We filled up on pot roast, mashed potatoes, and chocolate cake. Henri did most of the talking, but Les jumped in occasionally. I ate like the food would jump off my plate and run away since my appetite was back with a vengeance, pausing only to answer a question or make a comment. Neil didn’t make a peep. He finished eating before everyone else and seemed content to hang out while the rest of us worked on our meals.
Henri put Les and Neil on cleanup duty and came upstairs to help me unpack. “Is this signature real?” she asked, holding up my father’s autographed Michael Jordan jersey. I’d snatched it from his closet shelf and stuffed it into one of my bags on a whim, along with a few pieces of my mother’s jewelry.
I swallowed hard and tried to say yes, but it sounded more like a croak. I made another attempt and it sounded even worse. My face grew hot, and tears threatened to fall yet again. Henri set the shirt down and put her arms around me. She didn’t say a word, and just hugged me tightly while stroking my hair. We parted when the water turned off in the kitchen. “Go and get a drink of water in the bathroom. Splash some on your face too, while you’re in there,” she whispered as the stairs creaked under the boys’ feet. “I’ll get them to go back downstairs.”
I did as she said. The cold liquid felt good on my scratchy throat. Staring at myself in the mirror over the sink, I saw how red my eyes were and splashed some cold water on my face. I dried off and opened the door, glancing at my bedroom door. Part of me wanted to crawl into bed and stay there forever, but at the same time being alone didn’t appeal to me either.
Squaring my shoulders on a deep breath, I went downstairs and found everyone gathered around a computer in what must have been Henri’s new office. “I’m ready to go to the store when you guys are,” I announced.
“Collette, we can go another night if–” Henri began, eyeing me over the rims of her reading glasses.
“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I want to go now.” Painting and setting up my room would keep me busy. And if I kept busy, there was a smaller chance of having another breakdown.
“Okay, you heard her, boys.” She slipped the glasses off and set them off to the side.
“Can I drive?” Les asked as we headed to the garage.
Henri tossed him the keys and shouldered her purse. “No showing off, you hear me? I don’t care if there’s a cute girl in the car next to us.”
“All I did was turn to another radio station because I didn’t want anyone to think I was a Kenny G fan. I didn’t run a light or a stop sign,” he complained as the door rolled up. “Don’t listen to her, Collette. She’s high-strung and in denial of being old enough to have a driver, that’s all.”
I followed them down a couple of stairs and froze when I saw the Ford Explorer parked in the middle of the concrete floor, identical to the one my parents had bought to replace my mother’s old Toyota before we left for Florida.
It was the same shade of red Mom had picked. Dad had tried to talk her into black or navy blue, but she’d clamped a hand over his mouth and said, “Zip it. You said this would be my car. I’ve always wanted a red one, and this is a nice ruby color, not something obnoxious.”
Neil plowed right into my back. I stumbled on rubbery legs and dropped face-first toward the concrete floor. At the last second, one of my hands shot out and broke the fall. I laid there in shock for a few seconds before the tears started.
Henri and Les got out of the car and rushed over. They helped me up and back inside the house to clean up my knees and hand, which were badly scraped and oozing blood. Neil stood off to the side with a fist pressed to his mouth, watching with worried eyes. Even though I felt embarrassed for crying in front of everyone, I was glad they thought my tears were from being in pain after eating cement and nothing else.
We wound up staying home, watching reruns until bedtime.
As the others slept, I sat in the middle of my bed clutching a pillow, trying to convince myself that riding in Henri’s car would be okay. Just because she had the same SUV like the one we’d gotten into an accident with didn’t mean it would happen again. Plenty of people had red Explorers, and they were fine. I just had to get a grip and not go into statue mode next time we had to drive somewhere.
All of the day’s events–the wake, the funeral, meeting Henri and the boys, the unexpected niceness from Les and Neil, Henri’s gentle sympathy, seeing the car–crashed down over me. I buried my face in the pillow and let go, sobbing until I gagged.
