The Ransome Brothers

by Rachel Schurig

  “It was stolen,” Cash slurs, his eyes still on the bar.

  “He’s lucky I didn’t call the cops,” the guy says, cracking his knuckles in a menacing sort of way. “I was about to, but he assured me he could get someone in here to take care of it.”

  “I’ve got it,” I say, pulling out my wallet. “Sorry about this.”

  “He’s the one who should be sorry,” the man growls.

  Cash lets out a little sound like a moan, resting his forehead on the counter. “Sorry. You have no idea how sorry my stupid life is.”

  I pull a stack of bills from my wallet. “How much for the damages and the bar tab?”

  “Two grand.”

  “For a couple tables?” Cash asks, lifting his head. That’s when I see the bruise blossoming below his eye, the dried blood surrounding what looks like a split lip.

  “Jesus, Cash,” I mutter, handing the man my credit card. “Can you put it on that?”

  The man grunts, turning away to the register.

  “Told you I screwed up,” Cash mutters, resting his head on the counter again. I stare down at his disheveled hair, seeing that the collar of his shirt is grimy and discolored. There was a time where this kind of behavior wouldn’t have been all that surprising from my second oldest. But he really got his act together in the last year or so, ever since he started dating Sam. I feel a pang—if the girl broke up with him, Cash is going to be a mess.

  “Went through,” the man says, handing the card back. “You keep that punk out of my bar.”

  “Like I wanna come back here,” Cash sneers. “Jesus, get some decent whiskey.”

  The man looks like he’s about hit his limit where Cash is concerned, so I heave him up by his shoulders. “Come on, Son. Let’s get you home.”

  “No,” he moans, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Can’t go back there. Don’t take me there, Dad.”

  “Fine.” I get my shoulder under Cash’s arm so he can lean on me as we make our way out to the Jeep. “We’ll go to my place.”

  “Thanks,” he grumbles.

  I manage to get him into the car, where Cash slumps into his seat, unwilling or unable to even fasten his own seatbelt. I do it for him, catching a whiff of sweat and booze as I lean close. “How long have you been out drinking?” I mutter as I pull back.

  Cash shrugs. “All day, I guess.” Then he lets out a loud snore and I roll my eyes.

  This is just great, I think to myself as I climb into the driver’s side. The first time one of my kids willingly calls me in months and it’s Cash, drunk off his ass and needing a ride. I sigh, too worried to really be annoyed. I don’t imagine it’s a good sign that Cash doesn’t want to go home. According to Levi, Sam isn’t living there with him full time, but maybe she’s there tonight and they’re fighting. He wouldn’t be so set against going to any empty house, would he?

  I’ve spent a lot of time over the years worrying about Cash. He’s so hotheaded, always the first one to jump into a fight, a bender, a hook-up. To say he has poor impulse control is the understatement of the year. In fact, he’s a lot like I was, before Rebecca came along and changed everything. So it makes me laugh, in a bittersweet sort of way, that it’s a woman who’d inspired Cash to get it together, too. Sam is a serious girl, smart and driven. Someone’s mother. Cash had to change to be in her life. And I wasn’t actually all that surprised when he managed to do it. A hothead my son might be, but he’s also fiercely loyal, hardworking, and stubborn as hell.

  So what happened to send him spiraling back to this?

  “Cash,” I say, shoving his shoulder. “We’re here.”

  “Wherezere?” Cash slurs, not opening his eyes.

  I look up at the dark facade of my condo. There’s a single light on in the kitchen. Ruby must have left it on for me. I’d almost forgotten she was here. I push down a little stab of unease. My instinct is to protect Cash at any cost, to shield him from questions and curious eyes. It’s an instinct born of the last several years of trying to guide my sons through the craziness of a professional music career. But I don’t much like the feeling that my guardedness extends to Ruby as well. The thought of her seeing Cash like this doesn’t sit right with me. I wish, for the first time since we’d started hanging out, that I hadn’t asked her to stay tonight.

  “Come on,” I say, shoving Cash again until his eyes finally flutter open. “Let’s get you inside.”

