Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) Page 11

  “You can’t drive. You’re almost in shock right now. I’m sure he’s fine. They didn’t mention the hospital. Don’t borrow trouble.” I follow him out of the house, Brody circling back to shut the door after I leave it open.

  The whole way to the school, Brody tries to talk to me, but all I hear is Charlie Brown’s teacher and don’t try to make out his words. An excruciating twenty years later, I barely wait for Brody to stop before I’m running.

  “Juliet!” I hear behind me, but I don’t stop until I get to the doors. They’re locked. I struggle with them before I remember you have to show your ID to a camera to be let in. I scramble for my purse, realizing I left it in the car when it’s not on my shoulder. Brody holds it out to me silently, watching as I dig my driver’s license out of the stupid plastic that doesn’t want to let it go. I finally win the battle and wave it at a camera that’s set off to the side with big signs around it. Brody holds my wrist still and pushes the button over my shoulder to alert the main desk. Five years later, the buzz signals they’ve unlocked the door. I take a deep breath and immediately cough.

  “You okay?” Brody asks as he tries to keep up with me.

  “Fine,” I wheeze. Moving through the double doors, I jog to the receptionist desk and slap my ID down on the counter. “I’m Trigg Montgomery’s mother. I need to see him.”

  “Mom.” My world is suddenly alright, then immediately upside down again.

  “Oh my God!” I walk down a side hall and get to him before he can take two steps away from his chair against the wall. His face, my baby’s face, is swollen, red, and purple around his eye. My baby has a black eye. Trigg flinches away when I touch the bruise, making the fire in me burn brighter. “Where is the little shit? Show me who did this right now. I’m gonna—”

  “Juliet—”

  “Mom—”

  “Mrs. Montgomery, Mr. Montgomery, thank you for joining us. I’m Mrs. Bennett, we spoke on the phone,” I hear behind me and swing to the woman, a tremor going through me at the mister.

  “I’m Brody Dentin, a family friend. Mr. Montgomery is—”

  “Dead. My dad is dead,” Trigg says with finality. I gasp so many times in a short period of time that I feel slightly light headed as I get whiplash moving from one person to another in the suffocating hallway.

  “Trigg . . .” I reach for him, but he moves his shoulder away from me before I can make contact.

  “It’s fine, Mom. Can we just do this?” He walks into the office with his chest out and head held high while I’m floundering.

  “I don’t even know what this is,” I say weakly.

  Mrs. Bennett takes over. “If you’ll join me in my office I can explain everything. Mr. Dentin, if you want to take a seat, this shouldn’t take long.”

  Brody turns to the seat that Trigg just vacated and I move. “No. Brody comes in, too.” Both adults left in the hallway turn to me with slightly shocked eyes, Brody more than the principal, but I just lift my hand and wave him in, saying weakly, “He’s a family friend.”

  We file into the room, my eyes falling on Trigg who is sitting in the back, his eyes staring straight ahead, arms crossed defensively over his chest. I swallow, feeling that tickle in my throat again, and take a seat in front of the big desk taking up most of the room. Mrs. Bennett moves papers around her desk and opens a folder before leaning back in her seat.

  “Trigg was in an altercation with another young man in his class. There were accusations thrown and Trigg threw the first punch,” she says without infliction. I gasp again, causing a coughing fit, making Brody ask if I’m alright, but I wave him off.

  I turn to my son, still staring ahead, looking as expressionless as I’ve ever seen him. My mind flashes to ten years down the road in a blink and I see the man he will be.

  “What did the boy say?”

  “Trigg refuses to tell us and the other boy wasn’t forthcoming. Regardless, we have a no contact policy at our school. Trigg has been suspended for five days.”

  “And the other kid? He obviously hit him back,” I demand.

  “The other boy got three days suspension.”

  “Why?” I start to rise, but Brody pulls me back down gently into my chair. My chest is heaving. I want to find this kid and make him tell me what he said to make my sweet boy hit him.

  “Trigg struck first. The other boy was retaliating and has been given fair punishment to the extent the public school system allows,” Mrs. Bennett says firmly.

