Everybody Falls

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  "Lacey, I don't own anything," he said firmly. "Everything here is in Grams name as it should be since she and Pops built this place up. I'm the fourth generation to live here, so I'll probably inherit everything when she passes, but it's all hers, including the cars."

  I was still confused, not so much about the property, but by how fervent he was about not owning anything.

  "At first I was too young to buy anything. Plus, I didn't need to. Denny made sure I got anything and everything I wanted. When I was older, he told me that nothing needed to be in my name, that the management company took care of that shit. I remember a couple of years before he bit it, I talked to him about getting my own place. He went fucking ape-shit. So, I backed off."

  "Did he tell you why?" I asked quietly.

  "No, Baby, he didn't." I got another gentle, soft kiss which caused a quiver to run throughout my insides.

  I saw Jack plant an elbow beside my head and lean his head into his hand.

  "You know what I think?"

  "No, honey, what?" I responded.

  "I think Denny was a goddamn control freak, at least when it came to me. Except Turner said a couple of things earlier that let me know he wasn't given much of a say in anything to do with the band either. For whatever reason, it was important to Denny that I was kept ignorant. You know, like, uninvolved, which was great when I was eighteen. No fucking responsibilities, no fucking worries. But, hell, at twenty-three? Uh-uh," he said firmly. I saw his gaze roam over me before it came back to my eyes, only now it held a hungry look.

  I used my hand and stroked his hair back away from his face

  "Have you ever thought about changing your look," I asked mildly. "You know, like a disguise? Maybe cut your hair or grow a mustache or something?"

  He grinned. "You want to hear something funny?"

  I nodded and felt my mouth turn up in a grin, too.

  "I actually thought that people wouldn't fucking know me without the jewelry I used to wear," he with a chuckle. "They must have taken them out when I was in the fucking hospital after my dip in the ocean. I haven't put them back in. Shit! Maybe it was the meds they had me on. Honest to Christ, Baby, I thought people wouldn't recognize me without the metal."

  "You didn't have that much that I saw," I said before I ran my thumb of his eyebrow, the side of his nose to the one side of his lip where the little holes were now laying empty.

  "Compared to Sarge, I didn't," he replied and we both laughed.

  It was true. Sarge liked his face piercing.

  "So, are we done talking, Lace?" he growled. "Because I want to use my mouth but I can't taste the secret honey of my favorite baker and talk at the same time."

  The melting point of chocolate is one hundred thirteen degrees, Fahrenheit.

  Mine, I'd discovered, is much, much lower.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Jax felt Lacey as she rolled off of him onto her other side, her breathing heavy as she slept. He was tired, yet not yet sleepy.

  Today had been a good day in spite of the craziness it contained.

  They were putting together another band to bail Turner out of a fix. Jax was willing to go along with it except only up to a certain point. He didn't want to play any WV tunes, he was dead-set against touring because he, sure as shit, wasn't going get caught up in that fucking lifestyle again for any reason.

  No way, no how.

  The other guys were great, understanding where he was coming from. Well, all except Turner. Fucking Turner still had his head up his ass; wanted it all back. The broads, the screams and the country by country, city by city, play.

  That is, until Ricki fainted at his feet.

  How weird was that? A whacky girl falls at his feet then the fucker loses his heart just like that.

  Wait.

  Isn't that exactly what happened to him with Lace? He'd fallen in the street and then had fallen completely in love with her by the time she'd finished cleaning him up.

  Guess he had no room to talk, then.

  Grams in the dining room made sense. He was glad Lacey suggested it. The old woman needed to be comfortable and he was too afraid that time maybe getting short for her. Especially if what he'd read online was true when he'd been investigating her pills.

  Maybe he could get the other men from today to help with moving everything around. Jax made a mental note to give Sarge a call in the morning.

  Funny how the old guy had become a good friend in the short time Jax had known him. Stepping up for Turner? Shit. That was a fucking miracle.

  Lacey, he thought, feeling his heart do a double-thump.

  His woman.

