Chapter 9
Saturday afternoon, Reid sat next to his brother on the monthly drive to visit their mother. The assisted living home that she’d moved into last year was a step up from the home provider who’d been helping to care for her.
Apparently their mother needed a lot more than someone to check in on her a few times a week. Though she was only sixty-four, age and booze had taken their toll on the woman, and recently, she’d started forgetting who he was. Oddly enough, she always recognized Cash.
“I hate this,” Cash muttered, staring out the passenger window.
“I don’t like it any more than you do.”
“I know.” Cash groaned. “She was such a bitch growing up. Never gave two shits about me.”
“No, she did.” Reid had spent a long time thinking about his dysfunctional family. Something weird had occurred back then, an odd change in the mood around the house that Reid could never explain or understand.
Cash shrugged. He didn’t like talking about the past, whereas Reid wanted to dissect it to make sure it never happened again.
“It was like some wacky switch was thrown,” Reid said, trying to recall the exact moment. “Maybe things got weird before then, but remember? Around your birthday, when you got that football I was dying to throw.”
“I’d turned seven,” Cash said, so quiet.
“They argued, then Dad hit Mom. Only time that I can remember him doing that. He apologized later, but they were never the same. Treated you different. And Mom checked out.”
“Yeah. Easier to live in the fantasy of a perfect family than with us assholes.”
“When you say us, you mean you, right?” Reid tried to tease.
Cash only grunted. Sadly, he probably did mean himself. Verbally abused forever, with the occasional slap to the face or punch to the torso when a child, Cash had lived with the notion he was never good enough. But Reid had never understood why. Cash had been a top athlete if not a top student. Liked by adults and kids, he’d been on the road to a scholarship for football, no doubt. Then, in the tenth grade, their father had punched him, hard, for a mistake Reid had made. The punch turned to a beating, made worse because Cash had fought back, blackening their dad’s eye.
Charles never laid a hand on him again, but the damage had been done. Cash turned brittle, hostile. His grades plummeted. He dropped out of sports and had little in the way of decent friends. He led a group of idiot kids into more mischief than was healthy and barely escaped juvenile detention.
At sixteen, he’d moved out. Four years later, once Reid had graduated, they joined the service together. And now here they were, visiting their mother the way they did every month, wishing for a past that could never be and a future that seemed to drag.
“An hour with Angela feels like a year,” Cash mumbled.
“So why come?”
Again, Cash shrugged. Reid hurt for him, though he’d never say anything. His brother had the biggest heart in the world, buried deep beneath emotional trauma and a blustering ego. If Cash really thought about himself the way he bragged, he’d be president of the universe by now.
All the guy wanted was a little affection from his mother. With their father dead and gone, he’d never find it from Charles. Not that he would have if the old man had lived.
“Our family is totally fucked up,” Reid commented.
Cash barked a laugh. “You got that right.”
They drove in silence until Cash told him to slow down.
“Why?”
“Because your leggy PR chick is walking and I’m taking in the view.” He whistled. “Day-um, son. I love a woman in shorts.”
Naomi walked with a blond woman—Liz, he saw—on the sidewalk. He pulled up in an empty spot on the side of the road. Cash rolled down his window and whistled.
Reid rolled his eyes, hoping Naomi recognized the car and took the whistle as the compliment it was intended to be and not more harassment from some dumbass who should know better.
Liz waved at them. Funny, but her hair refused to be contained despite the bright orange headband holding the mass back. Naomi had hers in a ponytail. She wore a Sounders sweatshirt and shorts that showed off her long, long legs.
“She’s hot. No doubt.” Cash’s seal of approval.
“She’s off-limits.”
“I meant for you.” Cash laughed at him, the melancholy previously darkening his gaze lifting. “She’s too brainy for me. Now if she’d just tell me how great I am while I was with her, that I could handle. But she’s not the type to stay quiet.”
No, she wasn’t. She’d been moaning and whimpering when he’d kissed her, touched her. And that little cry at the end had been unforgettable. Hell, he was getting hard. Not cool with his brother in the car and Naomi walking to the window. He prayed the seat belt covered his arousal.
Naomi leaned over against the car. “Well, well. The Griffith brothers out and about on the weekend. No moving for you two today?”
Cash answered for him. “Nah. We have plans. A hot date with two smokin’ babes.”
Naomi glanced past him at Reid, her face calm while her eyes shot daggers at him. He would have crowed in triumph except he shouldn’t want Naomi to feel possessive. And he really didn’t want to see his mother.
Reid rolled his eyes again. “We’re going to see our mother. Cash only wishes we had hot dates.”
That took care of Cash’s smirk.
Naomi blinked. “Oh, well, have fun.”
“A word one never uses with Mom,” Reid said dryly.
