Chapter Nine
Here Comes Trouble
Tossing clothes into a duffle bag, I stared out my bedroom window at the choppy water beyond the beach, uncharacteristic whitecaps frothing and rippling. Like a harbinger of doom, a wall of black clouds loomed on the horizon, sparks of lightning flashing as it rolled slowly across the salt pond.
I’d been floating on air last night, gone to bed buzzing and dreamy over what transpired with Walt. I was still blown away by it. He’d been harboring feelings for me, for years apparently, and they were still there. That hadn’t just blown my mind, it elated me in a way I never could have anticipated. If someone had told me yesterday morning that Walt Cook was capable of shifting my mind and my heart, of filling me with bliss, I’d have said they were nuts.
But shit, would anyone have been able to resist him as long as I had? The man had forsaken me once, when we were kids. But the man also had scars on his body for refusing to forsake me indefinitely, and that moved and humbled me on a whole other level.
His sincerity, his regret, his steadfast persistence, laying himself bare before me like that? It broke through my highest, thickest walls, releasing something I’d kept imprisoned all these years. Something I’d been struggling to keep at bay since he began working at Beaver Tail. I had feelings for him too, and though they’d been twisted into something ugly, tarnished with circumstances and buried with time, they’d never dissipated. I was still getting to know this new Walt, and he was still getting to know me. But these feelings were also undeniably rooted in shared history and secrets.
When Walt offered himself to me last night, his near sacrificial presentation of his deepest desires melted every icy tendril of hate I had left, and felt righter than anything before in my life. No one, and nothing, had ever made me feel what I felt in that moment. To deny it would be to deny myself.
It still felt right in the light of day, but some things about our talk last night looked far murkier this morning. Walt’s suggestion of me going to the party with Shea as planned, for instance. Going to a party with him even though my mission was to break up with him later? Bad idea.
I understood where Walt was coming from. Polite, grownup thing to do. It would be shitty to leave Shea high and dry at the last minute. And of course, making things amicable so the end of our budding romance would pave the way for future friendship—important if I was going to date Walt. But right now, at this very moment, Shea was in my living room, waiting for me. We’d just had our second awkward disagreement of the day. And it was only eleven o’clock in the morning.
At this point, I suspected Shea was no happier about spending the day with me than I was about spending it with him. I could sense his frustration with me, and his confusion. If not for my promise to Walt, I’d have been relieved to nip it in the bud right now, and let us both off the hook.
When Shea called earlier, I suggested simply meeting him at the country club, my ulterior motive being I didn’t want to be stuck there without a car, not knowing how the day would play out. That was ridiculous, Shea argued. He’d asked me on this date, and he was damn well going to pick me up and drive me there like a gentleman.
With no logical counter argument, I was forced to concede, already feeling like a dishonest shithead. When he arrived here, looking all blond and sweet in pale green suit with a big, glacier-melting smile, I thought maybe things would go okay. We got along, after all. I cared for him in my own way, and I didn’t want to hurt him. But my caring and protectiveness hadn’t exactly been honest from the start, tangled up in past memories. I’d definitely been holding back, even before Hurricane Walt descended on me. Like I knew what I felt for Shea wasn’t quite on the up and up.
Walt was extremely protective of Shea of course, even hinted last night that he may have spoiled him a bit in his quest to give him a more normal life. That Walt was forced to parent his younger brother at all was a tragedy unto itself, but I understood, because I felt compelled to spoil Shea too. Which was ridiculous; the guy had a yacht for a mancave. But apparently, I’d never be able to look at Shea the adult without remembering that kid in the superhero pajamas who sought my protection.
And maybe that was it. Despite Shea’s ability to ignite my lust, some small part of me had been recoiling at the prospect of sleeping with him. A subconscious wrongness. The same way I felt an undeniable wrongness about this plan today. I wanted to do things Walt’s way, because it was a sensitive situation, and I figured he knew his brother better than I did. But every moral fiber screamed at me to end this now, not to drag it out and lie to the sweet young man in my living room. All under the pretense of politeness.
My stomach had tightened with guilt when Shea and I were about to leave my house a few minutes ago, and he asked, “Jude, didn’t you pack a bag?”
Right. A bag. Shea had asked previously if I wanted to stay the night with him. I’d forgotten about that, and not figured it into this party plan today. I cursed Walt in my mind, but the truth was, I was just as culpable. Neither of us had thought this through. And so, I’d found myself in a quagmire when Shea asked where my bag was, spinning options in my head as fast as my synapses could fire.
