Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) (19 page)

One moment I’m enjoying my family; the next we’re in the Twilight Zone. A place where my sister is engaged, owns a dog, and plans on getting married in a couple of weeks. Next stop: the children. Cookie-cutter life.
My
life. Not really my life. The dog reminds me of Maximus and Maxine—the dogs I talked about years ago with that girl, Pria.

My muse. The girl who had me writing sweet, sticky lyrics about the perfect girl, the perfect love, the dark eyes that captivated me, and the blanket of stars we shared. Only sixty of those songs I wrote made it out in the market. Later, I wrote about the same amount of songs in which I called her a heartless bitch who ripped my heart apart. Pria Walker, my muse and inspiration for two years, gifted me two things:

1. Best first time sex.

2. A nice income that keeps on giving.

The jury is still out on the 3rd one.

3. Norah.

Was she a blessing or a curse?

“You okay?” My sister hugs me tight as I stare at the dog, whose name is Wade now. But his previous owner had named him Max. Matthew arches an eyebrow and shakes his head.

“I’m never okay, AJ, but as long as I have you and MJ, I’ll do my best.”

Matthew, who knows more about the story than anyone else, walks a few steps and hugs me too.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” I look at the kitchen entrance and Dad is watching us while Pops approaches and hugs us too.

“Babe, you have to join. It’s a tradition.”

Dad rolls his eyes, but follows his husband. In seconds I’m reminded that I’m loved and four people depend on me. They count on me for shit and I have a responsibility to keep them together. Even when there are times that I lose myself and check out.

“Can we go now?” Mason interrupts our family time. “Wings is waiting for us.”

His pilot friend is taking us to Albany. Family fun with the Colthursts.

My grandparents’ house isn’t big. That’s an issue no one notices during the summer as we spend most of our time outside, or head to the park, or do whatever pleases us. During the month of November and until late March, the cold doesn’t allow for such freedom and we have to try to enjoy the enclosed space with what feels like a hundred people. This establishment has exceeded the limit of occupants, but we’re still growing.

I wish I could head outside, but at seven o’clock the pitch black, cold night doesn’t have much to offer. It isn’t as if I had a lot going on in here.

My fathers are nowhere to be found. I decide not to think where they could be, because those two like to disappear at times and appear later with grins of satisfaction—disgusting. Matthew talks to our uncle, Brent, who is an English major. They discuss books and authors all the time. I don’t have anything against reading, but I’m not a major reader like them, and not having much to bring into the conversation makes it not very much fun to be a part of.

“How are we going to avoid them during the holidays?” Mason approaches me, clinks his beer against mine, and takes a swig. “Fuck, my bride-to-be has a large family. Nine talked about them, but I never realized the family was this big. I’m great at remembering faces and names, but not today. I can only recall Grandma Janine and Grandpa James.”

I look over at him and the horrified expression he sports. Poor man. He’s experiencing firsthand what the Colthurst bunch is all about—madness. There’s no avoidance. At least once a year we come here to spend a week with them. I’ve lost count of how many of us there are. Five children, then the grandchildren, and most of my cousins have children. Some of their children have children too. One of my nieces is like two years older than me. This family is crazy.

I raise my beer and smirk at him. “Welcome to the Colthurst clan, Bradley. We’re going to eat you alive.”

“You’re not funny,” he growls at me, giving me that intimidating glare of his.

I’m thankful that after everything my sister has gone through, she’s finally found happiness. The pinch of guilt I had for not paying attention to her relationship with Porter remains. The fucker abused her for years and I did nothing to stop him. That was so long ago, though, and in the process, thankfully she found her true love. Mason.

“She’s happy.” I tilt my head toward my sister, who is swooning as she speaks with our grandmother and aunts. They believe AJ wouldn’t be as feminine if it wasn’t for their intervention. “I’m glad you two are happy.”

“And you?” That’s a question no one dares to ask. I never dare to ask my own emotional state because the usual answer is fucked up.

Back in the day, and because of my large family, I used to think that having between three and seven kids was normal. Now I know better. Kids are a heartache and no one should have them—at all. My parents have suffered with the three of us.

“As long as MJ and AJ are happy, I’m good, Bradley.” Matthew is happy. He’s about to head to California to get his master’s degree. Film and Television production. A way to prepare himself to take over the film production company that Gabe owns.

Mason sips his beer and watches his bride-to-be with that hazed-stupid face he has only for my sister. Incredible. The big, bad wolf tamed by no other than AJ Colthurst-Decker.

