Chapter Seventeen
Becoming a local
FALLON
Dane snored lightly while my eyes fluttered open to see that the clock on the nightstand was blaring half past noon in bright red numbers. Even though there was nowhere for us to be, sleeping away the morning felt wrong. It was a terrible thing for a musician to be a morning person, but I felt guilty for sleeping away half of the day. The memory of my mom’s voice squawked in my ears: “We’re burning daylight, Fal. Get a damn move on.”
My mother meant well, she really did have a kind heart, but she was totally brainwashed by Sam’s callousness and controlling behavior. It only took a year from the day my father’s body was put in the ground for Sam to move into our home, and within three months of that they were on their freaking honeymoon. It was safe to say I would never truly get over the way that felt. I missed my father. His warm smile. The way the crow’s feet attached to the corners of his eyes would droop down when he cried happy tears at sappy commercials, even though he tried to hide how sentimental he truly was. The way his posture would be just a tad straighter once he was in his uniform. How no matter how late he had to work, he would always sneak into my room at night to wake me up and tell me a bedtime story, even if it was a short one.
I smiled at Dane’s calm, sleeping face. There was so much about him that reminded me of my dad. They had identical hardass exteriors, hidden soft sides, and big hearts that loved with all their might.
Dane shifted, coughing a little, startling himself awake. I busted out laughing while he caught his breath looking like a deer caught in headlights.
“You ok?” I questioned, still laughing a little.
Wide-eyed, he nodded. “Just a bad dream.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You know those dreams where you feel like you’re falling?”
“I hate those!” They were the freaking worst and I had them all the time.
Right then my stomach rumbled very loudly. I blushed, wrapping my arms around my hollow stomach.
“I guess we should tame that beast.”
I nodded. “That’d be nice.”
“I know the perfect place! We need to make you a true Chicagoan sometime or another.”
“You mean like a local?”
Dane shot up from the bed, reaching a hand out to help me to my feet. “Have you heard of Al’s?”
I shook my head.
“You’re in for a fucking treat then, babe.” He winked, tossed me a small Hysterics shirt from the back of his closet, and started to put his sneakers on. “That’s an extra, you can have it.”
I pulled the guy’s size small shirt over my head and pulled on my jeans. “So what is Al’s, anyway?”
“You’ll see. This is going to be epic.”
After pulling my bedhead into a loose bun, attempting to make my smudged makeup look somewhat less vampire like, and praying that I wouldn’t start smelling from the lack of deodorant, I slung my bag over my shoulder and entered Dane’s living room where he was waiting. “Ready?”
He popped up from the couch and took my hand. “Heck yes.” A smile that could light up the entire city spread across Dane’s stubble covered face. His eyes were bright with excitement and I breathed in their infectious brilliance. My skin tingled as our fingers interlaced and I rose up on my tiptoes to kiss his soft grinning lips. I wanted to catch his amazing energy and harness it, let it course through my callous veins and bring me back to life. Right in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to truly be alive in my new life.
As the clock rolled around to one, we were walking up to Al’s. A gigantic sign screamed brilliantly on an awning over a small modest restaurant: ‘Al’s #1 Italian Beef’.
The grip on my hand tightened while Dane’s excited gaze dropped down to mine. “This is the original.”
“There’s more of Al around?” I was trying to be funny through my naiveté and Dane just kissed the top of my head and nodded.
For being famous and having the number one Italian beef sandwich, the inside was just as modest as the outside, and frankly, kind of underwhelming. We were greeted by a young guy behind a wood paneled counter with a face filled with acne, probably the result of eating too many greasy sandwiches.
Dane smiled at the pimply-faced kid and rattled off, "We'll take two beefs, dipped with hot and sweet.”
“Any fries or drinks?”
“Two pops and an order of fries.”
The guy rang us up and gave us our soggy, messy-looking sandwiches faster than I could have said lickety-split.
“Alright, I have to teach you how to eat this.” Dane was still grinning ear to ear while I looked at him like he had six heads.
“Ok? I mean, I have eaten a sandwich one or two times in my lifetime.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not like a true Chicagoan. Come here.”
We walked over to the counter with our backs facing the counter where we had ordered. Dane set our food out and took the drinks from me, setting them down and grabbing my hips.
“You have to plant your feet here.” He shifted me to the perfect spot, which felt way too far away from the counter.
“Ok,” he continued, standing right next to me, “Now put your forearms like this on the bar.” He leaned his forearms onto the edge of the counter and waited for me to follow suit.
“And then lean over so that if you spill, nothing gets on you, just on the counter or floor.”
“The floor? I’m not a heathen!”
Dane chuckled, sliding my beef sandwich—which was dripping with a crazy amount of juice—in front of me. “Trust me, this is how everyone does it!”
I shrugged. “Alright. Here goes nothing.” I grabbed my overstuffed, soggy bun and dove in. Holy hell. It was the most amazingly spicy, sweet, soggy, delicious explosion of flavor I could have ever hoped to sink my teeth into.
“Well?” Dane was waiting for my reaction, not even touching his meal.
