All of You All of Me

by Claudia Burgoa

  For a few more minutes, we chat about Gramps: taking him on vacations, Christmas in a tropical place, and New Year up in the cabin. She wants us to keep creating memories as much as I do.

  WHAT HAPPENS IN BRAZIL . . .

  Nothing like reality to keep you on your toes.

  ~ Anonymous

  Willow

  OUR TRIP ENDED almost two days after we spoke to my father. Surfing happens in Puerto Rico, instead of a resort in Brazil. Anderson, had to go home because his mother wasn’t feeling well. Part of Tiago’s family lives in Puerto Rico. He thought it’d be best to go to a place where he didn’t have to watch everyone. Hunter asked for a suite for us. We didn’t do much talking unless we count the dirty talk.

  Two days later, we boarded the jet, and a few hours later, we arrived home. Jensen picked us up from the airport. When the service car pulled over in front of our building, it was a bittersweet moment. I know I’ll see the guys often, but after we had spent so much time together, we bonded and became close.

  I am going to miss seeing the same faces, listening to the same laughs, and the same complaints every day. It’s okay—I have lots of things to keep me busy. I have to practice for an audition that my agent booked for next Monday. Also, Transcendent Productions, the company I’m working with, sent the script for next season’s show. It’s a sitcom called “Life or Something Like That.” It’s funny, diverse, and touches problems that society tries to overlook. Television wasn’t part of my career plan, but this production company is so easy to work with and understanding. They always promise to adjust the filming schedule for my theater schedule. Just like they do with all their other actors.

  “Leaving, Wills,” Hazel announces.

  Lifting my gaze, I’m surprised to see the business woman version of my sister.

  “I thought you were taking a nap,” I tell Hazel, who is walking toward the elevator wearing a black vintage dress and a pair of high heeled sandals I plan to steal for my audition. Those are super cute. Her hair is curly, covering her shoulders, and she’s wearing a light base of makeup. “Where are you going?”

  “My assistant called.” She calls the elevator. “There are a few emergencies that need to be taken care of. I’d rather do it from my office.”

  She tilts her head to my iPad. “Anything you can disclose about the upcoming season?”

  “Of the show?” I twist my lips giving her a you’re not going to find out look. “Nope.”

  “Can you tell me if Jorge is leaving?” She has a crush on that actor, or maybe it’s the character. Either way, I promised to introduce her to my coworkers during next season’s filming.

  “I can’t say a thing.”

  “Ugh, I can’t wait until . . . when are you guys premiering the second season?”

  I shrug. “They haven’t told me. But they sent a three-season contract.”

  “As in there’ll be three seasons?”

  Shaking my head, I smile at her. “As in there’ll be five seasons, I already signed for the first two seasons, remember?”

  She claps excitedly. “Hold that thought, and tell me more when I come back.” She steps into the elevator, leaving me to read.

  Hazel has never been excited about my work. Not because she didn’t care, but because we never took the time to sit down and talk about our careers. I still don’t understand what exactly it is that she does, since she also works for Scott. I still enjoy listening to what she does and who she’s helped. Our relationship has evolved, and for that I’m thankful. Everything that has happened lately is good. My grandfather and I have a good relationship. Not as amazing as the one he has with Hazel, but I think that’s because of her character. She’s more of a hugger than I am, and they have lived together for longer.

  As I go back to my manuscript, a notification that I have a new email pops up. It’s from Grant, my father. As promised, Dad received a phone and a computer when he arrived in Mexico. Harrison gave us the phone number and his email address. Mom didn’t want to have her own. They can share. I’m not going to explain to her that sharing an email address is a little creepy. It’s like sharing your toothbrush. One time is okay-ish, but after that, you have to get your own.

  * * *

  To: Willow & Hazel

  From: G. Beesley Jr.

