Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5)

by Burgoa, Claudia

  Mac,

  I heard about Finn and I imagine you’re not taking the news well. There’s not much I can do from here, only hope that they’ll find whatever is going on with him soon. If not, we can continue searching for the right specialist. He’ll talk again, I promise, babe.

  Thank you for sending me pictures of them on New Year’s. I had one laminated and I now carry it in my wallet.

  Miss you,

  Porter

  I haven’t found a job, Molly called me because they need to do more testing on Finn and I had to send her the remaining amount I had in the bank. The doctor thinks he might be deaf. I’m no doctor, but I know he can hear. Mac must be upset and feeling alone. I wish she’d let me in. For now, I will do what I can. Like, find a way to make money. Bars are a great way to do so; they usually tip the bartender a load of money. I don’t know shit about that, but maybe Reed, the owner of Silver Moon is willing to teach me. He and I go way back. I played at his joint when I was seventeen. A way to draw fans from the beginning, Chris used to say.

  My excitement stops when, in place of the old bar, I find a Tudor style brick building that takes up the entire block. The sign reads Silver Moon, but the naked silhouette lying on a crescent moon has been replaced. It’s a Silver Moon, but with a violet butterfly on the side. A modern logo that gives the place a different feel. I walk around the block until I find the back door. I ring twice; the third time a man a couple of inches taller than me opens the door, his green eyes staring at me intensely.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I was looking for Reed, the owner.”

  He angles his face from left to right and frowns. “What do you need him for?”

  “Reed and I go way back and, now that I’ve moved to Seattle, I was hoping he could hire me,” I explain.

  “Jax?” His frown deepens; I shake my head, who the hell is Jax? “Sorry, he was an old bartender who I never met. Come on in; let’s talk about your qualifications.”

  “Butterfly, can you tell Reed to meet me by the ’70s bar, please.” He talks through his radio. “There’s someone looking for a job that used to work here. Maybe the two of you should join too.”

  “He’s on his way.” A feminine voice responds on the other side. “We’ll meet you there as soon as I’m done placing this week’s order.”

  I whistle as we go through the corridors leading to the different rooms. I take a look at everything that they’ve added. “You guys have a set up for concert venues?”

  He nods, swipes a door, and opens it for me. “Yes. We have vintage bars. ’20s, ’40s, ’70s and ’80s. But we also have a small venue that can be used to do acoustic recordings.” He points at one of the bar stools for me to sit. “So what is it that you used to do for Reed?”

  I shake my head. “No, I never said that I worked for him before. Back when this used to be smaller, I played from time to time. My qualifications are shitty. I’m finishing my college degree—business with a minor in information technology.”

  “Kendrick, kid!” Reed enters through the back of the bar, smiling at me. As he reaches me, he gives me a tight fatherly hug, patting my back a few times. The man in front of me steps back, as his jaw sets. “Did I hear right; you’re looking for a job?” I nod at him. “Sound engineer, DJ, only music shit, because we can’t have you working by the bars.”

  “Kendrick?” Matthew’s voice comes from behind me and when I turn around I spot him, looking almost the same, holding a pink bundle and the doctor I met a couple of weeks ago is by his side. He stops, takes a deep breath and the woman, who now I think is his wife, shakes her head. “Why are you looking for a job at a bar?”

  “Because I need it, and the only person I know in town that still likes me is Reed,” I say honestly.

  The guy who opened the door, Matthew, and his wife glance at each other. They nod, tilt their heads and I watch an entire conversation go on without one word being exchanged.

  “No.” The man, whose name I’ve yet to learn, or why he’s making a decision says, “I’ve heard too much about you, and I can’t have the liability. My fathers-in-law might believe in you, but I don’t know you, and my husband doesn’t trust you.” I frown, looking at the three of them, while Matthew shrugs.

  “I’m confused,” I exclaim. “Who owns the bar, and who is your husband?” I ask the dude.

