Us After You

by Claudia Burgoa

  I stop myself from looking deeper into it, or worse, asking it out loud.

  When we arrive at the studio, nobody says a word until we’re inside.

  Ethan asks one of the security guys, “Where is he?”

  “Miss Hades asked me to escort them to the conference room.”

  “Them?” Nana asks.

  “Mr. Rokus didn’t come alone.”

  We look at each other and shrug.

  The conference room is like a fishbowl. We spot Rocco immediately and stop when we see a woman next to him.

  “Do we know her?” I ask out loud.

  Hannah shakes her head.

  “He knocked her up and needs money to bail him out,” Zeke says and dusts his hands. “It won’t be me.”

  “Do we have to be so judgmental?” Ethan asks. “Is that what you teach those young minds?”

  “No,” Zeke says, pretty chilled. “I teach my kiddos to play chopsticks on the piano, the xylophone, and next week is Für Elise.”

  “Keeping it classy, Mr. Hutchence,” I say mockingly, and he glares at me.

  “We’re in this together,” Nana reminds us. “He’s a part of us.”

  “Fuck, was I high when I promised that?” Zeke jokes, and Nana glares at him. “Dudette, it was a joke.”

  “You weren’t, and it’s not funny.”

  “Lighten up, okay? If I’m ready to laugh at myself, you should be too.”

  “Okay, let’s do this together.” She holds Alex’s hand and opens the door.

  “It took you long enough,” Rocco says, his jaw clenching. “If this wasn’t important, I would’ve left.”

  I show him my phone. “Try calling next time. I’m almost three hours away.”

  “How can I surprise you if I call?” he says and looks around. “I thought you guys were living here.”

  “It’s been three years,” Ethan says. “For all you know, we could’ve sold the place.”

  “Things changed, and you’d know if you had called any of us,” Hannah speaks and shows him her hand. “We’ve yet to set a wedding date because you’ve been MIA.”

  “Funny that you mention weddings. Guys, meet my fiancée, Sienna.”

  Hannah’s face turns red. Alex pulls her to him and whispers something. She presses her lips together but stays quiet.

  “You’re engaged?” I ask, making sure I’m not making this shit up.

  “The engagement party is next weekend in Oregon. It’d mean a lot to me if you could join us.”

  “Hannah and I are away for the weekend,” Alex says, grinding his teeth. “Previous family commitments.”

  I look at them trying to think what they’re doing. I recall them saying they’d be in Denver, but I don’t think they said why, or I’d remember.

  Ethan speaks, “Sorry, man, I can’t go. Zeke and I already had plans, and we can’t cancel them.”

  What the fuck are they doing? When I look at Ethan, I know he’s lying. There’re no plans. He’s saving Zeke from the ordeal.

  “How about you?” Rocco stares at me with his ‘I’m all fucking alone’ face.

  “Send me the details,” I say, because if I don’t go, he’s going to be all by himself.

  “The wedding is next month,” his fiancée says. “In New York.”

  “Her mother is organizing it,” Rocco explains, and he sounds off. “Can I have a word with you, Tuck?”

  Nana glares at him but stays quiet.

  “Let’s go to the recording room,” I suggest.

  “Will you be okay here, babe?” he asks his fiancée. She nods in response.

  “They’re mad,” he says, while we walk.

  “Rocco—”

  “Patrick,” he corrects me.

  “What the fuck, man?” I ask after we enter the room and I close the door. “You dropped from the face of the earth and you expect us to receive you with red carpet treatment and attend your engagement party. Fucker, we don’t even know her.”

  “Well, I had to fix my life. You guys didn’t allow me to grow.”

  “Us?”

  I stare at him dumbfounded. He’s blaming us for what? I tried my best to help him. Yes, it wasn’t the best help, but I tried. If I knew what I do now, I’d do things differently. But isn’t that what we all think once we’ve learned a lesson?