If I’d told Shea right then and there that I’d changed my mind, and that I didn’t want to spend the night with him, he’d probably have asked what game I was playing. He had, after all, made clear this was the romantic progression he sought. And I’d already said yes to it.
The next choice was simply throwing in the towel on all of it, telling him I’d decided to no longer see him romantically. But that would have been worse, because he’d obviously want to know why the fuck I put on a damn suit and allowed him to drive all the way over here to pick me up, when my only goal was to break up with him. But all roads were pointing that way regardless. Walt thought blowing off this party would be shitty, but this was shittier.
Especially since I’d ultimately chosen the third, and by far the dumbest option on the table. I pretended I’d merely forgotten my bag.
And that’s why I was back in my bedroom now, a nervous wreck, stuffing clothes in an overnight bag I wouldn’t need and feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet. Because the plan had devolved from something meant to save Shea’s feelings, to a premediated, diabolical, lie-fest. It was like a professional hit now. I wasn’t just dumping Shea. I was leading him on first. Setting him up to get dumped after letting him think he was gonna get laid all night.
I sat down on my bed and texted Walt. ‘I don’t think I can do this. It’s getting all fucked up and feels too dishonest.’
“Jude,” Shea called from the other room. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sorry Shea. Got a phone call, I’ll just be another minute. Help yourself to a soda if you want, I’ll be right out.”
I heard the fridge open in my kitchen, then stared down at my phone. “Goddammit, Walt,” I whispered. “Text me back.”
My phone rang, making me jump. Walt was calling me. I relaxed a little, shoulders sagging. “Hi,” I answered, keeping my voice low.
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine. Why are you whispering?”
“Because I’m hiding in my bedroom and Shea’s in the kitchen.”
“Ah, shit. I got your text. You feeling guilty?”
“Yeah but it’s worse than that. He wants me to pack a bag and he’s being all sweet and I can tell he knows something’s up. I’m losing it here, Walt. I don’t have a lot of experience being evil. I’m freaking out.”
Walt’s deep chuckle rolled through the phone. “I have lots of experience. I can teach you, young Jedi.”
“Walt...”
“Sorry. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. But it was late and I was high.”
Relief washed through me. “So you’ll be all right with me squashing this plan? I just can’t do this to him. It isn’t right. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“You’re right.” He groaned. “God, you’re right. I’m sorry. Just...do what you gotta do. I can do damage control later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. But remember, please don’t make it about me.”
“I won’t.” I cleared my throat. “So we’re...you and I are still...you know.”
“Still what?” Walt asked, and I could hear the teasing lilt in his voice.
“About last night.”
“What about last night?”
“Cut the shit,” I hissed. “Your brother’s in the kitchen, he’s gonna think I’m in here beating off or something, and I can only feed him so much soda.”
“Julien.” His voice was soft and deep, giving me a shiver. “Last night was one of the best nights of my life. Does that answer your question?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I put you in this position. I’ve got my own guilt this morning over Shea, and now Shannon’s called twice and I didn’t pick up. Let’s just agree that we’re both scumbags right now, and we’ll make it right later on.”
“We are,” I said. “We are demons.”
“Then we better make it worth it,” he said huskily. “Now go take care of business. But be nice about it.”
My eyes closed. “Okay.”
“Call you later.”
On my way out of the bedroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused. “You’re an asshole!” I whispered to myself, then adjusted my tie, turning and admiring the cut of Walt’s summer suit on me. “But you look good for an asshole.”
When I walked into the kitchen, Shea was standing at the sink, holding a Pepsi and squinting at the window. He glanced back at me. “What the ever-loving fuck is that thing in your back yard?”
I chuckled. “That’s Bucky. A gift from Emmet Barker before he quit and moved to Myrtle Beach.”
“But what is it?”
“It’s art.”
“No.” Shea shook his head. “That is definitely not art.”
“I know. It’s hideous. I just haven’t had time to take it down yet. Can we...can we talk, Shea?”
Looking me over, Shea sighed. “No bag. How did I know you’d come out of the bedroom with no bag?”
“I’m sorry.”
His blinked slowly, rubbing his forehead. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been acting...and feeling crazy since I met you. I’m sure it hasn’t exactly been an attractive trait. I suppose that’s how I know you’re about to cut me loose.”
“What? Shea, no. I mean...you haven’t been acting crazy. It’s not that.”
“I have. Terry pointed it out to me last night. And he made at least some sense. But there are still things that don’t make sense to me.”
“Will you come sit down?” I asked. “Please?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
As he moved past me into the living room, and I saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes, and felt like garbage all over again.