“Here, use these,” a voice whispered.
Neil looked up at me from where he knelt on the floor next to my bed. His room was next to mine, and he must have heard me crying. A box of tissues rested in his outstretched hand. “Thanks,” I whispered back, pulling one out. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“You didn’t. I was still awake.” He set the box on the mattress and scooted backward to the wall, sticking his thumbs into holes cut in the cuffs of his hoodie before pulling the fabric over his hands. “Are you okay?”
“No…” I dried my eyes and grabbed another tissue for my nose. “I don’t want to sound mean, but I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”
He nodded, drawing his knees up and tucking them under his chin. “Want to get some cake? Les will eat it all if he gets there first, but I heard him snoring so we’re good for a while.”
Something squeaked, and I looked up as Henri poked her head around the doorframe. Her eyes shined with unshed tears. “Best idea I’ve heard in a long time, Neil. We’ll leave the empty plate out to teach him a lesson. With plenty of crumbs on it.”
Neil scrambled to his feet and darted out the door.
“He’s spoken maybe a dozen words since he got here.” She wiped her eyes and slid an arm around my shoulders. “Thank you for bringing him out of his shell. Now let’s get down there before there’s nothing left.”
6
Ryan
I slammed the cab door shut and stared at the two-story brownstone with a turret on the side. My condo paled in comparison to the size and grandeur of Collette’s house. Gripping the bars of the black wrought-iron fence, I blew out a low whistle of admiration.
“You’re early,” said a deep voice from behind.
I turned and swung without thinking, cuffing Neil on the chin. He grunted and stumbled backward, his sneakers scraping the sidewalk. It looked like he’d just finished a run, his face and the neckline of his hoodie soaked with sweat. I’d pass out from heatstroke if I ran in such humid conditions, but he seemed used to being covered up.
“Oh, shit! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you behind me.” Awesome. I could already picture this in the Worst Dates Ever section in a future issue of Cosmo. Diana read them out loud whenever she bought a new one, and we laughed hysterically at the clueless, stupid crap guys did. None of those stories seemed as funny now that I was one of the dumb dipshits.
“He went all ninja and punched my poor brother in the face outside my house for no apparent reason.” – Collette, Chicago, IL
“I’ll never sneak up on you again.” He flexed his jaw a few times and punched a code into a keypad, pushing the gate open and gesturing for me to go first. “Hell of a right hook you’ve got there.”
I followed him down the paver stone walkway, shaking out my hand. “If it’s any consolation, my hand hurts like a sonofabitch.”
“That does make me feel better, actually.” He grinned and unlocked the front door. “Come on in.”
He led me through a tiled foyer, past a sitting area with a pair of couches flanking a coffee table, and down a hallway until we entered the kitchen. I took a seat on one of the stools at the island. Neil opened the freezer door and tossed me a bag of frozen vegetables, then pulled out another one, wincing as he pressed it to his face. A brown-and-white blur barreled through an archway and stopped by Neil’s feet, dancing around on its hind legs. Neil reached down and scratched the dog behind his ears. “Hey, Oscar. Want to go for a walk in a bit?”
Oscar ba
rked and sat down, his tail wagging and small body vibrating with excitement. He was a cute little thing, with brown patches of fur around his eyes resembling a mask.
“Neil?” Collette called from somewhere upstairs. “Is that you?”
“No, it’s housekeeping,” he yelled. “Are you decent?”
Footsteps sounded on the staircase, and Collette appeared. She looked gorgeous in a red dress, her dark hair bouncing as she jogged down. “Why? Is the mayor here or-” she caught sight of me and smiled. The way her face lit up hit me harder than my fist had hit Neil’s face. It knocked the wind out of me.
The second she took in the bag on my hand and the other on Neil’s face, her expression dimmed. I slid off the stool and set the bag aside, quickly rounding the island to man up and explain what had happened. Neil had laughed it off. Maybe she would, too.
