“What—”
She leans across the table to fix me with her glare. “He doesn’t live with me, Cash, did you know that?”
I shake my head, overwhelmed by the passion in her voice.
“He lives with his grandparents because I couldn’t fucking handle my own kid. Okay?”
I feel a little stunned by this admission, by the overwhelmingly hostile tone in her voice. It takes me a second to figure it out—disdain. For herself. “Sam.”
“Giving him up is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made—and I have a lot to choose from.” She’s breathing heavily, her face flushed. I think I see the beginning of tears glisten in her eyes. “My entire life is about trying to fix that mistake. Trying to get my shit together so that someday I might have a chance of getting him back—not just for little ice cream dates or occasional afternoon soccer games.”
“I think that’s great.”
“No, you don’t get it. Saturday was a mistake. Saturday should have never happened. Because Saturday complicated things. Saturday took my focus off of that kid in there.” She angrily wipes her eyes. “And I can’t afford to lose that focus. Not now. Not ever.”
I’m stunned into silence. I’ve never heard anyone sound so broken and fierce at the same time. Her single-minded determination to get Wyatt back shines through each word she speaks.
“Why do you think I would make you lose focus?”
She leans back in her chair, laughing that awful laugh again. “Give me a break, Cash. Spending time with a guy like you is hardly a priority right now.”
Her words feel like a slap and something seems to come alive inside me, some desire to defend myself, for once.
“A guy like me?”
She looks a little abashed. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, maybe that’s not all that I am.”
She snaps her mouth closed, watching me. Finally she shakes her head, looking sad. “Maybe not. But I can’t afford to stick around and find out.”
***
Our next writing session is terrible. Everyone seems distracted or tired or some combination of both. I’m pretty sure that I’m the worst one. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Sam since the ill-fated ice cream trip. I haven’t felt this knotted up over a girl in…well, I don’t think ever. I’m filled with the strangest desire to prove her wrong about me, to show her that spending time with me wouldn’t ruin her life. On the other hand, everything she said scared the shit out of me. Her determination, her passion—have I ever felt that way about anything?
I look around at my brothers, each face mired in concentration as they tackle the latest song. We worked our asses off to get here, spent countless hours when our friends were out partying in the garage practicing. All I ever wanted was to make Ransom successful.
But had I ever felt the way Sam felt? Sure, I wanted it. I wanted to make albums and go on tour and be a rock star. I wanted the fame and the girls and the flashy lifestyle. But did it matter to me the way her goal mattered to her? Did anything matter to me that much?
I had a sick feeling that the answer was no.
“Damn it, Cash, that’s your cue,” Reed called from his drum set. “That’s the second time you missed it.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“What is up with you this week?” Daltrey asks, removing his fingers from the piano keys and cracking his knuckles. “You’ve been distracted and moody.”
“I have not been moody, Daltrey. I’m not a five-year-old.”
My youngest brother raises a pierced eyebrow at me. “Fine. You’ve been…irritated. Ready to bite someone’s head off at the smallest provocation. And your attention span isn’t worth shit.”
I sigh, drumming my fingers on the edge of my guitar. There’s no way I’m getting into this with all of them. If I were to even hint that I was worked up over a chick, they would lose their minds. I could picture it—first they’d be shocked, then incredulous. And it wouldn’t be long at all before they started to see my situation as a gift of sorts. A chance to get me back for all of the good-natured teasing I had done when they got caught up in women problems.
Okay, so they might not agree that it had always been good-natured. In fact, I was pretty sure they would say I was a straight up asshole.
They were going to be ruthless. And I probably deserved it.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’m just…working through some stuff. In my head.”
Daltrey shoots me an exasperated look. “Well, could you maybe not work through it while we’re all sitting here trying to get this song right?”
“No, Daltrey,” a voice echoes through the room as if coming to us from the very heavens. I don’t bother to hide my expression of dismay. Blake has decided to grace us with his presence.
Sure enough a light flicks on in the booth, which up until now we had believed to be empty. Blake had set us the task of working out the refrain issues in Daltrey’s as yet unnamed song, saying we needed some “space to stretch ourselves” before leaving to practice his sunset yoga. Apparently, he was finished with the yoga.
“It is good that Cash is working through these things. We can’t ask him to separate whatever brings him turmoil in his mind from his song writing. These things are essentially linked.”
I close my eyes, counting to ten so that I don’t say something uncalled for. I really don’t know if I can handle Blake’s hippie bullshit right now. I’m too close to the edge.
“But we have work to do,” Daltrey mutters.
“Yes, and that work must include self-introspection. This is why you’re here. This is what you couldn’t accomplish in the business of your everyday life. Why don’t you all break for the evening? My chef is preparing a meal for you all which you are welcome to enjoy outside at the fire pit.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief. Getting out of this room is probably the best thing for all of us. If we could manage to avoid Blake during dinner, I’d consider the whole afternoon a win.