  “The three of us own the bar,” Matthew answers, pointing at his wife, then at the man I’ve yet to formally meet. “I’m his husband, her husband and Reed is the manager of Silver Moon. Tristan does the hiring. Tristan, meet Porter. Thea you can officially meet Porter, and Porter, meet Thea and Tristan. My other halves.”

  That introduction clears up all my questions, mostly why Tristan changed from friendly to cautious after Reed said my name. The in-laws must’ve warned him. Matthew marrying two people, that doesn’t surprise me. That’s his nature and he looks happy, but shit, can’t he see that I need a place to work? What happened to the trustful Matthew I grew up with? Yes, I fucked up but I’ve changed.

  “So I can’t have a job because you don’t trust me?” I confirm with Matthew.

  “He doesn’t trust you around alcohol,” Thea clarifies, resting her head on his shoulder. Man, she’s tall. “The OD episode and, Porter, the family is trying to support Chris and Gabe’s decision, but we’re weary about you. Try to understand our position the same way we’re trying to keep an open mind. You have to earn our trust.”

  “How many semesters until you finish your degree?” Tristan asks.

  “Four classes, it can be one or two semesters, depending on my income.”

  He pulls a business card from his wallet and hands it over. “Be there tomorrow by nine, tell Scott, my assistant, that we have a meeting. Bring your résumé in case I find something for you, because I’ll hire you on the spot.”

  I read the card, then lift my gaze to find his deep green eyes studying me. “You trust me enough to hire me at Cooperson Corporation but not here?”

  “It’s the alcohol. But I do want to give you a chance. An opportunity to win our trust. Plus, we believe in second chances in my company.” He walks to Matt, kisses his lips, and takes the pink bundle from him. “Here is different. I rather not take the chance, and my company has a program. We might be able to cover the cost of college—whatever it is that you have left.”

  Matt walks close to Reed and gives him a hug. “Time to go. Reed, see you in a couple of weeks. Call if you need anything, but you can also try Arthur, or my parents.”

  Reed walks to Thea and hugs her too. “Have fun, T, and take care of my little princess.” Then he kisses the baby Tristan holds. “Don’t worry about anything, boy, you four have a nice vacation.”

  “We will, Reed,” he says, turning his attention to me. “Tomorrow, nine o’clock.”

  I nod, shaking his hand and looking at the sleeping baby he carries. She looks beautiful, peaceful. The way Harper and Finn look when they’re asleep. Fuck, I miss them. This is harder than when I lost AJ and James. Loss never gets better, does it?

  Mac,

  I have a job. It’s an entry-level position in the accounts payable department. Not my dream job, but it’ll pay the bills. The benefits are good too. Much better than working at Big Savings. I don’t smell like fuel after my shifts, or have to clean up the slushy machine every weekend. Talking isn’t a requirement either. I can be silent, listening to my music for the entire eight-hour shift and there are no complaints.

  Things with Gabe and Chris are fine. I’ve seen them a couple of times since I arrived. We’ve talked about my feelings, mostly. Not sure if I told you this, but Chris is a therapist. He likes to analyze people sometimes and I think he’s doing that, at least until he feels like he can trust me.

  How are you? I miss you and the kids. Say hi to them.

  Love,

  Porter

  Porter,

  We’re fine. Harper is at a new stage. She refuses to talk to anyone but Finn. They’re a pair. Ther
e is no news about Finn. The speech therapist that I found isn’t accepting new patients. I’m applying for some government help, but there are no guarantees that I’ll get much help.

  On the bright side, I have a new job. Well, it’s still at the flower shop, but I’m now working the morning and afternoon shift. It gives me plenty of time to be with the kids while I stay at home at night.

  I’m happy to hear that things are working out for you. If you talk to Harper, please tell her that maybe collecting rocks is a better hobby than not speaking to her mother.

  Hugs,

  Mac

  “How are the kids today, Mackenzie?” Dr. Welsh greets me as I enter his office.

