by M. A. Foster
“Who says I don’t?”
The three of us watch in fascination as she brings the joint to her lips and takes a drag. She looks down at it as she spins it between her fingers and exhales. “Good shit.”
I fall against Bass and laugh my ass off, his body shaking with laughter beneath me.
“I love this family,” Alex says with a laugh. “Mimi, you just skyrocketed to the top of my list as the coolest person ever.”
My mother grins and points at him. “Just don’t tell Mac.”
A few minutes later, my mother stands up on unsteady legs and brushes the sand from her pajama pants. “Come on, kids.” She holds out her hands, one to me and one to Alex. “There’s a birthday cake in the kitchen with your names on it.”
I head to my room and fall back on my bed. We demolished the entire birthday cake. Turns out no one in the house was able to sleep—my father was at the counter with his glass of milk, while Grace was putting on a pot of coffee. We kept the conversation light, and my mother did most of the talking. A few times I caught my father eyeing her suspiciously and I wanted to burst out laughing. She wasn’t fooling anyone. My mother was high as a kite and my father knew it.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I pick up my phone to check the time and see a text from Cam that came in fifteen minutes ago.
Cam: Sorry for the late text. Just wanted to check on you and wish you a happy birthday.
I can’t believe he remembered my birthday.
Me: Thank you.
Cam: What are you doing up?
Me: Can’t sleep.
A moment later, my phone lights up with Cam Parker’s name on the screen.
“Not a fan of texting?” I ask by way of answering.
“I’d rather hear your voice.”
I blink at his words, so matter-of-fact and without a hint of flirtatiousness.
“You’re sweet. I can’t believe you remembered my birthday.”
“I can’t take all the credit for that. A reminder popped up on my phone.”
“Oh.” I snort. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a soft chuckle.
“What are you doing up so early?” I pull the phone away from my face to check the time. It’s just after 5:00 a.m. in Heritage Bay.
“I’m getting ready to go for a run. I was thinking about you. I talked to Liam late last night. He told me about Jay. Is she gonna be all right?”
“I hope so.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m worried but I’m okay. My parents are here with Alex.”
“Liam said no one is allowed to see her or talk to her for seventy-two hours.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Nope.” Tears form at the corners of my eyes. “I can’t believe she did this to herself,” I cry.
“Hey,” he says softly. “You don’t think she did it on purpose, do you?”
“I don’t know.” I sniff. “No. I don’t think she would.”
“She wouldn’t,” he insists. “You have to believe that. She’s just having a hard time without Marcus. Maybe the hospital is where she belongs.”
“Yeah,” I breathe shakily. “As much as I want her to come home, I think you’re right. This is what’s best for her.”
“I think you should—”
“Cameron, who are you talking to?” a female voice interrupts in the background.
“Cam—” I start.
“Hold on.” I hear Cam’s muffled voice and then the woman’s. “Sorry about that,” he says into the phone.
“I can’t believe you called me while you had a woman in your bed.” An uncomfortable feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
“It’s not like it’s the first time,” he chuckles. It’s true. I’ve witnessed Cam and Liam at the height of their manwhore days. I’ve seen and heard a lot worse. “She’s just a friend.” I don’t know why he’s explaining himself. He never has before.
“Mmmhmm,” I tease. Just a friend, my ass.
Cam’s soft laughter echoes through the phone. “She’s a friend. I swear. I can put her on the phone if you don’t believe me.”
I roll my eyes. Either I’m still high, or this conversation has just taken a sharp left turn into Strangeville.
“Thanks for calling, Cam. I’ll let you get back to your friend.”
“Emerson, hold on.”
“Yes?”
There’s a brief pause. “Are you gonna be okay?”
God, he’s sweet.
I roll my head to look over at Marcus’s side of the bed and pain shoots through my chest. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.” Eventually.
Emerson
Pushing the door open, I step into the empty room illuminated by the moonlight pouring in through the windows and inhale deeply through my nose. The faint smell of her Joe Malone perfume still lingers in the air.
After seventy-two of the longest hours of my life, I was finally allowed to see Jay. There was a lot of crying and apologizing that day. And after six weeks and countless hours of counseling with Dr. Ramos, she’s coming home.
Crawling into the cold, empty bed, I roll to my back with my hands on my stomach and stare up at the dimly lit plastic stars fixed on the ceiling above her bed. I’d put them up there when she was about seven or eight. Marcus told her they were magic stars and she had to make a wish out loud just before sleep.
“The little stars are for little wishes, and the big stars are for big wishes.”
“Can I wish on a big star?”
“Sure you can.”
“I want a piano like yours, Daddy, but one that fits me, and I want it to be pink.”
Marcus chuckled and I said, “You’re not supposed to tell us your wish, silly girl.”
“Oh.” Her nose scrunched up. “Does that mean I won’t get my wish?”
I shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to see.”