Mason is silent, observing everything around him, then suddenly his attention comes back to me. “They’ll be happier once you decide to—forget it. I’m not going to butt in your life. You’re not ready. I know what not being ready means and how useless those words are. For what it’s worth, I’m here for you, brother. That grief won’t take you anywhere.”

Like Mason, grief is a close and old friend of mine. Impossible to shake when you visit the Colthurst clan. This is what I once wanted. It’s what I’ll never have. My own family visiting my grandparents. Letting go of something that was programmed in me to want even before birth isn’t easy.

After another look around the room, I find my parents talking to Grandma Janine. Then I find AJ, whose attention turns to where I sit, but her eyes look at Mason. She crooks her finger, and immediately he rises from his seat.

“Stop doing stupid shit, though,” Mason says and then pauses. The threatening glare no longer scares me, but I understand that he’s trying to look frightful. He’s one of my babysitters when I drink myself under for the night or get lost in the middle of nowhere and wait for something to end my misery. “I can’t lie to her by omission.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.

At the same time, Grandpa James approaches us. He smiles while scanning his surroundings. The satisfaction overtakes his mouth. His world is perfect, just right. The entire family is here. His children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and his two great-great grandchildren.

Finally, he takes his eyes away from what he believes is his dominion and looks at me. “Don’t they have nice girls back in Seattle, Jacob?” Grandpa gives me his serious look. “It’s time for you to settle down.”

I give him the typical
what are you going to do
shrug. This subject isn’t one I’d normally discuss with my grandfather. The patriarch of the Colthursts, who believes everyone should be paired up.

“Tell me about this Mason boy. Is he a good kid?”

He’s vicious if you upset him, or if someone hurts the ones he loves.
Grandpa doesn’t have to know that kind of information.

“Yes, Grandpa, he’s solid.” I can’t imagine anyone better than Mason Bradley for my little sister. “He adores Ainsley.”

“It is your turn, Jacob. I don’t have many years left and I want to see my three favorite grandchildren happy.”

Great, I’m my father now. Harassed by the same man with the same objective. Next he’ll suggest that I should take over the family business, which I technically have taken over. The one thing I swore I’d never do—it’s now my full-time job—working for the record company. For now, my existence is about keeping my family together, and making sure they are all doing well.

“Happiness isn’t synonymous with marriage, and vice versa, Grandpa.”

“No, happiness is synonymous with opening yourself to the possibilities and living a full life that includes love—any kind of love.” He winks at me and stands up. “Time to grow up, Jacob.”

Two years later…

The stealth taste of copper and shit in my mouth never changes.

“Fuck,” I swear as my neck is having trouble holding up my heavy head.

I rub my face and head to the bathroom counter to prepare myself for some of that shitty complimentary coffee. The hangover from yesterday’s outing isn’t as bad as Arthur Bradley’s lecture.

“That’s how your old man started, boy.” He carried me out of the bar, so that gave him the right to lecture and judge me. “If I hadn’t been watching him, he’d be underground. You talk to your dad and ask for help, because you’re getting lost.”

So what if sometimes I drink to ease the pain that’s life? I’m always there when my family needs me. Everyone has the right to lean on whatever they feel is comfortable. This is my way to seek some of that—comfort. Numbing myself for one night every other week and going on with my life. It’s no one’s issue, unless Matthew worries and sends someone out to search for me.

I came down to California to visit my brother and to scout some talent. Matthew was busy with school and I chose to crash a party. A great place to score booze and women. This town is the crib of hot girls. Big boobs, tiny waists, well-trained mouths. But I can only take so much sex while sober. Two girls fucked my life in such a way that I can’t function like any other male.

I touch my wrist, tracing with my finger the word:

Soulless
.

I search around the room until I find the leather cuff to cover it. After I put it back on, I check my phone. Seven missed calls and one text. My father. Damn Mr. Bradley. He always tattletales on me.

Pops: Jacob, call me.

I don’t check the rest, and decide to go ahead and get it over with.

“T’sup, Pops?”

“Where are you?”

“La-la land, why?”

“Is that Sky girl still under contract with us?” His question stuns me.

That gruff voice reminds me of when I was fifteen and won a Gibson guitar signed by the band members of The Rolling Stones using his name. It turned out that ten million dollars wasn’t a guessing amount; it was how much I offered for the guitar on some online auction. Christian Decker couldn’t back out from the bid because it was for charity and they had already released the news that my father had contributed so much to the cause.