“No shit.” Cash glanced past Naomi to Liz. “Hey. I’m Cash. Who are you?”
“I’m Liz, the woman who runs Starr PR. Naomi would die without me.”
Naomi agreed, “All true.”
Cash nodded. “Same here. I’m the backbone of our business. Reid’s the image. My little brother tries, but there can be only one top dog, you know?”
“Oh my God. Your ego is almost as big as your biceps. Idiot.” Reid sneered.
Naomi and Liz laughed. “We don’t want to hold you up, so—” Naomi started to rise.
“No, stay.” Cash sat up straighter. “Talking to pretty women is worlds better than visiting Angela.”
Naomi patted him on the shoulder, and Reid didn’t like the attention she gave him. At all. Cash was a good-looking guy. He had muscles and a brain hiding behind his big mouth. On top of that, he projected an air of confidence that caused others to effortlessly fall under his lead. If Cash tried, Reid was sure Naomi would fall for the guy.
He would have said something when he noticed Liz staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
Liz blinked. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking you’re so much better looking than Tanner Ryan.”
Naomi turned pink. “Liz, really.”
“Who’s Tanner Ryan?” Cash asked.
“Some jerk Naomi used to work for. A real loser.”
Naomi looked like she wanted to sink through the sidewalk.
“A loser, huh?” he asked her.
She smiled through her teeth. “A complete loser. Come on, big mouth. We need to walk. Later, guys.” Naomi dragged Liz away, and he and Cash watched them walk at a brisk pace.
“Quit staring at her ass.” Reid watched her until she and Liz disappeared from view.
“You first.” Cash chuckled. “That was a nice distraction, but Naomi’s right. We’d better go. Let’s get this over with.”
They drove for a while before Reid, unable to stop himself, said, “She’s not your type. Not at all. Do us both a favor and stop flirting with her.”
Cash turned to him with a big grin. “Flirting with her? Little Brother, when I’m flirting with a woman, she knows it. That was just me being friendly with Naomi.”
“Well, quit it. We’re working with the woman. Just working.” He glared Cash into submission, surprisingly, then found the familiar road leading to their monthly trip to hell.
* * *
Cash left the car, following Reid. He was in no rush to see Angela, the woman who’d given birth to him, then left him to fend for himself while she drifted in la-la land, more content with movies, television, and books than taking care of her kid. She’d help Reid here and there, but even Reid had fended for himself when their father was busy.
Watching his brother with Naomi had been an eye-opener. Reid always had an air of cool competency. He’d bailed Cash out of more trouble than Cash could remember, and he had a knack for putting two bucks together and getting ten back.
But with Naomi, Reid had been nervy. A little frazzled, though he’d pretended to hold it together. And the way Naomi had eyed Reid, trying really hard not to look interested, definitely told its own story. The woman certainly hadn’t liked the thought of them out with other women.
Cash grinned, wishing he could hold onto the good feeling for longer than it took to climb the stairs to his mother’s floor.
Reid had been taking care of Cash for far too long. The guy had no social life. He threw his all into the business. It had been Reid’s plans that made Vets on the Go! possible. Reid’s knowledge of how to start the business, to get Evan’s help, to delegate hiring and firing and the grunt work to Cash. Yet he’d still made Cash co-owner in the business though Cash hadn’t had any investment capital.
Because Reid was like that. Family first. The poor bastard clung to a sense of duty and loyalty to the woman who’d given birth to him. Cash came to support Reid. He hated looking at Angela, loathed the sight of her.
But Reid needed him. For all that he had little to give, Cash would give Reid anything his little brother needed.
The journey to Angela Griffith’s room happened way too fast.
They knocked and entered, finding their mother at the kitchen stove.
“This is for you,” she said, glancing at Cash before turning back to her creation. She was cooking something for him, as she’d promised in her last phone call. God knew what the woman thought she was trying to prove. She hadn’t given a damn about him for years. Now, for some reason, she sought to please him whenever possible.
And Reid, the good son, the one who’d stuck by her when Cash had turned into the rebel teen from hell, didn’t seem to matter.
Angela opened her arms and waited for Cash to greet her. He endured a frail hug and turned his head before she could kiss him on the mouth. That always creeped him out. “Oh, sweetie. It’s so good to see you.” Then she gave Reid a kiss on the cheek. “You too, baby.”
She looked like an angel. Such a contrast to the selfish woman he knew her to be. Angela had looks and charm. A vapid sense of self-importance. Her world had revolved around make-believe for as long as he could remember. Their father had tolerated her because he’d loved her no matter what—or so he’d claimed. But Cash thought the guy just liked the idea of a perfect little family.
With both Charles’s and Angela’s parents dead, it had only been Cash, Reid, and their parents left, not counting his dad’s brother and family—Evan’s parents, who they spent little time with. Then Charles had died. Now it was just Cash, Reid, and Angela. Dysfunction at its finest.