  He was going to have to find a way of getting a ring on her finger soon. Not to mention find a way of getting married without the goddamn, blood-sucking media finding out about it, too.

  Jax ran a hand over his face as his mouth opened on a wide yawn.

  Nothing was going to be solved tonight. He was finally recognizing sleepiness when it crept over him, which was such a goddamn gift. Nobody really knows how awful it is when you can't fucking sleep, unless they've been through it.

  He turned and slipped an arm around his girl's waist as he buried his nose in her hair to breathe deep. He draped a leg over one of hers as his eyes slid closed.

  Chapter 22

  "No, Lace. Absolutely not!" Edie heard Jax thunder from upstairs.

  The kids had been at it now for exactly six minutes according the clock on the microwave and the spat showed no signs of slowing.

  She took another sip of the last of the coffee from their breakfast, wondering how long it would be before Jax just gave in to let Lacey do the damn laundry. It was laughable, really, the things couples found to fight about. This one was just as silly as the ones she and Pete'd had in their early years.

  Edie, from her vantage point at the kitchen table, was sure that they were just as clueless, just as bewildered by their point of contention as well as the emotions that came with a good, old-fashioned squabble.

  Aw, the peaks and valleys of new love.

  "I can't just sit around, Jack," she heard Lacey yell right back. Good for her. It had taken Edie more than a couple of go rounds before she'd found the courage to yell back when Pete was being an ass.

  "I don't care what you do, but you are not our fucking housekeeper, alright?" Jax said very loudly and the old woman was sure that he thought he was laying down the law. Except she knew that he'd thrown the first cuss word so he had automatically lost.

  That's the rule in her opinion. The first person to cuss, loses the fight.

  Edie heard his boots on the stairs moving fast, which she figured was just echoing his heartbeat. Yeah, drama will make your heart beat pretty fast. Even the ones you created yourself. Jax had done a damn fine job at working this little scene into something much nastier than it needed to be.

  His boots hit the hallway and Edie heard a soft, slower tread moving downward behind him.

  "Grams?" he yelled, his voice twenty decibels louder than it needed to be.

  "In here, Hot Stuff," she said calmly, much calmer than what was going on inside her. What she wanted to do was to burst out laughing.

  "Lacey wants to do laundry," he said in a voice that wasn't quite a shout, yet was definitely louder than the occasion warranted.

  "So?" Edie said, bringing the cup up to her face, mainly to hide behind. She didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to keep from giggling.

  "She's not our maid!" he barked.

  "That's true, she's not," Edie agreed, hearing Lace step into the kitchen. Glancing her way, Edie shot the girl a quick wink with the eye that Jax couldn't see from his position. Lacey smiled back and shifted the bundle of clothes in her arms.

  "Tell her she can't do laundry!" he demanded, his hands gripping the back of the kitchen chair.

  "Jack…" Lacey began.

  "I do not want to hear it, Lace. You will not do mine or Gram's laundry . That's final!" he bellowed, his face a very interest
ing shade of red.

  "I need clean clothes, Jack," Lacey said coolly, with a very firm note in her voice. "I don't like to waste time or water. I only have a small load. By adding yours and Grams to it, it’s a full load. It only makes sense."

  "Arrg," he said dragging his hands through his hair. "Tell her, Grams. Tell her she can't do laundry."

  Edie raised the cup again because she couldn't control her smile. She could hear Jax's breathing, those deep frustrated pants, from her place at the table. Such energy wasted and for what? He was arguing over an idea not realizing that his girl simply wanted to shove some clothes into a machine, add a little soap just to get 'em clean.

  Big whoop.

  So, there was something else going on. It looked like it was going to be up to her to get to the bottom of it.

  "Sit down, Jax," she demanded, careful to keep her voice even and calm. "Let's talk."

  She watched him frown as he pulled out the chair he'd been gripping before plopping himself down onto the seat. He crossed his arms then lifted his chin.

  Stubborn.

  So damn stubborn, just like Pete. Or her, however, she'd never admit it out loud and never to her grandson.

