release compared to the torture burning her up right then.
Shaun yanked Adam’s arm, tugging him toward the house while whispering, “Read the room, baby.”
The last thing Viola needed Adam to do was read the room, however. She already knew how the story would end, after all.
It would end with the same crimson letter ‘A’ that’d been branded on the adulteress in ‘The Scarlet Letter’, emblazoned across her chest for the entire world to see. An A she herself knew was counterfeit but surely looked incredibly authentic to Jon. An A that would ensure he looked upon her with nothing but disdain. Like a woman he could never be with.
A woman he could never love.
It was a story that would end in tragedy before the first chapter even came to a close.
Six
So wrapped up in what a disaster her life had managed to spiral into in such a short period of time, the next hour blazed by in a haze for Viola. She couldn’t even remember re-entering the house, sitting down to dinner, or making herself a plate. Yet, somehow, there she was, with Milo on her left, Adam fuckin’ Brand on her right, and Jon Baca straight ahead. A full plate of untouched food had somehow found its way onto her plate, as well as an un-sipped glass of red wine. She couldn’t eat or drink. There was too much going on in that room, and in her head, for her to enjoy it. As she went in and out of the blinding haze encasing her, she noticed there seemed to be an argument underway at the table, one she could hardly contribute to considering the rapidly declining state of her sanity.
“I just wish you boys weren’t so attached to those bikes,” Mary said, her eyebrows pinched. “They’re so dangerous. Do you know that Jon’s been in three separate accidents on that godforsaken thing, and still won’t stop? I just can’t understand it. He’s going to get himself killed.”
“Maybe then I’ll finally get some sleep,” Jon grumbled.
“I don’t like that. That’s not funny.”
“Lighten up, Mom.” Jackson chuckled.
“I will not lighten up. I’m supposed to be light at the thought of my first-born crashing and burning on that miserable bike? I can’t think of anything darker.”
“How about this conversation?” Adam jumped in. “Seems pretty dark.”
Noodle pointed his fork at Adam from the seat next to him, nodding softly.
“Not dark,” Mary said. “Realistic.”
“Is there a difference?” Jon asked. “Life is dark too.”
“Only if you allow it to be,” Robert jumped in from the head of the table, directly across from Mary.
“Because it’s so easy to make the choice?” Jon asked, his silver utensils joining in with all the others in the room, clattering against his plate as he sawed at his steak.
“Happiness is a choice,” Robert added.
“I actually agree with that,” Adam said. “Happiness is a choice. And a damn hard one at that. It’s a lot easier to choose misery than happiness.”
“Of all people, I’d think you’d understand that.” Robert nodded to Jon. “You sure as hell never hesitated to choose what made you happy over everything and anything—to hell with all the rest—and it’s rubbing off on your brother too.” He jammed his fork toward Jackson, who was in the seat next to Jon.
Officially yanked from her haze of self-pity, Viola’s wide eyes shifted to her fellow outsiders—Adam, Noodle, and Shaun—who appeared to have grown just as uncomfortable with the sudden turn this conversation was taking as she had. Then she looked at Jon and found his blue orbs were lowered, locked onto his plate, jaw tight as he smirked and shook his head softly. It seemed as if a million words begged for release from his lips, but he sealed them together in an attempt to stop them from spilling out.
He failed. “You really think that was me—choosing happiness, Dad? That was me spiraling. And I always tell Jackson to follow Milo instead of me. I always tell him that.”
“I don’t wanna be like Milo. I wanna move to LA and live with you.” Jackson spoke to Jon hopefully. “I wanna major in music at UCLA.”
Jon shot Jackson a look as if he couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate moment to jump in with his heart’s deepest desire. “You need to focus on graduating high school. Getting a scholarship lik
e Milo.”
“And just so we’re clear, poor attendance, C grades, and after-school detention do not a scholarship make,” Milo said, raising his eyebrows. “Hard work, study, and dedication do.”
“That’s boring,” Jackson grumbled.
“No, that’s life.” Robert abandoned his food to focus all his energy on glaring at Jackson.
“Jon didn’t even graduate high school.” Jackson’s voice hitched. “And he’s a millionaire!”
“We talked about this outside,” Milo said. “Jon got lucky.”
“Yo, Jon didn’t get lucky,” Adam jumped in, unable to bite his tongue, even as an outsider. “He didn’t just wake up one day, shredding. He didn’t wake up one day the greatest player alive. That wasn’t an accident. He worked for that. He worked his fuckin’ ass—” His voice broke when Betty cut him a look. “His… friggin’ tail off for that. Every single day.”
Noodle nodded, eyebrows raised high.
“And if I work hard, I could be great one day too,” Jackson said.
“That’s right, bro.” Jon squeezed his shoulder.
“Don’t encourage this.” Robert shook his head. “That’s why he’s in the position he’s in now. Because you drop in every once in a while, sell him a dream and then disappear all over again. Leaving your mother and I to pick up the scraps. Forcing us to be the bad guys.”
“I won’t tell him not to dream. I won’t tell him hard work is the wrong answer.”
“You’re telling him your path was the right path, even if indirectly, and it isn’t.”
“I’m not telling him to walk my path. I’m telling him to walk his own.”
“Sounds a lot like the path that left Dad 10k in the hole,” Milo grumbled. “Maybe more this time, if Jackson decides to really follow your example.”
Jon shot Milo an open-mouthed look.
So did Viola, stunned. Her eyes searched Milo’s profile, noting the way his jaw was rolling like a pin as he watched Jon over the table.
“Honestly, baby, Los Angeles might be out of the question anyway,” Mary said, attempting to keep her voice even as she spoke to Jackson. “Your father and I have already told you we’ll have an easier time paying for your schooling if you stay in Utah. All you need is a B average to qualify for that in-state scholarship program—”
Refrain (Stereo Hearts Book 3) Page 8