Reid gave a strained smile. “Hey, Mom. What are you making?”
“Cash’s favorite.” She looked at Cash or, rather, through him. Sometimes Cash didn’t think she was all there. “He sure does love my stew.”
Cash and Reid exchanged a glance. “Um, I’m partial to clam chowder.”
Angela didn’t seem to hear him and started humming while she stirred the pot. “Turn up the TV.”
Cash did, not surprised to see her fixated on some soap opera from years ago. His mother fixated on drama of any kind, so long as it happened to other people, and she’d always been a General Hospital fan. He refused to admit it aloud, but he understood her fascination for other people’s problems. He couldn’t get enough of the Housewives on television. And TLC’s Love after Lockup? A thumbs-up winner.
He sat at the table across from Reid and stared at his mother, wondering how much longer he’d have to make these monthly visits. Reid made small talk, engaging Angela because she liked to talk about herself.
Cash learned that her friend, Margaret, an actual living person, had visited on Friday and brought her the pink shawl sitting on the couch. He’d never seen the woman personally, but by all accounts, she was the only friend his mother had.
He watched his brother interacting with their mother, noted their similar facial structure and a few mannerisms, and wondered if he too shared anything with her. He certainly didn’t get much from his father except for his size.
Charles Griffith had been a huge dickhead. Literally huge, six foot four, two-forty. All mean muscle and cruel attitude. Reid could do no wrong. Cash could do no right. Yet here, now, after the old man’s death and his mother’s decline into Crazytown, what really mattered?
He ate the stew that was supposedly his favorite. He listened to Reid tell their mother about their plans to expand their business and watched it all go over her head. She nodded and smiled, but she wasn’t hearing Reid at all, her gaze affixed to Cash’s face. Which truly made him uncomfortable, because he had the feeling she wasn’t seeing him either.
Believing they had done their duty, Reid wrapped up their visit. “We have to go, Mom. We’ll see you next month, same time, unless you want to see us before then?”
Cash hated the hopeful note in his brother’s voice.
Angela, as usual, shook her head. “No, sweetie. You live your lives. I know you’re busy. I’ll be just fine here.” She smiled. But this time she looked directly at Reid, and Cash sensed something different about her. “I always loved you, you know that?”
“Ah, sure, Mom.” By the hesitance in Reid’s voice, he sensed it too.
She gave Reid a kiss, then turned to Cash. He’d been standing by the kitchen doorway, more than ready to leave. She reached up to pat his cheek. “I wasn’t there when I should have been, but you left me too soon.” She looked so sad. Cash felt a pang of regret for not being what she wanted in a son. “I love you, honey. I always have.”
“Sure. Love you too,” he mumbled, hating that he meant it, hating how much he needed to hear her say it and mean it too. But he thought this time she might have, because her gaze was clear as she stared at him. “We’ll see you in June, Ma.”
“I don’t think so.” Her gaze turned cloudy again. “But that’s okay, because Luke and Laura are getting married, and I have plans to make.”
He and Reid shared a sigh. Their mother and her ancient recorded soaps—thirty or forty freakin’ years old. Hell, did anyone even watch soap operas anymore? They had nothing on reality TV.
They left her to her shows and walked quietly to the car. Once inside, Reid sat there and tapped on the steering wheel, lost in thought.
And Cash hoped like hell he hadn’t sounded like the lost little boy he’d always been, trying to win back his mother’s love.
* * *
Reid didn’t know what to make of Angela today. “She was off.”
“Yeah.”
Good. He wasn’t the only one who felt it. “Do you think she’s off her meds?”
“Who the hell knows?”
“You don’t know what she takes, do you?”
Cash shrugged. “Why should I? She barely tolerates me. Hell, half the time we were there, I don’t think she was seeing either one of us. Maybe she thought we were characters from her stupid soaps.”
Reid agreed. “And what was with the stew? Your favorite?”
“Dad liked it. Maybe she thought I was him?” Cash grimaced. “God knows I’d rather be mistaken for anyone else but that fucker.”
Reid said nothing to that, knowing his brother had a right to his feelings. Though Charles hadn’t been a good man to Cash, he’d been supportive of Reid. Reid had worked hard to earn his father’s trust. But no matter how many times he’d tried to talk to his dad about Cash, his father had refused to hear him out. Reid’s efforts to heal their relationship had failed, and in time, Reid had come to dislike his father as much as he wanted to love him.
“Well, we’re done with Mom for the month.” The thought brought him no peace. His mother hadn’t been herself. Maybe he’d go back next week to check on her. That was if he wasn’t buried in broken trucks and clients out the ass. “You going out tonight?”
“Hell yeah. I’m meeting Hector and Lafayette for drinks at a bar downtown they like. You in?”
