Lee

by Sydney Landon

  Her lips purse together tightly as a fleeting look of disgust crosses her face before she can control it. “Really, Jade? Are you surprised Harry wasn’t interested in you? Your table manners are deplorable. You look as if you belong in a truck stop wolfing down a ten-dollar steak.”

  I refuse to take the bait. I managed to all but run Lee out of Falco earlier, so why stop there? Jacey shall be simple in comparison. Although I’m full, I continue to eat. At one point, I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pass out from the horror of it all, but she stands her ground. This next step may be going too far, but what the hell. I let out a burp that admittedly is much louder than I planned it to be. Luckily, no one is nearby, so Jacey is the only witness to my rather gross display. “Whoops.” I smile broadly. Rubbing my stomach, I add, “More room out than there is inside, though, right?”

  “Dear God,” she snaps. “You weren’t raised in a barn. If Dad hadn’t told me numerous times that you weren’t adopted, I’d swear that you were.”

  Okay, that dig stings. “I wish.” I shrug indifferently. “I’m nowhere near as anal as you are, so I’ve questioned the same thing before. And if you’re so worried about Harry, then you should hook up with him.” Giving my best wink, I reach out and cuff her on the shoulder. She’s so damn skinny that I nearly knock her off the chair. “If you’re expecting anything impressive down below, you’ll be disappointed. The few times he kissed me, I was close enough to tell that there’s not much going on in that area.”

  She’s clearly appalled by my crass comment, and I resist the urge to do a victory dance around the table. This is too much fun. She visibly swallows, then takes a breath. I seem to be having that effect on everyone today. I’m disappointed when she doesn’t comment on Harry. “So I understand you’re working for Lee again? I’m glad to see you took my words to heart. Dad was thrilled when he found out. How did you manage to get back in so quickly?” Why am I even shocked that she knows?

  “You should really consider cutting back on the Botox. Your eyebrows are so high now they’re practically touching your forehead. You have this look of surprise all the time.”

  She tosses her fork down and says, “It’s called maintenance, and most normal women do it. I’ll still look young when I’m eighty, but you won’t be around to see it.” She points at my side of fries and sneers, “Because you’ll die of some obesity-related disease way before then.”

  And the gloves are off. I have no idea what’s gotten in to me, but I’m enjoying taunting her far more than I normally would. It’s just so damn easy since she doesn’t approve of a single thing I say or do. I pop a fry in my mouth and roll my eyes in exaggerated bliss. Again, I display horrendous manners by talking with my mouth full. “So, if you already have me dead and buried, explain to me why I should do the dirty work for the family?”

  “You know this is for our mother,” she says as if speaking to a child. “Aren’t you in the least bit angry that she’s gone because of Lee? Can you forgive and forget that easily? This has nothing to do with what Dad and I want.”

  By this point, I’ve had more than enough. Normally, I’m quiet and go along with whatever so she says—but not tonight. Her Botoxed brows get even higher when I push my plate away and get to my feet. “Good talk, Jacey,” I say sarcastically. “See you around.” Her words of protest follow me as I leisurely stroll out the door and to my car. I resist the urge to leave a trail of rubber in the parking lot and instead calmly maneuver my car to the exit and out onto the street.

  I think about everything that’s happened today and begin to laugh. I have managed something that not many have accomplished before: I’ve gotten the better of Lee and Jacey. And I simply did it by not giving a shit. Okay, so maybe I added a few theatrics, but it has been worth it. It’s amazing how easy it is to get to people who are so damned anal. And after a while, it was less of an act and more about freeing myself from the prison I’ve lived in for my entire life. I’ve spent far too many years trying to make everyone happy, and where has it gotten me? I’m the outcast of my family yet still willing to do their dirty work—even though I don’t agree with it. The only time I’m treated like a Wrenn is when either Jacey or my father need something from me. Otherwise, I’m invisible. If only my mother was still here. Even amidst the sorrow I feel when I think of her, I don’t blame Lee. I know my father well enough to understand that there are two sides to every story, and naturally, his would be the one that makes him look like the good guy. It’s past time I learn the actual truth and not just the pieces that they hand-fed me. I will no longer do their bidding. Even if I discover Lee is guilty, I will decide the best recourse—and no one else. I’m thirty-four years old, and dammit, I’m not a puppet on a string for everyone to pull. It’s time I stop thinking about stepping out of the shadows and do it. Regardless of what happens when this is over—at least I’ll finally be able to look at myself in the mirror and know that although I’m not perfect, I’m free.