It was comical how much thought she’d put into her wishes. I realized we were teaching her the value of things. Just because you want it doesn’t mean you need it. Then one night, she said the strangest thing to me.
“Your daddy is working late in the studio, but he promised to give you your good-night kiss when he gets home.”
“Okay. I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, baby girl. So much.” I leaned over and peppered kisses all over her face. She squirmed and giggled. “Good night.” I stood up from the bed and added, “Don’t forget to make your wish.”
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want to make a wish tonight.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because I’m saving them for something important.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. That’s why I’m saving them.” She said it so matter-of-fact that I had to roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing out loud.
When had my little girl become so grown-up?
Thinking back now, I wonder if she’d had a premonition about Marcus. Kids have been known to sense when things aren’t right.
After Marcus and I sat her down to explain his cancer, she cried but she didn’t get hysterical. Then she stood up abruptly and announced that she was going to bed. Her behavior was odd and not of a teenage girl who’d just been told her father was dying. Marcus and I waited a few minutes before we went up to her room. Her door was closed, but we could hear her.
“I’m probably too old for wishes, but I’ve been saving them for something important. My dad is sick. He’s going to die. Please. I’ll do anything if you just make him better. Please.”
She wasn’t just making a wish. She was praying for a miracle. That’s when Marcus and I decided to reach out to Dr. Ramos. And she’s been a major part of our lives ever since.
I’d been going a little stir-crazy the first week or so that Jay had been admitted into the wellness center, so I decided to take Dr. Ramos up on her offer for some one-on-one counseling.
“Hey, big sis.”
I roll my head to the side to see Liam leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Hey. You’re home?”
“Just got back.” He walks over to the bed to lie down beside me, tucking his hands behind his head. “What are you doing in here?”
“Just thinking.” I turn my head to stare back up at the ceiling. “She’s coming home tomorrow.”
“Bass told me. He and Grace are in the kitchen cutting up a bunch of fruit. When I asked him what he was doing he said, ‘Princess is coming home tomorrow.’” He lets out a soft chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bass look so domesticated.”
I snort a laugh. “It’s been a very long six weeks for those two.”
“What about you?”
“I get to see her every day. But I’m ready for her to be home.” I go to the wellness center every day for either breakfast, lunch or dinner. And for the past three weeks, I’ve been allowed to spend three nights a week with her. However, I wasn’t allowed to stay tonight because Jay has her last therapy session first thing in the morning.
A moment of comfortable silence passes between us before he says, “I remember when you put those up.” I look over at him and he jerks his chin toward the ceiling. “It was the summer when Cam and I came to visit before our senior year of high school. I asked her if she wanted to come down to the beach. She told me, ‘Another time, Uncle Liam. I’m busy making my wish list.’” He huffs out a laugh. “That wish list was a mile long.”
Before they officially moved here, Liam and Cam had spent many summers at my home. It’s not a coincidence that he lives next door. The house had gone into foreclosure and Marcus bought it. We sat on it for a little while, intending to sell it, but then Liam signed with the Heat and moved to California, so Marcus sold the house to him. Not long after Liam settled into his new home, Cam also signed with the Heat and moved in. My relationship with Liam is different from the one I have with Max. I love both my brothers equally, but Max and I have always butted heads.
Out of the three of us, Liam is the most outspoken and stubborn. But behind his fierce exterior, Liam Mackenzie is a mama’s boy.
“Can I go with you to pick her up?”
“On one condition.”
“What?”
“Don’t hit on Dr. Ramos.”
I don’t have to look over to know he’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I can’t make any promises.”
“Liam,” I draw out in a warning.
He sighs. “Fine.”
“Jay, your gown is here,” I call out as I enter her bedroom. “Where are you?”
“In here.” Her voice comes from her bathroom.
Stepping just inside the threshold of the bathroom, I find her standing sideways in front of the mirror wearing only a taupe-colored strapless bra and matching lace panties, admiring the tattoo on her side. She’s so beautiful with her dark hair, bright eyes—Marcus’s eyes—and legs a mile long.
Her blue-green gaze flicks to me in the mirror and she smiles. “What?”
I return a smile of my own. “You look good.” It’s true. She’s gained back most of her weight, and the light is back in her eyes.
It’s as if Dr. Ramos hit some sort of emotional reset button. She’s still fragile at times, and every day is a struggle, but she’s trying. We’re all trying.
The last few days have been rough, though, because she’s going through the angry stage of her grief. Pair that with the Mackenzie blood running through her veins and she’s a bit of a hothead. Her temper is short, and she cries when she’s angry and frustrated, which in turn worries me and makes me want to cry.
Leave it to Liam to suggest a punching bag. Of course, Bass went out and bought her one, and I’ll admit that it seems to be helping.
“Will you put this on my tattoo?” She grabs the lotion from the counter and passes it to me.