My eyes grew wide and my smile started to curl. “This is fucking incredible!”
Dane nodded. “See, I told you!”
DANE
After using a ton of napkins and almost covering my shirt in gravy, the last bite of phenomenal beef was rolling around in my mouth.
“You ready?” Fallon’s cute lips sucked on her straw and I felt my dick twitch.
Fuck, she’s too damn hot. Is there such a thing?
My mind focused on ripping the T-shirt off of her and fucking her gorgeous body right on the bar at Al’s.
She nudged my arm with an elbow and I choked out, “Yeah. Let’s blow this pop stand.”
She laughed at my dumb cliché and grabbed her bag.
“You should probably take me home.”
Ugh. Terrible words to hear, but she was right. “Alright.” I pouted, opening The Judge’s door for her to slide into the passenger seat.
“Why so serious, Romeo?”
“It's the worst part of my day—leaving you.”
She popped out her bottom lip, trying to feign a frown. “Doesn’t absence make the heart grow founder?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”
Man, I’m fucking sappy. Chicks like sappy, right? Fallon seemed to be enjoying it at least.
“Well, I do have practice tonight.”
“See, I’d just cramp your rock star style!” she giggled. Her giggle was adorable, way too freaking cute for me to not hear all the fucking time, like every minute of every damn day.
“I think the guys would love to enjoy your presence again.”
She rolled her eyes, buckling her seatbelt and taking the door handle into her hand. “Get in,” she demanded and I trotted around the front end of my amazingly gorgeous car.
I let the engine rumble to life, taking Fallon’s small hand in mine. “I will take you home and not be too needy.” I knew I was taking up too much of her time, that I was being too pushy, but I was falling fast and she was my only safety net.
&
nbsp; She leaned over to kiss my cheek. “I’ll be going to the barbecue tomorrow. One night won’t kill us, babe. Promise.”
“Well if you promise, who am I to question you?”
I was the last one to show up to practice.
“Hey, guys.” I slumped onto the stool behind my set.
“Hey, Dane. You all right?”
There was nothing wrong with me. I was fucking fantastic. But the little kid from “Love Actually” came to mind, specifically when he was sitting on the park bench with his stepfather and saying, “Worse than the total agony of being in love?” That little kid was right: love was total agony. Fantastic agony.
“Yeah, of course I am.”
“Why didn’t you bring Fallon? She could really help us.”
“She wanted to have a night to catch up on some work. Can we just get this shit started?” I sounded pissed and bratty, which was not my intention at all; I was just preoccupied.
We dove into one of the first songs that Maverick had ever written. I loved the lyrics, the angst and lust behind them. It was captivating and fast-paced and raw. There wasn’t any truth to the words that wove together to tell a sad story of toxic lovers, but it was so convincing. Maverick was just that talented.
There’s a pain clicking inside my heart
Keeping it locked away behind my lips
Influenced by a secret hidden deep down from you
You think you know me
I want to believe all the lies you know and trust
The words bleed from my mouth
And they are the poison
Eating at my heart
As it kills you slowly in my arms
I’m your killer
I’m your lover
This is a corrupt utopia
You call perfect
And I call hell
I love your smile
And how you're always carefree
I hate what I do to you
Take your world, twist it into sugar and spoon feed you bliss
When the reality is salt stinging the cuts caused by my claws
Pure white turned to battlefields of red
Running dry from our two day old duel
The flames getting blown out from your eyes
A birthday cake wish dying as you give in
After reluctantly dropping Fallon off, barely being able to concentrate at practice, taking a long shower, and chowing down on some amazing Chinese delivery, I was fucking bored out of my skull. Fallon was running around in my brain, so I shot off a text to her.
Me: Twenty questions? You start…
Fallon: Game on! What’s your favorite time of year?
Me: Fall. What’s your favorite thing to sleep in?
Fallon: The Hysterics shirt I stole from you. If you could write a letter to your seventeen-year-old self but it could only be two words, what would it say?
Me: Keep believing. What is the one thing you wish you could take back?
Fallon: The last time I did coke. What is your favorite recent memory?
Me: The day you walked into our office for the first time. What do you wish you could change about yourself?
Fallon: My lack of confidence. What is your favorite feeling?
Me: Too vague…
Fallon: Come on…it can be anything.
Me: Alright, the moment I have a fresh pair of sticks in my hands, the electricity of euphoria. What is one thing you miss?
Fallon: That exact feeling.
That’s all she wrote. There it was: I’d crossed the line, hit a nerve, pushed her to an edge. I had no idea what Fallon was going through or why she was in this self-imposed limbo of hiding.
Me: Why are you Fae Dunham?
Fallon: Because that was the only way I could truly live again. Sleep well, Dane.
Me: Alright, you too.
She was running again and I couldn’t blame her. There were so many layers left of her onion that I needed to peel. Yeah, Shrek was on my TV and Donkey had just referred to parfaits having layers too, so it seemed fitting. Either way, whether Fallon was a parfait or an onion, it was all mysterious and confusing and addicting.
Chapter Eighteen
Walls of steele
DANE
“Hey, man,” I answered my phone as I drove to the Steele’s home.