  To my surprise, Cash follows me from the car without too much trouble. Any aggression from his bar fight seems to have dissipated, leaving behind sheer exhaustion.

  Once inside, I try to be quiet as I bring Cash into the spare room. “Stay here,” I say. “Don’t lie down, yet, Cash. You need some water.”

  Cash nods, rubbing at his eyes, and I hurry out to the kitchen to fill a glass and grab some ibuprofen. Of course Cash is laying flat on his back when I come back. “Sit up, Cash,” I say, pulling on his shoulder. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow if you don’t get some water in you.” From the looks of things, Cash is going to be hurting either way but the hydration certainly won’t hurt. I get Cash to take the pills and drink most of the water before he pushes me away, sinking back onto the bed. I pull his shoes off before hauling his legs up onto the mattress.

  “What’s going on in that head, Cash?” I ask softly, looking down at him. Cash responds with another loud snore. I pull the comforter from the other side of the bed, wrapping it over him.

  “Thanks, Pops,” Cash mutters, eyes still closed.

  I feel a strange squeezing sensation in my chest as I look down at my son, asleep in the spare bed. It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve had one of my kids in this condo. The first time I’ve had one of them at any of my properties in close to a year. I swallow past a lump in my throat as I turn out the light. “You’re welcome, Cash.”

  * * *

  I wake up the next day to an empty bed. Ruby’s pillow is still warm, so I figure she can’t have gone far. Then I hear sounds coming from the kitchen and I freeze—I had forgot that Cash is here.

  I pull a pair of sweat pants over my boxers and go out to the kitchen, nervous about what I might see. But the door to the spare room is still shut and Ruby’s alone in the kitchen, making coffee.

  I lean against the counter, watching her. She moves around the kitchen like she’s comfortable here, her motions fluid, almost bouncy. Like she would be dancing if music were playing. I grin, watching her. How does she look so beautiful this early? And how in the hell does she have this much energy before coffee?

  “Hey,” I say, when she finally turns in my direction. She jumps and puts a hand over her chest. I startled her.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Mr. Dangerous, remember? I’m good at sneaking.”

  She rolls her eyes, handing me a cup of coffee. Her eyes flit to the closed guest room door. “Everything go okay last night?”

  I run my hands through my hair. “Yeah. Guess he had too much to drink.”

  Her eyebrows go up. “And he called you? That seems like a good sign.”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure he was with it enough to even realize that he had called me.”

  She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “I bet he did.” She pulls back, her eyes searching my face, like maybe she’s waiting for me to say something else. When I don’t, she sighs a little. “I’m gonna hit the shower. I have a delivery coming this morning so I have to head in early.”

  I don’t really like the sound of that. We’re usually lazy in the mornings, since Ruby tends to work so late. The idea of her taking off before breakfast feels wrong, somehow.

  On the other hand, Cash is here. And it’s probably for the best that she not be here when he wakes up. “Want me to make something to eat while you’re getting ready?” I ask.

  She laughs. “You? Make me breakfast? Thanks, I’d rather not get food poisoning today.”

  “Hey.” I grab her around the waist, pulling her close, an
d she squeals a little. “I can handle toast.”

  She kisses my cheek again. “Toast sounds great.”

  I watch her as she heads back to the bedroom, the sway in her hips letting me know she knows she has my attention. I laugh to myself, pouring cream in my coffee.

  “Uh…Hey.”

  My gaze snaps up to see Cash standing in the doorway to the spare room. I feel a momentary surge of panic that he’d seen Ruby and try to tell myself that I’m being stupid. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Except that I never, not once, brought a woman home after Rebecca left. I never had any intention of letting my sex life, pathetic though it might have been, in any way impact the boys. That made sense when they were kids, I remind myself. Everyone’s grown up now.

  Cash clears his throat and thoughts of Ruby flee from my mind as I take him in. He looks like hell, his eyes red, two days worth of stubble on his face, clothes wrinkled. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze bouncing around the small space, avoiding looking at me.