He was on my sofa, big brown eyes regarding me as I approached. I sat on the floor directly in front of him, cross-legged. If I was doing this, I wouldn’t hide. I would look him in the eye, and own it.
“You don’t want to go to the party,” Shea said. “And you don’t want to date. Right?”
“Yes. And I know this is shitty, and last minute. I’m really sorry. It just hasn’t felt quite right from the start, so I don’t want to waste more of your time than I already have.”
“Terry says I’m using you.” He chuckled. “He said it’s unnatural, the way I became almost obsessed with you so fast. He thinks I’m doing it to myself, in order to avoid any sort of commitment to him.”
I frowned. “But you said the two of you aren’t committed. That you keep things open.”
“That’s right. But...shortly before I met you, he started talking about maybe getting more serious.”
“Oh.” My brows rose. “How did you feel about that?”
“At first I felt great about it,” he said. “Nervous, and was taking some time to think it over, but I’m crazy about Terry, I really am. But then I met you, and it was like...boom! I was so instantly drawn to you. You seemed almost familiar to me. I figured that must mean something. That maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to commit to Terry. Now I fear I came off as a desperate weirdo to you. Throwing myself at you like a sex-starved lunatic.”
“Oh, Christ.” I closed my eyes. Like I hadn’t already felt guilty enough. “Shea. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for.”
My eyes opened. “I think I do.”
I made an executive decision then. I owed Shea more than just a verbal Dear John letter. I owed him some real honesty. Especially now that he was thinking himself nuts because I felt familiar to him. I’d abide by Walt’s basic request and not reveal certain things. But Shea deserved clarity.
“Jude, what is it?”
“I know where you got that scar under your eye.”
His head tilted. “What?”
“The scar under your eye. I was there the night you got it. You were eight. We have met before, Shea. Just once. A long time ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I stayed over your house, with Walt, after a pool party. I was thirteen. Walt and I got into a...disagreement, and your parents sent me home. While I was waiting for my dad to pick me up, you got out of bed, came and talked to me. Your father got angry, and he hurt you. That’s where you got the scar.”
He shook his head. “That makes no sense.”
“I’m sorry, I know it’s a sensitive subject, but it happened.”
“No, I believe my father hurt me, that makes sense. I don’t remember the incident you’re talking about, but he hurt me a lot over the years, when Walt wasn’t able to stop it. So that’s a lot of memories of getting hurt, all piled on top of each other. But...” He rubbed the spot under his eye. “My mother said I got this scar falling out of my treehouse.”
“Well, that was a lie.”
The confusion flashed to anger, and Shea leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell me? If you knew me, why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“Because it was a bad night, Shea. A really bad night.”
“You still should have told me.”
“Maybe I should have. But we’d just met. Was I supposed to instantly bring up the fact that I knew your father was a violent man? That the first time we met, I watched him make you bleed?”
His complexion paled, and he chewed his lip.
“I’m sorry. This is why I didn’t bring it up. Because of that look on your face right now. When we met that day you came here to Beaver Tail to plead Walt’s case? One of the first things I thought was that you had the best smile. I just wanted you to keep smiling. I didn’t want to take it away. There was no reason to. It’s in the past.”
Shea leaned over and buried his face in his hands. “Tell me what happened,” he mumbled. “What did my father do to me?”
“We don’t have to go over this. Like I said, it was a bad night. I just wanted to be honest with you.”
He looked up. “Then be honest. What happened?”
“Your father didn’t like that you were out of bed, talking to me, so he kind of...flung you across the kitchen floor. Your face hit a chair. You were screaming. It was a big scene, it was awful. Walt came in shortly after and snatched you away.”
Shea went quiet for a very long time. It went on so long it grew awkward, but I stayed silent, waiting. I’d said enough. More than enough. It was up to him to process it now. His eyes narrowed, then shifted back and forth, and finally he spoke. “Walt...snatched me away.”
“Yeah, he picked you up and carried you out of there. Well, he grabbed you out of your mother’s arms, and took you away.”
Shea leaned against the back of the couch, hands on his head, and closed his eyes. “Oh, man.” He sighed. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry.”
Shea remained that way for a time, eyes closed, silent. Eventually, he took a deep breath, and hunched over, face in his hands again. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
“You okay?” Reaching out, I gently brushed his knee with my fingers. “Shea?”
“It was Walt’s birthday.”
I inhaled sharply. “You remember?”
Face still buried in his hands, his blond head nodded. “I do now. Yeah. Shit.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet.
“You were sitting in a chair in the kitchen. I thought you were cute. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I liked your eyes.”
I swallowed hard. “You do remember.”
