Struck from the Record

by K. A. Linde

  They’d lit cigars at some point, and the air was still perfumed with the scent. Brady’s was half-discarded in an ashtray they’d found in their father’s office. Clay had felt like a proper gentleman, smoking his cigar with the guys, but the very idea of it made him laugh.

  “I just…I just love her,” Brady slurred. He smiled dopily before taking another shot on the table.

  “I’d hope so. You’re marrying her,” Clay told him.

  He rolled his eyes at Brady, who just smiled back at him. He was so wasted. It was hilarious to see him try to hold on to the vestiges of his political self even now.

  “You’re going to find this…this one day,” Brady began. He swung his beer around, trying to aim at all three of them. “All of you.”

  “That’s right, man,” Chris said, trying to hide his laughter.

  “Giving speeches, even when he’s drunk,” Clay said. He shook his head.

  “It’s who he is.” Chris just shrugged one shoulder and waited for whatever Brady was saying to make sense.

  “You’re going to find…it. And when you do…” he said, taking a sip of the beer. “When you do, I’m going to be…there.”

  “What are we finding?” Lucas prompted. He was beyond wasted all on his own, kicked back in the lounge chair. His eyes were glassy.

  Clay was pretty sure, at some point, he’d gone down to the beach to smoke a blunt because he’d come back smelling like it. No one else had seemed to notice or care.

  “Her. The one,” Brady told them.

  Clay and Chris cracked up at him spouting his unconditional love. Neither of them had gotten as drunk as Brady. Chris had had more than Clay though, as he was under orders from Liz to take care of Brady.

  “And I’m getting y’all this drunk when it happens!” Brady yelled.

  “Done!” Clay agreed.

  “I just want you to all be as happy as I am. She’s a fucking incredible woman.” Brady started wandering around, teetering and nearly falling over.

  “Oh, there. Hold on. Don’t fall over,” Clay said. He put his hand out to steady Brady.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” Brady said, shaking him off.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Brady patted him on the cheek and laughed. “Look at you.”

  Clay shook his head in despair. What the fuck?

  Brady stumbled and fell into the chair next to Lucas.

  “Fuck, is this what it’s like, dealing with me?” Clay asked as he helped Chris haul Brady back to his feet.

  “Worse,” Chris told him.

  “Ass. That was rhetorical.”

  “Call ’em like I see ’em.”

  “No wonder I don’t have any friends,” Clay said.

  “I need to take a piss,” Brady announced to the room before pushing past them, making his way toward the bathroom.

  “Oh, Jesus. He’s going to drown, and we’ll never deliver him whole to Liz,” Clay groaned.

  “Don’t worry. I got him,” Chris said, fending him off. “He’s probably about to pass out, and then I’m following him.”

  “You know,” Clay called to Brady down the hall, “if you practiced drinking more, this wouldn’t happen!”

  Brady flipped him off and Clay just laughed.

  God, his brother was a fucking wreck. And it was awesome. He hadn’t known what to expect, coming to this bachelor party, but it was better than anything he could have anticipated.

  Lucas staggered out of his chair and nodded his head toward the stairs leading to the beach. Clay followed him right out to the beach. He’d been right. Lucas pulled a joint out of his pocket, rolled it between his fingers, and then lit it. He took a drag between his thumb and forefinger and gradually released the smoke.

  “You in?” He passed it to Clay, who shrugged and took a hit off of it.

  “Fuck,” Clay said. “I haven’t done this shit since college.”

  “Haven’t had one since basketball season started,” Lucas admitted.

  Clay passed it back to him. “You smoke regularly otherwise?”

  “Nah. Just at parties and shit.” He took another hit and then offered it to Clay again.

  “I’m good. I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

  Lucas’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah? You going to see the girls?”

  Clay shrugged. “Might just do that.”

  Lucas smirked at him. “Let’s do it.”

  “Don’t forget what I said about how I’d beat your ass,” Clay told him.

  But there was mischief in Lucas’s eyes that Clay recognized, that reminded him a bit of himself.

  So, they walked down the beach in silence.

  It was better not to know.

  The night air was cool, a total contrast from the oppressive heat that hit them during the day. The stars were just visible on the horizon, and the moon was nearly full to bursting.

  If not for the nearly full moon, Clay would never have noticed the blonde girl seated on a blanket on the beach. Lucas bumped him in the shoulder and then disappeared into the night. Whatever he planned to do, Clay no longer cared.

  He was just drunk enough to actually go through with this. Andrea was sitting there, just like the lost twelve-year-old girl she had been that day he’d found her crying on the beach because her parents were arguing. The same day they’d shared their first kiss.

  He hadn’t walked away then.

  He couldn’t walk away now.

  “Hey,” he said softly as he approached.

  When she heard his voice, she jumped and glanced up at him. He could see tears brimming in her eyes. She looked as if she had been sitting here, crying, for a while. He hated that.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. She hastily wiped at her cheeks.

  “Thought I’d walk on the beach. Want to walk with me?”

