Wicked Reunion

by Michelle A. Valentine

  He’s crossing a line. I don’t even know this guy. The Jared I know would never disrespect my house like this, drunk or not.

  My heart thunders inside my chest and I march over and smack Jared right across the face. “Get out!”

  “No!” he challenges me again. “Tell him to leave first.”

  I shove on his chest as hard as I can, but he’s a complete wall of muscle and I can’t budge him.

  Once again, Wes tries to intervene, which instantly throws Jared into a deeper rage. The moment Wes grabs my arms to pull me back, Jared reaches over my shoulder and shoves Wes. “I told you, don’t fucking touch her.”

  “Do you even hear yourself right now?” Wes asks. “You’re losing your shit. Go home before you do something that you regret.”

  Jared narrows his eyes. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You are not my father. He’s dead, remember?”

  Things from this point on happen so quickly, it all seems like a blur. The second the words leave Jared’s lips, Wes shoves me to the side and then blasts Jared in the face with a hard right hook. Jared falls back from the impact and slams through the glass coffee table, throwing little shards in every direction.

  I cover my face with my hands, unsure of how hurt he is as he lies there for a split second. Jared’s not down long. He pops back up and barrels into Wes, wrapping his arms around him and tackling him so hard that I hear the crunch of bone on bone on impact. Both men fall to the floor, and all I see are fists flying as they roll around.

  This is a situation that I never in my wildest dreams imagined. They’ve never fought before . . . not like this anyway. Sure, they’ve had arguments, but this is . . . unbelievable. When Jared comes to his senses, he’s going to regret this. I have to stop it before one of them gets hurt.

  I bend down and wrap my arms around Jared’s neck, doing my best to stop him from beating the shit out of his brother. It’s at that very moment he cocks his arm back to land another blow to Wes’s face, and his elbow catches me right in the temple and the world goes black.

  NOW

  JARED

  Bells chime as I push the door to Mom’s shop open. I stare down at the handle and smile. They’re the bells I used in a Christmas pageant for our church when I was in the third grade. I hated those damn bells, but it had made Mom so happy that I’d volunteered to be in the pageant that I couldn’t take it back and beg her to not make me do it even after they assigned me to play those stupid bells.

  “Be right with you,” Mom calls from the back room where she does all her prep work.

  I open my mouth to tell her it’s me but decide against it because I figure she’s wrapping up something important.

  I take my time walking around the shop. Everywhere I look there’s some flower arrangement or some amazing display of baked goods—each one more artistic and beautiful than the last. Her skills have really evolved. She took on arranging flowers to go along with the candies to bring in more money. Selling the candies alone wasn’t enough to pay all the bills without Dad’s income.

  On the wall behind the counter, there’s an array of photos of different events. Most look like weddings, and from what I can tell, Mom has provided flowers and desserts for several fancy events.

  One wedding photo catches my attention—what I think is the groom in particular. The picture isn’t centered on him, but he’s standing next to a large floral arch as he stares down the aisle at what I assume is his bride. The guy in the picture—he looks a lot like Wes, just a little older. Surely if my older brother had gotten married, Mom would have figured out a way to slip that into one of our conversations over the past five years.

  I lean in a little closer to inspect the photo, and I’m convinced it’s him. All the same features are present: the sandy-blond hair, same brown eyes. Hell, the man had even folded his hands in front of himself in the way Wes does.

  “Jared?” Mom’s voice from the doorway leading to the back catches me off guard.

  I straighten up, my eyes meeting her gaze. She looks almost the same as I remember her, only there are a few more prominent lines around the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and her blue eyes glisten with unshed tears at the sight of me standing here.

  I give her a small smile. “Hi, Mom.”

  Unable to hide her excitement, she squeals as she makes her way around the counter and wraps me in one of the tightest hugs known to mankind. She buries her face in my neck and holds me tight against her petite frame. “My boy is home. Thank you, Lord. Thank you.”

  She continues to chant over and over like her longtime prayers have finally been answered, and it chokes me up a bit to know that she’s been waiting for this day so badly. It makes me feel like a completely shitty asshole for not coming to see her sooner. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I won’t do that again, even if it is difficult for me to come back.

  I’m a selfish prick, but I swear from this point on I will not let my mother down like this again. She’s too good of a person, and she doesn’t deserve the callous way I’ve treated her.

  I wrap my arms around her. “It’s so good to see you, Mom. I’ve missed you.”

  “Jared.” She says my name in a choked-up voice, and I know she’s crying even though I can’t see her face. “I’ve missed you so much—more than you can ever possibly know.”

  We stay like that for a long time, neither of us wanting to let go, and I know that no matter how much I miss Dad or how hard being here without him is, I won’t be able to stay away this long ever again.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon with Mom in the shop. Neither of us talk about the past. It’s like she understands that I need a clean slate in order to feel comfortable here. However, I do learn a lot about the shop.

  It’s been tough for Mom to keep help around because she can’t afford to pay them much more than minimum wage.

  I box up a few of the candies after Mom prepares the boxes. She smiles at me, and I can tell she’s enjoying me working alongside her. “Do you need to call someone to pick up all these orders for delivery?”