  LEE

  Not only have I continued to say “fuck” a lot, but I am also tossing back booze like it’s fucking water. I can’t remember the last time I got drunk, but I am damn close to it now. When my buzzer sounds, I feel myself weaving as I cross the foyer to toss the door open. So much for security—no one bothered to let me know that someone is on their way up. When I see Pete standing there, my question is answered. He has free rein in my building. They don’t bother to let me know when he is here. Hell, he has a key to everything that I own, so it’s hardly necessary for him to ask for permission. “Did we have plans?” I ask as I wave him inside. Maybe this is what a senior moment feels like.

  “No.” He stares at me in disbelief before shaking his head. “But since you referred to Kara as Kate, and you called me Luc at least three times while we were talking on the phone an hour ago, I figured I’d better stop by and see if you were either drunk or having a breakdown of some sort.” He points to the near-empty glass in my hand. “Thankfully, it appears to be the first option. What’s brought this on?”

  I lean against a nearby wall and toss the rest of the whiskey back, grimacing as it burns like fire on the way down. Then I clear my throat and say, “She blew a bubble the size of my fucking car, then continued to chew the gum even after I’d pulled it from her face and hair. Next, she put her feet on my desk and knocked her coffee over my papers. But that’s not the worst of it,” I slur. “She completely ruined my new computer, then had the nerve to blame it all on me. Said something about me yelling at her.” I look at the ceiling as if praying for divine intervention. “Pete, I had to get the hell out of there before I lost it. You know how I feel about any kind of disorder. I simply can’t function in that type of environment. And my whole desk was swimming in coffee. It dripped down onto my crotch, for fuck’s sake. And she tried to clean it off, but nearly emasculated me in the process.” I swear I can hear a whiny voice, but surely that isn’t me.

  “Let’s go sit down,” he replies as he motions toward the living area. It pisses me off that I must concentrate to navigate my own apartment, but it’s either that or face plant on the marble floor. After what seems like an hour, I find myself sitting in my favorite chair. I think I may have drifted off for a moment at some point. A quick glance at my brother’s amused expression confirms that suspicion. Fuck. “So now you’ve rejoined me, let me see if I can make sense of what you were saying earlier. Someone spilled coffee on your desk and sent you into a drunken spiral?” Before I can answer, he adds, “But I have no idea what the gum part was all about. Is that even related to the coffee incident because it was all a bit jumbled?”

  I take a couple of deep breaths and attempt to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Then I say as clearly as possible, “Liza lost her fucking mind today. She made a complete mess of my office and of herself. And apparently, it was all my fault.” I snap my fingers together. “Oh, and she said something about me causing her to waste a lot of time looking up numbers or some such
shit. Can you believe her nerve? Isn’t that her job?”