Twenty minutes later I’m digging into a steak and cheese sandwich, a beer at my side, the flickering flames of the fire pit dancing in front of my eyes as the twilight turns gradually to darkness. Unlike last time, when Blake had tried to make me a vegan during our time here, he now seems inclined to try and power us up—we’re all eating a steady diet of protein and hearty sandwiches. Sure, everything is organic and locally sourced, but I couldn’t care less about any of that. In fact, the food is even better than I’m used to. Maybe there’s something to the organic, local fad after all.
On the other side of the fire pit, I see Daisy toss her head back in laughter. Daltrey’s eyes never leave her face, his grin somewhat awed, as if he can’t believe, even after all this time, that he’s with someone like her. You’re not the only one, I think to myself, smirking. Personally, I believe Daisy could do much better than my snot nosed little brother, but so long as she’s happy, I’m happy.
And she definitely seems happy. They both do. As much as I might tease them about their lame, domesticated lifestyle, they both seem pretty at peace with it.
An accomplishment I cannot claim for myself at the moment.
“Another beer?” Lennon asks, handing me a cold bottle.
“Thanks.”
He sits down next to me, digging into his own sandwich. With his mouth full he mutters something I take to mean as approval and I nod in agreement.
“So what happened yesterday?” he asks after he swallowed his food. “You were gone for a few hours so I’m going to assume you didn’t take my advice and went through with your terrible plan.”
I look around to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Your advice was shitty. I went and saw her and I managed to figure out exactly why she seemed to lose interest in me so quickly.”
“It wasn’t just because, you know, she lost interest?”
“Women don’t just lose interest in me, Len, God. You’d think you’d have figured that out by now.” My joke doesn�
��t earn me even a smile from the little bastard. “Anyhow, there’s a very good reason she went so cold on me. Get this—she has a kid.”
He sits back, looking stunned. “A kid? She didn’t say anything about a kid at the bar. Neither did her cousin.”
I nod. “I know. There’s something fucked up about the situation. He doesn’t live with her and she seems pretty obsessed with getting her life on the right track so she can get him back.”
“And she realized that hanging out with the rock star with the terrible reputation wasn’t going to help her in that area?”
“Something like that.”
Lennon leaned back in his chair. “Well, at least now you know. You can back off with your ego still intact.”
“Who said anything about backing off?”
He shot me a look filled with something akin to horror. “You are not seriously considering pursuing this.”
“Why not? She’s a really cool girl, Lennon.” I shoot another look at my other brothers, who were both talking to Daisy on the other side of the fire. “You know it’s not very often that I hang out with a chick that makes me want to stick around for more. Sam does that—why shouldn’t I pursue it?”
“Um, because she isn’t interested?” He shakes his head, as if I was the densest asshole on the planet. “And because she clearly wants to focus on her kid. A kid, Cash. You don’t mess around with that.”
“The kid is really cool, actually. I met him, too. And he was totally into the rock star thing. He was hanging on my every word and—” I stop talking abruptly when I realize that Lennon is violently shaking his head.
“No. No way, dude. You don’t get involved with the kid. Are you insane?”
“What? The little dude doesn’t have a cool male influence in his life. That’s not fair, man. Whose going to teach him the difference between good rock and crap pop?”
“Not you. Because you don’t live here, Cash.”
That shuts me up. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. And why did I need to? My brothers were all the same—everything had to be such a big deal. They would sit around and dither about the consequences and the long-term effects until I wanted to punch something. Why couldn’t a month or two be enough? Why did everything have to be forever?
“That doesn’t mean I can’t hang out with them while I am here.”
He’s shaking his head again. “This is bad, man. It’s really bad. I don’t think you want to do this.”
I cross my arms, glaring at him. “Well then it’s a good thing you aren’t the one making decisions about my life.”
“Yeah, and you aren’t the one making decisions about her life. She said she wanted you to back off, right?” Reluctant, I nod once. “Then you need to back off.”
“I’m not going to, like, stalk her or something. God. I’m just thinking that if I happen to see her around, why not ask her to hang out?”
Lennon is quiet for a long moment, staring at me. Finally he clears his throat. “At the risk of being redundant—I think you need to ask yourself why you’re doing this.”
“I just told you. I don’t usually meet girls that stick in my mind so much. I don’t want to just walk away after one night.”
“I think it’s more than that, brother.”
“Here we go.” I lean back in my chair, crossing one ankle over my knee, and wave my hands in front of me as if welcoming him. “Dr. Lennon is here to explain the deep physiological meaning behind me wanting to hang out with a chill girl with a hot body.”
He doesn’t respond to my theatrics. He merely looks straight at me and when he speaks his voice is low and serious. “I think you’ve been feeling bored and uninspired for months. Maybe years. I think the longer this whole fame thing goes on the more unfocused and useless you feel. I think that’s why you’ve been getting into so much trouble lately. And I think that’s the reason you can’t let this girl go. She’s real—real in a way you haven’t felt in ages. And you think if you can spend time with her and spend time with her kid, you might start to feel real, too.”
I gape at him, completely blown over by his assessment. I don’t know if I want to laugh at his ridiculousness or punch him in the mouth. Before I can do either, he stands and looks down at me. “I think this is a really bad idea, big brother.”
