Cruise

I need a haircut.

Running my hand over the top of my head, I like it shorter these days. Less hair means less hassle. My patience for appearances waned a long time ago. I lean closer to the mirror and look at my skin. My face is clean-shaven. I’m trying not to give my family any reason to judge me and don’t like to give them the ammo.

I straighten my tie and then leave the bathroom. My phone lights up just as I grab it and my wallet from my dresser.

Clara doesn’t have my number.

Hell, she doesn’t even have my last name.

I finally got hers, and now I’m the one withholding. Like Kingwood, Cristley holds weight in this part of the country, probably even beyond state lines.

As a Senator, my father was in the public’s eye. By association, his family was as well. I grew up hating the cameras. The nightly news caught every awkward stage of my life, reminding me of every failed haircut and bad fashion choice. I learned a hard lesson; when the public takes interest in you, they believe you owe them more than gratitude. You owe them your soul.

My view on life differs. I owe the strangers who watched me grow up nothing.

Cameras don’t follow me anymore. Being an asshole generally discourages interest and ratings. Alexander was the king of getting rid of onlookers. Between our two families, the wealth is unfathomable to most. To us, it was our day-to-day life.

I take my keys and go to the garage. I’m tempted to take my motorcycle, but my family always hated me riding. I love my Merc, but looking at my bike, I’m reminded how much I always loved pissing off my family more. I detour to the bike. Fuck it.

I’m going to be judged anyway.

It takes thirty-one minutes to get from the penthouse downtown to my parents’ house on the hill. They’ve got a nice spread out here. There were lots of places to hide when I needed to get away from people. With a family of seven and a staff of eight, time alone was rare. I had to create it.

I push the code to open the gate, but it doesn’t budge. Guess they changed it without bothering to mention it to me. Jabbing the security call button, I wait, my bike idling loudly.

“How may I help you?”

“It’s Cr—John. John Cristley.” I flash a fake smile at the camera. A loud click is heard and then the iron gate starts to open. A long drive leads to a circular driveway in front of the house. Who needs a butler when the sound of my Harley will announce my arrival?

Prius. Paige

Audi. Fredrick.

Range Rover. Matty.

Cayenne. Liza

Cadillac. Mother.

Harley. Me.

My bike fits right in. Not. It makes me chuckle though. My car would have, but it’s much sleeker and newer than even the most high-end models parked here. The Bentley is noticeably missing. The Senator probably had something come up. Just like when he was in Congress, business keeps him away a lot.

I hang my helmet on the handlebar and run my hands down my jacket. Paige is waiting at the door, barefoot and carefree in her flowing dress and untamed hair. “About time, little bro.”

“Who you calling little?” I tease, reaching the top step. I greet my sister with a kiss to the cheek and I’m welcomed with a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You know where I live and I believe you have my number.” I walk in. She shuts the door and quickly grabs my arm.

“Hey. I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy for me apparently. Have you gotten shorter?”

I get a swift hit to the chest for that remark. I’m still laughing when she says, “I really have missed you. I’m sorry for not calling.”

Shrugging, I reply, “You don’t owe me anything, Paige.”

Suddenly she’s wrapped around me. Her arms squeeze me, and her head is tucked close to my chest. “I do. We almost lost you. I almost lost you to those maniacs.”

My sister always had the biggest heart, but I’ve learned not to rely on anyone. She’s been dating a banker, also known as an asshole. Needless to say, I had to back out of dinners with them last year or I would have pummeled him. My sister may have a big heart, but she also has shit taste in men. She’s still my sister though. I wrap my arms around her. “I’m here.”

With a twirl and excited jump, her joy in life is contagious. “Yes, you are. Mother said you would be here and you are.”

Paige is unlike any other Cristley. I think that’s the reason I like her so much. She grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the house. “Matty’s here. C’mon.”

I’m dragged through the foyer into the main sitting room where my family gathers before dinner.

My brothers are both here, talking about something they will never agree upon—money. Matty made his own money at the age of twenty-five. Always a geek for numbers, he found a pattern in the stock market, borrowed one hundred thousand dollars against his trust fund, and made millions. As a financial consultant, he now manages other people’s money. He doesn’t have to work, but he chooses to build his fortune versus spending it. The baseball cap he’s wearing is his way of rebelling, but his outfit reminds me of Forrest Gump. Standing in wrinkled khakis and a checkered button-up, he’s arguing dividends with Fredrick. He’s passionate about money, but more so in the theory of making it. I need to get him to spend some of it on new clothes.

Unlike Fredrick, who sits in high command in the wingback chair my father reigns from, he doesn’t care how it’s made as long as he’s gaining from it.