“It’s hazy, but yeah. Did you...” He finally straightened up and looked at me, smooth skin still slightly pallid. “You tried to help me. Didn’t you?”
I nodded once.
“You tried to protect me from Dad.”
“You were terrified. You were hurt, and he didn’t seem to care.”
Sighing, Shea looked at the floor. “He never did.” Leaning back, he slapped his forehead and groaned. “Oh my God. I feel so fucking stupid.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been walking around with my head in the clouds over you. Thinking it must be fate that you felt so familiar and safe. I was thinking you were my fucking soulmate or something, when you’re nothing but...” He glared. “You’re nothing but a bad memory.”
I deflated. “Ouch.”
“Well, it’s true. I made a fool out of myself.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did. And you let me.”
“Come on, it’s more complicated than that. And you did nothing foolish.”
“No? I had all this magical thinking going on. My initial reaction to you, and then it only got worse. I was thinking this guy must be meant for me, and I just...I feel stupid, okay? I feel tricked.”
I winced. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Shea. My intent wasn’t to cause you any pain. Just the opposite.”
“You should have told me. You should have told me about that night when we met. At least when I asked you to go out with me! I mean, shit. You almost made me lose my boyfriend over you.”
I felt bad, but he was testing my patience now and starting to annoy me. “That’s not fair.” I pointed at him. “I didn’t make you do anything. And you told me he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were adamant about that from the start.”
“You should have told me immediately that we’d met before. I asked you, outright, and you denied it. That’s not fair. It wasn’t fair to me.”
“I don’t like talking about that night. I had my own reasons for not bringing it up, it’s not all about you. Jesus, crawl out of your own ass for a minute.”
Shea glared at me, then stood. “Well pardon me for being upset, but you hurt me. You kept this from me and it made me act like a lovesick idiot, and I’m pissed, Jude!”
“My father died that night,” I said quietly. “I didn’t bring it up because I hate everything about that night. I hate thinking about it.”
Staring down at me, Shea went still.
“He never even made it back into our house. Never got to hug my mother again. He died, Shea. Right in front of me. So please forgive me if I didn’t want to bring up that night to a stranger I hadn’t seen in fifteen years.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.” I looked down. “And you’re right, I shouldn’t have said yes when you asked me out. There was dishonesty on my part, and for that I’m sincerely sorry.”
“No. You did nothing wrong. I just went straight to my own self-pity and I’m sorry Jude, I really am. And I’m sorry about your father. That must have been awful.”
It was my turn to rest my face in my hands. “Thanks.”
“Was there...” He cleared his throat. “Was there a car accident?”
“No.”
I heard Shea move, then suddenly he was beside me on the floor. He put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me against him, and I stiffened. “Don’t,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
I tried pulling away from him.
“Stop it,” he said softly. “Let me hug you, you stubborn fucking tool.”
“You’re a tool.”
“I know.” He squeezed my shoulder again, and I leaned into him. “What happened?”
“Stroke.”
“Was he already sick?”
I lifted my head, a lump in my throat. “Years later, my mom told me he’d been skipping his blood pressure medication sometimes, because he didn’t like what it did to their sex life. I didn’t know that then, though. I only knew he’d fought with your father, then I was a mess on the way home, crying my eyes out. Then I told him I was gay. So...he was upset that night, stressed out.”
I felt Shea stiffen beside me. “He fought with my dad?”
“Yeah. Before we left your house.”
“Did you...did you blame my family for his death?”
“No.” I straightened and glanced at him, then back at the floor. “Sometimes. But mostly I blamed myself.”
Visions swam in my memories. Sitting on my small twin bed, slicing my knuckles with a razor blade. Watching the blood stream over my hands. The door opening. My mother standing there...
“My mom and a lot of therapy helped me through it.”
Shea hugged me tighter, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “I’m a selfish, spoiled prick sometimes, and you’re right. I need to crawl out of my own ass.”
“I didn’t mean that, Shea.” I looked at him. “But to be honest, I probably would have been more apt to tell you we knew each other if you’d been completely single. If things had ever looked like they were gonna get serious between us, I would have told you first. But Walt said you spend most nights with Terry. Even since you and I started seeing each other. So I wasn’t sure it mattered.”
He nodded. “That’s true. I never stopped needing Terry. I had no right to demand anything of you. I’m sorry, Jude.”
“Do you love him?”
Sighing, he let go of me and clasped his hands on his lap. “I think so.” He chuckled. “Yeah. Shit.”
“Then you should go tell him that. Right now.”
He shifted on the floor so we were facing each other. “I’m gonna go call him in a minute.”
“Good.”