  Mom sighs. “Typically, yes. I have an older gentleman who does that, but he called me earlier and said he was really sick today, so after we’re done, I’ll deliver them.”

  I shake my head. “That’s silly. I’m right here, put me to work. I’ll make all the deliveries for you.”

  “People might recognize you,” she says. “I don’t want that trouble for you.”

  I shake my head. “I rarely get noticed unless I’m at an event where people are specifically looking for me. Ace is the face of the band, so he’s the one all the media bugs.”

  Mom nods. She knows what’s going on with Wicked White and how Ace was given my spot as the front man of the band, so it’s nice that I can talk with her openly about things.

  She smiles and her shoulders relax. “Oh, honey. That will help me so much, but please, don’t feel like you have to.”

  “It’s no problem. Really. It’ll be a good excuse for me to drive around the city and see what’s new since I left.”

  Mom gets right to work lining up all the deliveries and helping me put the cards inside envelopes with addresses on them. I pull the shop’s delivery van around to the back door and begin loading things up with Mom’s help.

  We’re nearly done when the phone rings. Mom motions to the counter where a few prepared arrangements sit next to some of the candies. “That should be the last of it. If you want to get going while I take this call, you can.”

  I nod. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done, and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

  “Okay, honey.” She touches the side of my face and smiles before she rushes to answer the phone.

  I turn and grab the rest of the flowers and load them into my arms. One bundle of yellow roses sits off to the side. I grab those too, figuring Mom just missed them, double-check that there’s an address on the card, and then head out to the van to start getting all these
flowers to the lucky recipients.

  THEN

  JARED

  Even in my drunken state, I know I’ve just royally fucked up the moment London releases me and falls to the floor. There’s a sting in my elbow from where I made contact with something behind me, and it’s not hard to figure out that I just plowed into London in my fit of rage.

  Wes shoves me off of him, and there’s sheer panic in his voice. “What the fuck did you do?”

  He scrambles to his knees and crawls over to London, who lies motionless on the living room floor. Wes scoops his arm under her shoulders and lifts her head up off the floor. This doesn’t awaken her at all. Her head drops back as Wes says her name over and over.

  Oh, shit, what have I done?

  I squat down beside her and place my hand on her chest to feel it rise and fall. When I know she’s breathing, I wrap my arms around her, hug her to my body, and kiss her face. “Oh, God. London, I’m so sorry.” I bury my face into her dark hair and sob. “Please wake up. I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  I say it over and over again like a chant before I squeeze my eyes shut and scold myself for being drunk. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, and I’m not in my right mind to know how to help her.

  Wes jerks his gaze toward me. “Don’t just sit there! Get off your ass and call nine-one-one!”

  His brash tone grabs my attention as I sit there in horror, realizing that I’ve just hurt the one person that I love most in this world. If things keep going like this . . . if I keep fucking up . . . I am going to ruin her life, and that’s the last thing I ever want to do.

  “Jared!” Wes’s voice cuts through my groggy thought process. “Make the Goddamn call!”

  I shake my head as if to try and shake some sense into it as I push myself up off the floor. I grab the phone and quickly dial the number to get help.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” the female operator calmly asks from the other end of the line.

  “Um, we need an ambulance. My girlfriend . . . she’s hurt,” I say.

  “Is she injured?” the woman asks.

  I stare down at London’s limp body in Wes’s arms. “Yes. She got hit in the head.”

  “Is she breathing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, sir, I’m sending someone right now. I’ll need you to tell me where she was struck . . .”

  The operator goes on and on, but I’m so focused on London that I don’t process everything the woman on the phone is telling me. I need her to wake up—I need to know that she’s okay. I won’t be able to live with myself if I hurt her.

  “Sir . . . sir?”

  God knows my brother, who is clearly in love with London, will never forgive me for this. He’s going to hate me forever . . . and Mom . . . God, I don’t want to see the look on her face when she finds out that I’ve disappointed her again. It was so hard to see it the day she picked me up from jail. I never want to see that in her eyes again.

  I don’t think I can take it.

  London stirs on the floor, and I can tell she’s starting to come to. I can’t face her—not after what I did—and my face is probably the last thing she wants to see right now.

  I drop the phone down by Wes’s side, and he stares up at me with an expression that can only be labeled as confused. “What the hell?”

  “I can’t . . .” That’s all I can manage to say before I turn on my heel and walk out the door.

  I’m so out of control right now. I’m putting the woman I love in danger, and I won’t allow anything to hurt her ever again—including me.

  “Jared!” Wes screams from the other side of the door, but I keep going without looking back.

  Unable to go back home, I hop in my truck and drive around the corner and park to sleep off all the liquor I drank. I’m not sure how long I was out, but a pounding on my window jerks me out of a deep sleep. Beams of sunlight shine in my face, so I have to squint as I roll down the window. When my vision comes into focus, the girl I met a few days ago with jet-black hair and the pink stripe stands there with her hands on her hips. Her all-black appearance screams rocker, and the matching skull-and-crossbones earrings make her outfit complete.

