Devil Side

by Lacey Dailey

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jamie steps forward, shoving two slices of bacon in her mouth. Mandy swats her and chides her about eating like a caveman, only to receive a kiss to the cheek. Because, of course, Mandy doesn’t actually care about how Jamie eats. Unlike my father who would send my mother off to etiquette school if she ever shoved food in her mouth like that.

  I sip my juice with a smile, knowing my men would let me eat my breakfast meat however I wanted.

  Mandy leans toward me, resting her elbows on the counter. “Max told us you’re officially his manager.”

  “Yep. I signed the contract a few days ago.”

  I don’t mention the drawn out argument Max and I had over what percentage I should take. I ended up winning with fifteen percent and the promise that we could renegotiate in a year based on how quickly his career takes off.

  “I think it’s wonderful Max will have someone he trusts. When do you return to Vegas?”

  I swallow my waffles before replying. “We can stay about two weeks before Max’s label executive starts calling him and barking at him to get back in the studio.”

  “How many songs are ready?”

  “Two.” It would probably be more if Max wasn’t such a perfectionist, but who’s going to argue with a man who cares so much about his art he wants it to be perfect before exposing it to the world?

  “This is so exciting!” Mandy claps her hands together, delight chiseled in her features. “Do we have a release date set? Or an album title?”

  “That’s still probably a long way away.”

  Gray is still trying to convince Max to release Make A Move as his first single. Max isn’t ready. He says he wants a few more songs under his belt that he can pick from. As his manager, I chided him and stood by Gray, explaining to Max the importance of putting out music to get people curious about his upcoming record.

  As his girlfriend, I kissed him and told him I understood how vulnerable one has to to be to expose their songs—whether people will interpret them correctly or not.

  Despite my reluctance, the line straddled between manager and girlfriend isn’t blurry. Though it’s only been a few weeks, all the anxiety I experienced over being both faded into nothing the first time we got into a manager-musician disagreement. We didn’t let it affect the way we were when we were just Max, Gia, and Aiden.

  Aiden kept his promise. I’ve spent hours with each of them, asking questions in an effort to understand them and their identity disorder better. The two of them are honest in their transparency, trusting me the hold their secret as close to my heart as they do theirs.

  Aiden doesn’t speak about the abuse he endured, and I won’t ask. There’s a reason Aiden is here, and while I’m so thankful he is, I recognize the reason isn’t a great one.

  In my free time, I researched disorders like the one they live with and I uncovered how common it is for young people who underwent abuse to split. There were endless articles and videos I could’ve lost myself to, but I stopped before going too far. It isn’t fair to them that I can find pieces of their mind all over the internet when they couldn’t do the same for me.

  From that point on, I vowed that any information I learned would come from them. I’ll consider each memory they re-live, each word they whisper a privilege.

  Just recently, they’ve started referring to themselves as “we” and “us” instead of “I” and “me”.

  Max’s light snore and Jamie’s sigh drag me from my thoughts. With a quiet laugh, I thump him on the head. Jamie chuckles, and I continue my thumping until he begins to stir.

  “Wake up before I eat all your waffles.”

  He lifts his head, dragging his hands down his sleepy face. Soft caramel hair sprouts from his scalp in all different directions. He smacks his lips together, struggling to form words.

  “I’m tired.”

  “I see that.” I pass him the food Mandy plated for him. “Here. Eat.”

  “Yummy.”

  Jamie rolls her eyes, watching the way her son shoves too much food in his mouth and struggles to chew it. “Do the two of you have plans today?”

  “Yeah.” Max licks at the syrup dribbling down his chin. “Sleep.”

  “Actually.” I poke him in the cheek with my fork. “Max is going to take me to my apartment.”

  “Why do you need to go to your apartment?”

  “Because I live there?”

  “Not anymore.”

  I frown. “Just because we were in Vegas doesn’t mean I don’t still have a home.”

  “Your home is here now.” He ignores my stunned look and looks toward his parents. “You guys have any boxes? Gia’s moving in.”