And then he turns and walks into the house, leaving me sitting alone next to the fire, wondering if I just heard the biggest load of BS ever—or if he’s somehow managed to figure out exactly how I feel when I had absolutely no idea.
Chapter Ten
Sam
Econ can go and shove a rusty poker up it’s ass, I think to myself as I rub my tired eyes. I return my attention to the page, re-reading the same line for the third time. It’s just not sinking in. I try to reason with whatever area of my brain is responsible for econ retention. The test is tomorrow. Just remember it until tomorrow and then you can go back to thinking about the Kardashians or whatever worthless information is usually your responsibility. But the sentence remains nonsensical no matter how many times I try to read it.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re sexy when you concentrate?”
My head snaps up in surprise, which quickly gives way to major annoyance when I see who it is. “What are you doing here?”
Cash plops down in the nearest chair, apparently not noticing that he is neither invited nor welcome. “What? A visiting tourist can’t check out the town library?”
“So, this is a coincidence? You being here?”
He grins that cocky, rock star grin that I’m ashamed to say still does things to me. “I may have seen your car in the parking lot.” He holds up both hands as if in defense. “But I did want to pick up a book. It’s not all about you, you know.”
It takes a lot of self-control not to smile back at his little joke. It’s so appealing, the way he smiles and winks and ducks his head, meeting your eyes, like he’s determined to connect to whoever he’s talking to. That’s called chemistry, I remind myself. And it’s the reason he’s famous. But it’s no reason to let him come in and screw up my life.
“So, what are you studying?”
“Cash.”
“What? I can’t be curious?” He leans over my shoulder, entirely too close, and I can’t stop the shivers that run down my skin at the near contact. I remember the way my body had reacted in a similar fashion that night we shared together—the way every touch felt like sparks dancing on my skin. Immediately I’m blushing and I just know that he notices.
“Economics, eh? Sounds pretty soul crushing.”
“It’s pretty much the worst.” I scoot my chair away from his by a fraction of an inch and he smirks, knowing he’s getting to me. “You know what else is the worst? Having to repeat myself over and over again.”
“You don’t want me around.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm. He only smirks harder and I wonder if it’s possible to offend this guy.
“Look, I get what you were saying at the ice cream place the other day. You have priorities and they don’t include me. I get it—Wyatt is an awesome kid.”
“Yes. He is.”
“And you clearly have this whole school thing going on.” He waves his hands over my books. “Because you want to be an…economist?”
I let out a snort of laughter before I can stop myself. “No. Just because I’m taking an economics class does not mean that I want to be an economist. It’s a requirement for my major.”
“Which is?”
“Business with a minor in administration.”
He makes a face. “God. I know I’m supposed to be trying to win you over here, but that sounds awful.”
This time I let myself laugh. “It’s actually even worse—a double major, business and family studies.”
I don’t know why I enjoy the impressed look on his face, but I do. “You must be pretty smart.” His features cloud over a little in confusion. “What do business and family st
udies have to do with each other?”
“Family studies is mostly for the background. I want to work for a charity. Or an aid organization. A non-profit. Something like that.”
He leans back in his chair, his gaze searching my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but the scrutiny is starting to make me feel uncomfortable. “That’s cool,” he finally says. “Really cool.”
I tear my eyes away from him, trying to remember all the reasons I don’t want him here. For some reason it’s harder to keep my resolve when he’s looking at me like that. “So, as you can see, I wasn’t lying about being busy. I’m in my last year of school and I’m working my ass off to get this internship next semester. And to do that, I need to ace these classes and come up with a kick ass final project.” I give him a rueful smile, thinking maybe he’ll respond better to civility. “So I really don’t have time to entertain you while you’re in town. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I’m not looking to be entertained. I just want to hang out with you.”
“Why?” It’s the question I’ve been asking myself ever since he showed up at the park the other day. Why does he care? Is it just his ego, because I rejected him? Or is it a simple matter of realizing that the sex between us was pretty damn amazing and worth trying for seconds?
To my surprise, he doesn’t give me a glib, charming answer. Instead, he starts to fiddle with the edge of my econ textbook. “I’ve been asking myself that all week, to be honest. And I don’t really know, Sam.” He meets my eyes and his are as serious as I’ve seen them, all winking, smirking charm gone for once. “I just know that I liked hanging out with you. So much so that it’s hard for me to imagine just walking away and never seeing you again.” His words seem to take the breath from my chest and I have no idea how to respond. “I’m not saying we have to, like, have a relationship. I’m not looking for a hookup. I just…I want to hang out with you.” He shakes his head, looking suddenly annoyed. “This doesn’t happen to me very often, to be honest. There haven’t been all that many girls that I’ve felt like seeing again.” He meets my eyes and I know that the annoyance I noted a moment ago is with himself. “I know exactly how much of an asshole that makes me, by the way. But I figure…I don’t know. If something in me is saying that I’m not ready to walk away from you, I figure I better listen to it.”
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