by K. S. Thomas
Hudson nods thoughtfully. Then he sets down his mug. I can’t help but notice it’s still half full and this really bugs me. Who abandons hot coffee this way?
“You’re a twin. That’s pretty cool. How many are there of you guys total?” I’m kind of shocked, but he sounds genuinely interested.
“Five total. Me and Alex, then Aaron and Adam, and of course, Eda’s the oldest.” Although not by nearly as much as we’ve made it out to be. Five years difference really wasn’t at all enough to let her take on responsibility for all of us. But she’d made it so easy. So, we’d let her.
“Eda, huh? Why do you call her that anyway?”
I shrug and sip. “Couldn’t say Ava when I was little. And then, once I could, I was so used to calling her Eda, it just kinda stuck. She’s my Eda.” I smile. She makes me crazy most of the time, but damn I love that girl.
“Addy?” Ava walks in through the sliding glass door leading out to the courtyard. “I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing here?”
“Making friends with the newest member of our family.” I nod in Hudson’s direction and he gives a smile of approval. It was high time we had a chat like this really. “Also, I needed to talk to you.” Then I spot Royce, following Ava through the door at a somewhat delayed pace. “There’s the other half of this Lemmi-Hudson mash up. You still look nice and tan. I guess you guys didn’t spend all of your time indoors.”
“Private beaches.”
Yeah. It’s self-explanatory.
“What did you need to talk to me about?” Ava asks, on her way to the coffee maker to refill her cup. Only, it’s empty. “Hey. What happened here?”
Hudson points across the table at me. “Your sister.”
“Judas,” I hiss, before I turn my attention back to my Ava, “I kind of read an email from Brett by accident while I was on your computer.”
Her brow scrunches up automatically. “How do you read someone else’s email by accident?”
It was simple really. It was completely intentional. “Um, because, while I was totally minding my own business, the email alert popped up on the screen with Brett’s name on it along with the subject line: Looking for an intern, any suggestions?”
“And from there you were a mere click away from completely invading my privacy?” For someone who barely even knocks before she enters someone else’s bathroom, she has a lot of nerve showing so much disdain for my actions.
“You’re acting like I went through your entire inbox – which I did not, by the way. And also, ew, some of Blaise’s subject lines could be a little more subtle.”
“Never mind that now. Why were you so interested in Brett’s need for an intern? What, you want the gig?” She’s busy waving off Royce who looks like he has a million snide comments chilling right there at the tip of his tongue, and even though I’m dying to hear what they might be, I jump right in and answer before he has a chance to.
“I do. I’ve been hanging around your place long enough now, I think it’s safe for us all to admit I’m not going back to school –“
“And you need a new plan,” Ava finishes for me.
“Only this would be so much more than just a new plan, Eda. Interning for a music producer, that’s like my freaking dream.” I’m not holding back. I’m gesturing and using dramatic expressions to match the silly desperation in my tone. I need this.
“Since when is producing music your dream? Last time you and I had any kind of chat involving music I was busy trying to rescue you from boyband hell.” Ava’s definitely not hip to my lifelong ambitions. Why would she be? I’ve been too busy hiding my work, from her, from everyone. I can’t expect people to realize how obviously perfect this opportunity is for me just because I’m telling them it is now.
“Okay, first of all, Ma put up those posters thinking I would like them and I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. Second,” I pause to take a breath and gather up what little dignity I have left. “Eda...listen to me. Remember how back in the day, the boys used to rehearse in the garage?”
“Obviously.” Granted. Stupid question. But it seemed like a solid way to open.
“Well, do you also remember how I used to come and sit on Dad’s old workbench and listen? How I spent hours just quietly perched up there, not saying a single word, just taking it all in? The beat of the drum? The deep strum of the base? The way Blaise’s voice blended in with the instruments perfectly?”
“I remember you coming in and bugging us every freaking afternoon, begging to sit there and listen and promising not to make a sound. I didn’t realize you were so intense at eleven that you were breaking it all down in your head like that.” There’s a slight hint of sarcasm in her tone and I have to consciously choose to ignore it.