  She shook her head. “I’m just going to sit here. You go ahead.”

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “If you must.”

  Clay sank down onto her blanket and stared out at the ocean. The waves were nearly black in the dark. Watching them crash evenly was melodic and comforting.

  “Going to tell me why you’re crying?”

  “No,” she whispered. The wind carried it away, and he barely heard her.

  “All right.”

  They sat there like that listening to the waves crash against the sand. Clay didn’t know how much time had passed. But he just sat there with her. She needed someone, no matter if she would admit it or not, tell him what the issue was or not, allow herself to be comforted or not. She clearly needed someone.

  And he was her someone.

  He was her person.

  “Tell me about the gallery,” he finally said into the stillness.

  She stirred next to him. He could feel her eyes on him. He turned to face her and saw that she seemed startled.

  “What about the gallery?”

  “Everything. How did it start? Where have you been getting the paintings? How much do you love it?”

  Her face changed in that instant, as if a weight had been lifted and she was thinking about the happiest part in her life. “I’d never wanted to open my own gallery. It felt really…constricting. I’d thought for a long time that it was just a hobby, you know?”

  “I do.”

  She smiled and glanced away, as if admitting that she couldn’t face that he’d been there for all of that. “Then, I sold that French piece for over half a million dollars.”

  “The one of the woman looking out the window when it was raining?” he asked.

  Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. “Yes, that one.”

  “And that changed the game?”

  She winced. Wrong choice of words.

  “It made me realize that my collection could become a career. One that I enjoyed.” Andrea crossed her feet and turned to face him. “After that, I had a few people contact me about opening my own place. I was kind of floored. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to
just work with anyone, and I needed the perfect space.”

  “And you found it?”

  She winced slightly and nodded. “Asher actually found it.”

  Clay tried to play it cool and not let her know how much that actually hurt. He just kept trudging forward. “Oh, yeah?”

  “He’d heard that I was in the market for a space. He had a space. He kind of knew what I was looking for. And then I just kind of acquired it. I mean…it’s not even officially open yet,” she told him.

  “When does it open?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “I have the artwork for the space, but it has to be perfect to have an official grand opening, and I don’t have that piece yet.”

  “You’ll know when you’re ready.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “I think you’re right.”

  She fidgeted and leaned back on her elbows. She shifted her legs out straight in front of her in the sand.

  “Why didn’t you date Asher?” he asked finally.

  “What?” she asked, startled by the question.

  “You broke up with me. You…you left me,” he said, unable to keep the waver from his voice. “Why aren’t you dating him?”

  She sighed again, heavier this time. “It was never about dating someone else, Clay. It wasn’t like I wanted to leave you to run into someone else’s arms. That wasn’t my idea of moving on. Maybe it’s yours.”

  “Maybe,” he said uncertainly.

  “And I did date Asher.” She looked at him and frowned. “Before you were attacked, we dated for weeks.”

  Clay swallowed hard. He’d known this. It was what had sent them into disarray in the first place. “Right.”

  “It didn’t work out then. He wasn’t what I wanted. And then, after what happened…” She looked away again, shaken all over by the attack. “Did they ever find those bastards?”

  He shook his head. “No, the police called off the search. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “So, it was all just bad fucking luck?” she asked in dismay.

  He shrugged. “I’d say it put a lot of things in perspective. Showed me what was important and what wasn’t.”

  Andrea frowned again and then glanced out at the water. “You want to know why I was crying when you found me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was thinking about the first time we met. You remember?”

  “Of course. It was right here on this beach.”

  “I thought you were so cute. I was so young and naive, and I just wanted the cute boy to like me. Because, if the cute boy liked me, then maybe it wouldn’t matter that my parents only spoke when they argued. Maybe it wouldn’t matter that they hated each other. That they hated me,” she said in a mere whisper.

  As she leaned forward, her blonde hair fell forward into her face and over her bare shoulder.

  He carefully pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Your parents didn’t hate you. They still don’t hate you. But you just deserved so much more than what they gave you. Do you know what I think about that first day we met?”

  “What?” she whispered. Her eyes were glassy, and she looked frightened of the answer.

  “I remember falling in love for the first time with this beautiful girl who was giving me the time of day. Me and not my brother. Who cared about me and kissed me. You’re so beautiful,” he said, drawing her closer to him. “You always have been.”

  “Clay…” she whispered.

  He bent down and placed the softest, lightest kiss on her lips, just like the one they’d shared all those years before. She leaned forward into him at the touch, asking for more, but he pulled back. He didn’t want to push her.

  “I won’t,” he said huskily. “I want to, but I won’t.”

  Andrea looked like she wanted to say something more, but whatever was on the tip of her tongue, he never found out. In the distance, they both heard voices coming from the direction of her house and stomping in the sand nearby.

  “What the…” Andrea muttered.

  “Savannah,” he muttered, jumping to his feet.

  “Why is she out here?”

  “Um…shit. I think she’s with Lucas.”

  “Together?” she asked, her voice panicky.