“Do I want to know how this,” her index finger traveled from me to her brother, “happened? Was Les involved?”
“Nope,” Neil and I said in unison.
“Good. Carry on, then.” She reached down to pet Oscar, looking at Neil. “He called right after you left and tried to invite himself over. I told him to concentrate on getting ready for his own date, and he hung up on me.”
“That means he’ll be here in five…four...three…two…” Neil held up a finger and swiveled it toward the back door.
Sure enough, it swung open, and Les stepped inside.
Collette rolled her eyes as Neil snorted. He strolled over to the fridge, pulled out two beers, popped the caps, and slid one across the counter to me.
“I hope your date ditches you when you’re late.” Collette poked Les in the chest. “It would serve you right, Leslie.”
“I have an hour before it’s time to pick her up. Unlike some people,” he aimed a stern look at Neil, “I take my brotherly duties seriously.”
He really did, which I found fascinating since none of them were actually siblings. Among the articles I’d read online, one had been an interview with all three of them shortly after establishing the Give Wright Back Foundation in honor of Les’s adoptive mother and Neil and Collette’s foster mother. Each of them had recounted how they wound up in Henrietta Wright’s care.
Les Wright, aka Leslie, had been all set for adoption after his birth, but the couple backed out at the last minute. Henri had been on duty that night as a labor and delivery nurse and took such a liking to the newborn, she decided to take him.
Neil Atherton’s story wasn’t as pleasant. There was a brief mention of a house fire when he was thirteen and him being the only survivor. Henri had been his first foster mother, and he’d stayed with her even after aging out of the system. The scars I’d seen on him made complete sense if he had been injured in that fire. I felt for the guy. It must have been tough to move on all by himself.
And then there was Collette Russo, who also had been thirteen years old when her parents died in a car accident on the way home from a family vacation in Florida. She, too, had stayed with Henri after aging out. One day this past January, she’d stopped in a quickie mart to grab lunch between classes and bought a ticket for Ten on Ten, the state lottery’s newest game with a drawing on the tenth day of each month. She’d played familial birthdays and won a jackpot of a hundred million dollars.
Henrietta Wright had passed away from breast cancer two years ago. To honor the memory of the woman who had brought and kept them together, her kids had taken a portion of the prize money and established the foundation with the intention of passing on the kindness and generosity they had received from someone who had started out as a complete stranger.
“Hey now,” Neil said over the mouth of his bottle. “I wouldn’t have given Ryan a beer if he had to drive. Nice try, but no dice. Want to use your free spin for another chance to piss me off?”
“What the hell happened to your face?” Les propped a hip on the counter and tipped his head to one side. “Let me guess. You saw Bigfoot and tripped over an uneven seam in the sidewalk while trying to get a picture.”
“Yeah, and then I gave him directions to your house. Hope he kicks your balls into your throat for acting like a dickhead.”
“God, I hope someone records that,” Collette muttered, jumping away when Les snapped a dish towel at her.
Neil tsked loudly. “Manners, people. We have a guest.”
“Don’t stop on my account. This is like watching a sitcom. Better, actually, since there are no commercial breaks.” I clinked bottles with Neil and took a long pull of Goose Island Honker’s Ale. I liked him and could see us becoming friends if Collette and I hit it off.
Les, on the other hand? Not so much, unless he loosened up once he realized I wasn’t after his sister for nefarious reasons. None involving her money, anyway.
“This is just great. Thanks for barging in here uninvited to tease Neil and embarrass me in front of a guest. Go home. I hope the door hits you in the ass on your way out.” Collette turned away from Les, her cheeks tinged pink. “I’m going to grab my shoes, then we can go,” she said to me.
She ran up the stairs, and Les followed. Neil opened the freezer and tossed his makeshift ice pack inside with a sigh. “Don’t take it personally. Les doesn’t think anyone is good enough for her. He means well, but doesn’t know when to quit.”
“He does this with every guy who takes her out?” I asked, tossing him my bag.