  "How're the plans for the concert going?" she asked finally.

  "Good. I think. The guys are coming by later then we'll see what still needs to be done," Jax answered and she saw him relax a bit.

  "Are you sure you want to be involved in this?" she asked him, catching the look he shot her before turning his head away. Okay, so she was getting closer to what the real issue was.

  "Yeah, I think so. I want to help Turner out plus I'd love to make music again," he replied. "I don't want any of that crazy shit around, though."

  He sighed deeply as he dropped his eyes to the tabletop and leaned on an elbow before he spoke again. Edie kept quiet giving him time to work through it.

  "To tell the truth, I don't really know what I'm doing. I mean, I know music and love to play. It's like breathing for me, as necessary as breathing anyway. But the other stuff? The planning, the venue, the marketing and shit? It's over my head," he admitted.

  "Mmm hmm," Edie acknowledged.

  She heard him sigh again.

  "Shouldn't I know this? I've been involved in it for all these years. Why don't I know this stuff?" he asked plaintively, raising his eyes to hers.

  She just stared back, letting him work it through himself. He was almost there.

  "Denny did it all. Just had to control it all, didn't he? Shut me out, kept me down and kept me ignorant," he continued, his voice getting louder again. "I was a fucking tool, Grams. That's all I was. A kid that he kept a kid, a musician that he kept under his thumb. Playing the songs he wanted, the way he wanted, in the places he wanted."

  "You're not a kid anymore, Jax," the old woman pointed out kindly as soon as the sound of his voice had died away.

  "No. I'm damn well not," he agreed firmly.

  "So who are you really pissed at, Jax?" she asked, again using the softest voice she had.

  His eyes shot to her and she knew he got it.

  Was he going to be willing to say it straight out?

  "Denny," he whispered fiercely. "Right now I'm so fucking pissed at Denny I could beat the shit out of him."

  Which, in Edie's mind was a much healthier place to be than Jax had been with regard to his brother. From what she'd seen, from what Jax had told her, the two men hadn't gotten to a brother-to-brother kind of relationship. Not one of alliance or of collaboration. It seemed that Denny as an adult had treated his brother the same as he had done when they were little. Do what I want you to do or else.

  And, Denny's 'or else' was never a good thing.

  There was quiet between them, well, except for the sound of the washing machine as it began to move through its cycles. Edie quickly moved her empty coffee cup back up to her face, hiding her immediate reaction to the churning sound coming from the back porch. Lacey had obviously taken advantage of the grandma/grandson talk to do exactly what she had wanted to do in the first place.

  Good for her.

  Jax leaned back in his chair and interlacing his fingers, placing his hands on the top of his head. He seemed much more relaxed than when he'd first stomped in.

  "Guess I overreacted with Lace, huh?" he said finally, with a grin.

  "Yeah, Hot Stuff, maybe a little," Edie agreed.

  "I should probably go apologize," he said.

  "Probably," Edie hedged, bringing her cup back up to her mouth.

  He stood and scooted the chair back under the table. "So do you want me to make more coffee so you have something in that cup you keep hiding behind?" he said with a wry grin.

  "Have Lace do it. Her stuff is better than that swill you make," she suggested.

  The kitchen echoed their laughter back at them.

  *.*.*.*.*

  While Jack went to his noon meeting to get it out of the way, Edie and I put together a shopping list. She'd suggested it would be better if I did the grocery shopping as late as possible, if not in the middle of the night at the big store out in Roseville. Jack was convinced the media had my picture and the paparazzi who were still camped out by the bakery would be on the lookout for me.

  I didn't know about any of it. I just knew that I was starting to go stir crazy, missing the bakery more than I ever thought I would. Plus, the argument with Jack over the laundry was just plain stupid, yet indicative of how I was feeling. It wasn't my house, my kitchen and, while I loved helping out, I wasn't the one in charge or calling the shots.

