“Eh, it’s not really that bad,” I mumbled, taking another sip. “Every family’s gotta have a black sheep, right? Otherwise, the good ones wouldn’t look so white.”
“Ha, yeah, true.” He laughed, finishing off his eggnog. “I’m about as black as they come.”
“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “What about you is so bad?”
“Where to begin!” He grinned. “First, I was kicked out of St. James’ sophomore year—”
“What’d you do?”
“Hmm, probably best to not bring that up.” He winked. “Anyway, I had to finish at a public school, which is criminal according to my mother. Then, when I did manage to graduate, I did so without honors.”
“How could you?”
“Right after high school, I decided against going to college here because, uh, yeah, Louisiana? No, thanks. I went to USC.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m about six credits shy of a degree in astrobiology.”
“Astrobiology?” My eyebrow arched. I shook my head. “What does that even mean?”
“It means if my little brother ever decides to graduate, my folks are gonna owe the University of Southern California about seventy grand for a b.s. degree he’s not even putting effort into,” Charlie replied, not bothering to hide his frustration. Carter’s jaw clenched. Turning to me, Charlie added, “You wanna know what his SAT scores were?”
I stared.
“760 reading and 780 math.” Charlie’s eyes bore into Carter. Carter didn’t acknowledge him. He poured another glass of eggnog to the brim. “Know what his GPA is? 2.7. 2.7 with a near perfect SAT score. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Charlie, I—”
“To me, seems what we’ve got here is a guy who never cared enough to try. Am I right, little brother?” Carter didn’t answer. Pausing, Charlie shook his head. “I don’t get you. You’ve had every opportunity. You could’ve graduated by now, had a good job, a great job. I don’t know what you’re doing, what you hope to accomplish by screwing around in L.A. You’re almost twenty-six years old, for God’s sake! Time to grow up!”
“I think it’s time for you to mind your business,” Carter snapped. With his head lowered, his long bangs covered his eyes. His back tense, he gulped down the drink and slammed the glass on the counter.
At this, fury flashed across Charlie’s eyes. He grabbed Carter’s wrist. “You will not do this, not here.”
I took a step back. This unexpected argument was escalating fast. I felt like my afternoon with Charlie had given me a better understanding of him, but now I wasn’t so sure. I had never seen this side before. It made me more than a little uncomfortable. Sensing my trepidation, Charlie released him. Taking a deep breath, he offered me an apologetic smile.
“Jordan, I’m sorry. I had no right to overreact.” He glanced at Carter. His smile faded. “My little brother here doesn’t always bring out the best in me.”
“Yep, that’s right!” Carter’s voice rose. He threw his hands up in the air. “Who’s always to blame? This guy!”
“Carter, if you don’t—”
“What? If I don’t what?” He squared his shoulders and glared at Charlie. While Charlie was about four years older, at five foot nine, he was nowhere near as imposing as the younger Coyle. “What are you gonna do? C’mon, Charlie. Let’s settle this. Let’s finally see where this goes.”
I could see the anger return to Charlie’s dark eyes. This time, he did not let that rage overtake him. Breathing through his flared nostrils as he clenched his fists at his sides, he stared at his brother. He said nothing. Finally, Carter took a step back. Running his fingers through his hair, he glanced at me.
“Been fun.” He nodded, offering a brief, sad smile. “Guess I’ll see you at the next mandated family function.”
With that, he stormed past us. I heard the front door slam. A lone waiter dressed in a simple black suit and carrying a warming tray hurried by, desperate to not draw attention to himself. Frowning, Charlie tugged at the collar of his white shirt. He walked over to the makeshift bar set up by the caterers.
Grabbing a clean glass, he poured eggnog into it, watching absently as the chilled, creamy liquid rose. Then, he grabbed a bottle of rum and added it, filling the glass. Glancing at me sideways as he placed the glass to his lips, he muttered, “Don’t tell Leesh.”
Taking his cue, I finished off my chardonnay. I placed the glass on the counter. I tried to process what had just happened. I didn’t know Carter at all. And I realized standing there, I still barely knew Charlie. I had assumed, however, from previous interactions that they were just a couple of nice, happy brothers. The argument in my parents’ kitchen, and the underlying animosity that existed between them, gave me pause. Charlie must have sensed my uneasiness because after finishing the drink, he sighed.
“Jordan, I’m really sorry you had to see that. I never wanted for that to happen around your family. That’s why Carter isn’t usually around when we get together. That, and the fact he’s in California most of the time.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother . . . he’s a good guy . . . but he’s got issues.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“Yeah, I do.”
It was strange to watch Charlie Coyle offer up such intense emotions. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he had it inside him. He was one of the best up-and-coming lawyers in the metro area. He had really made a name for himself with his firm’s involvement in the recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Still, the only side of him I had seen until recently was the quiet, polite, doting husband. Now, I knew he also had a playful, fun side. And, apparently, a darker side his brother had the uncanny ability to unleash.