  Subject: Visit

  Girls,

  I heard Willows voicemail, and it saddens me that I won’t see you this summer. Maybe it is for the best. Your mother is still upset about Brazil. I am reading the books that you suggested, but going to a doctor isn’t possible. The psychologists and psychiatrists here don’t speak fluent English. Going into the city is too much for your mother to handle. The traffic is impossible, the sky is polluted, and the people aren’t friendly. I have explained numerous times to her that people don’t walk through the streets waving at everyone like she does. But it’s not worth the fighting to convince her that not everyone is like her.

  Thank the Everhart boys for their help, and say hi to their father. Christopher and I used to go to the same school. If we ever go to New York, I hope to see him again and meet his wife.

  Please, don’t stop writing. I like to hear from you.

  Love you,

  Grant.

  * * *

  I stare at the email wondering how long ago my father disconnected from his own father and the life he lived in New York. Grant doesn’t even realize that Christopher and Charlotte died in the nine-eleven attacks. I want to search around the house for pictures of Dad, try to learn about his childhood, and picture him like a boy who once belonged to a family. Does he miss that?

  The doors of the elevator open, and my grandfather steps into the apartment. His smile widens when he sees me.

  “I heard you were home, and I had to come by.”

  “Gramps.” I open my arms and go to him. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” He pats my back. “How are you?”

  “Tired. We worked a lot and slept too little.” I tell him everything about our trip. My version, I’m sure he has heard Hazel’s already. If not, he will once she’s home.

  We go to the kitchen as I continue telling him about our visit and the children. Also, about his son. He listens while I prepare him a cup of coffee and he drinks it without interrupting me. Once I’m done, I drink an entire glass of water. I can’t believe I was chatting for about an hour, and only paused a few times.

  “I’m glad to hear he gave you an explanation,” he finally speaks. “Your grandmother and I tried so hard to help them. Maybe our first approach was what distanced them from us.”

  “First approach?”

  “We ordered your father to leave her. She didn’t look like the kind of girl we would’ve wanted for our boy.”

  “How so?”

  He shakes his head. “It was another time. Class, money, education. All of them mattered more than knowing if the girl was kind, loving, or a good person.” He places his empty mug on the counter. “After that, anything we said about her wasn’t welcomed by your father. He knocked her up, and she didn’t want to marry.”

  “But they were living together.”

  “I understand it now. Back then I was blinded by the social implications.”

  He gives me a sad smile. “I’m just glad that my girls are home. What’s the plan for tonight?”

  “Whatever you want to do, Gramps. You deserve to have an entire day dedicated to you.”

  “I was promised the weekend.” He smiles at me. “Now that I had a few minutes to see you, I must go back to work.”

  “Dinner tonight?” I ask, walking behind him.

  “Yes, sweetheart. Make sure your sister gets out of the office, too. Knowing her, she’s going to try to tackle that to-do list in one day.”

  I wave at him as the elevator doors close. It’s nice to know that someone loves me, that he cares enough to leave his office to come to check on me. If things never work out with my parents, I don’t care. I have my grandfather who will do al
most anything for me.

  NEVER STOP DREAMING

  New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of, there’s nothing you can’t do.

  ~ Empire State of Mind

  Hunter

  “ARE YOU STILL working?” Fitz pokes his head into my office.

  Looking at the time, I shake my head, save my document and close my laptop. “No, I can continue tomorrow. What’s up?”

  “We haven’t talked since we came back from Brazil.” He saunters inside, closing the door behind him. “You said that you wanted to make some changes.”

  Our practice focuses on corporate law. Mainly because our own corporation needed lawyers we could trust. Who better than Fitz and myself? From time to time, I’ve stepped out of corporate law and practiced some family and worker’s compensation law. While traveling, I began asking myself questions. What do I want to do? Who do I want to be? Law is broad, and not many can pay someone three hundred dollars an hour for legal advice or to defend them.