  "Since they'll be moving stuff this afternoon, Lace, why don't we get started on clearing out the old hutch?" Edie suggested as I put together the makings for meatball sandwiches for lunch. She was at the other counter, shredding the mozzarella cheese we were going sprinkle over the top of the sandwiches.

  "Are there boxes we could use?" I asked as I covered the frozen meatballs with Edie's homemade sauce she'd canned herself a couple of years ago.

  "I don't plan to put the china in storage, Lace," I heard her say and saw, though her eyes were pointed to one of the windows, the old woman was way back in her head. "I think I'd rather use them every day, for every meal."

  I turned back to the sauce but could feel my eyebrows up around my hairline. Didn't people save their china for the special events like Christmas and stuff? I didn't really know. With my mom's habit of selling anything not nailed down added to Grandma Lilly's disregard for keepsakes or memorabilia, I had nothing except secondhand knowledge on the subject. I was pretty sure regular people didn't eat off their good china every day, though.

  "Okay. What do you want to do with the plates already in the cupboards?" I asked.

  I watched her gnarled hand wave in a dismissive gesture.

  I turned down the flame on the stove, put the lid on the pot as Edie covered her mound of cheese with plastic wrap. We moved to the large dining room.

  "This table and hutch were here when I first moved in," Edie murmured, running her hand over the wood of the table before pulling out a chair. "Fifty-eight birthdays, Easters, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners have been eaten right here yet you wouldn't even know it, would you?"

  "No ma'am," I answered, opening one of the glass doors in the top part of the sturdy, long cupboard. I took out a stack of plates and took them into the kitchen, swapping out the old stoneware for the new fragile pieces, wiping down the inside of the cabinet in between.

  Edie pulled out one of the long drawers before she began to remove the different small boxes, folders and bags. "It used to be that all important papers were kept in this hutch since we didn't have a desk. Well, anything which wasn't in the safe deposit box at the bank. Do people still use those?"

  I glanced up at her and thought. "I don't know to tell you the truth. Until recently, I didn't have anything of value to keep anywhere, much less in a bank's vault."

  "Oh my," I heard her breathe when I was coming back for another load. "Oh, Lacey, look."

/>   She was holding a wooden box about the size of a loaf pan. The box was lined with dark blue velvet with a shallow tray on the top that had four rings displayed.

  "They're beautiful," I said from over her shoulder. "Are they yours?"

  She glanced up at me with a smile. "Only by default, sweetie. These are the rings from Jax's great grandmothers along with the one his dad gave my Vanessa when they got married."

  "Wow," I breathed, sitting in the chair next to her. The selection was dazzling and included rings that had sapphires, a ruby, a plain gold band studded lightly with diamond chips. The last one showcased had a huge diamond bracketed by two smaller ones over a wedding band containing four smaller diamonds.

  "That large set there, that was Vanessa and Bill's. He said it symbolized the two of them coming together. The band was to represent their kids. They'd planned on having four, except she had female troubles after Jax. They had kept on trying, though."

  I watched Edie get a bit misty-eyed as she ran her hands over the collection of rings.

  "There's a lot of love represented here," she whispered.

  I saw her glance at her own rings.

  "When Pete and I got married, he wanted to get me a big expensive set, but I didn't need it. I just wanted him. He could've put a circle of rope on my finger and I'd have been just as happy. The only thing I knew I didn't want was to wear one of these." I heard her laugh on a quiet note. "I was so young, so full of myself. I told Pete I wasn't going to wear some dead lady's ring when we got married."

  She caught my eyes, laughed again as she shook her head. "How silly is that?"

  "I don't know that it's silly. It's what you wanted and Pete listened. I'd say that's pretty cool. Sounds to me like you got yourself a good one. A man that listened when you talked," I replied. "Those kind of men are hard to find, Edie. Especially now days."

  I gazed down at the rings as I tried to imagine what it would be like to have that kind of love with another person. The kind of devotion where you made promises and plans for a future together. The kind of love that, when it was your time to go, the symbol of the intimacy between the two of you was placed in a velvet lined box next to the others, celebrating the connection, the longevity of your family.