  “Doing fine,” I answer with a lie. Is it wrong to lie about my children’s health? It shouldn’t, these sessions are about my emotional health. Well, Harper’s behavior and Finn’s flu are distressing me. “Sorry about the past couple of weeks, my aunt was out of town, and there’s no one else who could keep an eye on the kids.”

  “Life happens, Mackenzie. What matters is that you’re here today.” He takes a seat. “Is there something special that you’d want to discuss today?”

  Is there?

  “Harper refuses to talk to me,” I start with my precious girl. “Ever since Leo died we have trouble communicating. Our connection broke; it’s as if Leo was the bond between the two of us. Porter helped, but now that he’s gone, she’s refusing to talk to me. Her excuse is that I’m being unreasonable.”

  “Porter?” The doctor asks.

  “He’s . . .” I pause, looking at him. Realizing that up until now I haven’t mentioned Porter at all. The only other adult who knows about Porter is my aunt and, well, Virginia. During my first session I talked a little about Leo. The second session I focused on our early relationship and then his death. When Molly left for Costa Rica I couldn’t visit until today. “No. I don’t think it’s time to discuss him.”

  “Alright, what do you want to discuss today?”

  “Harper, she isn’t talking to me, and that makes me wonder if Finn isn’t talking for the same reason,” I say. “I’ve tried everything, but he just won’t talk. Porter tried to help. He’d play his guitar and Finn would sit right next to him. They’d sing ‘Old McDonald’ and Finn made the animal noises, but never sang the lyrics.”

  “Porter is no longer playing his guitar?” The doctor questions, and I shake my head. “Maybe you can find a video on the Internet, and try to copy what Porter used to do?”

  “There isn’t a video out there that can do what Porter did for us,” I snap, then bite my lip for sounding like a bitch. “Sorry, but Porter did more than sing or play his guitar. He was patient with Finn, tried to engage with him all the time. Porter learned how to redirect Harper’s angst, and my sadness.”

  “What happened to Porter?”

  “He left. I pushed him . . . the guilt was stronger than what I felt for him.”

  I tell the doctor about my brief relationship with Porter. From the moment he opened the door, to the moment Virginia knocked on my door. Not all the details, and as much as I want to skip the tragic ending, I say it out loud, “While we were together I felt peace. Complete. Loved. Yet, in my head it felt wrong. Like a betrayal to my late husband.”

  Dr. Welsh doesn’t say a word; he remains in his seat looking at me. There’s no judgment, words of condemnation, or some strong advice on how to be a decent mother and wife. I didn’t know what I expected him to say to all of that until now, but he doesn’t blink. As usual, he waits for me to continue. To lead the session and find my way through the maze inside my head.

  The silence is an invitation for me to continue. Using my time, I tell him about Virginia, expecting him to agree with her. Zero response. He remains in the same position, waiting.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me something?”

  “Do you want to set a goal about Porter?”

  “No. No. You have to tell me that what I did was wrong. Virginia is right, and I should keep myself away from—”

  “Do you think Virginia is right?”

  “I don’t know; I need you to confirm what she said. The confusion I carry is almost as big as the pain and the grief.”

  “One of your goals, if I recall.” He points out to his tablet. “My job here is to team up with you, help you understand your needs, and find the ways to pursue what you want in life. I’m an instrument more than a solution.”

  Baby steps he mentioned last time. I can take those, if at the end of the road I can find the light. Because I have to stop using everybody else’s light. If I want to change, I have to find my own light.

  Jacob called me with an emergency. One of the bands he’s launching this month has to record a few tunes today and has a concert at Thrice Saturday night. The rhythm guitarist and the singer got into a fight and are in the hospital. The former has a broken arm and the latter a broken jaw.

  “The keyboard player, the bassist, and the drummer agreed to kick them out.” Jacob crosses his arms and leans against his chair, looking at me. “But we have shit already rolling that can’t wait. In the meantime, I need people to cover those two positions who can mold themselves into the band’s style.”