Maverick’s voice came through the receiver. “Hey, you’re on your way, right?”
“Yeah, why? What’s up?”
“Nah, nothing. Just making sure. I got here about ten minutes ago and we’re pretty much set. Can you pick up a couple bags of ice and a case of beer? I’m worried we’ll run out.”
“Sure. Any particular beer?”
“Nah. You know we’re not picky.”
“Ok. Pabst it is.”
“Ha, should’ve guessed.”
“It’s tradition.”
“True. See you soon.”
“Later.”
I stopped into the gas station just down the road from the home I’d lived in for the last two years of high school and the first year of college. I sent a quick text to Fallon.
Me: I’m about to be at the Steele’s to help set up. I’ll be by in an hour or so to pick you up.
Fallon: You don’t have to come all the way back here to get me. I’ll take a cab.
Me: No, it’s not a big deal. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.
Fallon: What’s the address?
Me: Man, you’re stubborn, huh?
Fallon: As a fucking mule. What’s the address?
I gave in and hit the send button as nerves rushed in. Fallon was about to meet the rest of my family, or at least what I considered family. All I could do was hope that they all made a good impression on her¸ and vice-versa. The Steeles all had a way of opening their big mouths that never painted things in the best light. The cashier rang me up for the case of beer, twenty bucks worth of gas, and the bags of ice.
By the time I was pulling into the already crowded driveway I could barely keep my knee from bouncing and my heart from racing. Before I was even out of the car Maverick was opening the privacy fence’s gate so I didn’t have to go all the way through the house.
“Thanks.” I handed one of the bags to Maverick.
“Sure. Where’s Fallon—I mean Fae. Shit, what do we call her here?”
“For today she’s Fae. She’s finishing up some edits and then she’ll be on her way.”
Maverick nodded. “Gotcha.”
“All the time she is Fae, unless we tell you otherwise.” My voice was sterner than I meant it to be, but Fallon cared a lot about her façade and I wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it all up for her.
“Alright, man. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
I stopped halfway up the front lawn. “Dude, this shit is really freaking important. It’s her life, everything she has worked so hard to build from the ashes, and she needs our support.”
Maverick put his free hand on my shoulder. “You really like her, don’t you?”
I stared at the ground and nodded.
Maverick sighed. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
I nodded again.
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, walking through the open gate to be greeted by Chester, the Steeles’ newest family member. After Maverick and I moved out and Julie moved back in with her five-year-old daughter, Alex, Maverick’s mom decided that they needed a puppy. She went out with Alex and let her pick out anything in the pet store she wanted, and of course the five-year-old picked a freaking Saint Bernard—yep, a Beethoven. A huge, furry, loving goofball. At only eight months, Chester was a whopping ninety-seven pounds and as clumsy as he could be. He lunged at me, tail wagging a mile a minute, practically knocking me off my feet while happily whimpering.
“Chester, bad doggy!” Alex’s sweet voice tried to lower like the dog trainer had told her so she could ‘assert her dominance’. What a load of crap—Chester was three times the size of
Alex. Then a shrill cry came from the small child, “Uncle Dane!”
I dropped the ice and case of beer at my sides and knelt down so my small goddaughter could jump into my arms for a big bear hug. “Hi, sweetheart!” I pressed her to my chest, breathing in the sweet smell of coconut shampoo. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too! Why don’t you come to play anymore?” There wasn’t a good enough answer to satisfy a five-year-old when it came to real-life-grown-up-stuff, it just didn’t make sense.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”
“You better.” A familiar singsong voice came from behind me and I spun around with Alex still in my arms to see her mom, Julie, smiling at me. “Hi, Dane.”
Man, was Julie a sight for sore eyes. After Leilani died, we were all wrecks, but Julie understood it the best out of everyone; Leilani and her had been attached at the hip ever since they could walk.
“It’s so good to see you.” I set Alex down and was shocked to see how much more she was looking like her mom as she got older: they had the same dusting of freckles just over their noses and cheeks, big bright hazel eyes, and strawberry blonde hair.
Julie and I hugged for longer than most people would feel comfortable, but that was us. For a while I thought that I loved Julie as more than just a friend, but she never returned the affection and ran off to Wisconsin with some Army guy right after high school. She wound up catching the dirt bag cheating on her with strippers, in their bed, right after finding out she was pregnant with Alex.
We all made our way to the large wood deck where a long table with finger foods and small sandwiches were lined up along with three coolers full of beer and pop at the end. Maverick’s mom was busily straightening out the table while Marty tied his famous ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron around his waist.
“I guess it’s grilling time already?”
Marty and Gina promptly turned to me, huge grins proudly resting on their faces. Gina grabbed each side of my face, pulling me closer to her. I stumbled a few steps while she planted a forceful, red lipstick filled kiss on my forehead. “It’s been too long,” she scolded, releasing my face. “Where’s the girl? Maverick said you were bringing someone.”
I pulled my lips together. “Yeah, she’ll be here soon.” This was the first time I had ever brought a girl around my pseudo parents—ever.
The Hysterics Page 12