Chapter 25
Lacey
I’m wiping down a table when Chris walks into Blue’s in his snug leather jacket and faded jeans. For a Tuesday night it’s no surprise the place isn’t very busy. It’s not hard for him to spot me when there’s hardly anyone around.
I usually don’t even work on Tuesdays but volunteered to pick up some extra shifts to stay busy. An idle mind is a dangerous thing and there’s only so much studying I can do to occupy mine.
I instantly regret the decision when I’m met with hazel eyes so much like Max’s my gut twists.
I blink rapidly and look away, reminding myself this isn’t Max. Other than the identical eyes they really look nothing alike. They act nothing alike too, as opposite as two brothers could be. I keep that in mind as I greet him, trying to remember that it isn’t Chris’s fault that Max threw me away like last week’s newspaper.
“Hey.” I try sounding as cheerful as possible under the circumstances of my heart clenching, desperate to know how his brother is doing. “What can I get for you?”
“I didn’t come here for a drink.”
I force a sweet smile. “We don’t have karaoke on Tuesdays.”
“You know why I came.”
I guess he isn’t in the mood for dancing around the point.
“Do I?”
“He’s a mess.”
“He’s also an ass.”
“Just talk to him.”
“No.”
“He misses you. He’s really bad off.”
My heart clenches tighter. “Too bad.”
Chris runs a hand over the back of his neck in obvious frustration and I take pity on him.
“It’s not fair for him to send you as his messenger.”
“He didn’t send me.”
“Then why come? He didn’t want you to drag me back to him. Not sure if he told you but this was his decision to end things. He hasn’t called or texted. Hasn’t shown up here. If he wanted to see me he knows where I’m at.”
“You’re both stubborn as hell, you know that?”
I just shrug and stare at the center of his forehead to avoid his piercing eyes.
“Fine…I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”
“Coming right up.”
I take a minute behind the bar to take a deep breath as I make his drink. I refuse to listen to this shit. Chris means well but really. Does he have a clue about his own brother? Max told me to kindly fuck off. Doesn’t sound to me like a guy that’s depressed and missing me.
It isn’t Chris’s fault his brother is a dismissive asshole with commitment issues. I replay this mantra in my mind as I deliver the Jack and Coke. Not his fault. Not his fault.
I smile, set the drink down in front of him and turn to leave when he calls my name.
“Yes?”
“Are you doing ok?”
He asks this with sincerity. Genuine concern. It makes me feel like I’m far from okay. “I don’t know.”
“Sit.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Sit your ass down and talk.”
“I’m working.”
“There’s like three people here and two of them are us. I think it’ll be ok.”
I look around for an excuse to walk off. A person needing a drink or a table needing to be cleaned. But sure enough there’s only one other customer at the bar nursing a beer and I had already wiped down every table twice out of boredom.
Resigned to my fate, I pull out a chair and sit across from him.
“You don’t know if you’re ok?”
“I refuse to talk to you about this. You’re his brother. It’s too weird.”
“Ok. Well why don’t I talk? You just listen.” I nod. Not talking sounds good to me. “I don’t give a shit about anyone really. Max is literally one of two people besides myself I give half a fuck about. And he’s been through some shit…but I’ve never seen my brother moping around as much as I have these last few weeks. Why do you think that is Lacey?”
I shrug again. It’s all I can expend my energy on because this conversation is too exhausting.
I just want to crawl in my bed under the warm, safe covers and not feel anything or hear any more of what he has to say. But he keeps talking and I have no choice but to listen.
“It’s because of you.”
“That’s not my fault.” I snap, my anger giving me a surge of energy.
“I know it’s not. Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you guys or what went down after I left. He won’t tell me anything. But I know he’s different now. And I need to get out of town for a little while to take care of some things with myself but I can’t do that if I’m worried about him.”
“He’s grown. You don’t have to take care of him. He made his bed. Let him lay in it.”
“I’m his big brother whether he’s grown or not.”
As an only child I can’t fathom the relationship. Can’t imagine seeking out some cranky girl at a bar on a Tuesday night to try to convince her to give my sibling another chance because I can’t handle watching him brood. It’s so foreign to me. But I can see the love for Max painted plainly on his face.
I wish someone loved me that much. I suppose my parents do but I can’t tell them things the way I could with a sibling. Sex, heartbreak and bad decisions were certainly off the table topics.
I had watched Max and Chris enough before things turned to shit. There was a bond there that couldn’t be logically explained. They pissed each other off to no end and rivaled over every little thing. But they didn’t turn their back on each other.