  He laughs until he notices my murderous expression. Then he takes it down a few levels to simply a broad smile. “Lee, I know you can’t abide disorder, and I, of all people, understand why. But I’m almost certain that Liza has no clue about that part of our past and the issues that it left both you and me with. Granted, the fact that I’ve raised two children has helped me tremendously in dealing with that phobia. Otherwise, I’d have been off the rails every time they made a mess. And believe me, my wife was always quick to point that out to me. But you’ve lived alone for all your adult life, and you’ve never had to confront that particular issue as I have.”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” I deny weakly, but we both know I’m lying. We grew up living in complete filth with our druggie mother, who was too stoned on any given day to care about the condition of our government housing. When I got older, I did my best to clean up so my brother didn’t have to live in complete squalor. But with mold covering so many surfaces and the place practically crumbling around us in disrepair, it was the equivalent of putting a fucking Barbie Band-Aid over an amputated body part. It did little good. And Pete was right. It had left me with issues that I’ve never had to deal with. I simply make sure that everywhere I stay is pristinely clean, and if it isn’t, then I make it clean. Even as lazy as Maria had been, it didn’t take her long to make sure her tiny apartment was spotless when I was there. Not that I ever complained—I didn’t have to. Just a few times of me staying up all night to do the cleaning was enough.

  “You can’t punish Liza for our mother’s sins,” Pete says softly. “So she was having an off day. Things like that happen. But she doesn’t have a clue what something that simple does to you unless you tell her. I put Charlotte through hell even before we had kids. I couldn’t admit that I was traumatized by our past. But it didn’t take her long to figure out that I needed my surroundings to be clean and orderly—although she didn’t get the full scope of the problem. One night, I completely lost my shit when I went into the kitchen at midnight, and she hadn’t loaded the dishwasher as she’d said that she would. I started banging dishes together so loudly that it woke her. When I looked up and saw her standing there in my T-shirt looking scared out of her mind, it hit me what I must look like to her. Even though it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I left the rest of the mess where it was and asked her as calmly as possible to take a seat at the table and let me explain. She didn’t want to, I could see that. Hell, for a moment, I thought she’d bolt. But she finally agreed to hear me out. And after that, we worked on dealing with my hang-ups together. The kids, of course, brought a whole new level of chaos, but by that time, Charlotte was secure enough in our love to speak bluntly to me. She’d let me know when I was out of line, and if I needed to walk off for a moment and regroup, she understood.”

  I stare at my brother in shock, surprised by his revelations. I know I’m fucked up because of the shit from our youth, but I tried so hard to shield him from the worst of it. My hope had been that he was too young to know that others didn’t live the way that we did. It’s like a punch to the gut to realize he’s just as messed up as I am. I’ve failed to protect everyone I love. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask softly. It’s a testament to my level of intoxication that I feel like fucking crying. First, I find out that my daughter has lived through hell, and now I discover that my brother is more fucked up than I’d imagined. Is there some kind of dark curse that plagues the Jacks’ bloodline? Do all who cross our path risk living a life of hell?

  Pete shakes his head before giving me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because you’re battling your own demons, brother, and they’re much worse than the few I live with. You did unimaginable shit to provide for us when you were nothing but a kid yourself. And I know that even now you’re sitting over there drowning in guilt because of what I said.” He sees the truth of his words as I drop my gaze, staring at the now-empty glass in my hand. “That’s what I thought,” he adds wryly. “You’re like a sponge, Lee. You’ve always absorbed all the bad stuff and attempted to make it clean again. But at some point, you must realize you can’t continue to do that without losing yourself in the process and everything else good in your life. You’ve worked so hard to turn away from Victor’s way of life and make a new one for all of us. One where we don’t have to be afraid of ending up in prison—or worse.”

  I stare at my brother in silence. “I’ve never known those types of fears. I could give two fucks about any of that—but I never had anything to lose like you do.”

  “Maybe not before, but you have a daughter and a granddaughter now,” Pete points out. “Somehow, I don’t think you want them visiting you behind bars or in a funeral home. You may feel like no one would grieve your absence from this world, but what about me? Do you have any idea how that would feel? You might pride yourself on being a hard-ass, but you and I have been joined at the hip for far too long to sever that connection now. Maybe we both have families now, but for so many years, it was just you and me. We’re the only people we could ever rely on. So we no longer have to worry about where we’ll sleep or when we’ll have another meal, but the bond those things created cannot be broken. In a strange way, you and I are not only brothers, but we’re also soul mates.”