  “I want to add lawyers who can handle family law and civil litigation.” I cross my arms, clamping my emotions down. He shouldn’t know that I’m already raging as I expect his continuous condescending tone. Fuck, I’m scared he might kick me out because he’s been doing all this shit all by himself for the past months. “We are a strong firm, and it wouldn’t be hard to gain clients in those areas.”

  “Okay.” He takes a seat on the chair in front of my desk, leans back and waits for me.

  “With new lawyers joining, we can also add pro bono cases.”

  His jaw twitches, and his eyebrows knit together. “Who is going to work those cases?”

  “Everyone working in this firm should be required to work one a month—at least,” I respond, opening my computer back up and printing the plan I had been working on for the past couple of months. “We can make it a condition to earn their monthly bonus.”

  I turn around to grab the papers from the printer and hand them to him. Fitz takes them, going through each one. The time ticks, his eyes scan through the pages. He shakes and nods every few seconds. At least it feels that way to me. Once he finishes, he stacks them and sets them on top of my desk. His eyes narrow. Fuck, the last lines. He didn’t like them. Well, I don’t fucking care.

  Bracing myself for his reaction, I grab the edge of my desk. There are plenty of law firms that would hire me. I can start my own practice and do whatever the fuck I want. He either starts seeing me as his partner, or I’m done.

  “So he either accepts, or he can fuck himself?” His brow arches. “Not very professional, little brother. I admit, up until last year we’ve been treating you like a kid. For that, I apologize.”

  Blood pounds in my temples as I process his words. Not what I expected to hear from him. “What are you saying?”

  “You worked your ass off with our international clients,” he says, tilting his head. “I expect you’ll keep working the same, because this is your firm, too.”

  “We’re good then?” I point at the papers. “You are telling me that as early as tonight, I can recruit new lawyers.”

  “As long as you’re the one in charge of that side of the firm.” He nods in approval. Then, he lifts his finger. “We have to discuss the new hires, though, and we can add anything, but criminal law.”

  Fitz appears sincere, but after all these years, he’s just giving in without a fight? “Are you for real? Just like that, no questions asked. What’s the catch?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re babysitting the new lawyers. That’s the only catch.” Standing up, he points at the door. “Join us for dinner.”

  “Us?”

  “Scott, Harrison, and Hazel. You didn’t answer the invite.”

  Pulling my phone, I check all the miss calls and texts.

  HAZEL: Dinner at Gramps tonight.

  HARRISON: I’m in.

  SCOTT: What time?

  FITZ: Who’s cooking? Please, say not you.

  HAZEL: I prepare a killer lasagna, but tonight, it’s takeout.

  FITZ: Most of what you prepare is food to kill. I almost died of food poisoning the last time you cooked.

  SCOTT: What time?

  HAZEL: I arrive home around 7. Should we say, 7:30?

  HAZEL: The meat you brought was bad, Fitz. We almost died because of you. Not my cooking.

  HARRISON: I vote for Tacos. Heck, I’ll bring them.

  HAZEL: Yes! Let’s do Mexican Monday.

  Willow didn’t respond even though she’s part of the group chat. Is she not going because of me? Yesterday morning, when I dropped her off, she asked for a little space. She needed time with her grandfather and her therapist. Too many things had happened at once. Our week had been intense, and we were both too demanding of the other.

  “As much as I need to be in your arms, I also know I need time to myself. Too much happened at once.” She kissed me; it was soft, loving. “I want to make sure this is something I can handle now. You mean too much to take a step without being sure of it.”

  I hate it. But I understand, and I promised not to pressure her.

  “Take your time, gorgeous.” I cupped her face, kissing her lips lightly. “I warn you, once you’re back home, I won’t let you leave again.”

  She stared wide-eyed for two full heartbeats and smiled. Extending her hand, she said, “Sounds like a good compromise, Mr. Everhart.”

  I shook back. “We can seal the deal before I leave. One last time for the road.”

  “That’s what you said in Brazil, then at the airports, and on the planes.” She showed me three fingers. “What did you call it after the third time?”

  I winked at her. “The platinum mile-high club.”