  “You probably want some coffee,” I say, pushing my already filled mug across the counter.

  Cash sighs in what sounds like relief. “Coffee would be great. I feel terrible.”

  “I would think so.” I pause as Cash takes a gulp of the scalding liquid before coughing. “You had quite a bit to drink last night.”

  “Yeah.” Cash rubs his hands roughly over his face. “I don’t remember a whole lot of that, to be honest.”

  “Do you remember calling me?”

  Cash still won’t meet my eyes but he nods.

  “I’m glad you did,” I say, my voice gruff. I clear it. “I’m glad you didn’t try to drive.”

  Cash makes a face. “I wouldn’t do that. Not…not anymore.”

  He seems to deflate in front of me, his face crumpling as his shoulders sink. “Why don’t you sit down,” I say. “You look dead on your feet.”

  Cash collapses into one of the bar stools, cradling his head in his hands. I grab the bottle of ibuprofen I left out last night and pour Cash a glass of water to go with his coffee. “Here.”

  “Thanks,” he says, his voice raspy.

  I watch him for a minute, not sure how to get him talking. “You want to tell me why you were out getting trashed by yourself last night?”

  Cash shrugs. “Just felt like it, I guess.”

  “I was surprised you called me.” I clear my throat again. Why in the hell does this have to feel so hard? “I would have thought you’d have one of your brothers with you.”

  Cash finally looks up, his eyes hard. “Yeah. ’Cause that’s just what I needed. Reed or Lennon and all of their judgmental crap.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you guys having…is something going on, Cash?” I don’t want to hear that they’re fighting. It would just be something else for me to feel guilty about. Through this entire mess, the one good thing I had to hang onto was the idea that my boys were together, that they were counting on each other even when they couldn’t count on me.

  “No. I don’t know.” He rubs his hands over his eyes again. “They’re fine. I just…I didn’t want them to see me like that.”

  “And that’s why you called me.”

  Cash winces. “That was probably pretty shitty of me, huh? To treat you like garbage all this time then call you out of nowhere to bail me out when I fucked up.”

  “You haven’t been treating me like garbage—”

  “Dad. Come on. Of course I have.”

  I sigh, leaning into the counter. “You boys are upset. I made mistakes, Cash. I get that.”

  Cash takes a long drink of his coffee, eyes darting around the room again. “So. This is where you live now.”

  “Uh, yeah. It is.” I try to see the room through Cash’s eyes. The bare walls, the sparse furniture. I remember that first night I brought Ruby here, after we ate nachos at that sports bar. She’d taken one look around and said that it didn’t really look like a place where someone lived. Temporary, she had said. And then she threatened to bring me some Florida-themed decorations to liven it up. I find myself smiling. Then I realize Cash is watching me, a curious expression on his face, and I arrange my mouth in a neutral line.

  “You’re on the beach, I hear?”

  “Yeah,” Cash says. “It’s kind of extravagant, but I thought Sam and Wyatt would like it. When they come down.”

  “And…uh…how are they?” I clutch my hands into fists. I hate that this feels so awkward. Why am I so bad at this, at talking to my own kid?

  Cash lets out a long breath. “They’re okay. Back in Seattle now.”

  “You told me you didn’t want to go back to your house last night.”

  Cash’s head snaps up. “I did?”

  I nod.

  “I guess…I guess I just felt bad. And I didn’t want to feel bad there.” He scrunches up his face, like he’s trying to remember. “I didn’t want to be like…. like that. Drunk and stupid. Not in that place. Not where Sam and Wyatt stay.”

  Before I can try to figure out what in the hell that means, I hear a little surprised squeak behind me. Shit. Ruby. As I turn in her direction, I can see the surprise on Cash’s face from the corner of my eye.

  “Sorry,” she says, frozen in the doorway. She’s dressed in her usual uniform of tight jeans and tank top, hair still wet from her shower. “I didn’t realize he was awake.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “That’s okay. Um. Ruby. This is my son, Cash. Cash, this is my friend Ruby.” Jesus. If I thought I’d felt awkward before it was nothing compared to this.