  “Fair?” I sneer, snatching up my purse and yanking the door open. “Let’s go Trigg.”

  I storm out of the main office and into the bright sunlight. Brody still has the keys. I’m left waiting by the car, practically tapping my foot as two of the men in my life stroll casually down the sidewalk.

  Brody doesn’t hit the unlock button on the key fob until he’s at the driver’s door, getting a glare and a “Really?” from me.

  As soon as Trigg puts his seatbelt on, I’m turning to him. “What did he say?”

  “I’m not telling you, Mom.”

  “What? Oh yes you are. I asked you a question.”

  Trigg looks at me with calm eyes, one already almost swollen shut. “I’m not telling you. He deserved it, though.”

  I throw my hands up. “I know he deserved it! I want to know why.”

  “Jules,” Brody says.

  “Don’t Jules me right now.” I lean back in my seat, looking out the window as we move through the gate of the subdivision. My breath rattles, making me cough again.

  “Are you alright? You’ve been coughing a lot all of a sudden,” Brody asks, but I wave him away.

  When we’re in my kitchen I try again.

  As soon as Trigg sits at the kitchen table, I ask, “Will you please tell me what he said to you?”

  Brody closes the fridge and says, “Jules. The man is in pain.”

  “I’m not in pain,” comes the immediate response from the eleven-year-old going on twenty-one I glimpsed earlier. Brody studies his face, taking in the deep blue and purple shiny skin and nearly closed eye.

  “Nope. Guess you aren’t,” he says as he slaps a steak on Trigg’s eye. Trigg immediately winces while I go after Brody with evil Mama Bear eyes. Brody shrugs as he washes his hands, so I turn back to Trigg just as he’s leaving the room.

  “Where are you going?”

  “My room.”

  I look around the kitchen, having no idea what to do.

  “Make sure you bring that steak back down. It’s dinner.”

  Brody chuckles behind me, so I decide to set my ire on him. I go after him with a finger poking into his chest. “You hurt him on purpose.”

  Brody catches my finger and reels me in with it. “He wants to act tough, he can be treated like he is. I bet you a hundred bucks he’s up there crying right now.”

  “What?” I try to pull away, but Brody has his arms around me now.

  “Let him get it out. He’s been strong this far. He just took his first step into adulthood and needs a break for a second.”

  “I saw it,” I say quietly as I put my head on his chest, listening to the strong beat.

  “You saw what?” he says as he kisses my forehead.

  “The man. I didn’t want to, but he was right there. Why do they have to grow up? I was just teaching him to walk. I was just pushing his bike down the street,” I say with tears in my eyes.

  “And then you let go, and he fell didn’t he? But then he got back up. You’re hot, baby.”

  I scoff and nuzzle my head into his chest. “Not right now, Brody.”

  He pulls away to put a hand on my forehead. “No, Jules, you’ve got a fever.”

  Chapter 11

  You get the flu at least twenty times in your life. But there’s always that one time that totally knocks you on your ass, and it’s the flu from hell that’s trying to drag you under. Yeah I got that kind. Thank God it happened after I had already moved down here. But then, oh my God, it had to happen when I w
as home? Brody watches me puke my guts out on a regular basis. And by that, I mean ten times a day. At least. Fuck my life.

  He took over the house as I went from a slight cough to puking, shivering, can’t get out of bed, have to be taken to the hospital for meds, sick as a dog, in twenty-four hours. Our respective mothers tried to strong arm their way in, but Brody was acting like he had something to prove. He cooked, he cleaned, he chauffeured. He also moved in. In a ‘Your mom is sick so I have to take care of her’ kind of way. This caused my kids, who had never seen anyone take care of me, ever, think that I was at death’s door. They were scared, they hovered, they brought me everything that made them feel better when they got sick. Harper may have lost her crush when Brody ruined chicken noodle soup. Poor guy shouldn’t be expected to know how to make it from scratch the first time.