Not until the night I came between them and caused their explosive fight.
I’m glad they were able to work through things. I don’t want to get between them and weaken their bond. Seemed like he was better off now that I was out of the picture. At least he had his brother back.
Chris senses we’re at a stalemate and once he finishes his Jack and Coke decides to leave. He drops a ten on the table to cover his bill plus a pretty hefty tip and disappears out the door while I’m bringing the only other patron a Blue Moon.
I pocket the tip and spend the rest of the evening feeling like an ass for giving him such a hard time. It really wasn’t his fault.
I was still nursing a broken heart and rejection but it wasn’t right to take it out on him. He was just trying to help.
I muddle through the rest of the night with a small handful of regulars stopping in for a beer after work before heading home. By closing time I convince myself that I need to apologize to Chris for my bitchy behavior.
First thing in the morning I’ll bring him a coffee, knowing damn well Max wasn’t keeping him adequately caffeinated, and would make my peace. Max had class on Wednesday morning so if I was lucky I could be in and out without him knowing.
Hopefully I could give Chris what he needed to put all of this to rest, knowing he did what he could to reconcile us and it just wasn’t meant to happen. He said he had somewhere to go and the worry was holding him back. Maybe I could help settle his mind.
The thought sends another stab to my chest and I choose to ignore it. It’s probably heartburn. Clogged arteries perhaps? Maybe I should lay off tomato sauce and fried foods for a while.
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
The next morning I stand at Max’s door bright and early with a cup of coffee in each hand. When I pulled up I visually scanned the parking lot for his car and breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t here.
I just want to apologize to Chris for being a bitch and get out of here. Quick.
I manage to knock with the back of my hand while gripping the steaming cups. I hope like hell he can hear it. From what I remember Chris sleeps like the dead. If he isn’t already awake this planned apology will never happen.
The door swings open and Chris steps back to let me in. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. I follow him into the kitchen and put his coffee on the kitchen table, clutching mine and allowing the warmth to comfort me. Being in the apartment sends a tight pinch to my chest.
It takes a moment for me to notice the tension in the air and the fact that he’s pacing back and forth in front of the sink.
“I’m sorry about last night. I just wanted to bring you a coffee and apologize.”
He barely glances up at me and continues wearing down the tiles.
“Is…is everything ok?”
“Yeah, yeah it’s fine.” He grabs the coffee from the table and takes a drink. “It’s ok.”
“I was really rude to you.”
“It’s cool. Thanks for the coffee. You should go.”
I’m taken off guard by how short he’s being. He walks me to the front door and I start to worry Max is almost home. Maybe he wants to rush me out before he has to mediate another awkward encounter between the two of us.
When he kindly hurries me to the door a loud knock rattles through the wood. It radiates into the walls. Even the kitchen table clatters on the floor in the other room.
Chris freezes.
I freeze.
Another angry knock jars him back to life and he reaches to open the door. There’s a man standing in the doorway. Medium height. He’s wearing a soft yellow dress shirt tucked into navy dress pants neatly.
“I suspected I would find you here.”
Chris stiffens more, his anxiety coming to a peak as he stands before this man. I take a closer look and notice familiar features.
Dark brown hair. Angular jaw. Hazel eyes. The similarities between the three of them are uncanny and I can’t believe I didn’t see it immediately. He looks past Chris, suddenly noticing me standing there.
“Well hello there.” He shoots a charming smile at me and extends his hand. “I’m Brad Davis. Chris’s dad.”
I reach for his hand reluctantly, fighting against the chills I get when I meet his eyes. They’re different than his sons. The shade is identical but there’s something missing.
There’s something under the surface that doesn’t sit right with me. I remember everything Max has told me about him. Before our hands meet Chris shoulder bumps me out of his dad’s reach.
“Lacey give us a minute.” He casts me a serious expression, almost pleading as he motions to Max’s bedroom.
I hesitate, the hairs on my arms standing. Something is very wrong.
“Ok.”
He gives me an encouraging smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. I see the worry in them and pure fear sparks. I know Chris to be carefree and silly or moody and brooding. Even when he stopped by Blue’s last night and straight up told me he was worried about Max it was nothing compared to this.
I take a small step back to put distance between us but I don’t leave the room outright.
Chris’s unease is palpable and that scares me even more. I’m not able to do anything to help the situation. I don’t want to get in the way. I don’t want to leave him alone to deal with whatever the hell this was that was unfolding right there in the doorway either.
“I knew your brother was lying to me. He never was very good at it. I didn’t know he was hiding two things from me though.”