Neil turned to face me, one eyebrow arched. He studied me for a moment before speaking. “Collette isn’t like most women her age.” His gaze shifted to the stairs for a moment before returning to me. “She’s selective about who she dates. Some might even say she’s picky given how few guys she’s gone out with. If you’re hoping for a hook-up, do everyone a favor and leave now. I’ll clean up the mess.”
I stared at him, not sure what to make of what I’d just heard. Part of me felt insulted, but the rest of me admired the way he showed his protective side. He did it calmly and quietly, which starkly contrasted with Les’s method. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said slowly, looking him straight in the eyes.
He nodded and took another drink from his bottle.
Voices floated down from above. “I really like him,” Collette said in an angry tone. “It will be a long time before I forgive you if you scare him off. He’s not another Josh, so stop worrying about history repeating itself. Why can’t you trust me?”
“I do trust you, Coco,” Les replied. “Everyone else is another story. You know nothing about this guy, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“You’re right. I don’t know much about him. But I do know that he has plenty of his own money, which means he isn’t on the prowl for a sugar mama. I’m going out with him to try and get to know him better. That’s what dating is for, to test the waters and decide if you want to go in any further. I’ll be careful. Please stop acting like a nutcase before he decides to bail.”
“Uh, guys?” Neil called out. “Voices carry.”
A red-faced Collette descended the stairs with Les right behind her. Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she crossed the room and sat on the stool next to me. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that drama. I get loud when I’m angry. I’m ready to go when you are.”
“It’s the Italian in her.” Neil got up and tossed his empty bottle in the trash. “You should see her when she gets all riled up. Reminds me of when Bruce Banner turns into the Hulk, minus the green skin. I just apologize right away, even when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m not that bad,” Collette muttered.
“Whatever you say. I’m going to grab a shower. Have fun, you two.” He disappeared up the steps with Oscar by his side.
Les cleared his throat. “I should probably head out and get ready myself.” He offered me a hand. “Take care of her. I hope there are no hard feelings about before.”
I gave him a firm shake. “None at all. I’d probably be just as protective if I had a younger sister.”
He nodded an
d reached for the door handle. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said to Collette before it clicked shut.
Collette sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I think it’s time for him to conveniently lose his key again. Are you okay? I mean, you’re still here, so…”
I chuckled and gently bumped her shoulder. “Overprotective brothers don’t scare me.” I hopped off my seat and held out a hand. “All set?”
She placed her hand in mine and stood, lacing our fingers together. Warmth surged up my arm as she smiled at me. “Let’s get out of here.”
7
Ryan
The string of bells hanging on the door tinkled as another couple stepped inside Bean Me Up. Soft guitar music and the aroma of ground coffee beans permeated the air. Light gleamed off the chrome top of the espresso machine from the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“How cool,” Collette commented, her dark eyes moving over the menus written on large chalkboards. “Everything sounds so good. I’m torn between the chocolate cherry mocha and the bananas foster latte. Have you had either of them?”
“I’ve never tried any of the specialty drinks. I’m more of a no-frills coffee kind of guy,” I admitted, slipping my arm around her waist.
We had passed on dessert after dinner. The claims reviewers had made about the servings at Limosani’s being huge were no lie. Collette had suggested walking to the coffee shop, rubbing her stomach and jokingly groaning about how she’d eaten too much. We’d hoofed it for eight blocks, giving our wrapped leftovers to a homeless guy sitting on a street corner with a sign asking for food or money.
“What can I get started for you?” asked the girl behind the cash register.
“You go first. I’m still on the fence and need another second,” Collette said, rummaging around in her bag.
“A large French roast, please.”
“I’ll take a large chocolate cherry mocha.” Collette slapped down a credit card and crooked a finger at the girl. “I want to pay for everyone’s drinks while I’m here. Is there a way to run a tab? I can leave my card with you for collateral and sign the slip when we’re ready to go.”
More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1) Page 5