“But I have a request first.”
I looked up and waited.
“Will you still go to this party with me?”
“Shea...”
“As friends, obviously.”
“You want to be friends?”
He nodded.
“You were pretty pissed a minute ago.”
“Yeah, I was.” He smiled. “But I was wrong when I said it meant nothing, that you were nothing but a bad memory.”
“What am I then?”
He studied me through narrowed eyes. “The truth is you tried to protect me from harm when I was just a kid. When you were a kid. Even though I didn’t consciously remember it, it was so strong it made me want to be with you when we met years later. That still means something.”
I huffed, smiling. “What does it mean?”
“I think it means you’re supposed to be in my life. Just...not the way I originally thought.”
I chuckled. “I thought you were done with magical thinking.”
“I am.” He laughed. “To a degree. I’m not looking at you as my destiny anymore, but I do like you, Jude. I feel affection toward you. Come to the party. Let’s just hang out, and drink all my family’s free booze. I’d really like it. So say yes.”
My brow cocked and I smirked, remembering him saying last week how much he wanted to hear me say yes. To other things. “Say yes, huh?”
Shea chuckled, and nodded. “Yes to the free booze. And my company. That’s all.”
My spirits lifted. Walt wanted me to be friends with Shea. I wanted to be friends with Shea. And miracle of miracles, I’d been able to achieve this by telling the truth instead of scheming and lying. This day was suddenly looking up.
“Well,” I said. “I sure as fuck could use a drink.”
“Me too.” Shea stood, offering me his hand and pulling me to my feet. He adjusted my tie, then brushed the sleeves of my suitcoat. “I’m going to go call my boyfriend. Will you meet me out there in ten minutes?”
“Okay.”
Shea hugged me, and I stiffened, surprised.
“This is where you hug me back,” he muttered.
Chuckling, I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. “By the way,” I said, “you were a really fucking cute kid.”
He leaned back and patted my cheek. “So were you. Made my gay baby heart flutter. I’ll see you outside.”
Shea left my cabin, and I smiled. I took my phone out and texted Walt. ‘It’s all good. Talk later.’
I didn’t hear back from Walt, but planned to call him tonight. My heart skipped at the thought. Wondering how it would feel the next time we saw each other. Wondering how my life was going to change because of him. And trying really hard not to picture him naked... Or be nervous. Walt had no sexual experience with a guy, which surprised me, and turned things on their head a bit. The description Shea gave me of Walt in his teens, that sex-crazed couch humper, combined with how aggressive he’d been in pursuing me recently—it never occurred to me that on this level, intimacy would be new to him. That didn’t seem to bother or intimidate him at all, though. If anything, he showed me his eagerness.
I did like the way he fell apart over a simple kiss, though. Thinking about that started to make me hard, so I went in the bathroom and splashed some water on my face.
Today wasn’t about Walt. Today was about a new friendship. And fun. And free booze.
I grabbed my keys and left the cabin, sprinting to Shea’s car as rain started to hammer down on me. A glance at the beach and I saw the wall of black clouds was now directly overhead. I wondered if it was a bad omen, but decided Shea had the right idea. No more magical thinking.
We headed out and drove toward Landing, leaving the storm behind us.
****
It was cloudy and overcast when we reached the country club in Landing, but no rain, so the party was happening outside in a huge tent set up in back. Behind the tent was the vast rolling green of a manicured golf course, and beyond that, the ocean.
Walt was right, this was no backyard barbeque. There had to be eighty people milling about, more like a small wedding than an engagement party. There was a DJ and a dance floor inside the tent, tables with sparkly centerpieces, a banner proclaiming ‘Congratulations Carl and Shannon!’ Shea ushered me around, introducing me to people whose names I’d never remember later, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d feared.
Many of the guests were close to my age or younger, though there was plenty of gray hair scattered around, borne by distinguished looking elders. Summer suits and dresses surrounded me, and with my borrowed blue chambray, I blended. Servers wielded trays of hors d’oeuvres and sparkling champagne, and Shea excused himself to go brave the crowd in front of the bar so he could get us ‘a real drink.’ I asked if he wanted me to go with him, to help, but he’d told me to just relax.
I was surprised by how easily we’d fallen into the friend zone. Maybe Shea was onto something with it being kismet. I didn’t usually believe in such things, but shit, Wally Cook drove by my residence trying to catch a glimpse of me on a rainy night and ended up having to work for me, so who knows?
While the DJ played upbeat tunes, no one was dancing yet. A little blond girl in a floral dress with a smaller boy at her side were taking turns running and sliding across the dancefloor in their socks. Then they’d get up and do it all over again, laughing hysterically, until a grandmotherly looking woman pulled them aside and gently scolded them.
