Devil Side

by Lacey Dailey

  I thrust my open palm at his chest. “Let me see it.”

  “Okay.” He tosses his suitcase on the bed and begins to unzip it. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert in engagement rings. My sister-in-law helped me pick out Liv’s.” He plops the velvet ring box in my hand. “But this thing is hideous. Our mothers did you a disservice.”

  I frown, using my thumb to pry open the box. Inside is a piece of jewelry that looks like it belongs in a child’s toy box or came attached to a Halloween costume. Perched atop a thick band is a gold stone that is completely over the top. If I put this thing on my finger, I wouldn’t be able to lift my hand. I’m certain this ring was chosen in an effort to impress people. Anybody in their right mind would take one look at this ring and feel sorry for me.

  Not because it’s ugly but because it doesn’t represent love.

  My fingers close around the ring—the ring that turns me into my parent’s puppet. Not for the duration of college. Not just to jumpstart my career. For life.

  I can’t.

  Enough is enough.

  Turning on my heels, I move swiftly to the kitchen, tossing the ring on the counter and ripping open a kitchen drawer. My fist closes around the first object my fingers detect. I lift it, eyes on the ring.

  “Whoa.” Benny rushes through the kitchen, tripping over his feet when he catches sight of my intentions. “What the hell is that thing?”

  “A meat tenderizer.”

  Crack!

  Minuscule pieces of fake diamond soar through my kitchen, landing wherever they please. My father, who still gives me an allowance and insists I wear name brand mittens can’t even splurge to buy me a real diamond.

  Not that I care…. but the irony. Really.

  One swing was all it took to deface my father’s ridiculous ploy. One. Swing.

  Still, I can’t stop. I beat the life out of that ring, and then the box, swinging until a dent forms in the granite of my countertop.

  “Gigi! Holy shit!” The tenderizer is torn from my grip, and I’m faced with Benny’s stunned expression.

  “We’re done, Benny. This isn’t our life. You’re going home.” I start down the hall to my room, my steps purposeful and my mind on one person and one person only.

  Maxwell Mitchell.

  The only person in this universe who has ever cared enough to give me an alternative. He didn’t ask, or expect, anything in return. Selflessly, he offered me a spot in his adventure because he noticed how significantly I needed it.

  Not everybody notices, and I’m done dreaming up scenarios of how different my life would be if I sat shotgun on his mission to bring music to the world. No more scenarios. No more dreams. I don’t know what my calling in life is, but I do know it isn’t City Hall or anything else my dad has in mind for me.

  “What about you?” Benny follows me into my room, hot on my heels.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have no idea.” The thought scares me a lot less now than it did a week ago. “Tomorrow morning by eight, I’ll be gone. You will be too.”

  Rising to my tip toes, I pull my suitcase from the top shelf of my closet and let it fall open onto the floor. I gather every piece of clothing that isn’t stained with pink and shove it inside.

  “Gone, where?” He rips a pair of shorts from my hand, gaining my attention. “You’ll be safe, right?”

  I smile at his genuine concern. Benito Romano, ladies and gentlemen, all grown up. “I’ll be fine, Benny. I’m not just jumping on a bus to nowhere alone. I have a friend. Max. He’s a musician. He asked me to go on a spontaneous tour with him this summer.”

  “You’re just going to leave?”

  “Yep.” I take my shorts and drop them in the suitcase.

  Unfolded.

  “What are you going to tell your parents?”

  “Nothing. I’ll just dodge their calls. What are they going to do? Track me down? You've been pretending to be on lifelong mission trips. You've got a house and wife that nobody knows about. Obviously, I’ll have to face them sometime, but hopefully by then I’ll have my shit together and a new plan to present them with. One that doesn’t include City Hall, politics, or running for governor.”

  He snorts, folding his arms across his chest. “Dodging them isn’t easy. Liv suggested I fake my own death.”

  “That’s a little extreme, but I like her way of thinking.”

  “Me too.” He relaxes against the wall beside my closet. “But I have to warn you, Gigi, Aldo did try to track me down. It’s the only reason I started coming home every once in a while.”

