Badd Mojo Read online

  "Yeah. That a problem?"

  "Not at all. Better, in some ways. Your brother is the shit, wicked talented, a great dude and all that, but I called you first because you're more what I have in mind for this particular project."

  "So it all works out."

  "I've got an extra room, in case you need somewhere to crash for a while."

  "You're a good friend, Mike."

  "Nah. I'm just not all asshole."

  I laughed again, and it felt good to laugh for once, because everything else was coming apart. Or...had already fallen apart. "I'll see you in a few hours."

  "Right on, Cane. Text me."

  "Will do."

  I went back inside and up the stairs to the apartment. Bax was on the couch, playing chess with Lucian, and getting his ass handed to him. They both shot me identical chin-jut acknowledgments as I walked past them. The door to Bax's room was still closed, and I still heard voices, but this time I didn't dare listen for fear of what else I might have heard. Instead, I went into Corin's and my room, jammed a bunch of random clothing into my go-bag, and left the room. Corin and Tate were nowhere to be seen, which was fine by me. I wasn't about to try to explain what I was doing to anyone, least of all to Corin.

  Bax and Lucian saw my bag, and Lucian's eyes narrowed.

  "Going somewhere?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Seattle."

  "Why?"

  I shook my head, angling toward the door to the stairs. "Long story."

  Baxter snorted. "You're a pussy."

  "Fuck you, Bax."

  He just laughed. "Yeah, well, when you're ready to man up, talk to me. But just so someone tells you: whatever you are doing right now isn't gonna work, and you're a dick for doing it."

  I ignored that, heading down the stairs.

  What did he know? He had this shit with Eva fall in his lap. His situation was 100 percent different from mine, and he was in zero position to try to act like he was some kind of expert at love or whatever.

  This isn't me being a dick; this is me acting out of self-preservation. This is me doing what I have to do to secure my future. If she's so fucking scared of everything that she won't even give me a chance, when I've been there for her literally her whole life, when I've done everything I can short of being all like "bitch, I love you," then...what is there left for me to do? I need love. I ain't scared to admit it, okay? I know I'm kinda messed up too, god knows I've had enough shit in my life to be fucked up about, but...I can't put my heart out there just get it stomped all over. Rejection sucks, I get that. So why am I going to put myself out there when I heard her say in so many actual words that she's too scared to try?

  I'm not.

  Fuck that.

  I packed up my three favorite guitars--my Fender, my Takamine acoustic, and my Gibson bass. I had a bunch of other guitars, both acoustic and electric, but I had my favorites, and I couldn't see the point in hauling all of them around. I wasn't moving, I was just...getting away.

  I caught the ferry to the airport and found out I only had an hour before the next flight to Sea-Tac, so I booked it, paid to check my guitars and kept my duffel bag as my carry-on. Within an hour I was blasting down the runway, earbuds in, heavy metal grinding in my ears, heart thumping and thrumming and aching.

  A tiny, insistent voice deep down told me Bax was right, that I was making a mistake, that this was a massively dickish move. I ordered a whiskey on the rocks and told that voice to go to hell.

  Aerie isn't the only one who's ever been brutally rejected, and yeah, no way am I going through that again. Fuck that.

  8

  Aerie

  * * *

  After a while, my conversation with Eva wound down. I needed a break from all this, from talking about it. I needed...I wasn't sure what.

  Canaan.

  I needed Canaan.

  But I also needed a break from him, because I had no idea what to do about him. If I was around him, we'd end up screwing and that would only confuse things even more, because it was growing more and more difficult to separate sex from the confused maelstrom of my feelings for him.

  I wanted to get drunk, but Tate was pregnant and couldn't drink. Maybe I could talk one or more of the others into a girls' night.

  I excused myself from Baxter's room and went into the bathroom to touch up my makeup; on the way from the bathroom back to the living room, I passed Canaan and Corin's room. I went past it, initially, and then something caught my eye, and I stopped, went back. Stood in the doorway. Staring.

  There was a bunk bed, and two bureaus side by side, and a closet; one of the bureaus had been rifled through, and the closet was open, hangers dangling empty. I went in, hunted through the bureau, which had open drawers--I recognized several of the Tshirts as Canaan's.

  Why would...why would there be clothing missing from his room? A sick feeling shot through me, and I left the room, confused and off-balance. Eva was on the couch beside Bax, and Lucian was there as well, resetting a chessboard as Bax whispered to Eva.

  They saw me entering the living room, and the whispers stopped. Eva's gaze told me she knew exactly what was going on.