  “You again,” she says as she snaps her gum. “Does this mean you want to join the band?”

  Completely confused, I raise one eyebrow. “Huh?”

  She motions to the small blue house behind her. “This is the address on the card I gave you for the band, remember?”

  Mentally I flip back through when I met her, and a name comes to mind. “Lick Me and Split?”

  She nods with a grin on her face. “Catchy, right? So are you in? We’re leaving to head out on tour.” She points in front of my truck to where a bunch of other girls dressed in the same fashion as her take turns loading different instruments into the back. “We got a break playing a few shows in Nashville, opening up for some newly signed band for Mopar Records. They’re called Black Falcon, and they’re supposedly some group of badass hard rock guys. From everything I read about them online, looks like the women love them, which will be good for us. Plus they’re signed to a record label, so we’re sure to get some exposure—might even get us signed.”

  I tilt my head. “How does a legion of fangirls work out in your favor?”

  She smiles. “More hot groupie chicks with big boobs for us to pick from.” My mouth falls open, causing her to cackle. “So what do you say, Joe College? You in or out?”

  I debate her offer. It’s almost like it’s been sent to me at the right time, because I desperately need to get out of this town. The truth is, though, I don’t know this chick from Adam. She could be completely insane—well . . . that’s probably true. I mean, look how easily she approached me on campus and then invited me out on the road with her even though I’m a complete stranger. Who does shit like that? Crazy girls, that’s who.

  She is easy to talk to, and it seems like she’s batting for the other team, so I don’t think she’s inviting me along as a come-on. Maybe I should go. Maybe this will be a good way for me to stop inflicting pain on the ones I love and refocus while I’m away—get my head right again.

  A tall blond with cropped hair slams the doors to the van shut and turns in our direction. “All loaded up. Let’s roll!”

  The rocker chick turns back to me and raises her eyebrows, waiting for my answer. “Time’s up.”

  “I’m in,” I tell her without any hesitation.

  She grins. “Awesome. Follow us, and try to keep up.”

  Without another word, she turns and heads toward the van. It hits me then that I don’t even know the first thing about this girl, and if we’re going to be in a band together, a little introduction would be good.

  I stick my head out the window. “What’s your name?”

  She turns but keeps walking backward in her Doc Martens. “Suzie Q! Yours?”

  “Jared,” I tell her.

  She gives me a thumbs-up as she skips off to the van, and I fire up my truck, ready to head out and start a new life—one that if I screw up, the only person it hurts is me.

  THEN

  LONDON

  Follow the light with your eyes,” the doctor in the white lab coat instructs as I sit on the edge of the gurney in the emergency room.

  He moves the penlight up and down and side to side before bringing it in to almost touch my nose, causing my eyes to strain.

  “Good,” he says as he steps back and then shoves the penlight into the pocket of his jacket. “It doesn’t seem like there are any long-term effects. That must have been some fall. It’s crazy that you hit your head just at the right angle to knock yourself out. Try to be more careful and limit your alcohol intake.” He writes something down on a little notepad and then tears off the sheet of paper before handing it to me. “Here’s a prescription for ibuprofen, eight hundred milligrams, for pain. You can take one every four to six hours.”

  I take the paper. “Thanks, but like I said, I feel completely fine.�
�

  “I want you to follow up with your family doctor in the next two to three days, and if you notice any odd changes in vision or motor skill, report back here immediately so we can do that CT scan that you refused.” The doctor pats me on the shoulder. “Take care, London.”

  The second he leaves the room, I hop off the table. Wes puts his arms around me to make sure I’m steady. “You good?”

  I nod. “I’m completely fine.”

  Wes frowns. “Why did you lie to the paramedics about what happened to you?”

  I shrug as we make our way down the hall of the hospital toward the exit. “It was an accident, Wes. I don’t need anyone questioning Jared about it. He’s gone through enough.”

  He shakes his head. “Always protecting him. At some point, London, Jared is going to have to take responsibility for his actions. Both you and Mom coddle him far too much, and it’s not helping. It doesn’t force him to face things like a grown adult. It’s like he throws little tantrums and gets out of things, but when the law steps in—there’s no getting out of that.”

  I’ve never heard Wes talk about his brother like this before. “You act like Jared has always been this way. He’s not a spoiled brat, Wes. All this—the things he’s going through—he’s never been like this before.”

  Wes pushes open the thick glass door to the outside and holds it for me. “He’s always been selfish, London. You just didn’t allow yourself to see it before because you were blinded by your love for him. You always gave in and did exactly what he wanted you to do.”

  We make our way to Wes’s car, and I furrow my brow. “Name one situation where I sacrificed something I wanted to make Jared happy.”

  “That’s easy. College.”

  “College?” I repeat. “What about it?”

  Wes opens the passenger door to his four-door black sedan. “Did you really want to go to the University of Tennessee?” I open my mouth to protest immediately, but the look on Wes’s face tells me to not bullshit him. “Be honest.”

  “Not at first, no, I guess, but once Jared and I talked about it, it made sense for us to both go there, seeing as I didn’t have a car. Besides, I wanted to stay close to him.”