  “They didn’t find you?”

  “I’d be surprised if they did.”

  “Why? Vermont got a padlock on it?”

  “No.” He laughs. “I changed my name.”

  Well, isn’t he just full of surprises this evening. “You… what?” I abandon my suitcase. “Your name isn’t Benny?”

  “No, it is. I changed my last name when Liv and I got married. It isn’t traditional, and my father would lose his mind over the feminine aspect of it all, but I have her name now. Anderson. Benny Anderson.”

  “Anderson, huh? And who says changing a name after marriage is feminine, anyway? I think it’s sweet you want to be tied to her that way.”

  He shrugs. “I love her, Gigi. Maybe it’s a little extreme, changing my name so my parents can’t track us down as easily, but I will not subject my wife to Aldo Romano when I know he’d do everything in his power to make her life as wretched as possible. She’s not Italian. She works in a bakery. She didn’t go to an Ivy league school, and our house is the size of the garage I had as a kid. It’s not the life he wanted for me, and I don’t want Liv taking any blows if he were to ever find out.”

  “I understand, Benny. I really do. I promise I won’t say anything.”

  “Thank you.” He looks down, digging his sock-covered toe into the floor. “Liv wants like a thousand kids. I can’t bring myself to give her any just yet because I don’t want my dad around them.”

  “Wow. Kids? When did we grow up?”

  “Tell me about it. Liv makes me crazy.”

  “I think that’s just love.” I flick his earlobe on the way to the bathroom, gathering the bare minimum. I don’t need five curling irons, fake eyelashes, or Sephora’s entire store for this trip.

  “You’re going to be okay, right?” He calls. “With this Max guy?”

  “Well, he isn’t a serial killer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Does Renzo know him?”

  I stop in the doorway, arms full of shampoo and shaving cream. “No.”

  “You should probably call him. Tito will set something on fire when he finds out, but Renzo will worry.”

  “I know.” I lift an eyebrow. “I was planning to call him once I made it out of North Carolina. What’s up with you and this protective act? Taking on the brother role because Renzo isn’t here?”

  “I always thought that was dumb.”

  “What was? Ren’s brother role?”

  “No.” He pushes off the wall. “The fact that I was supposed to consider Renzo, Sergio, Paolo, and Dante as brothers but you as my girlfriend. How does that add up?”

  “No idea. We probably could’ve been friends if you weren’t always pressured to have your tongue down my throat.”

  He groans. “Are you ever going to let it go? I’m a married man now.”

  “Consider it forgotten.”

  “Thank you. And hey, don’t be a stranger, okay? If you and Max are ever in Vermont, give me a call.”

  “I’ll do that.” I smile, and it’s genuine—the first one I’ve ever directed at Benny.

  This newfound friendship feels like the beginning of the life I should’ve forged for myself years ago. “I’d love to meet Olivia. Even if she hates my guts.”

  “She doesn’t. She’d try to run my dad over with her Ford Focus, but she doesn’t hate you. In fact, she’d love having an
other friend.”

  “Friend, huh?”

  “Yeah. Friend.” He nudges my shoulder “Keep me updated on your trip, okay? Just because we got a shit start doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  “Olivia really seared positive thoughts into your head, huh?”

  “Must be all the love.” He jokes. “Or maybe it’s just Vermont. Everybody there is so happy. Creeped me out at first but now I’m one of them.”

  “Well, I’m happy for you. Text me when you get back to Vermont. I want to know when Olivia finally gets those babies.”

  His grin creeps up his cheeks. “We’ll be practicing the moment I get home.”

  “No more details.” I press my palm to his lips. “If you’re going to be like my brother, I can’t hear about your bedroom time.”

  “Deal.” His muffled reply sneaks through my fingers.

  I drop my hand. “So, is this it for you then? No more trips to North Carolina?”

  “I don’t see any reason to come back after you obliterated the ugliest ring in the world. Maybe my dad will come after me, maybe he won’t. Either way, I trust you not to say anything.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, Benny Anderson.”