“Well, I was. I fell in love with music back then, same as all of you. Why do you think I was always hounding Angel to teach me how to play the drums?” As soon as I say his name I realize the mistake I’ve made.
“Um, because you had a massive crush on him and asking to play his drums was the only appropriate thing an eleven year old could talk about with a sixteen year old?” She’s not even trying not to laugh at me. Even Royce is grinning from ear to ear. I hate them both.
“You had a crush on Angel? I take it this was before he started sleeping with every vagina that crosses his path?” Hudson is actually half-serious, which I almost appreciate. Except of course, that I’m one of those vaginas now. Not that anyone knows that. I didn’t even tell my sister. Let me rephrase that, I definitely didn’t tell my sister. I’m hardly even telling myself. Mostly I’m just trying to forget the whole thing ever happened. Which is hard since it was fucking amazing.
“Sadly, no.” Ava’s shaking her head. I realize a great deal of her disappointment is directed at me and my poor choices in men tracking back to my preteen years, although I’m hoping some of it is intended for Angel and his whoring ways as well.
“Fine, I had a crush on Angel. So what? I was eleven. He was older and I was no idiot. Drummers are fucking hot. Slutty or not. He’s gorgeous.” Flustered, I place both hands on my hips trying to take a stand for myself. Things have gotten ridiculously off track.
“Wait. That’s present tense. We talked about this, Addy. You need to stay away from him. I don’t care how hot you think he is, he’s fucked up in a hundred different ways thanks to Moe making a reappearance, and you don’t need to be putting yourself anywhere near the toxic path he’s currently carving out for himself.” She flares her nostrils, exhaling dramatically the way she does when she’s annoyed. “And whore or not, he doesn’t tend to sleep with girls he can’t choose to avoid for all eternity come the next morning, which takes you off his radar all together. So, if he’s the real reason you want this job –“
“He’s not! I’m serious about music, Eda.” I’m not even going to take the time to share with her how particularly offensive I found that last bit of her closing argument or how inaccurate it happens to be. “I want this like I’ve never wanted anything. Please, just help me this one last time and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I promise you, Eda, you get me in there, you give me a chance and I’ll prove to you that I know more about music than you could possibly imagine.”
She’s still skeptical, but I’m pretty sure she’s about to take pity on me, whether she believes I have any talent or skill, or not. “Fine. I’ll talk to Brett. Just so you know though, interning for him will likely have very little to do with actual music. It’ll be mostly running errands. Making his shitty herbal tea. Tracking down places for lunch that serve all vegan meals, that kind of crap. I need you to know that before I call him and give him your name.”
I’m nodding like a fucking bobble head at this point. “I got it. Holy, Eda. You are amazing. Thank you.” I throw both arms around her neck and squeeze her tight. Neither of us is what you might call a touchy-feely person and even when it comes to hugging her own sister, I know Ava’s hating every second of it. But I don’t care.
�
��Yeah, okay. Now back it up. Enough with this boob on boob action. Your young and perky knockers are about to turn mine into an inverted rack.” She’s grinning, so I know she wasn’t suffering nearly as much during our little embrace as she’s letting on.
“I love you, Eda.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She kisses Royce on the cheek and heads toward the door. Hopefully to go and get in touch with Brett. Meanwhile, I stay behind to finish what’s left of my coffee. I’m still so excited by the new turn in events it takes me a good two or three minutes before I realize Royce and Hudson are both staring at me.
“So...you have a thing for Angel. Any other completely self-destructive hobbies you have you’d like to share with us? Like maybe a meth habit? Or walking around in a deer costume during hunting season?” Royce thinks he’s so fucking funny.
“I was eleven. Obviously, I know better than to fall for a guy who will only ever appreciate the parts of me he can stick his dick in,” I scoff haughtily, hoping I’m not nearly as transparent as I feel.