  My jaw drops to the counter. Only my boyfriend brings up a topic as serious as moving in together while sitting in his underwear, syrup smeared across his cheeks, in the presence of his parents.

  “Hey.” I shake his shoulder. “Since when am I moving in?”

  “Since now.” He snags some bacon off my plate. “Why wouldn’t you move in?”

  I don’t have an answer for that. Nobody has ever asked me to move in with them. I'm not sure what the proper protocol for this conversation is.

  “Baby, we’ll be here less than a month before we’re back in Vegas. Why do we need to pay for two empty apartments?”

  That makes sense. A lot of sense, actually.

  From my peripheral vision, I find his parents with hearts in their eyes. “I just think it’s weird timing for this conversation.”

  “It was never going to be a conversation, Gia.”

  My eyes snap to his instantly, studying on their color and the tension lined in his jaw. That was such an Aiden thing to say.

  “Still me.” Max snickers.

  I poke him in the sticky cheek. “Did he tell you to say that?”

  “Does it matter if I agree?”

  “You live to exasperate me.”

  His eyes turn to glass. It’s a look that’s become very familiar to me. He’s focusing on thoughts.

  Not his—Aiden’s.

  “Aiden said our greatest joy in life is exasperating you.” Max howls in laughter. “And he isn’t wrong.”

  I flick his earlobe. “Eat your damn waffles so we can go pack my stuff.”

  He looks absolutely thrilled with himself. Turning back to his breakfast, he smiles through the soggy waffles he shovels in his mouth. His hand falls to my thigh, and he squeezes lightly. I don’t try to contain the smile that spreads across my lips. Exasperating or not, I’m so incredibly in love.

  Our comfortable silence is interrupted by Jamie’s deep rasp as she clears her throat. Mandy’s eyes sag from their sockets as she looks back and forth between Max and I. I wonder if it’s his hand on my thigh or that strange conversation about us moving in together that’s weirding them out.

  Mandy eyes begin to fill with tears that have yet to spill over. Max flashes her an easy smile, and I get it.

  “She knows?”

  “Yeah, mom. She knows.”

  She sniffs, rubbing at her nose while looking toward me. “You know?”

  I nod my head. I’m not sure that question was actually one I’m supposed to answer or something she just blurted to help her get a grip on the situation.

  “Mom, please don’t cry.”

  “Oh, shut it!” Jamie’s voice wobbles, making her own emotion evident. Her arms engulf Mandy. “We’ve been waiting years for you to tell someone. She’s happy. Let her cry.”

  Max lets out a few incoherent words and slides from his stool, stepping around the counter to hug them both. “I love you guys, and I know this is a huge thing for you, but please don’t make this awkward. Aiden and I don’t handle awkward well.”

  “I can’t help it.” Mandy rubs her face on Jamie’s chest, dousing her wife in tears of relief.

  I understand her emotion. The two of them have spent years wishing love and acceptance for their son. Witnessing him embrace who he is, beside a woman who love
s him… well, I’d cry too.

  “I’m just so happy you told her.”

  Max’s laugh is dry and humorless. “I didn’t tell her. Aiden did.”

  “That’s not exactly true.” I interject. “You told me.”

  “Aiden sort of forced our hand, baby.”

  “I’m so lost right now.” Jamie scowls at him through the moisture in her eyes. “I don’t like being lost, Maxwell.”

  Max rubs at the back of his neck. “So, like, Gia’s dad is a real asshole, and he showed up in Vegas being all aggressive and asshole-like. Aiden wasn’t having it, so he clocked him in the lobby of our hotel.”

  Jamie’s jaw extends to the floor. Mandy looks about ready to faint.

  “It’s okay!” Max blurts, waving his hands and doing a real crap job of reassuring them. “Really. He didn’t press charges.”

  I'm still wondering why. I spent three days in a continuous panic, waiting for the police to come handcuff my boyfriend for attempting to break my father’s nose. They never came. Neither police or hotel security came to question us regarding the incident.