  “Yeah.”

  Andrea swept to her feet. “That can’t be good.”

  “Let’s go,” Clay said.

  He took her hand in his without asking permission, and they loped across the beach. Few things pissed him off more than something hurting Savannah. When she was upset, he automatically went into big-brother mode.

  Savannah’s voice carried louder and louder as they approached. “God, why do you always have to do this?”

  “Do what?” Lucas drawled. “Love you? Not sure I’ve ever been able to help that.”

  “Ugh, Luc! That’s not enough. It’s not.”

  “It could be.”

  “You’re drunk and high and being a total asshole,” she cried. “When you sober up tomorrow, you’re going to regret this.”

  “I’d never regret you.” Then, he grabbed her by the back of the head and kissed her.

  “Shit,” Clay groaned, picking up his speed.

  Savannah hesitated for a moment and then pushed him backward. “What are you doing? Why do you only want this, us, when I’m with someone else?”

  They never got an answer to that because Clay and Andrea had finally reached them.

  “All right, all right,” Clay said, “break it up.”

  Andrea wrapped an arm around Savannah’s shoulders and hauled her back a step from the guys.

  “I’m fine,” Savannah muttered.

  “You’re not,” Clay said. He turned his gaze to Lucas. He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and got in his face. “Let’s go. Get out of here. Didn’t you listen to me earlier when I said I’d kick your ass? Fuck!”

  “Whatever, man,” Lucas said, wrenching himself from Clay’s grip. “We were fine.”

  Lucas started walking away, unprompted, and Clay sighed and followed him. He glanced over his shoulder just once, and he and Andrea locked eyes for just a second. When they looked at each other, in the midst of taking care of their friends, a small smile tugged on her lips before she turned back to keep walking.

  It was a step.

  A tiny step.

  Chapter 21

  WEDDING DAY

  “You can still change your mind,” Clay said.

  Liz rolled her big blue eyes and laughed at him. “Are you trying to convince me to be a runaway bride?”

  “I’m just saying…I have a car out front. We could make a break for it. Just think about it. You’ll be tied to my older brother forever.”

  “That’s kind of the point.”

  “We could always run away together.” He winked at her and waited for another laugh to split the air.

  “What you’ve always wanted.”

  “I’m not denying it if you’re not denying,” he said.

  “Oh, Clay…” She patted the shoulder of his black suit. “Whatever will we do with you?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Liz exploded into laughter once more, and Clay followed suit. He was joking…mostly. He was glad that Liz and Brady were happy. They had something special. Something he now knew he desperately wanted. And he didn’t think she’d really split anyway.

  They had just spent the better part of the last three or four hours taking pictures in the gardens around the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina, on the intense June morning. The high was in the eighties, and already, it was blistering hot. Halfway through the ordeal, Clay was glad when they ventured inside to take indoor pictures.

  Clay had always thought Liz was more of a traditional girl, but the number of pictures she wanted seemed to outweigh her desire to wait until the wedding to see Brady. Instead, they had done a very private outdoor First Look with just the photographer present. Savannah and the girls had all been bursting at the seams to see how it had all turned out.r />
  But, thankfully, now, they were all cooling off inside before the main event that afternoon. Brady had left when the wedding planner had scurried into the room and asked for him. Liz had looked worried, but he had assured her that he was a politician, so he could handle anything.

  But Clay never did hear what had happened because when Brady returned, he nodded at the guys. “Let’s go.”

  “Is it time already?” Liz asked, her voice rising an octave.

  Brady smiled at her and looked like he wanted to vault across the room. “Soon.”

  “See you there,” she whispered.

  “Airplanes, baby.”

  She giggled and bit her lip.

  Whatever that meant. Clay just shook his head and followed Brady, Chris, and Lucas out of the room.

  Brady directed them to another smaller room that faced the front of the estate. There, on a long wooden table, was a bottle of the most expensive scotch Clay had ever heard of.

  An older waiter walked in behind them with a tray full of crystal whiskey glasses and poured the scotch for them.

  Clay sniffed the scotch and nearly came in his pants from lust. This was like heaven in a glass. Pure sinful heaven.

  “I just thought we could have one last drink before we went out there,” Brady said.

  Clay held his glass up. “To Brady and Liz.”

  The guys followed suit, and then, they all dropped back the expensive liquor like a shot. They poured another round and drank that one slower, savoring the taste and enjoying each other’s company.

  If Clay didn’t know his brother better, he would have thought Brady was nervous. He kept walking back and forth in the room, muttering to himself, as if he were reciting a speech he had memorized, and Clay swore, he saw a slight tremor in Brady’s hand.

  But no way. Brady Maxwell was never nervous. That was a fact.

  The wedding planner appeared then and stuck her head into the room. “Showtime.”

  Brady nodded and set his drink down, and then they filed back out of the room. They exited the estate, single file—Brady, Chris, Clay, and then Lucas—and then lined up behind Brady in front of the flower archway that had been erected at the front of the lawn.