Once she was settled back at home, Jay asked if she could get another tattoo. I put in a call to Marcus’s tattoo artist who was more than happy to make another house call. She’d gotten her first one last year with Marcus’s consent and off the books because of her age. It’s a small one on the inside of her bicep that says ‘Conquer.’ “Because we’re Kings,” Marcus had said. “Kings don’t cower. Kings conquer.”
So we all got one. Including Bass.
When Jay asked for a second tattoo, I knew what she wanted. It was something Marcus used to say to her from when she was a little girl up until the day before he died.
“I’m sorry,” Marcus murmured as Jay curled up beside him in his hospital bed and laid her head on his chest.
“For what?” she asked as he stroked her hair.
“Since the day you were born, I’ve done everything I can to protect you from anything that might hurt you, but I can’t protect you from this.”
“It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to leave me, Daddy, because I won’t be able move on from this.”
“You will, baby girl. You’re a King. You’re strong.”
“I love you so much, Daddy.”
“I love you, too, Jaybird.” He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Do you remember what I told you?”
She nodded against his chest. “To trust my gut, follow my heart, and never, ever settle for anything less than I deserve.”
“Always.”
Before Marcus was diagnosed as terminal, he had his hands in several projects: a coproducer and judge for America’s Voice and the charitable foundation he’d started called the Mayhem Foundation.
Project Mayhem is a subsidiary of the Mayhem Foundation. It was Marcus’s baby, and its sole purpose was putting music back into schools and awarding scholarships to underprivileged kids who wanted to pursue a career in music or performing arts.
Raising money for Project Mayhem wasn’t an issue. Not when you’re Marcus King. Finding the right school to test out the project was the challenge.
While Marcus was planning our transition to Heritage Bay, I suggested he speak to David Avery, the principal and founder of Heritage Bay Academy, and an old friend of my parents. Marcus and David spent months on the phone going over the details of the new addition to the school, a performing arts building, which Marcus funded personally.
“How’s the building coming along?” I ask Alex as he enters the living room, followed by two of my nephews, Dylan and Cole. All three take turns giving me a hug.
“It’s coming,” Alex replies. “Even with all the rain, they’re still ahead of schedule.”
“They’re putting it right next to the gym,” Cole adds.
I smile at his excitement. “She doesn’t know anything yet, so keep it to yourself.”
Cole’s brows pinch together. “What’s the big deal?”
Cole has always been close to Jay, so I feel as though I need to reiterate how important it is to keep quiet about what’s in the works. “I haven’t told her about the move. I just got her home and she’s doing really well so far, but she still has her days.”
“Just don’t tell her about my job.” Alex winks. “I want it to be a surprise.”
Dylan chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh, she’ll be surprised all right.”
Project Mayhem will eventually be handed over to Jay when she’s ready, but for now, Alex is in charge in the classroom. He’ll work with Jay in a student-teacher environment while teaching her how to be a leader.
This opportunity is to benefit Alex as much as Jay. They’ll spend more time together bonding over their mutual love fo
r music and, unbeknownst to Jay, their father.
Cam
“You about ready?” Liam asks from the doorway as he pulls on his tuxedo jacket. “The car’s here, and we need to swing by and pick up Jasmine.”
“Dude, please tell me you’re not bringing one of your diamond dolls to Marcus’s charity fundraiser.” I grab my jacket from the bed and slip it on. “Your sister will not be happy.”
An annoyed expression crosses his face. “Relax. I’m bringing Doc.”
“Doc?” Tyge Reynolds, Liam’s current roommate and LA Heat’s new hotshot pitcher—my replacement—steps out of his room, straightening his bow tie.
“You mean Jay’s therapist?” I raise a brow. “Emerson will kick your ass if you fuck her. Wait, have you fucked her?”
“Not yet.” He grins.
“Dude, she’s like forty,” Tyge adds.
“At least she’s old enough to drink,” Liam fires back, then turns to me. “I don’t care how old she is. She’s hot.” He shrugs. “All I can picture is those long legs in high heels and her wearing nothing but that white lab coat. Mmm.” He rubs his hands together, wiggling his eyebrows. “That woman is wound up so tight, and I’m gonna be the one to unravel her.”
Tyge barks out a laugh and I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
He brushes away the invisible lint on his jacket and sniffs arrogantly. “Don’t hate the player.”
Liam isn’t as shallow and heartless as he makes himself out to be. He does have a heart—it’s just not in his possession. It’s with the girl he loves, the girl he pushed away because he was an idiot. When he realized his mistake, it was too late. She was gone. And it broke him.
“Candy striper outfits are hotter,” Tyge adds.
Liam rolls his eyes before he pulls out his phone. “Car’s here.”
“What about Jay?” I ask as we head for the door. “Don’t make shit awkward for her.”
“Jasmine is an adult and a professional,” Liam argues. “She knows what she’s getting into.” He turns to Tyge. “Are you riding with us?”