Paige flits into the room like a fairy. “Look who’s here.”

My brothers turn at the same time. Their eyes land on me, but their expressions are a long way from each other’s—one happy, one not so much.

“Hi,” I say, striding across the room.

Matty, who’s about to turn twenty-nine, takes my offered hand and pulls me into a hug. “Good to see you, brother.”

“You too.”

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, he adds, “You’re looking well. Gained back your old muscle and more. You working out?”

“A couple times a week. You?”

“Every morning at five. I have to fit it in before I go to the office. Too crazy in the day to do it later.”

Fredrick, at thirty-four, is the oldest Cristley sibling. According to him, birth order always matters and all decisions and privileges roll down hill from him. “What brings you by, John?”

He refuses to call me Cruise. For some reason, or like every reason, it bothers him to use a nickname, even if I do identify with it more than my given name. “Our mother invited me.”

“The Senator will be joining us later. He’s caught in a meeting downtown.” Fredrick works with my father. He’s in line to inherit the family business. He can have it. I never enjoyed politics or trusted anyone who did. Fredrick does.

Since retirement, The Senator seems to be busier than ever running his business. I’m used to it though, so I ask, “Are Liza and Trevor joining us?”

Trevor is my sister’s husband. I always liked him. I also felt sorry for him. He had a choice and he still chose to join the family.

Paige replies, “She’s around here somewhere. Trevor is out of town. Shanghai. How exciting is that?”

“Why is he there?”

Padding across the room toward the door that leads to the dining room, she says, “New account.”

She pushes through just as a woman I don’t recognize wearing a maid’s uniform comes in, and announces, “Dinner is served.”

“I see some things don’t change.”

Fredrick rises from his throne. “Not everyone is born with a taste for refinement.” Dig.

“It’s not refined, it’s pretentious.” Asshole.

He tugs at his lapels and pretends to ignore me. That’s fine. I’m happy to ignore him as well. When I enter the dining room, I find a seat with distance between us. I still see him, down on the other side, opposite end of the table from me. He glances my way.

I glare his way.

My mother walks in with Liza. Matty, Fredrick, and myself stand. My mother looks pleased to see me. I’m undecided about being here. I’m giving it a chance, but my fuse is shorter tonight.

I see acceptance in my mother’s eyes, and maybe in Liza’s too. Adding that to Paige’s heartfelt welcome, I see something I’ve avoided. I never think I need anyone until I’m in a situation that reminds me that I can’t live a loner’s life and be happy. It feels good to be wanted. Dove comes to mind. Wonder what she’s doing tonight. Anticipation builds for tomorrow when I get to see her again. Is it too soon to have these feelings? I just met her, but damn she’s got my mind all twisted and me thinking about her more than I probably should.

“John?”

I look to my mother, who’s sitting next to me. “Yes?”

“Thank you for coming over.”

“I’m glad to be here.”

Our wine glasses are filled and the first course is delivered when my father breezes in. We stand automatically once again, little soldiers trained to respect our drill sergeant.

“Son,” he greets me with a firm handshake. “Glad you can stop by. I know you’re usually too busy for family.” Dig. Oh the irony.

“Senator,” I reply, shaking his hand.

I almost don’t recognize him. His collar is open, no tie around his neck, the top button undone and no suit coat. The salt and pepper hair is loose, as if the gel couldn’t hold back this good mood. Looking down, I’m dressed more conservatively than him. That’s a first.

He sits at the head of the table, between Fredrick and Liza. Pecking order. My mother sits next to me at the head of this end of the table. Or maybe her seat is tails.

It doesn’t take long for conversation to get heated. So many opposing views and struggles for attention that it was bound to happen at some point. I just thought we’d get through the meal first.

Paige sits across from me and I catch her smiling.

Setting my fork down, I lean in to whisper, “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re reading my aura or some New Agey thing where you try to figure out what’s going on in my head.”

Fairies would be jealous of her melodious laughter. “If you’d share more of your life, I wouldn’t have to guess or use New Age techniques to figure it out.”

“You love the challenge.” My sister comes off crazy, but she’s pretty good at this stuff. “So, what do you see?”

“I’m not a psychic, but your aura is yellow. You can’t hide it. You exude it. Care to share why you’re so yellow today?”

“Yellow means?”

Paige has caught my mother’s attention as well as the rest of the table. Conversation ceases while my sister spins the wine glass between her fingers. She doesn’t like attention and my family can be intimidating, but her smile is too wide to hide. “Energy. Intelligence. Happiness. A new awakening. Optimistic. Are you feeling inspired, brother?”