  “Uh, hey,” Cash says, the shock evident in his voice. “It’s nice to meet you.” He stands up, running his hands through his hair like he’s trying to straighten the mess before he holds out his hand to her.

  She takes it, wincing a little as she looks into his face.

  “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m feeling a little rough this morning.”

  She laughs, the familiar musical tone hitting me right in the stomach. “Honey, I own a bar. I’ve seen much worse.”

  The corner of Cash’s mouth tugs up a little. “You own a bar, huh?”

  “I do. And speaking of that,” she turns to me. “I really do need to get in for that delivery.”

  I make a face at her. “I didn’t quite get to the toast.”

  She laughs, reaching up on her toes to kiss my cheek. I’m pretty sure Cash’s eyes are about to pop out of his head. “That’s okay,” she says, that familiar laughter under her voice. “You probably would have burned it.”

  I’m not sure what to feel. Part of me is uncomfortable with the contact between us, not wanting Cash to witness it. But my hands come up to her hips anyway, seemingly of their own accord, and I find myself leaning down to kiss her goodbye. Like it’s automatic. A habit. Funny how quickly that seems to have happened.

  Ruby pulls back, rubbing her hands lightly across my chest, smoothing my t-shirt. “Call me later?”

  “Sure.”

  She releases me, turning to smile at Cash, who hasn’t bothered to wipe the shocked look off his face. “It was nice to meet you, Cash.”

  “Yeah. Uh. You too.”

  “Drink that water,” she directs, pointing at the still-full glass. “And get some grease and carbs in you. Trust me. I know hangovers.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  She gives me a last wave and then disappears to the hallway. I watch her go, not really wanting to turn back to my son.

  When I hear the sound of the front door click, Cash releases a breath behind him. “Holy shit, Dad.” I turn to see him watching me with wide eyes. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  I run a hand through my hair, more than uncomfortable now. “It’s new,” I say. “I don’t really…it’s not really anything yet.”

  Cash is still staring at me. “Wow.”

  “What?” I snap, and his eyes widen further.

  “Nothing,” he says quickly. “I just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a woman before.”
>
  “I have four kids, Cash,” I mutter. “You make it sound like I’m a monk.”

  “No. I didn’t mean…it’s just weird. She spent the night.” Cash shakes his head, like the concept is completely foreign to him. “Does she do that a lot?”

  “All right, that’s enough of this conversation,” I say, marching over to pour my own cup of coffee. “We were talking about your little bender yesterday.”

  Cash is still watching me like he doesn’t quite recognize me.

  “Cash?” I press. “You said you didn’t want to feel bad at your house. What does that mean? Did something happen with Sam?”

  His shoulders hunch as he sinks back down on the stool, the curiosity sliding from his face to be replaced with a grimace. “Everything is fine,” he mumbles. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “She’s pregnant,” he breathes, ducking his chin down to his chest. “Sam is having a baby.”

  I stare at him, completely at a loss for words. After a long moment, Cash looks up. “She’s having our baby.”

  “Shit,” I murmur, and Cash lets out a bitter laugh.

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “And are you…how do you feel about this?”

  Cash’s eyes flash. “How do you think I feel?”

  “I don’t know, Son. I know that you’ve been happy with Sam. I know that she’s really good for you. I was under the impression that you love her. So I would think you’d be excited about this. But from your drinking yesterday I’m going to assume that’s not the case.”

  Cash lets his head hang again. “Of course I love her. I’m all in with her, Dad.”

  “I figured as much.”

  He looks back up, eyebrows lowered like he’s skeptical. “You did?”

  “Of course I did. It’s obvious.”

  “And that pisses you off.”

  “What? No it doesn’t.” I narrow my eyes at the kid, confused. “Why would you say that?”

  “Dad, come on. You’ve never really been a fan of us forming strong attachments outside of the band. You hate that Daltrey’s with Daisy. I doubt you’re too thrilled about Paige or Haylee or—”