  If I could turn back time…

  There’s nothing I’d change because then, I wouldn’t be who I am now. I couldn’t have helped Z when he almost relapsed a couple of years back. We wouldn’t be who we are today.

  “But in spite of all that, I love you guys and want you to be with me during my special day,” he continues.

  In spite of all what? I’m trying to keep my temper at bay, but is he for fucking real?

  He has a different version about the years we lived together. Because, in spite of what he’s fucking saying, we weren’t the ones who stopped him from growing. But it’s obvious that his truth is different from mine. Is this the time to discuss that he’s wrong?

  “We have plans,” he says. “I’m moving back, buying a house maybe close to where you guys live. I want my kids to grow close to you. You’re my family.”

  I blink a couple of times. He’s saying we’re bad for him, but he wants to be close to us. I don’t understand him, and I wish Nana was here. She speaks Rocco’s nonsense fluently.

  Does this make any sense? He’s swooping back into our lives as if nothing has happened. Should we forget that he’s been playing for another band for years? That he didn’t call when he left the rehab center or even tried to make sure we were doing okay.

  I’m back, sorry I avoided you, but you’re fucking toxic. That’s what he said, right? Or did I misunderstand?

  “We need a fresh start,” he says. “Sienna wants to set up a practice. I need a better job. My savings is just enough to buy a house in the area. Do you think your parents can get me something? They might be forming a band or…”

  He’s joking, right? Because of him and Zeke, I have a pretty shitty relationship with them. Fine, I don’t blame them anymore. I owned that shit. The incident included them, but I screwed that up all by myself.

  “How high were you when you left?” I ask, without any judgment.

  “Pretty out of it,” he confesses.

  “Do you remember the fight I had with my parents?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Listen, if you need anything from them, you have to talk to them directly and not get me mixed me up in it.”

  I don’t tell him how Zeke is on good terms with my family. Once he came back, he went to visit each member of my family. He apologized to them, making amends.

  In fact, sometimes, my best friends spend Sunday dinner with them. The other days, we spend them together at Hannah’s—or at her parents’. She’s the one who makes sure we’re still together and remain a family.

  “How about your grandparents or your uncle?” He presses, and I’m close to asking how much money he needs, but I don’t.

  “My situation with them isn’t great,” I say, instead of offering to help him. “Maybe you can talk to Nana’s dad, see if he can introduce you to anyone.”

  He shakes his head, and I wonder why he’s so reluctant to contact him. “What do you do?”

  “Investments.”

  He lets out an exasperated breath. “No, I can’t go back to a nine to five. Do I have any shares in that company?”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t invest any money, man. I’m sorry.”

  “Fuck, I always miss on that shit. I should’ve put some money on Hannah and Ethan’s company.”

  He looks around the sound room and asks, “How about this studio? You guys are making music, aren’t you?”

  “We rent it out often, and sometimes we come to play … but we’re not planning on doing anything together.”

  “Okay, if you’re making out, stop,” Hannah jokes, opening the door. “Are you guys done because we have a lot to do?”

  I become sti
ll and stare at Alex. He’s the grounded one in the couple—even when he’s an adrenaline junkie. “What are you talking about?”

  “The wedding,” she answers.

  “Fuck, I knew it. You’re getting married today,” I state.

  She laughs. “My parents would kill me. It’s way too soon to organize it. We’re talking about Sienna and Rocco’s wedding. She doesn’t want it in New York, but since her parents were paying…”

  “Were?” Rocco frowns.

  “Yes, we’re taking over. My treat,” she declares. “Mom’s already calling her friends.”

  “What about the invitations?” Rocco asks.

  “Well, they haven’t gone out yet. Sienna wasn’t sold on New York, and since you guys are going to be shopping for houses this weekend, we could do everything at the same time.”

  Rocco smiles at her. “Thanks, babe. I can always count on you.”

  “The house next door to ours is for sale,” Hannah says. “Why don’t you guys take a look?”

  “Do you think your dad could get me a gig?”