  “We’re what?” I ask, thinking surely, he’s lost his mind. When did Pete start thinking like a woman? Soul mates? What the fuck?

  Pete laughs at my expression of disbelief. “A soul mate isn’t always a romantic connection. Oftentimes, it’s a family member, a friend, or someone else you’ve connected with. Simply put, we’ve lifted each other up through all our hard times and made a life for ourselves that wouldn’t have been possible alone. Don’t get me wrong; you would have succeeded financially without me. You’re too fucking smart not to have. But you might not have managed to retain your humanity without having to include me in the equation. You are the man who you are because of the love you have for me.”

  I don’t bother to argue, because even in my alcohol-induced haze, I see the truth behind his words. Some men might attempt to shrug it off as bullshit, but Pete and I have had what I’d call deep discussions for most of our lives. We’re both people who think through every angle of all scenarios, so his reasoning isn’t surprising to me now that I’ve got past my initial reaction. “I might have worded that a bit differently,” I concede, “but it makes sense in a weird way. And you’re right, I’d probably be more of a monster than I am if not for you.”

  He grimaces in distaste before saying angrily, “You know how I feel about that. Fuck yes, we’ve both done some bad stuff, but where we come from, it’s called survival. We never took pleasure in it, nor did we bully the innocent to get our rocks off. You’re not some kind of demon, Lee. If you were, I wouldn’t be here now. You’d have left me with our sorry excuse for a mother and never looked back. Your life would have been much simpler if you had. I was a noose around your neck from the moment I was born. You were both my father and my mother when you weren’t even old enough to care for yourself.”

  “I was never a child, Pete.” I hate that this is true. “You know that as well as I do. Don’t make me out to be a hero because I’m anything but.”

  “You are to me,” he states firmly, then raises his hand to ward off my objections. My brother has seen the worst sides of me, yet he absolutely feels no fear. He speaks bluntly, corrects me when he feels I’m wrong, and laughs at my OCD tendencies when others wouldn’t dare. I respect him immensely. But we’ll always disagree on the subject of me. I’m jaded and weary from the burdens I’ve carried for years. But I also accept that I can’t go back and make myself into something I’m not—nor do I want to. Every good and bad decision in my life has made me who I am. I’m Lee Jacks, and I’ve worked my fucking ass off to acquire all that I have. I’ve built an empire through hard work, being ruthless when necessary, and always staying one step ahead of everyone around me. While
others were sitting around reading the Wall Street Journal, I was reading people. With one glance, I know how they think, and better yet, I know their weaknesses. It’s all there for anyone to see—if you know where to look.

  You couldn’t read her. She fooled you.

  Liza—she is the exception to it all. The one person who is not as she seems, and I missed it.

  He sighs, knowing that, as always, there is no winner in this disagreement. He’ll always believe one thing and me another. And if I’m being truthful, I rather like the fact that my brother sees some good in me. I’ll even take it so far as to hope that my daughter does as well. With that thought, I feel a pang in my chest. If I weren’t drunk, I’d go see Lia tonight. I’ve wasted years that I yearn to have back. I’ll see her tomorrow, though, at the board meeting for the company we run together. I’m so fucking proud of her. I’ve stayed in the background unless she solicits my advice, and the business is already turning a profit. She and her friend, Rose, are doing an amazing job, and I find myself bragging every time the opportunity arises. I’m quite sure that everyone at Falco is tired of hearing it—but I’m their boss, so they’ll grin and bear it. I squint at my watch and am shocked to see that it’s after nine. “Shouldn’t you be getting home? I’m surprised Charlotte isn’t looking for you.” I smirk. Making fun of Pete’s tendency to be hen-pecked by his wife is one of my great pleasures. He knows it’s true, so he simply shrugs and grins. I’d never admit it, but at times like these, I’m almost jealous of what he has waiting for him. I’ve made my choices—but as with everything, it has come with a price. One I’ve never spent a lot of time questioning—until her. Why is she the exception to everything?