Cold eyes zero in on me standing near the hallway. A chilling smile graces his lips. It looks more like a sneer.
“It’s only been a couple days, Dad. He hasn’t lied to you about anything.”
“Do I look stupid to you?” His voice holds a hint of warning.
Chills break out across my arms, the hair still standing at attention at the malice in his tone.
Chris continues stuttering and scrambling for excuses. At least that’s what it sounds like to me. My mind is rushing to keep up with what I’m seeing and hearing.
Just when I think it can’t get any worse or that I can’t regret showing up here unannounced more than I already do, I hear Max’s voice.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
He hasn’t seen me yet. The three of them stand in the doorway, no one bothering to step fully in or out. The door is wide open and I sincerely hope none of the neighbors walk by right now to witness this family spat.
My heart can’t handle seeing Max again and it aches painfully. I ignore the feeling and force my breathing to stay even and quiet, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
As if reading my thoughts, Brad finds me across the room. Two other sets of eyes follow and I suddenly find myself the center of attention. No one speaks a word for a moment as tension rises and thickens. It’s too substantial to take a deep breath.
“Which one of you boys found this one?”
“Leave her out of this.” Max says tightly.
“Ah. Max.” He turns his attention to his youngest son, noting his clenched fists. “She sure is cute.”
The way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. It’s like dollar signs are in his eyes calculating my worth.
“No.” Max’s voice is firm but I can hear the fear in his tone. The same fear Chris had when Brad first got here. They didn’t want me around him and I could see why. “That’s not what’s happening. That’s not why she’s here.”
“Well why is she here then?” Brad asks, causing Max to open his mouth to reply but he’s unable to come up with an answer. “With your brother….alone…”
Max’s brows crinkle and eyes dart to me and then to Chris.
“Max, don’t listen to him. Nothing like that is going on.” Chris explains.
Brad is trying to plant doubt and suspicion and my stomach drops in dread. What if Max believes what he’s trying to imply? He already broke up with me. It’s not like his dad could ruin things between us any more than they already were. No way could he make shit more over than it already was.
But I still didn’t want him thinking that of me. And I sure as hell didn’t want him thinking that of Chris, ruining their relationship more than I managed to do already by taking that damn morphine pill for my headache.
My pain had been insurmountable that night, throbbing in my skull, but I regret taking that pill more than anyone could imagine. It set our breakup into motion. Without it maybe I could have dragged this thing between us out longer. Made it last just a while longer.
One night of pain in my head would have been more tolerable than weeks of pain in my heart.
“Don’t do that.” Max says to his dad, seeing what he’s doing just as clearly as I can.
“You always bring me the hottest ones, Max. I knew this one had to be yours.”
“Max what’s going on?” My voice shakes.
He’s looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets. Shame is plain in his stance and expression.
“Nothing-”
“Oh, you didn’t tell her?” My heart crashes to the ground. Didn’t tell me? Tell me what? “Max and Chris bring me my girls. Girls that like to make me lots of money.”
What? What the hell is going on? They bring him girls to…to….pimp out?
“Max…Is that true?”
Brad sneers. “It’s true, pretty girl.”
Max completely ignores me and stays focused on his dad. “Get out.”
Brad laughs softly to himself, appearing impervious. “I own this building. I own this condo. And I own you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Max moves in front of me protectively, just as he did the first night we met when David came after me. He seems more sure of himself today. More sure of the dangers that stood on the other side of him, gazing at me with ideas and fantasies playing out wildly in his mind.
“Is that true, Max?” I repeat shakily, clutching his shirt to grab his attention.
My eyes welled to the brim with hot tears. I hate that I’m about to cry but I’m on emotional overload and the betrayal is too much to handle. Too much to accept.
How could he have kept something like that from me? We talked about his dad and what he did vaguely but he failed to mention the sick details or the role he played. And Chris too.
Is that why Max was so unwavering about keeping Chris and I far apart when we first met? Is that why he stopped his car to talk to me that first night?
This was all too much to take in.
“Is that why you first talked to me? Were you following me to…to lure me back here? Is that why you started being my friend?”
He turns from his dad and faces me. His eyes are filled with regret and sorrow. “No. Lacey, no. I loved being with you. I wanted to keep you away from this shit. Please believe that.”
“Max...”
I don’t know exactly what I mean to say but the words never come. He grabs my hand in his, lacing our fingers together and squeezing tight. Brad doesn’t miss a thing and looks amused by the display of affection, the pain and turmoil he was causing.