  I got amused eyes from Brody as he informed me that she definitely got her temper from me. I could only sigh and try not to cough. I had some kind of influenza-bronchitis-hybrid that was trying to rip my stomach and lungs out simultaneously. My fever had me under a pile of quilts and down comforters from both generations in the budding summer heat. I had taken to keeping the window open in my room because it was warmer outside and I couldn’t stop shivering.

  It was on such a night, when I was finally well enough to update my blog and answer my email, that I happened to overhear Brody and Trigg talking. Everyone else was asleep, and Brody liked to unwind on the porch with a beer when the house was quiet, even if I couldn’t go with him. I heard the porch door squeak and a “Hey, bud.”

  There was no talking for a long time, my ears straining in case I was missing something. I can only imagine they were doing that guy thing where they pretend the other isn’t there for as long as it’s convenient.

  “That dude that hit me, Marshal.” Trigg stops talking, but it wasn’t a question.

  Brody takes a deep breath through his nose and just says a “Yup” that I feel is slightly lacking in response to such a big subject.

  “I’m not sorry I hit him.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, bud. Not if he deserved it.” I half agree with that.

  “He did.”

  “Okay.” If that’s the end of the conversation I might scream. I feel a tickle in my throat and pray I can hold off coughing until they’re done.

  “His dad works at your company, I guess. He was saying that you and my mom were shacking up. He was calling her names. Bad names. But I know she’s not.”

  Oh fuck.

  “You know she’s not what?” Brody asks cautiously.

  “I know she’s not a whore.” Who teaches their kids words like that at their age?

  “No she isn’t. Did it make you mad that he was saying we were together?” Good question, Brody.

  “I mean . . . not really. You’re around a lot. Mom seems happier. You’re pretty cool, I guess.” I start to chuckle and cut it off when I feel the cough start.

  “So you wouldn’t be freaked out if we held hands and stuff?” Subtle, Brody.

  “That might be kind of weird. I’ve never seen my mom do that stuff.” I blink.

  “She didn’t do that stuff with your dad?”

  “I don’t really remember him that much. I remember he used to tuck me into bed and read stories. Not the ones Mom does, but like Dr. Suess. It was fun. But I don’t remember how they were together.” My heart breaks for him all over again. As the oldest, he would be the one to hold the most memories of their dad, and that he has forgotten so much already triggers a physical pain that no flu could rival.

  “Hold onto those memories you have. One day your brother and sister are probably going to ask you about him. Do you still have the books?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Hold onto those. Do you think Jet would like them?”

  Trigg laughs. “Yeah, he would like it a lot more than the Iliad.” That gets a louder laugh from Brody.

  “I think we all would, except your mom. And maybe your grandma.”

  I can hear the sigh that Trigg lets out. “Moms are weird.”

  “They really are,” Brody quickly agrees. Thanks a lot Brody. “Your mom’s kinda cool, though. I heard you broke into grandma’s house.”

  “We totally did. Yeah, she’s cool sometimes. Still weird, though.”

  “Well, of course.” I have to cough so bad I’m shaking, but I try to push it down. As soon as I swallow, it bursts out of my lungs. Gross hacking that I try to stifle in my pillow.

  “I should go check on your weird mom. She’ll never be up for another B and E if we don’t get her better.” Some things you don’t live down.

  “Yeah, I should get to bed. Thanks for looking out for her. You’re doing a good job.” Aw.

  “Thanks, bud. That means a lot coming from you. Hey, what was that kid’s last name?”

  The screened door squeaks so I don’t hear the answer, but Brody is entering my room shortly after with horse pills and vile liquids for me to choke down.

  “I feel like I’m getting gypped in this situation. Shouldn’t you be in a white uniform that molds to your ass and is slightly see through?” I ask as he sets a tray on the bed and shuts the window. He smiles in the darkness, lifting his shirt over his head.

  “Better?”

  “Meh. It’ll have to do, I suppose.” I smile, until he hands me pills and a glass of coconut water. “Why do you do this to me, Brody?” I put up a fuss every time he comes with medicine.