  ME: Are you not going to dinner?

  WILLOW: I am, why?

  ME: You didn’t respond to the texts on the group chat.

  WILLOW: I didn’t see the point of saying yes. I’ll be eating at home.

  HUNTER: Is it okay if I join?

  WILLOW: Do you want to join?

  ME: Only if it’s not weird.

  WILLOW: It shouldn’t be weird. We are keeping things friendly.

  ME: Friendly?

  WILLOW: As in you keep your hands and your dirty thoughts to yourself.

  ME: I can do that, just don’t try to read my mind. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I had you. They are getting dirtier by second.

  WILLOW: KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF!

  “I’ll join,” I say, closing my computer. “Harrison should be arriving with the food soon. Might as well head there now.”

  “Are you planning on talking about you and Willow?”

  I shake my head, locking my door.

  “Everyone is aware of what’s been happening the last few weeks,” he continues, not dropping the subject. “I just don’t get why she didn’t stay with you last night.”

  “Drop it, Fitzhenry. Get a life. Maybe you should try to settle down.” I call the elevator and look at him.

  “Settling down isn’t in my vocabulary.” He steps inside as the doors slide open. “I never settle. That’s how I win the big bucks.”

  FAMILY

  Friends are the family you choose.

  ~ Anonymous

  Willow

  HAZEL ASKED IF I wanted to have dinner at home with everyone. I replied yes to her text. The next wave of texts were the Everhart boys agreeing on dropping by Grampa’s apartment. By then, I’d had enough time to go to my therapy appointment and chat with my agent who received two calls asking if I’d be interested in going to auditions. My show is bringing producers and casting directors knocking on my door. I had to be honest with Marie, my agent. My focus right now is my mental health and building my theater career. My ambition is to be in a Broadway play—that’s my current goal. Movies and other television shows aren’t on my current list of plans.

  Marie understood. That’s one of the reasons why we are working together. She is ambitious, knowledgeable, and practical. Just as she works with th
e goals of her clients, if I ever decide to move to Los Angeles and change the course of my career, she will support me. Looking around my grandfather’s apartment, I can’t see why I’d want to leave the city. I’d never leave my grandfather and sister for something that doesn’t fulfill my profession or my ambitions.

  The elevator chimes. When I turn around I see Hazel and Gramps chatting, then, stop when they see me.

  “We can continue this conversation tomorrow. As you said, we aren’t bringing work home.” Gramps hugs me. “Were you out, too?”

  “I had therapy and walked around the park while talking to Marie.”

  “So much for your ‘I’m not working today,’ Wills.” Hazel kisses my cheek and loses her heels. “Much better. Hey, one of the apartments on the third floor is up for grabs.”

  “Okay?” I glare at her, afraid she’s kicking me out. What happened to this is your home too, Willow?

  “Remember Hunter mentioned he wants to move out of his parents’ apartment.”

  I nod. Clearly, she ignored his brothers calling him names for wanting to move out. He called it a step to a grown-up Hunter. Harrison referred to it as a bunch of crap. Since we are still on a hiatus, I am not going to ask why he wants to move out or his future plans.

  “Well, I was thinking he can buy the apartment downstairs.”

  Gramps scratches his chin. “I was thinking about buying it as an investment.” Then he nods. “We have to move fast, talk to that boy, and find out his plans. If not, I’m putting in an offer tomorrow.”

  I salute him as I watch him walking down the hall to his room. “Yes, sir.”

  Pointing toward him, I look at Hazel. “What was that?”

  “That would be Gramps wanting to buy a piece of property.” She snickers, letting out a squeal. “He’s like a little boy in a candy store. I love that man.”

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and put on something comfortable.” Looking at her watch, then at me. “Fitz said they were ten minutes away; in case you want to change.”

  She waves, and I rush to my room. I change into something more comfortable. Applying mascara and lipstick, I head to the living room where Fitz and Hunter are already standing.