  "Where did he go?" I asked.

  No one answered.

  "Seriously, you guys. Where is he?"

  "Seattle." Lucian was the first to speak. "Didn't say why."

  "Where is Corin? Where is my sister?"

  "They left after...all that other stuff, and I haven't seen them since," Bax said. "Just so you know, I told him he was making a mistake, and that he was a dick."

  I sniffled a laugh. "Thanks, Bax."

  "Hey, what are brothers for, except to call people out on their bullshit?"

  I was emotionless, at the moment--the kind of numbness that happens when you're fresh off one full-blown sobfest and you're savaged all over again by something new: too much emotion, and not enough Aerie to deal with it. I stood staring at nothing, trying to come to grips with the fact that Canaan had run away from me.

  What the fuck?

  WHAT THE FUCK?

  I shook my head. "I can't deal with this." I moved past the couch, and everyone on it.

  "Where are you going, Aerie?" Eva asked.

  "To the bar. I'm going to sit in the family booth and get as wasted as I possibly can."

  "That's not going to bring him back," Eva said.

  I laughed, bitterly, angrily. "No shit. Nor will it constitute actually dealing with the emotions of it. That's the whole point. I cannot deal with this. It's too much. It's all too much."

  "I can go with you." Eva stood up, bending to kiss Baxter.

  "I don't want a babysitter. I'm serious. I'm planning on passing out in that booth."

  "Can I make a suggestion?" Baxter said.

  "What?"

  "Call the girls. When shit like this happens, you call the girls. That's what family is all about." He slid a pawn forward two spaces, and then glanced at me. "For real. They'll sit and drink with you, and get your mind off of my asshole brother."

  "I was thinking about doing exactly that, actually," I said. "Although I'm not sure I count as family."

  Baxter sat back as Lucian stared at the board. "You count. I've known you since you were in diapers. You were there when Mom died. My brother may be stuck in his own stupid head right now, but he'll come around. May take my foot up his ass to get him there, but he'll come around."

  "What if I don't want him to come around? If he's capable of this, of running away now? After what I just told him? Maybe that's my breaking point."

  Baxter shrugged and nodded. "Sure, and that's your call. Won't make you any less family, Aerie. Your sister is having my brother's baby. You'll always be family."

  My throat closed. "Goddamn you, Bax. Can't you just say something stupid and funny? I don't want to cry anymore."

  He scratched his chin. "This one time, in college, there was this new guy on the team, and he was a seriously arrogant dick. He thought he was god's gift not only to women, but also to fo
otball. So me and the rest of the O-line Saran-Wrapped him to his bed, gagged him with his own dirty sock, and then each of us took giant steaming shits all over his Saran-Wrapped chest. It was awful. He not only quit the team, but left the school. Transferred to...Notre Dame, maybe? We played his team once, and he was on the opposing offense. Let's just say it was open season on douchebag. We made sure his ass got tackled hard. Every play, somebody would nail him so hard they heard the impact in the nosebleeds."

  I snorted a laugh. "You...you pooped on him?"

  "Straight on him. On the plastic wrap, so it wasn't like it was on him, but it stunk. We'd all had White Castle, so it was...god, it was the most awful smell I've ever encountered."

  I couldn't help laughing. "Was he really that much of a dick?"

  He rolled his eyes. "And then some. First time the team all went out for drinks together, he hit on all the players' girlfriends. Every single one. Not just harmless flirting, but outright hit on them. Coach wouldn't tolerate open fighting on the team, so we had to get him somehow. Then, on the field, he acted like he was actual football Jesus. Like he knew everything. He didn't suck, but he wasn't as amazing as he seemed to think, and yet he treated the rest of us like fuckin' rookies. Pissed us the fuck off."

  "So the obvious answer is to defecate on him?" I asked, cackling.

  He shrugged. "Eh, it worked, didn't it? We couldn't beat him stupid in the locker room or we'd all get cut, so we had to get creative."

  I couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah, that's pretty creative," I said. "Awful, and cruel, and absolutely disgusting, but funny."

  "Better?" Bax asked.

  I nodded. "Better. Thanks."

  "No problem. Anytime you need comedy relief, hit me up. I'm full of shit like that. Zane has some funny stories from his days in the Navy, too."

  Lucian, apropos of nothing, spoke up. "I once got rolled by a prostitute."

  We all stared at him.

  "You...what?" Baxter twisted in place to face Lucian. "Bullshit."