  She shakes her head. “You have to take it up with him, Rocco. I can’t talk on your behalf. Our parents are pretty pissed at you.”

  “I need a job,” he insists.

  “What happened to Midnight Buzz?” she asks.

  “I want a lead,” he declares.

  “Well, the magazine has openings,” she offers, animatedly.

  “He doesn’t want an office job,” I explain.

  “Sorry, Rocco—”

  “Patrick,” he corrects her.

  Hannah looks at me, I shrug.

  “Let’s go then. Ethan and Zeke took the helicopter. We’re taking the boat,” Hannah finally speaks. “There’s room for everyone.”

  “You hate ferries,” Rocco says.

  “It’s our boat,” I say, without reminding him why Nana hates ferries.

  One of our stalkers attacked her on a ferry. Was he always so high that he can’t remember anything that we lived through?

  “In any case, Alex already called our realtor,” she continues.

  Rocco smiles again at her and hugs her. “Thank you, Nana.”

  “Hey, no need to thank me. We’re a family.”

  When Rocco leaves the room, I grab her elbow lightly. “You’re enabling him.”

  She shakes her head. “No, they need help. Her parents sound toxic. It sounds like she needs a fresh start. They’re not asking to have things handed to them, just for a little help to start again.”

  “So, we help?” I conclude.

  “Just help,” she emphasizes the words. “This isn’t about handing him everything. It’s just granting them a chance at a fresh start.”

  “You’ve been waiting for him to come back before you get married, and instead of organizing your wedding, you’re organizing his.”

  She shrugs. “Alex and I can wait. It’s not about the ceremony, but about what feels right. We’re together forever. If it takes a few more months to say, ‘I do,’ it doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay, let’s follow your lead.”

  “Everything okay?” Alex asks.

  We nod.

  A part of me wants to make sure they’re truly okay about organizing a wedding when theirs remains on hold because of Rocco’s disappearance.

  However, I don’t. Nana seems so relaxed and excited that I leave it alone.

  13

  Sage

  Life—It’s all about lines and waiting.

  The line at the coffee shop. Waiting for the bartender to pay attention. Waiting for your moment while you set boundaries between you and the rest of the world.

  The last one gets difficult when you draw lines around you to keep people away. It’s just easier. You stay on your side, I stay on mine, and no one gets hurt.

  Unfortunately, those lines are invisible, and I’m about to be trampled by the people pressing behind me, as I try to get the bartender’s attention. Hanging out with my book club friends was a bad idea. I should’ve stayed at home.

  It’s Baker’s Creek’s Annual May Day weekend festival. It’s one of the most annoying traditions. Seriously, what happens during May Day? Nothing. Yet we still attract tourists from around the globe.

  Every time tourists come into the bookstore asking for the history of our festivals, I’m in as much loss as they are. But guess what, we always profit from the nonsense.

  What I love about this place is the small-town vibe. If they could just stop having an excuse to drag tourists to our town every single weekend, we could avoid this. Every stool in the bar is occupied. Dozens, if not hundreds, of drinks are being served. It only takes a second for the mass of people inched by the bar to create chaos.

  Someone stumbles and one person falls into another and another until it’s my turn. I bump hard into the person next to me and bounce toward the opposite side. The guy I bump into reaches toward me, catching me mid-air.

  His hands come to my hips, and as he helps me straighten up, I look up into a pair of steel eyes. The music stops. The sound of the voices around me, the clicking of the glasses, my lungs, even my heart. Everything comes to a halt.

  “Are you okay?” His coarse voice rumbles like a storm deep inside of me. It's like a loud thunder, powerful enough to send chills through my body. To restart my heart.

  That silly organ, which is now pounding violently inside my chest.

  “I’m okay,” I say breathlessly.

  All I can think about is the last time I felt my pulse spiking at the speed of light. How could I not?

  Dazzling eyes, tall enough to make me crank my neck, shiny dark hair. He doesn’t fit in this scene—in this town.