“Damn. That was crude. I feel a little like I need to shower now.” Hudson shakes dramatically. I feel a little dirty myself. And not because of how crass I’m being. But, you know, the thing I did that should make me feel a little dirty every second of every day. But I don’t care how much of a whore Angel is. I’ve been in love with him for damn near ten years now. I don’t imagine that’s going to change anytime soon. Nor do I expect to change the fact that in those ten years, he’s never seen me as anything more than Ava’s annoying little sister who begged him to play the drums every chance she got. The fact that he still calls me Bam Bam after all these years is a clear indication of precisely that. Plus, there’s the whole meltdown he had after he slept with me which is likely only reinforcing his whole ‘I’m going to grow up to be a skeeve like Moe’ agenda. Never mind the fact I’m twenty-one, way past legal age. Doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I can’t do a damn thing about Angel or his issues. So, I’m going to do my part and focus on my own for a change.
***
“What are you doing here?” I wasn’t expecting to find Royce standing in my kitchen this morning. Or this...noon. Whatever.
“Just checking to make sure you’re still alive,” he says dryly, picking through a bag of trail mix I know he found in my pantry. I should tell him how old that shit is, but I don’t know how long he’s been eating it. May be too late anyway.
“Could have called.” I’m not trying to be an ass, but even Derek has seen fit to steer clear for the last few days, I was kind of hoping he’d spread the word and let everyone else know I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.
“Tried that. Your voicemail’s full.” He looks up from his bag. “I take it you’re not using your usual means of escape and fucking your way through this one? What with all those unanswered booty calls clogging up your inbox.”
I want to throw up. Because that’s exactly the means I used to escape. Only I didn’t fuck some meaningless chick I barely know. I slept with Bam Bam. A girl I’ve known for a decade. A girl I care about. A lot.
“You look like you’re about to hurl.” Royce and his matter of fact observations are usually less annoying. Today they make me want to punch something.
“I’m probably sick. You better go before you catch it.”
But he just shakes his head as he slides down from the barstool he’s been sitting in to go and toss the trail mix in the trash. “Pretty sure what you have isn’t contagious, bro.”
I close my eyes and I let out my frustrations with the longest exhale in history. I suddenly get why he’s here. And it’s not some random check to make sure I’m still breathing. Royce is more specific than that. More insightful. And he’s about to lay some shit on me. Shit I’m probably not ready to hear, but need to.
“Fuck, man. Just do it. Get it over with. Rip that fucking band aid off so I can go back to bed.”
Royce smirks. “You think I’m here to impart some sort of wisdom on you? Share some deeply meaningful shit that will give you a whole new perspective on your fucked up life?” He starts walking out of the kitchen in and into the living room and I follow him.
“Aren’t you?”
He shrugs. “Depends. You want some?”
“Are you going to leave if I say no?”
He tips his head to the side and makes a face. “I think we both know that’s unlikely.”
“Then yes. Yes, I want some fucking advice.”
He drops down into my sofa. The one Addy picked out. The one I found her sleeping on the night I was arrested. And I kinda want to tell him to get up and sit somewhere else. But I don’t. I just stand here, staring at him, arms crossed over my chest.
“Fine. I don’t think you’re really ready for it, but I’m gonna lay it on you anyway because we’re running out of fucking time. We’re due back in the studio in less than a week, and we won’t produce shit worth listening to if you don’t pull your head out of your ass and get back in the game before then.”
I clench my jaw to keep from answering. If I say anything, it’ll just let him know that I forgot we were recording next week. I mean, I knew it was out there. I just sort of lost track of time here by myself.
“You gonna sit down? Because I’m gonna be a minute.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. Just say what you have to say.”
He sighs. “Alright, dude. Here goes. Your dad’s a piece of shit. I know this. You know this. We all know this. You, are not.”
I start to speak and then realize I can’t tell him what I want to say.
“What?”
“You don’t know, Royce. You don’t know all there is to know...”
He gets to his feet and stares me square in the eyes. “Yeah, I do. I’ve known you nearly half my life. You’re like a brother to me. And you’re one of the best men I know. So, whatever you’ve done. Or, whoever you’ve done...it doesn’t change anything. I know you’re not a rapist or a pedophile.”