There was a lot of blonde hair, and I saw family resemblance in the faces, sharp chins and upturned noses. Similar to my hazy memory of Shea’s mother, blonde and blue-eyed. Shea and Walt had clearly gotten their dark eyes and olive skin from their father. I’d met his cousin Shannon upon arrival, an adorable, bubbly blonde with a roundish face, hair in an elaborate twist with flowers in it and a ‘Bride to Be’ pin on the front of her yellow sundress. She looked like many of the other people here today, delicate upturned nose and blue eyes, but while most of the women were rail-thin, Shannon was busty and curvier.
Shannon had been polite and warm upon meeting me. Her fiancé, Carl, however, lacked manners. A tall, broad-shouldered dude with a brown buzzcut and a face that was both handsome and boring, he’d shaken my hand, then immediately turned to Shea and asked, “Where’s Terry?” If I’d been Shea’s actual date and not just his friend, I might have been annoyed. As it was, I simply smiled and remained indifferent.
I glanced over at the bar, pleased to see Shea was working his way to the front of the line. I was comfortable enough, but it was still weird, and a bit of liquid courage would be welcome. I watched as an older couple stepped onto the dance floor, breaking into an impressive flourish of swing moves, and their presence seemed to ignite others to action, because soon the floor was filling up. I chuckled, watching a lone gray-haired man who had to be at least eighty bopping around and shaking his hips to Caro Emerald’s ‘That Man’.
A lot of these people could really dance. Twirling, dipping, lifting women off the floor. Skirts flared and bodies spun. Even the twenty-somethings had skills. I wondered if it was a high society thing, because I’d been to plenty of my own family weddings and the dance floor usually looked like a drunken Frankenstein convention. But this was Landing—the land of over-the-top and overachievers. But I couldn’t hate these people. They were wealthy, and they came from a different world. But they were colorful and joyous, and most everyone I’d met had been kind to me. I laughed as the entire dance floor surrounded the old man, clapping in time as he did a tap dance while swinging his suit jacket over his head like a lasso.
A woman caught my eye standing next to an empty table, sipping a martini. She was not only beautiful, but she stood out in this crowd with her dark, sultry looks. Sleek black hair to her shoulders with short bangs, tanned skin and very light blue eyes, she had a natural, healthy look, a sprinkle of tiny freckles across her nose. Her body was lean, almost too skinny, bare arms visible in the black halter pantsuit she wore. A large turquoise pendant hung between her small, pert breasts, and she had an elaborate wolf tattoo on her left arm.
She glanced at me and I looked away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. I still noticed women. I had no desire to sleep with them, but I noticed them, and she was stunning. To my considerable humiliation, she strode over to me, martini in hand. When she sidled up next to me, I smiled. “Hello.”
“You.” She pointed a painted black fingernail in my face. “Don’t belong here.”
My mouth fell open. “Um...”
She smiled, dazzling me with her white teeth and dimples. “It’s okay. I don’t really belong here either. Takes one to know one.”
I chuckled. “Why don’t I belong here?”
Taking a sip of her drink, she looked out onto the dance floor. “I have a sixth sense about these things.” She turned abruptly and offered her hand. “I’m Brienna.”
I shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Jude.”
“Hey, Jude. Does everyone sing that song to you?”
“It’s happened once or twice. Per week. For my whole life.”
“Bet that gets annoying.” She tilted her head back and I watched, transfixed as she poured the rest of her martini down her throat. “Woo! Gonna need another one of these. Hey, Carl! Can I have that?”
Shannon’s fiancé Carl was passing by with a fresh martini procured from the bar. He stopped, looking warily at Brienna. “Um...I just got it.”
“Perfect.” She took the glass from his hand, replacing it with her empty. “Now you can get go another one. Thanks!”
Sighing, he turned and headed back to the bar.
“So what do you do, Jude?”
“I run Beaver Tail cabins and motel out in Gullport with my family.”
“Oh, nice. See, I knew you didn’t belong in this crowd. Who do you know here?”
“I came with Shea Cook.”
“Oh Jesus.” She took a hearty swill of her drink, then scowled at me. Even her scowl was pretty. “You’re here with Shea?”
“Yeah. We’re friends.”
She uttered a laugh that sounded like she was blowing a raspberry, and patted my shoulder. “Oh, honey. Everyone knows Shea’s gay, you don’t have to play the friend thing.”
I laughed. “No, it’s not like that. I am gay, but Shea and I really are just friends.”