  After a long phone call to Renzo explaining the details that didn’t include Aiden, my brother seemed to come to the same conclusion Aiden did. My father won’t press charges when there are cameras with evidence of him touching me first. Maybe he wasn’t as aggressive as Aiden was, but Renzo is confident Tito Moretti doesn’t want claims or evidence of him man-handling his daughter after she said no so many times.

  On the count of me not hearing a word from him since he stormed out of that lobby with his pride tarnished and his nose bloody, Renzo is convinced this is the end.

  I am not as convinced.

  Each night I lie down and close my eyes, I feel something low in my gut. It stabs at me violently, refusing to let me believe this is the end. I still want to confront him before I go back to Vegas, but I'm worried he has something up his sleeve. Something that is going to make my life a living hell.

  “Mom, drink some water.” Max grips Mandy’s forearm. “Holy shit, you look like you’re going to fall over.”

  “Well, excuse me for reacting to an overload of information.”

  “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad, honey. I’m just processing. That’s all.”

  His face pales. I’m not sure why. His parents look like any concerned parent would when their child mentions the potential possibility of going to jail.

  I extend my arm. “Baby, come here a minute.”

  Releasing his hold on his mom, he pads over to me and plops on my lap despite the weight difference. “I think they’re mad at us.”

  “No, they aren’t, Max. Just concerned.” I stroke his hair. “Any parent would be.”

  “Everything worked out.”

  “Right, but they are still processing it. Give them a minute, okay?”

  He nods, pushing his nose into my neck.

  “Max, we aren’t mad.” Jamie says. “Promise.”

  “I don’t want to get revoked an invitation to my parent’s anniversary party for almost going to jail.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Jamie throws her hands in the air, looking at Max as though she’s a moment away from knocking some sense into him. “We don’t care about that, Max. We would’ve flown to Vegas and bailed you out. You have to know that. I’m more concerned about the part of the story that includes Gigi’s father being aggressive with her.”

  Oh, here we go.

  “Mrs. Mitchell, it’s fine.”

  “Jamie.” She corrects. “And it doesn’t sound fine.”

  “It’s not.” Max slides off my lap and grabs my empty plate, maneuvering around his mom to reach the sink. “She isn’t allowed to be near him anymore.”

  “Max, really? Don’t make it sound like I have some restraining order. That’s just Aiden being Aiden.”

  “No, that’s both of us being concerned about our girl after her father threatened her in a public place.”

  “He didn’t threaten me.”

  He drops the dishes in the sink, his head hanging. “Let’s not get into this right now, Gia.”

  I know exactly why he’s requesting this conversation be put on hold. Aiden has something to say, and he doesn’t want to say it in front of Jamie and Mandy.

  “I don’t know what’s going on.” Jamie starts, linking her hand in Mandy’s. “And it’s not my business, but you better make it my business if somebody is threatening you.” Her eyes turn into lasers, and they pierce the spot between my eyes. “Either of you.”

  “Yeah, mom. We will.”

  “Good. Nice to see you again, Gigi.” She tugs Mandy towards the door. “Mom and I have to go to work. We left Beck and Knox in charge of the studio.”

  “Get some rest, Maxwell.” Mandy calls. “You’re a grouch.”

  The door slams, muffling Max’s sigh. “That was a head trip.”

  “They’re excited, babe. Cut them some slack.”

  “It got awkward when Aiden was brought up.”

  “Honestly?” I stand from my stool. “I think they handled it extremely well.”

  “Yeah?” He grabs his own plate, laying it down in the sink. “I just never know what to say to make it not strange.”

  “You want my opinion?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I round the counter, resting my hands on his hips. “Maybe stop trying to pretend Aiden doesn’t exist around them. The more you talk about him, the more normal it’ll become.”

  He shrugs, trying to work out if he’s comfortable talking about Aiden with people he’s worked so hard to hide him from. I stay quiet, giving him a chance to sort out two sets of thoughts. When he doesn’t seem to be reaching a conclusion, I take his hand.