“I think so, why?” Today isn’t a good day to consult with me about which artists are working with us. My head isn’t in the game.

“Check your email and help us control this chaos. That includes your nightly shows. Stop drinking and behaving like a thug. I hate to be in those shitty tabloids, Jacob Decker. Fix your shit.”

My eyes widen. How does he know?

I read the stupid links Chris sent me. Sky was sent to rehab after being found unresponsive in her dressing room. Not the first time a singer or group from Decker Records has been rushed to the ER due to intoxication.

Owner Christian Decker wasn’t available for comment, but based on Mr. Decker’s past, it is no surprise that his company encourages this kind of behavior. Two of his children, former band members of Without A Compass, took a break to start rehab.

Hell, I’m in no fucking rehab. Not an alcoholic or a drug addict.

Wait. There’s a picture of me from yesterday’s bar-hop drinking with a blonde and hugging a red-head.
What the hell?
I don’t remember being with a redhead.

“I’m on my way home, Pops.” I hang up the phone.

“I don’t need a babysitter.” I pace around my sister’s living room. This entire weekend has been a nightmare, and a family dinner at her house provides yet another lecture. After dinner and coffee is another intervention about the future of the record company and my life. I pin AJ with my glare while she only snuggles closer to her husband. “How about you let me be?”

“She’s not a babysitter.” Mason gives me a glare to back off from his wife. “Ana is great at controlling chaos and creating an image, and on top of that, has a master’s degree in business. She can help you with all the admin shit you have on your plate.”

This Ana sounds like a saint. I’ve heard about her for more than a year—two maybe. Of course, my sister decided that Matthew and I shouldn’t meet her, because she likes her and doesn’t want to lose the friendship. Now there’s this plan where my sister will hire her to work for the school, the recording studio, and continue to work for Mason. We would all pay her and she could care for her ill father.

“Oh, and hands off her. I’m warning you, Jacob.” My sister gives me her menacing look; a look I disregard. I wouldn’t do her boring, perfect friend. Of course, Matthew and I like to tease her and threaten her that once we meet her, we’ll take turns with the woman. Loosen her up and teach her how to have fun. The Decker kind of fun.

“Once she sees all this…,” I run a hand through my torso and face, “…you might have to tie her hands to keep her off me. AJ, I love you, but how about if we do things my way? Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

AJ’s chin lifts. She lets out a breath and uses that tender voice that convinces anyone to do what she wants. “Jacky, I’m worried about you.” She rises from her seat and waltzes over to where I stand, using her old trick. The green puppy eyes that tremble as she begs for me to do something special for her. “You can’t let the hurt win. It’s consuming you and worrying the entire family. Let us help.”

AJ can be perceptive. Too perceptive. Instead of looking at Mason and trying to dig to determine how much my sister knows, I head toward the backyard, slide the backdoor open and walk out. Help, hurt, worry. I handle my own shit in my own fucking way and they shouldn’t worry about me. There’s too much pain that they could never understand the origins of. Not even I do. So much fucking pain and not one real wound or blood to show. No one would understand my agony. It doesn’t make sense. My soul died years ago, and what I had left was demolished by even more low blows.

According to Mason, if I am smart, I will live. The dude doesn’t get it. The only way I know how to release the pain I carry around is by numbing it with alcohol, and that shouldn’t be anyone’s concern.

“Will working with this woman take you off my back?” I spin around, finding my sister observing me.

“Of course, it will—for now.” She has a plan; something cooking inside that evil mind of hers. “Ana will fix everything. I do have to convince her about this, though.”

“Wait, convince
her
?”

My sister puzzles me.

“Yeah, she’s trying to diminish her work load to take care of her ill father because they can’t afford a nurse.”

AJ continues telling me some of her friend’s story. Like the fact that her sister also works for Mason, but she works from home. Both care for their father, and now that his health is declining, Ana has to spend more time at home.

“There’re days she has to rush out from the client’s site.” AJ’s words make no sense. She needs a job but doesn’t want a job. “To either search for him or help with one of his outbursts. The medications help, but not much. The sisters can’t afford to send him to a home where they can take better care of him. Their income isn’t enough, the insurance covers only a small portion, and he has only so much time left.”

A totally uplifting story. How is that depressing life and the woman who’s living it going to help the image of the recording studio? Or my image? Or the music school’s? We work with children. They don’t want to deal with some sad lady who has an entire Lifetime movie going on. I, of course, keep those thoughts to myself and give AJ what she wants. A reassuring smile.

“You won’t regret it, Jacky.”