“Of course I’m not a fucking rapist or a pedophile!”
Royce still won’t look away. “Moe is. He’s both.”
“No shit. Why do you think I hate sharing his fucking DNA?”
He shrugs. “Beats me. Pretty sure neither is genetic.” He reaches up and places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “Hate that motherfucker all you want. But you gotta stop fucking hating yourself. Especially for shit that doesn’t even exist. So you sleep around a lot. You’re a big fat whore. We’ve all been there. Well, except Derek. But you know Blaise for damn sure was keeping up with you for a long while there. And, chances are good, Moe’s not his father.”
I actually laugh. Just for a second.
“What do I do? How do I get him out of my fucking head if I can’t get him out of my fucking life?”
“Honestly?” Royce half rolls his eyes and I get the feeling I’m not going to like what he’s got to say. “You pay him off. Just give him the fucking money he wants and he’ll crawl back under the rock he came creeping out from and hopefully, this time get crushed by it.”
I can feel my hands ball into fists. “You’re serious. You want me to give him money.”
Royce nods. “Yeah. Not for his sake. For yours. He’s not worth all this shit. And besides. You make him leave you alone, he also stays away from Addy. It’s win-win.”
Addy.
“I’ll call my lawyer. Set something up.” I turn away from Royce, rubbing my hands over my face. Now that I’m not fucking pissed anymore, something new and unnerving is taking over and I don’t want him to see it.
“Good. Then maybe you can come back to the land of the living. People are starting to miss you.” He pats my back as he walks by. Apparently, he’s done trying to fix me. For now.
He’s already at the front door when my mouth opens and the words just fucking fall out.
“How did you know? Back then...that things were different with Hudson?”
He stares at me for a second. Then smiles. “I just did. Everythin
g came so easily. Being with him was the most natural thing in the world. It changed things. Changed me.”
I nod. Because I think I get it now. In a way I never thought I ever would. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I want to know?”
He grins, like he fucking knows. “Nope.”
And then he leaves, and for the first time in a long while I notice how the sun shines through the cracks in the blinds. Light. It’s time for some fucking light again.
Chapter 9
“You look awfully awake for this time of day.” Blaise smirks at me from across the kitchen.
“Look who’s talking.” None of us are morning people. Of course, I can’t blame my inability to get up before noon on my rock star lifestyle. Yet. In the meantime, there was no way I was going to oversleep today. Not when I’ve been bouncing off the walls ever since Ava told me last night that Brett agreed to give me the gig. It’s my first day and I’m determined to be the best intern he’s ever had. Starting with being there on time. Provided Ava ever gets out of the shower. Since she’s my ride and all.
“What’s up with your sudden interest in music anyway?” Blaise is slurping away at some nasty looking protein shake. It’s lumpy and I can smell something fishy. Literally.
“I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s so sudden. Doesn’t anyone remember me sitting on my dad’s old workbench during every single band practice back in the day?” I pour myself a cup of coffee. My second already, but since I hardly slept last night, and the adrenaline of starting my dream job is bound to wear off eventually, I have a feeling I can use every last drop of caffeine I can get my hands on today.
“Yeah, I remember you being there. Pretty sure that had less to do with the music and more to do with our drummer though.” He’s got a shit eating grin that makes me want to shove his face into that nasty-ass smoothie of his.
“Screw you, B.”
“I believe that’s my job.” Ava snickers at her own stupid joke as she makes a beeline for the coffee maker. Considering I only heard the shower go off a few minutes ago, I’m a little stunned at how put together she looks. I swear the woman has a stash of gay elves tucked away in her closet. I picture this whole Cinderella moment with the birds and mice situation from the first scene of the movie. Only in my head, it’s Ava and her gay elves, all of whom are dressed in hot pink suits with giant feathers in their little caps as they gather around her to apply make-up, style her hair and dress her in record time. Because seriously, not a hair is out of place and I know her complexion doesn’t naturally look as though it’s been airbrushed.