Walking back to the bar, he poured rum into his glass. This time, he didn’t bother with the eggnog. Making his way over to a small, wooden table in the breakfast nook, he pulled out a chair and collapsed onto it. Realizing that he wanted to talk, and despite my hesitation, I followed him. My boots clicked as I walked toward an empty chair.
“Carter has always had issues,” Charlie began, sipping the rum thoughtfully. “He, well, to be honest, I think it’s because my parents never made him take responsibility for his actions. I can remember once when we were younger, we were at the mall and he stole a bag of candy. Instead of making him go back to the store and face the consequence, my mother went back, paid, and never mentioned the incident again.”
“How old was he?” I heard myself ask. Girl, don’t encourage this.
“Probably nine. Old enough to know better, and to be disciplined for it. When I have kids, they’re going to know the difference between right and wrong. If they do something wrong, they’re going to answer for it. That’s the only way they’ll learn. If time after time, they keep screwing up and all you do is shrug it off . . .” He took another sip before wrapping his hands around the glass. “I’m sorry. Seeing my brother like that . . . Everything’s still a big joke. It bothers me. I shouldn’t let it, but it does.”
“Everything all right in here?”
We turned to find Alicia had entered the room. I glanced back in time to watch a panicked look cross Charlie’s face as he stared at the half-empty glass of rum. Before she got any closer, I snatched it from him. I took a sip. The sweet, warm liquid ran down my throat, leaving in its wake a slight burning and strong after taste. I cringed. Looking up, I found Alicia glaring at me. Huffing, she ripped the glass from my hand.
“Really, Jordan?” She took a whiff and gagged. “Rum? Straight up? What is the matter with you? What could possibly . . .? Is it that guy? Rick? Is that why you’re acting like this?”
“Rick has nothing to do with this,” I snapped, clenching my teeth.
“Well, something’s going on with you.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed. For a second, I thought I wa
s looking at my mother. “It’s late. I’m exhausted. I can’t deal with this tonight, but don’t think you’re off the hook. We’re going to talk about this.” She held up the glass for emphasis.
“Can’t wait.” I rolled my eyes.
“Charlie, my mom got all the gifts together by the front door, but I’m so tired. Could we come back for them tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. Kissing her forehead, he handed her his car keys. “Why don’t you go warm up the car? I’ll be right there.”
She nodded, yawning. Handing the glass to Charlie, she frowned at me. Still, she gave me a big hug. “I love you. Thanks for all you did tonight.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Talk tomorrow?”
I paused. “Sure.”
“I’ll be right there, babe,” Charlie called as Alicia shuffled out of the room. Glancing down at the glass, his eyes rose to meet mine. He offered a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“No, really. I appreciate it.” He turned the glass in his hands. “I don’t think she would’ve been as forgiving if she caught me with this.”
“Okay, gotta ask. What’s the big deal with booze? I mean, yeah, I know Alicia has never been a heavy drinker, but when did she join the temperance society?”
“Right before you got here, on Monday night, she was called in for emergency surgery on a three-month-old who had been in a bad wreck. The dad had been drinking because he lost his job off-shore and didn’t have the nerve to tell his wife. Well, he also didn’t bother to tell her he was drunk when he went to pick them up from her choir practice.” Walking to the double, stainless steel sinks, Charlie poured the remains down the drain. The sink gurgled in reply. “They both died in the wreck and the baby . . . Leesh did all she could, but . . . she didn’t make it.”
“Oh, my God. I had no idea.”
“No one knows. Not even your parents. She didn’t want people to think . . . This hit her hard, really hard. She’ll get past it, but with the baby and the holidays . . . it’s been tough on her.”
“I didn’t know.”
I felt like I had been punched in my stomach. My sister was such a caring, compassionate person. She loved helping others. Being a doctor was more than a job for her. It was a calling. As far as I knew, she had never lost a patient. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through.
“Jordan?” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I met his gaze. “I didn’t tell you this to upset you. I just wanted to let you know, so you could understand why she’s acting like this. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My voice cracked as the words left my lips. He stared at me, unconvinced.
Offering up a half smile, I insisted, “I’m good, really. Just . . . sorry to hear that she’s going through that.”
“She’ll be all right. Leesh knows with each surgery, there’s a chance the outcome could be, well, bad.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. Looking up again, he offered a slight smile. “I told you some of my most meaningful conversations involved alcohol.”
“Seriously.”
“Well, I better get going.” Leaning in, he kissed my cheek. His cologne smelled minty. “Thanks for all your help tonight. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m sorry again about what happened with Carter.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Pausing near the living room, I could tell he wanted to say more. At that point, I wanted nothing more than for him to leave so I could go to bed. The clock read eleven, but to me, it felt like midnight. Or later. I yawned. Charlie took the cue.
“’Night, Jordan.”
“’Night, Charlie.”