“Well, good for you then. I was about to tell you to run. And run fast.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I know, Shea’s a sweetheart. But he’s a Cook, isn’t he? Trust me, you don’t want any of that. I was married to his brother for three years.”
I swallowed hard. “You...you were?”
“Uh huh. Oh there’s Shea. Looks like you’re getting a martini too.”
Good, because I fucking needed it. I thought back to Walt talking about his ex-wife. He said she’d been Shannon’s college roommate. “That’s how I met Brie.”
Brie. Brienna. Shit. I was chatting up Walt’s ex-wife. But damn, Walt certainly had good taste. I was jealous for a moment, then flattered when I remembered Walt had also chosen me. But I felt dull and unremarkable standing next to this wild beauty.
“Shea looks good,” she said. “But then the Cook boys always do. Except for Glenn.” She made a gagging face, sticking her tongue out and pretending to jab a finger down her throat.
I laughed. Of course, she had to be funny too. I wanted to hate her, simply because she’d been married to Walt, but she was very hard to hate.
“Walt and Shea though?” She shook her head, gazing at Shea over at the bar. “Fuckers. They’ve got that sexy thing that lures you in. Like a fucking spider. Make you feel like you won the crown jewels.” She took a slug of martini and smiled at me. “Until it all goes to shit.”
Okay, this took a downward turn fast. “I um...I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Oh they’re charming, that’s for sure. They got it going on. Problem is they know what they got, and how much you want it. That way they think they can do whatever they want and get away with it.”
I chuckled awkwardly.
“I’m sorry.” She patted my arm. “I’m oversharing.”
“It’s okay. Like I said, Shea and I are just friends.”
“Have you had the displeasure of meeting my ex-husband?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve met Walt.”
“Then you know. You like guys. Tell me you don’t wanna hop on that? Everyone does. Shit, even my mom wanted to bang Walt.”
I smiled politely, dying inside. “So what do you do?”
“You’d regret it though,” she said, ignoring my question. “Believe me. If I had to pick one word that encompasses Walt Cook, it would be regret.” She spilled a bit of her drink as she drew an invisible sign with her fingers. “Regret, in big, bold, neon letters.”
She was starting to slur a little, and I was thrilled to see Shea coming our way, a martini in each hand. When he saw Brienna he smiled, but it looked forced. “Hey, Brie. I see you met Jude.”
“Oh yeah, me and Jude are old friends now. So where’s Terry? You dump him?”
Shea rolled his eyes as he handed me my martini. “No, I didn’t dump him. We’re still seeing each other.”
“You will though,” she said. “You’ll dump the poor dude eventually.” Leaning into Shea, she whispered, “You Cook boys aren’t made to last. Given enough time, you always fuck things up.”
“Brie, come on.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m a little tipsy. You know I love you, Shea butter. Butter ball. My little Shea bear.”
“Go easy on the vodka,” Shea said. “Have you eaten anything? You look like you lost weight.”
“Oh, you’re gonna lecture me about drinking? Talk to your brother. I heard he got a DUI.”
Shea’s gaze flicked to mine, and we shared a tight smile before he took a sip of his drink. “We don’t need to talk about Walt tonight. Don’t worry, he’s not coming.”
“Of course he’s coming,” Brie said. “Why do you think I’m drinking so much? I’ve been warned, so I’m preparing myself.”
“No, I don’t think he is,” Shea said.
“Oh. You haven’t heard.”
Shea looked at her. “Heard what?”
She cupped her hand to her mouth, but didn’t whisper when she said, “Shannon’s pregnant.”
Shea’s brows shot up and he smiled. “She is?”
Brie nodded. “She doesn’t want anyone to know yet, but come on. People have gotta be wondering why the wedding is so soon. It’s only two months away.”
“Yeah.” Shea scratched his chin. “I actually did wonder about that.”
“So,” she said, a bit of her martini spilling as she spun toward Shea. “Shannon called Walt this morning to beg him to come. Because the idiot wants to make him the godfather of her kid. Walt. Can you imagine? I don’t know what the fuck she’s thinking picking that fuckhead.”
Shea’s cheeks flamed pink, but he remained calm, and said, “Well, they’ve always been close.”
“Oh, I know, she worships the asshole. She wants him in the pictures today so she can show her kid later on in life. So she can say look honey, that’s your godfather at daddy and mommy’s engagement party! And there’s you in mommy’s tummy because you were conceived in sin!”
Shea snorted. “So if Walt’s really coming, you could just leave, Brie.”
“Why should I have to leave? I’m not tiptoeing around him. Anyway he won’t be here long, told Shan he’d come by for a half an hour. Like he’s doing her a big favor. Gracing her with his presence for thirty minutes.”