  “Thank you. I hope you figure things out, Gigi. I hope your dad gets off your back or you find an adorable baker with a crooked smile in Vermont.”

  “Does Olivia have a brother?” I tease. “Either way, I’ll be fine. This is the first time in a while I’ve been excited about the future, and I’m not going to let my dad ruin it.”

  Maybe it was the ring, maybe it was hearing about Benny's secret life, maybe it was Max's invitation, or maybe it was a combination of all three. Either way, I'm ready. Ready to beat these chains off my wrist and succumb the bravery Renzo’s always claiming I possess.

  “Good for you.” His arms open, and he gestures towards his chest. “Bring it in.”

  “Really?” I laugh.

  “We Andersons are huggers.”

  My eyes roll but I throw myself into his embrace anyway. It isn’t creepy, and it isn’t forced. It’s comfortable. A friend embracing another, locking in our promise to allow one another to live freely.

  He kisses me on top of the head, and moves towards the door. “I’m going to head to the airport. My plane leaves in like four hours.”

  “Good luck, Benny.”

  “You too, Gigi.”

  He smiles one last time, and I’m left with a suitcase full of purple clothes and a heart bursting with hope.

  4

  Max

  I shove a spoonful of Frosted Flakes into my mouth, licking at the milk that dribbles down my chin. My mothers stare at me from the opposite side of the counter. Mandy looks especially irritated.

  “Are you eating cereal for dinner? Out of a sauce pan?”

  “All my bowls are dirty.”

  “Then wash them! What are you going to do? Leave your sink full of dirty dishes?” Her face brightens. “Maybe it’s best if you don’t leave. What will I do when I miss you?”

  I smile around my spoon. “Call me.”

  “You hate us.” Her arms fold over her chest. “You hate your mothers.”

  On the contrary. I love my mothers, enormously and painfully. Jamie and Amanda Mitchell saved my life. When the two of them were ready to be parents, they ignored the option of surrogacy and the chance to adopt a newborn. Instead, they chose me.

  Me—an eight year old boy who could hardly write his name and refused to speak. Me—a boy who was sitting in the corner of the foster home he hated, curled into a ball, and unwilling to let anyone see the scars that marred his thighs and back. Me—a boy who was trash to his birth parents and treasure to his adopted ones.

  “Mandy.” Jamie kisses the top of her head. “He’s going on vacation, not moving to Africa. We could go on a vacation of our own. Just you and I.”

  Mandy tilts her chin, staring at her wife with the makings of a smile. They appear to communicate through blinks. After a beat, Mandy turns her attention back to me. “Have a wonderful trip, Maxwell. Don’t return home too soon.”

  I bark a laugh, lifting my pan by the handle so I can drink down the sugary milk. “You guys could get a pet or something. I hear ponies are cool.”

  “Ponies shit.” Jamie makes a face. “I just got rid of you, I don’t need anymore shits in my house.”

  Mandy gasps and swats Jamie’s upper arm.

  “Mom, I haven’t lived in your house since high school graduation.”

  “That must be why it’s so clean.” Mandy spins out Jamie’s embrace, marching around my living room. My entire apartment is comparable in size to their master bathroom. There isn’t a lot of room for Mandy to pace and grumble about the clothes everywhere but she manages it. “Look at this place.”

  “Look at what?” I walk around the counter. “I’m in the process of packing.”

  “It looks like your closet exploded.” She rips a pair of old jeans off the floor and starts folding them. “Why are all your clothes in your living room?”

  “I was considering all of my options, mom. My suitcase is only so big. My wardrobe on this tour is crucial.”

  “Uh huh.” Jamie looks me over, stifling a chuckle. “Is that why you’re in your underwear in the middle of the day?”

  I nod and throw myself over the back of the couch, sinking into the dark, suede cushions. “Had to cover all my bases.”

  Mandy stares at me. “Are you just going to lay there or are you going to pack this up?”

  “I can’t pack while you’re here, mom.”