  He wears an expensive navy suit. No tie. He paid more for that haircut than what I pay for groceries in a month.

  His intense gaze focuses on me.

  I try to look anywhere but at him. My eyes don’t listen. They stare at his sharp jawline dusted with dark stubble.

  This man reminds me of my father—of my ex-husband.

  He looks like a Manhattan billionaire. Rich, trust fund type of guy who plays hard to accumulate more money than he can count. But that’s all they know how to do. They’re cold, heartless, and painfully powerful.

  He gestures to the bartender, who appears immediately. “What’ll you have?” he asks me.

  Nothing, I’m not having drinks with you. I know what it is to go out with a man who wears his ego as a second skin. Instead, Levi glances at me and says, “Passion cocktail, Sage?”

  “Use Grand Mayan Añejo,” hot guy responds. “And bring me a shot, chilled.”

  “The only top shelf I carry is Don Julio 1942,” Levi answers.

  “I guess that’ll do,” hot guy says and gives me a charming smile as he extends his hand to introduce himself. “I’m Dean.”

  Crossing my arms, I look at him from top to bottom and scrunch my nose. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, that’s what’s next, right? I buy you a drink, you tell me your name,” he explains.

  Arching an eyebrow, I glare at his extended hand and then at him. “What do you think will come out of this, Dean? You think you’re charming with your five-hundred-dollar haircut, your five-thousand-dollar suit, and the dazzling smile that cost your parents more than my car? If you think I’m going to be the small-town chick you fucked during the weekend, you have another thing coming.”

  “Here you go,” says Levi, setting the martini glass on the counter.

  I pick it up, drink it fast, and leave a twenty on the counter. “Go find someone else, Dean.”

  The guy doesn’t look like a Dean. He has some long name hyphenated in between surnames and maybe with a title like the third.

  Sue me for being bitter, but after my divorce the last thing I want to deal with is guys like him. The late-night breeze cools down my anger. I fix my scarf, button my light jacket, and walk toward my apartment.

  “What’s your problem?” I hear his voice, and I wave at him. “Go away, Dean.�
��

  “It was just a drink, Sage. You’re not my type.”

  I turn around and narrow my gaze. “Easy and disposable?”

  He runs a hand through his dark hair and sighs. “What’s wrong with inviting you for a drink, getting to know each other and seeing if we can…”

  Objectively, there’s nothing wrong with that. Of course, it’s a natural thing to go into a bar, hook up with someone and just be. The problem is, he reminds me of my old life. I was young when I met Douglas.

  He was handsome, charming, alluring. My attraction to him was like nothing I had felt before. But it wasn’t as strong as the one that I’m feeling for this guy. Dean.

  God knows if it’s real or just a side effect of being alone for so long. The problem with guys like him is that they don’t want more than a one-night stand. Who knows, he might be married or in a serious relationship.

  Once upon a time, I fell for a guy like him. He seemed like the best thing that could happen to me, and I almost died. The fact that he’s trying to act casual, as if he’s just some guy at a bar and not Manhattan royalty … it enrages me.

  How do I explain how he is?

  He’s convinced he lives in a different universe. That he deserves everything and has no obligation with anyone around him. I chuckle because it’s obvious that I don’t know how to choose a man. He’s the first guy who has stirred a lot of emotions inside me.

  Maybe I’m judging him too fast—and I might be unfair. But the scars I wear in my heart and in my body are still too fresh to trust a man like this. An eternity might be too soon to ever fall in love again.

  “It’s not what’s wrong. It’s who is wrong in the equation,” I explain.

  “Really?” He crosses his arms and gives me a challenging gaze. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  “How many times have you visited Baker’s Creek?” I ask to show him exactly how I know his kind and what he’s doing in town.

  “This is my first time.”

  “You came to ski—because the season was over last month. Are you just passing through because a friend of yours told you it’s easier to score during festival season?”

  He chuckles. “It’s none of your business why I’m here. Are you this uptight all the time?”