“Okay, good,” Shea said. “Just stay away from him.”
“Don’t start wagging your finger at me, Shea, I’m not gonna do anything! Jesus.”
“You always say that until you see him,” Shea muttered. “Please, Brie. Just leave it alone.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, little brother.”
“I’m just saying. He has a bad effect on you when you drink. You always get emotional. You should have stayed sober if you knew he was coming.”
“A bad effect on me? He doesn’t have an effect on me. What, do you think I still love him or something? I don’t. You can’t love someone who destroyed you.” She drained her drink. “It’s impossible.”
“I didn’t say you still love him, but I know you’re still angry. Just...drink some water. And if Walt shows, steer clear of him.”
She poked a finger into his chest. “Stop acting like I’m the asshole. Your brother’s the fucking asshole.” Her eyes glimmered with tears. “I wish he’d died in that crash.”
“That’s enough,” Shea said. “Go drink some water.”
“Fuck off, Shea. I’m getting another martini.” In a whirl of dark hair, she turned and walked away, heading for the bar.
My mouth fell open as I watched her go. “Wow. Walt said his divorce was ugly, but damn.”
“Oh yeah. It’s bad.” Shea let out a long sigh. Glancing to his left, he said, “I thought Shannon’s boobs looked bigger. She is pregnant.” He chuckled. “That’s so awesome.”
“So Walt is really coming here?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. Part of me was excited, but another part nervous. Walt thought I wasn’t coming to this party. I hoped it wouldn’t be awkward.
“If Shannon asked him to come directly, he’ll be here.” Shea smiled. “Walt will be an awesome godfather, I’m happy for him.”
“Is Brienna always like that? She was cool and witty at first, and then once Walt’s name came up she went from zero to scary in three seconds.”
“She is cool and witty. She’s actually a really good person. This only happens when she drinks too much,” Shea said. “And Walt makes her drink too much. It’s rare that she and Walt are in the same room anymore, so it’s usually not a problem, thank God.”
Looking over at the bar, I saw her arguing with Shannon, who seemed to be trying to talk her out of another martini. “I can’t believe she said she wished he’d died. I get they’re divorced and all but that’s harsh.”
“She doesn’t mean it. She’s just drunk.”
“How come you didn’t...”
Shea looked at me. “Didn’t what?”
“You didn’t really defend him. You’re usually so protective of Walt.”
Rolling his eyes, Shea said, “Like I said, she’s drunk. And I stay out of it when it comes to Walt and Brie. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother unconditionally. But he’s done some things that are...pretty indefensible. Her anger is justified.”
My stomach turned in a strange way. Indefensible. Strong words, especially from Shea. Shea who asked me to look after Walt at work simply because he was in a bad mood. What the hell had Walt done to his ex-wife? And did I want to know? Would it change my opinion of him?
The martini suddenly felt acidic in my stomach. “You can’t love someone who destroyed you,” she’d said. Interesting. I’d used similar words when speaking to Walt just last night. “You destroyed me once.”
My imagination went into overdrive. Had he cheated? Oh God...had he hit her? That, I wouldn’t be able to get past, no matter what. But no, I couldn’t imagine it. Sure, Walt got in trouble for fighting as a teen, but he didn’t hit people anymore, not even his ‘shitbag father’ in self-defense. Just inanimate objects, which was troubling, but not a deal breaker. I hadn’t been beaten as a child, so I was in no place to judge how Walt coped. A smile tried to curve my lips as I remembered standing in the woods with Walt, holding his hands and raising his arms, teaching him how to calm himself. I didn’t know back then what was inside his mind. That he knew me. That he wanted me. It made the event hotter in hindsight.
And just as I had the thought, my breath caught as I watched Walt enter the tent. He was in a charcoal suit that fit his sculpted arms and broad shoulders so well it should have been illegal, his usually wild dark hair neatly combed, showing off his handsome face. Gold watch and cufflinks, shiny shoes, pink satin tie, he looked like he’d hopped off the page of a magazine ad, and suddenly my heart was hammering. I’d never seen him dressed up before. He was hard enough to look away from in his jeans and a dusty tee shirt. And I didn’t think it was just because I was smitten. I saw heads turn after every step he took, from men and women alike.
His eyes scanned the crowd warily until he spotted me and Shea. He stopped walking, and I went still, waiting to see what he would do. Then, he smiled at me. And it was soft, and genuine, and so full of happiness my insides melted as he crossed the room toward us.
“Oh boy,” Shea said. “Here comes trouble.”