Chris chimes in from the side of the room. “Dad, just let her go home. The three of us can talk when she’s gone.”
“How much does she already know?” He asks conversationally.
“Nothing. She knows nothing. Yet.” Chris says. “Let her go home so we can keep it that way.”
“No. She’s not going anywhere just yet. Perhaps we should take a family boat trip for the day. I should get to know the girl my son loves.”
Max visibly pales. His hand loosens in mine but doesn’t let go completely. I have to grip tighter to hold onto him.
“Stay the fuck away from her.”
“You think you’re better than us now son? You go off to college and meet this uppity little bitch and think you’re out of our life? You’re just like your mother. And you remember what happened to her. Don’t you?”
Brad takes a threatening step in our direction and Chris instantly jumps between us. Max backs into me, forcing me to step back toward the bedroom. Everything happens all at once and seems to move in slow motion simultaneously.
Brad grabs Chris by the shirt, enraged at his interference.
Max shoves me around the two of them while they’re distracted and pushes me out the front door. Commotion comes from the other side of the door and I fight against the instinct to try to help them. My presence seemed to do nothing but make the situation worse.
Time slows. In reality it’s probably only a few minutes that passes before the apartment falls quiet. I stand on the front steps, torn between checking if the guys are okay and just hauling ass back home.
I’m terrified.
Worried.
Pissed off.
How dare he drag me into this shit. For lying to me this whole time. For not telling me about his past and the vile things he had done to those other girls.
He had mentioned what his father did. That he had criminal dealings and girls working for him on their backs. Never did he mention the role he played in the whole sordid process. He conveniently left that part out of his late night stories and confessions.
I thought he had opened up to me. Wanted to share his childhood issues.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t believe I didn’t ask more questions the times he brought it up. He was just as to blame as his dad. So was Chris.
Did the two of them think I was stupid? Had I been a joke to them, trying to see how long it would take me to end up like all the other girls?
The door opens and my heart is racing from anger.
Fear.
Anxiety.
You name it, I felt it.
Max walks out and quickly pulls the door shut behind him to block my view. Before it shuts I catch a glimpse of Brad laying on the living room floor and Chris standing over him. He looks winded.
So does Max, on closer inspection. His chest expands as he inhales deeply.
“Is he dead?” I screech.
“Shh.” He snaps. “He’s not dead. He just out. He’s going to be waking up soon. We need to get you home.”
“We aren’t doing shit.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. They’re downcast as he quietly accepts my hysterical rage. My voice grows shrill the more I talk and I hope the neighbors don’t call the cops for a domestic disturbance. “Is that why you offered to give me a ride that night? You saw me and I looked fucked up and vulnerable and you thought I was easy prey?”
His gaze suddenly shoots up, his eyes so full of regret and pain it almost knocks the breath out of me. “What? No. Of course not.”
“You thought you could convince me to be one of your whores?”
“Lacey I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Oh but you would do it to other girls? Just not me? I must be so special. You expect me to believe that?”
“No.” He gives me a pleading look. His eyes are glassing over and mine fill with more tears, blurring my sight of him. “I love you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I should’ve told you that before.”
“You were right before. I am better off without you. You’re not who I thought you were. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
His eyes are on the ground, shoulders hunched slightly in shame. His confidence is gone and I can’t even find it in me to feel sorry for him. Not when I feel so sorry for myself and so pissed at him for making me feel any of this to begin with.
“You are better off without me.”
That’s all he says. Those six little words that reinforce what I’ve been thinking and feeling since standing on the outside of the door and listening to who the hell knew what happening on the other side.
His words hurt even though I just threw them in his face first. There’s finality in his tone and I have enough dignity to walk down the flight of stairs, get in my car and leave the parking lot with my head held high.
I pull over to the side of the road and let myself break down about two minutes into my drive. At least he can’t see what he’s done to me.
My hands shake, my shoulders rack from sobs and my eyes burn.
It had been over between me and Max for weeks. I knew that. I had even begun to cope with the loss. My counselor was probably sick as hell of hearing me talk about Max and steer our sessions off track from the trauma I suffered.
Our breakup felt like trauma too.
Yes, it was over. But hearing what he had done, what he might have planned for me when we first met made me sick. It opened the wound on my heart wide open and poured salt on it.
The sting of it was overwhelming. How was my heart supposed to keep beating? How was I supposed to ever trust again?
I manage to finish the drive home, exhausted when I finally get there. My arms feel heavy and I just want to go to bed and forget.
Forget Max.
Forget his family.
Forget the way he made me feel and how it was nothing but a fabrication.