  “Let’s go take a nap.”

  “We’re supposed to be moving you in.” His words hold protest, though he lets me lead him back down the hallway and into his bedroom.

  “It’s Monday.” I crawl into bed. “Mondays are for naps.”

  “I thought Sunday was for naps.” He lays down beside me, flopping around until he finds a comfortable position and is satisfied with the proximity of our bodies.

  “I’m changing the rules.”

  He swats at the hair that prevents him from looking into my eyes. “Are you trying to get out of moving in?”

  His tone is laced in vulnerability. I understand almost instantly his strange approach of bringing it up earlier was his way of trying to be cucumber Max when in reality, he’s terrified I’ll deny him.

  “No, Max.” I run my knuckles down his face. “I’m not.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I kiss him. “Positive. You’re right about it being silly to pay for two empty apartments. Besides, I got so used to sleeping next to you, I don’t want to sleep alone.”

  “Needy.”

  “Maxwell!” I pinch his side, reveling in his laugh. “I’ll call Renzo. He’ll come help pack some stuff.”

  “Knox and Beck are going to be so jealous of my newfound bromance with Renzo. Nobody could ever replace my main men, but Renzo is a very close second.”

  I had no idea how close Max and Renzo had become until I walked in on Max peeing while simultaneously Facetiming my brother. I won’t even claim to understand the aspects of male friendship.

  And they think we’re weird for going to the bathroom in groups.

  He rubs his cheeks against mine. “I’m gonna miss him when he goes to the academy and forgets about all us little people.”

  I choke on a laugh. “You’re the one who just signed a deal with a record label.”

  “Yes, but I’m humble. I’ll never forget about him.”

  “I’m pretty sure people who are humble don’t actually have to convince anybody that it’s true.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re just jealous.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I use all my strength to break free from his hold and peer down at the smirk on his face. “I don’t know how I put up with you.”

&nb
sp; “Because you love us.”

  Us.

  A smile creeps up my lips. “Yeah, I do.”

  He flicks my earlobe. “So, that means you’re going to respect our wishes and ice out Papa Tito for the rest of your days?”

  “Absolutely not.” I quip. “But that was a nice try, buttering me up with love.”

  “First, I wasn’t buttering you up. Second, I don’t feel like you understand what happened in that lobby.”

  “I was there, Max. I understand but you need to understand how long it took me to be able to hold his gaze without cowering. I am not going to go back into hiding.”

  He sits up, burrowing his hands into his hair and tugging roughly. His jaw ticks. “You trying to downplay this, sweet cheeks? Because I’ll replay that tape if you need to see it.”

  Oh, boy.

  “Aiden, we talked about this.”

  “No, you talked. I don’t remember agreeing.”

  “I told you a million and one times I want to confront him.”

  “And I told you a million and two that you aren’t going near him without some backup.”

  “Backup? Aiden, I’m confronting my father about the way he’s tried to control my life. This isn’t a drug raid.”

  He jumps to his feet. “Stop making it sound like we’re being overprotective assholes!”

  “Holy shit, Aiden! That’s exactly what you’re being! Confronting him is important to me. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for the strength to confront him? I’m not saying it has to be today, but I’m not going back to Vegas until it’s done.”

  He closes his eyes and lifts his head to the ceiling. His chest moves erratically. I count more than a dozen heaves before he looks at me again, eyes calmer. “Okay. This is important to you. We’ll figure out something, but please don’t just go over there alone.” He pulls me into his chest. “Promise us that.”

  “I promise.”

  It is an easy promise to make considering I really don’t actually want to go alone. It isn’t a conversation for anybody but me and my father, but I refuse to be ashamed for needing some support. There’s nothing wrong with needing a little push or asking for a little help.

  It doesn’t matter what it took to get me here. What matters is that I’m here, taking back the life I should’ve had years ago. If Max can confront his beans by exposing himself to me, I can confront mine by ridding my father of his power.