I waited until I heard the front door open and close before I made my way through the living room and to the stairs. When I gripped the banister, I felt a sudden presence. Turning my head, I watched my father follow my mother through the living room into the kitchen. I then heard them discussing something with another voice I took to be the man in charge of the catering company. Somehow, they had both managed to avoid me for the entire evening. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing, but at that point, I didn’t care. All I wanted was sleep.
My eyes barely open, I clung to the banister as I forced my legs to work, taking each step slowly. When I finally reached the top, I exhaled with relief. For whatever reason, the short-lived relief was replaced with insurmountable exhaustion. I dragged myself down the long hallway to my old bedroom.
As soon as I opened the door, I kicked off my boots, allowing them to land where the universe saw fit. I fell onto my bed. I wanted to take off my makeup and change out of my dress. I wanted to, but I didn’t.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, the full extent of my exhaustion, of all that had been going on during the past few days, washed over me. Paralyzed by fatigue, I couldn’t move. I promised myself if I just closed my eyes for a second, that would be all I needed to revive myself and I could then go get ready for bed. That’s the lie I told myself, at least.
5
The bright sunlight broke through the blinds, directing their piercing rays right into my eyes. Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach. I grabbed the pillow and covered my head. I had just started to fall back to sleep when my cell phone rang. Cursing under my breath, I forced myself to reach out, feeling my nightstand blindly until my hand made contact. It rang a fourth time when I answered it.
“Yeah?”
“Is that really how you answer the phone? Don’t you, like, use this for work or whatever? Totally unprofessional.”
“Hi, Heather.”
“Morning.”
I waited for her to continue, rubbing my eyes. I stretched. When I looked down at my hand, I realized it was smudged with my mascara. Glancing at my pillow, I noticed the rest of it had stained my pillowcase. Ugh, perfect.
“Is that gonna be a problem?”
“Uh, what now?”
“Geez, Jordan, do you ever listen?”
“Um, excuse me, I totally listen, just not all the time.” Running my fingers through my knotted hair, I yawned. “Don’t give me attitude, okay? You know I’m not a morning person. Just tell me what you said.”
“It’s nine o’clock your time. You should be up by now anyway. I said I’m flying in Christmas Eve and should get there around five. I need you to pick me up. Is that cool?”
Was it cool? Sure, totally cool. There was nothing I’d like better than to give my best friend a lift from the airport. Since her visit would be so short, this might be the only chance we would have to hang out for God knows how long. The only possible flaw in this plan was the car factor. I thought about what I could possibly say to convince my mother to lend me her car again after I got it impounded in the Quarter.
On the other hand, my mother always did like Heather. Heather spent as much time at my house growing up as I did at hers. We called each other’s mothers our second moms. I could see my mom possibly agreeing to the arrangement for Heather’s sake, if I managed to keep from screwing up any further over the next few days.
“So? Yes or no?”
“Well . . .”
“What’d you do?”
“Huh?”
“Jordan, don’t give me that. Only reason you’d be hesitant about any excuse to get out of family fun time is if you think you can’t get a car. Only reason you couldn’t get a car is if you did something.” Man, she’s good. “So what is it? What’d you do? Skip some family function? Insult your mom’s choice of holiday décor? Call her out for never cooking?”
“No, it was nothing like that,” I snapped with indignation.
“Okay, then what was it?” When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “You know I’m gonna find out. Might as wel
l tell me. Must be pretty big since you haven’t ‘fessed up yet.”
“You think you’re so smart.”
“I am.”
“Hmph.”
“You’re stalling.”
“Am I?”
“Jordan!”
The joking tone in her voice was becoming strained. I had heard it more and more since she became the head writer for Schooling Dad. Writing for any television show would be high pressure, but being the head writer for the number one sitcom in primetime must have been quadruple the stress. I had seen glimpses of it firsthand and, although I was beyond elated for her success, there was no way on earth I would ever want to switch places with her. I might have to deal with the occasional, gun-wielding psychopath, but she had to deal with egotistical, overpaid actors. On a daily basis. No, thank you.
“Jordan!”
“Fine! I kind of . . . got her car impounded,” I muttered, slurring my words.
“Uh, we must have a bad connection. I could’ve sworn you just said you got your mother’s car impounded.” She waited for me to reply. I didn’t. “Jordan! Are you . . .? You’re not serious, are you? You didn’t, I mean, you’re not that stupid.”
“Thanks.”
“You are that stupid? You’re kidding, right?”
“Um, no.”
“I cannot even begin to imagine what could have led to . . . Was it a case or something?”
“No, but that would’ve been a great excuse. Where were you yesterday when I could’ve used that?”
“Okay, stop. Just stop. What’s going on? What happened? Tell me. All of it.”
Honestly, I really didn’t feel like recapping it now, or ever. For one thing, I knew the end result would be a lecture. I would be reminded of what an idiot I was for getting myself into that situation in the first place. I was still waiting for my parents to give me that same speech. I didn’t want to hear it from my best friend too. Especially first thing in the morning. Sighing, I used my elbows to prop myself up against the frame of the daybed.
Simple Misconception (Jordan James, PI Series) Page 4