  “What? Treat you to a gun show, or potentially save your life?”

  “Oh, so I suppose I’m being unreasonable?”

  “Possibly.”

  “And I guess you would say I was exaggerating if I said you could be Satan’s right hand right now?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, I don’t happen to agree with you.”

  Brody smiles and kisses my forehead. “I didn’t think you would. You need those pills though because your fever is pretty high right now.”

  “What do you mean? I feel fine,” I report under ten blankets with clammy skin and shiny eyes.

  Brody sweeps my pile away in a second, leaving me freezing and pissed. “Satan,” I hiss as he laughs.

  “Come on, my girl. You can’t stay under there, it’s insulating you. Let’s get you in the bath.” Brody scoops me up and I decide not to take a swing at him since I don’t have to do any work and he left the meds on the bed.

  There’s a Jacuzzi tub in Grandma’s old bathroom, a big upgrade from the yellow number I remember growing up. As I soak away, Brody washes my hair and I try to keep my legs underwater so he can’t see that I haven’t shaved in a hot minute. I don’t know why I try since he’s been watching me puke for days. I sigh.

  “What?” he asks.

  “The mystery’s gone.”

  “Mystery?”

  I wave my hand between us, suds falling down softly to join the others. “The mystery between us. It’s all gone. I’ve been a puking disgusting mess and you’ve been here for all of it.” Have I mentioned I’m slightly whiny when I’m sick?

  “Babe. You’re forgetting I’m the one that took off my hoodie in school because you started your period. This is nothing compared to that traumatic event in my life.”

  “Ugh! That’s horrible. Why would you bring that up?” I want to go under the water, but I would probably cough and get pneumonia from it.

  Brody’s laughing, handing me the water and little cups.

  “I’m changing the subject. Follow me. Why did you ask that kid’s last name?”

  “So you were listening. I thought you might be. He said his dad worked for me. I wanted to know who was saying stuff about us.” Brody takes a loofah and rubs it over my arms as I soak.

  “Works for you where?”

  Brody stops cleaning me and sits back on his heels. “At least I know you aren’t after my money.”

  I giggle, but it turns into a seal barking cough almost immediately. When I can breathe I ask, “What money?�
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  “It’s taken you this long to ask me, which is unlike you. Maybe you were getting sick for longer than we knew.”

  “What?” I ask. I’m getting tired already.

  “When I said I worked security you automatically assumed I was a security guard.” He stops so I nod. Does that mean he wasn’t? My sick, medicated head can’t straighten it out.

  “When I got out of the Navy, they were just finishing closing off the neighborhood. I started a company and put in a bid. There weren’t a lot of famous folks back then so they went with the lowest bidder, and not necessarily the most qualified. As soon as we got the job and could afford it, I got the training so that we were ready for the wave of elite that was predicted to come in. A lot has changed around here in the years we’ve had the contract, but they keep renewing it.”

  “Wait. What? Like the guys at the gate?” I ask with my face scrunched up in confusion.

  “Yup. And the guys in the navy blue SUVs you see driving around all over the place.”

  “I’ve never seen you in one of those cars.”

  “It’s in the garage, and you’re never around when I pull up. I haven’t hidden the fact.” He helps me sit up and starts to dry me off as the tub drains.

  “Why didn’t you put the Bronco in your garage? Is it because you wanted me to see it when I got here?” I ask accusingly.

  He rolls his eyes and picks me up again. “No. That garage is full of all of your gramps’ old tools so there’s only room for one car, and it’s not gonna be the twenty year old Bronco. Sorry.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I mumble as a t-shirt gets tugged over my head. “So . . . wait. Why are you living above my garage if you’re the owner of the fancy schmancy security of the stars?”

  Brody puts the towel down on my pillow so that I can lay back against it before hovering over me. “I guess I was waiting for you after all.”

  Chapter 12

  Ever since the talk Brody had with Trigg on the porch, things have been progressing on the PDA front. Brody touches me in ways I don’t think the kids notice, but that has me feeling closer to him than any time before.