  “Porter,” I answer his question with one logical answer.

  Jacob shakes his head.

  “You need a guitar player and a singer. He’s both. Why not?” I lean against the wall, cross my arms and wait for the shit he’s about to spit in order to avoid Porter.

  “If you needed a drummer, would you call Martin Levitz to come on board?”

  Martin Levitz is my former best friend and drummer for Dreadful Souls, my original band. He was a class-act asshole that put our family through a lot of shit. Too much to even remember it all.

  “Martin never tried to change, Jacob.” I use my fatherly voice, instead of giving him shit. “Porter fucked up; I’m not erasing the past and making him into a saint. But you can’t compare the two. I’m not telling you to hire him for the band, only to have him play for them while you find two new members. Porter can cover both—guitar and vocals.”

  Jacob rises from his seat, walks back and forth around his office—my old office—and stops right in front of me.

  “First he moves to Arthur’s place, then he’s working for Cooperson. What’s next, Sunday dinner?” He shakes his head, combs his long strands and huffs. “As your oldest son, I want to ask you to stop before he fucks us again.”

  I laugh and nod my head, understanding part of his problem. It’s the same issue he had the first time we introduced Porter to him and asked him to lend him some clothes until we bought him new ones. He was a threat, someone who might take away his special place. Each kid had their special place; now as adults, they still have them. Back then Porter took the spotlight when he started his career, where Jacob never could. Not because he wasn’t talented, but because Jacob had a band. He’s had a small competition going on with him and, on top of that, everything he’s done to his sister and the family.

  “Son, no matter what, he won’t take your place as the oldest.” I put a hand on top of his shoulder. “Or as a single act, there’s no threat of him stepping in and becoming competition in any place. Aren’t we a little old for that?”

  Jacob shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You think I fucking care about him taking over my spotlight? No.” He growls and walks back and forth in his office again, gesturing with his hands in the air as he speaks. “Yes, that might’ve been the case long ago. Now I’m concerned about AJ, what if he flips and suddenly attacks her, or worse, he attacks her babies—Gracie or Seth?”

  I scratch the back of my head, understanding the fear. Same fear that Mason and Arthur have expressed to me. “Porter has an agent following his every move day and night.”

  “Mason?” I simply answer with a nod. “Help me understand this shit, Pops. Why in the world would you want him back in our lives?”

  As a brother, a son, and a friend it’s hard to comprehend, but now I
can talk to Jacob, the father. “Remember your plans before Gabe and Jude came into your life?” His jaw clenches the moment I mention his twin boys. “You and Pria planned on adopting. Let’s say that would’ve been the case and suddenly that one child you adopted fucks up badly, would you abandon the kid?”

  Jacob shakes his head.

  “Your father and I are trying hard to balance the situation,” I explain. “Give Porter the second chance he needs to stay on track and keep you guys far away because we respect your decision. Will there be a Sunday dinner with him? No, unless you three and your spouses invite him. If that never happens, I respect that.

  “That doesn’t mean that I won’t try to give him a hand,” I voice what Gabe and I have been discussing lately. “Today, I’m offering him something while I help you. If I make the call, he’s here in a few. If not, it is going to take us at least a day or two to get what you want—unless you take over.” Jacob shakes his head. We both know that right now he doesn’t have the time. Between his family and work, he’s too busy. “He’s a great musician. My four children are, because I’m that fucking good. I taught the four of you, the same way I’m teaching Gracie and each one of your children. Use your head, Jacob. Push the resentment away; I’d think you know what happens when you let that take up space in your heart and mind.”

  “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He growls at me, but instead of snapping or doing any of that crazy shit Jacob would do, he hugs me. “I’m doing it because I trust you, and because I get why you’re helping him. Make sure that Mason sends an extra agent while he’s in the studio and at Thrice.”

  “The outside looks the same, but the inside,” Porter comments, walking right next to me as we head to Pria’s office. “You sure about this, Chris?”