  “Why?”

  Jamie stops trying to hold back and lets out her chuckle. “Honey, you and I both know Max is going to shove a wad of clothes in his suitcase. If you watch that, you’ll launch into a big lecture about ironing, rolling clothes for more packing room, and the importance of odor eliminator.”

  Mandy clicks her tongue. “Odor eliminator is important, Jamie! Do you want him to smell like dirt and armpit stains?”

  “Nope.” Jamie walks around the couch and makes herself comfortable on the edge. “But I’d be surprised if he even washed his clothes on a regular basis.”

  Mandy’s nose wrinkles. She looks absolutely horrified. “That’s disgusting, Maxwell. You’re going to be gone for months.”

  “Whoa!” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything about not washing my clothes. Where there’s a washer and dryer, there’ll be clean clothes for Max.”

  “Better be.” Mandy grumbles, snagging more clothes off the floor. “Nasty.”

  “Mom!” I chuckle. “I promise I will wash my clothes. I don’t want to stink up my car.”

  “You're going to be alone in that car for months. You might not even notice your awful body odor.”

  “I’m not going to be alone.”

  I hope.

  I wish I knew what the hell the feeling was that came over me when I invited Gia. Encouraging her to unlock her fence was a pretty shitty thing to do considering my fence is bolted shut.

  “What do you mean you aren’t going alone? Who's going with you?”

  “I invited a friend.” I lift my shoulders in a shrug, playing it like it’s no big deal I invited a girl whose full name I just learned two days ago.

  “Who? Knox and Beck?”

  I roll my eyes at Jamie’s absurd question. “Like you’d ever give Beck a day off and like Knox would ever spend an entire summer away from him.”

  For a small blip in time, Knox and Beckett Stryker were just the couple that lived across the hall. Fast forward three years after we met right outside my front door, they’re my very best friends.

  The only best friends I’ve ever had—brothers in every sense of the word. I trust the two of them implicitly but there are certain things about my life I can never reveal.

  Certain things they’ll probably swear up and down they can handle. I’m almost tempted to believe them. But a lot of people think they’re strong until the truth comes crashing down
on them like a ton of bricks.

  “Beckett would never ask for a day off.” Jamie scoffs, knowing as well as I do how seriously Beck takes his role as a dance instructor at my mom's studio. “Don’t make me sound like a slave driver boss.”

  “Mom, you’re totally a slave driver. Do you remember when you made Tony cry?”

  Her lips flatten. “He was late four days in a row.”

  “You called him an incompetent imbecile!” I clutch my stomach, laughing into the couch cushions. “I would’ve cried too.”

  Leaning over, she pokes me in the forehead. “Stop trying to change the subject. If Knox and Beckett aren’t going with you then who is?”

  I swat at her hand. “You don’t know her.”

  “What?” Mandy drops the denim she just spent three minutes folding. “It’s a girl?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I regret the question as soon as I ask it. Of course it matters to them. My experience with girls is limited to scratching itches. I don’t do girlfriends—not that Gia is, or ever will be, my girlfriend. My mothers are well informed of my disinterest in a long term romantic partner.

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, Maxwell.”

  “Mom, she isn’t my girlfriend. She’s a friend who’s in a tough spot. She graduated a year early, and her dad is a total bully. He’s trying force her into a career she doesn’t want. I invited her along so she could have some time to figure out what she wants without her dad watching her every move.”

  “That poor girl.” Mandy reaches for another pair of jeans, dejected and frowning. My mama has a heart the size of Texas. I could’ve revealed Gia has a sixth toe and she’d probably react the same way. “I couldn’t even imagine how it’d feel to have a parent not support your choices.”

  “That’s the thing, mom. Gigi doesn’t get choices. She gets demands and ultimatums.”

  “Max.” Mandy’s eyebrows draw together, and she takes a few hesitant steps toward me. “You know that’s not what mom and I were trying to do when we asked you to go to college, right? We weren’t trying to take away your choice. We just… we were so proud of you when you got into Duke.”