I don’t buy-in. Not yet. Everything I say can be used against me. Not by Paige, but by my oldest brother and father. Paige urges, “Come on. Tell me if I’m right or wrong?”

“You’re more right than wrong. Happy?”

“The most happy.” Her hand flies out, her finger pointing at me as she laughs in delight. “I knew it. You can’t hide your happiness. It’s shining from the inside.”

Chuckling, I reach for my glass of water before I notice everyone at the table staring at me. My smile falls fast, tucked away for safety. “What?”

Matty says, “It’s good to see you laugh. It’s been a long time.”

“So I keep hearing.”

My mother’s hand covers mine. “It’s good to see you’re recovering. I’m not sure how you recover from being kidnapped and . . .” She looks around uncomfortably. When her eyes land back on mine, she adds, “It’s just good to see you.”

Seeing a crack in her normally austere exterior is shocking. She basically told me what I’ve been wanting to hear for years. They may have cut me off financially years ago, but they did it to all their kids. I wasn’t singled out in that way, but I felt alone all the same. “It’s good to see you too, Mom.” The name feels foreign coming off my tongue, but maybe I am more yellow these days.

There are worse things to be than optimistic.

She smiles and when it reaches her eyes, I see how truly lovely she is. I turn my hand up so our hands are holding, and for a few seconds while the others pick up their conversations where they were left off, we bond—mother and son. And this? I know this has been lacking. For me. But in seeing love in her eyes, it’s as if one shackle of many that have bound me is releasing, and it does actually give me hope. Maybe I can be someone who can love . . . love someone as good as my Dove.

After dessert is served, everyone returns to the living room. Spread out around the room, the usual suspects congregate. Safety in numbers and all that. Matty, Paige, and myself on one side. Liza and Fredrick on the other. My father in his wingback, and my mother stands by the window looking out into the gardens. The gardens aren’t vast like at the Kingwood manor, but they’re well cared for and impressive. I walk around the sofa and join her. Although tonight has been unexpected and pleasant, my soul is still unsettled.

Ending my relationship with Celeste helped calm a small storm, but the bigger one is still brewing.

Do I have a place in this world? Where? Where do I belong? Who do I belong to?

As if reading my mind, her smile wanes. “I’m here for you, son.” She releases a hard breath as if a burden’s been taken off her shoulders. “Let’s have tea and I’ll get you a copy of the file we received from the adoption agency.”

“I’d like that. Thanks.”

Her whole expression lightens up, making her appear even younger. “I’d like that, too, but I do have to tell you, so your hopes aren’t too high.” My body tenses. “Your mother and father are not listed in the file. The address of where you were found—”

“Found?”

“Yes, you were found in a basket on the steps of a church.”

A basket? At a church?

Trying to process what she just said, I can’t. This information seems all wrong. That’s not me.

I was that bad of a baby that I was dumped on some steps somewhere? I turn away and look at my family. Nothing feels right. Ten minutes ago I thought I didn’t belong here, didn’t fit in, but now I feel like a complete outsider.

When I look at my mother, she says, “I’m sorry. That’s all I remember, but I’ll get you the file.”

Paige is there by my side, her hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

My stomach twists.

I shouldn’t have asked. I should have just appreciated what I had. Instead I’ve opened a wound that I didn’t know I even had. The truth is gushing out and there’s no tourniquet to stop it. I rub my temple, and reply, “Nothing’s wrong.”

My mother adds, “Don’t worry, honey. Everything’s okay.”

“Why are you upset, Cruise?”

Hearing the name I prefer snaps me out of the spinning catastrophe of my thoughts. “I need to leave.” I start to make my way to the front door, but I don’t make it far.

Fredrick has to claw his way in even when he’s not welcome, maybe especially then. “Where do you have to run off to? I heard through the grapevine that Celeste raised her standards and is no longer taking your calls.”

My father adds his commentary to a situation he knows nothing about, “That’s too bad. She’s a beautiful girl.”

The compliment throws me, and it takes me a moment to work out why. Have I ever heard him refer to anyone, much less a woman other than my mother, as beautiful? Not Liza. Not Paige. Has he even called my mother beautiful?

But here he is calling Celeste beautiful.

She’s a beautiful girl.

Fredrick stands.

Just like I do.

He knows.

And yet he tried to fuck with me about Celeste. Here. Now. In front of our mother.

What the fuck?

I want to say it, to expose the meaning behind his simple comment. I can’t. I won’t do that to my mother or to Paige. Not Matty, or even Liza who seems to be caught watching the tennis match between us.

Holy fucking shit.

My mother is about to ask something, most likely something she doesn’t want the real answer to, so I announce, “I’ve met someone.”