“Reid, take a day off, man. You need it. Dealing with Mom is never easy.” Cash paused. “I don’t know why you still do it.”
“Why do you?”
Cash shrugged. “No one else will. I guess it’s a tribute to the one thing the old man taught me that I could respect: protect women and take care of your mother. He wasn’t worth squat, but he hit gold with those two pieces of advice.”
“Guess so.” Reid remembered his father playing catch with him in the backyard. His father teaching him and Cash how to ride bikes, back when his father had been civil to his oldest son. Other memories of Charles Griffith helping Reid with one thing or another. Yet those memories were muddied by recollections of his father constantly browbeating Cash. A no-good loser. Nothing like your brother. A piece of shit I wouldn’t touch if I didn’t have to.
What would make a once-decent man treat his own son like that?
“I know we’ve talked about this before, but do you think Charles wasn’t your father?” Reid asked out loud, something they’d often talked about when the topic of Charles arose.
“Sure. But you and I look a little too much alike. And we don’t exactly take after Mom.”
“True. You’re broader in the chest, not as handsome”—he ignored the finger Cash shot him—“and you have those ugly green eyes.”
“Funny.” Cash grinned, his mood seeming to lighten. “But these pretty green eyes and my broad, muscular chest score me lots of attention, Little Brother. Take a note.”
“Please. At least I know how to treat a lady, and I date a woman more than once.”
“Twice maybe.”
Reid shook his head. “You find a woman who’ll keep you for longer than a month, and then we’ll talk.”
Silence descended, and Reid realized what he’d said.
Fortunately, Cash just grunted at him, no ugly references to the woman Cash had once dated for longer than a month. Hell, Cash had once put a friggin’ ring on her finger, and then Mariah had done the unthinkable. But Cash took Reid’s joke for what is was, no mention of the ex-fiancée. Maybe time did heal all wounds. “Dream on. I haven’t met anyone yet who could handle this fine mind and body.”
“Yeah, there’s that, isn’t there?”
Pleased to have hurdled the past without Cash turning into a despondent, mopey zombie, Reid turned the talk to the Mariners recent game against the Blue Jays. Cash liked nothing better than to argue, so Reid let him.
After dropping his brother off at the bar, he drove to the office and put in a few hours’ work.
Evan dropped by to compare notes, then left after insisting he refused to work on a Saturday night and planned to spend the evening with his mother.
“Tell Aunt Jane I said hi.”
Evan brushed a hand over his hair. “Will do.”
“And get a haircut, would you? You’re starting to look like a civilian,” Reid teased. Considering his own hair, short yet long by USMC standards, he knew better than to talk.
Evan snorted. “Yeah, right, you long-haired freak.” He grinned. “I’m going home. You should too. Between the two of us, it’s like we’re competing for biggest loser of the year. Get a life, man. I plan to.”
“Yeah? When would that be?”
Evan shrugged. “After I figure out what the hell I’m doing with my job. Next month, I think.”
“What happened to your three-year plan?”
“I burned it. I can’t keep up this pace and not go insane. I’m managing, but barely, and I know it.” He stretched and yawned. “Besides, it’s tough to have a relationship when you’re never home. And since I can’t use deployment as an excuse, it’s up to me to give my mother grandchildren.”
Reid liked his Aunt Jane, but she’d been on Evan’s ass lately to settle down. More added pressure his cousin didn’t need. “You sure you’re up for that? You look weak to me.”
“Thanks. All my working parts are in order, jackass. You should take your own advice and relax. Cut your hair, get laid, get a life. Follow Cash’s plan.”
“What? To leap without looking?”
“Why not? He seems happier than both of us.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell Aunt Jane I’ll come by for dinner one of these nights.”
Evan nodded. “Good. Then maybe she’ll get off my ass and on yours.”
Reid chuckled. “You wish. See you.”
Evan left. Reid continued to work, took the forms Finley and Martin dropped off once they’d finished work, then finally closed up the office. A peek into the warehouse showed all the trucks locked up and accounted for, including their new vehicle that needed a wash, fresh paint, and their logo.
He drove home and changed into workout gear, not inclined to sit around and stare at the walls on a Saturday night. Only eight o’clock and he felt ready to sleep forever.
“I am so lame,” he said to an empty room.
Reid ran a familiar route toward Green Lake, but instead of looping around the lake, he ran a different path, heading toward Naomi’s part of town, actually. She did live close, and he liked the fact. Yet as the miles added up, he thought about catching an Uber home. He was near exhaustion. His muscles ached, and his mind was turning to soup, his thoughts vacillating from Naomi’s smile to his mother’s dismissive stare.
But as he rounded a corner and saw a young woman being harassed by two larger men, he decided he wasn’t as tired as he’d thought.