  "For real. What you're going to call bullshit on is the fact that I didn't hire her for sex. You won't believe me, but it's true. I hired her because I was alone in Thailand, and I got hammered. I was worried about getting sick in my sleep and choking on my vomit, so when I passed this hooker on the street on the way to my room, I handed her a wad of cash and told her in my best Thai that I wanted her to go to my hotel with me and keep from puking on myself in my sleep, and that was it. I said I had more cash that I would give her in the morning. Well, I passed out, and when I woke up I was totally naked, all my clothes were gone, my wallet was gone, my cash was gone, everything. I was still alive, and there was a trash can full of puke, so she'd done her job, but she completely rolled me."

  We were all laughing.

  "So what'd you do?" Baxter asked.

  "Fortunately, I'm not an idiot. I never brought my passport with me, never carried anything in my wallet except enough cash for whatever I wanted to do. I never brought anything I wasn't prepared to have stolen, because I'd been mugged once and spent a month in South Africa waiting for a new passport. After that, I made sure I never brought anything ashore I couldn't lose." He chuckled quietly. "I did a walk of shame. The hotel was three blocks from the ship, so I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked back. I caught no end of shit. Especially because the moment I stepped foot on deck, someone snatched the towel. Embarrassing part was, it was a coed crew. And I'd been crushing on one of the girls."

  "Lucian, buddy, you gotta tell us more stories. I always got the impression you were just this side of perfect."

  Lucian shook his head, smiling. "I don't think so." He glanced at me. "My recommendation to you is to get Xavier to make you some food before you start drinking, or you'll pass out too soon and wake up hungover with too much daylight left."

  "You're younger than me, Lucian--how do you know this stuff?"

  He just shrugged. "The drinking age is lower in most other countries, and when everyone on the crew is drinking below deck on a transpacific haul, no one really stops to ask if you're twenty-one."

  "Oh."

  I made my way to the bar with Eva, and I was in luck, because Claire was already in the booth, laptop open in front of her, fingers flying on the keyboard, and Dru was on the other side, watching something on an iPad. When Eva and I showed up, there were greetings all around, a welcome for Eva from both women, and then we four sat down. I decided to head questions off before they started.

  "Canaan ran away," I said, as we settled in. "So I'm here to get wasted."

  Claire let out a sigh, and closed her laptop. "Well, that's work done for the day." She twisted in the booth, calling out to Brock, who was behind the bar putting clean pint glasses away. "Hey, babe? Can we get a bottle of Maker's Mark and four glasses?"

  I boggled at her. "Whiskey? I was thinking I'd start slow."

  Claire just shook her head. "Nope, when shit like this happens, sweetheart, you go hard and you go fast." She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. "XAVIER!"

  Xavier appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, whisking something in a bowl. "You bellowed?"

  "We need comfort food, honey. Can you hook us up?"

  Xavier's eyes went from Claire to Eva to Dru, to me, settling on me. "Canaan is being difficult, I assume?"

  I frowned. "How'd you know?"

  He shrugged. "Process of elimination. Claire and Brock are fine, Dru and Bast are fine, and I'm assuming Eva and Baxter are fine since they just returned from an extended vacation together. Leaving you as the only one who could possibly require comfort food." He glanced at Brock who had just dropped off a brand-new bottle of Makers and four rocks glasses. "And alcohol. Wow, Canaan really messed up, didn't he?"

  I sighed. "I opened up to him, and he bolted."

  "Well, we all struggle with intimacy and forming healthy relationships with females, due to the fact that our mother died when we were all young. I suspect Canaan also harbors some secret rejection that has left him even more unable to form attachments. His dedication to music is total, and I also believe it serves as a standin for a real relationship with anyone except the seven of us." Xavier then turned abruptly and went back into the kitchen, whisking faster than ever.

  We all just blinked at each other, and Brock even stopped halfway back to the service bar.

  "Wow, he, um...that was..." Brock shook his head. "He's not wrong."

  I massaged my temples. "We're not talking about this. I came here specifically to avoid talking about Canaan."

  Claire poured whiskey into all four glasses and lifted hers in preparation for a toast. "Here's to men: sometimes getting the right one to man up and love you like you deserve requires a little bit of heartbreak first, just so you can appreciate how amazing it is when you finally get it."

  I stared at her. "I'm not toasting to that."

  Eva leaned close, gesturing for us to all do likewise. "Here's to the Badd brothers, and the amazing things they can do in bed."

  Claire howled, Dru cackled, and I just bit my lip. "Now that I'll toast to!" I said.

  We clinked, and drank, and that was the beginning of a day I only have vague recollections of. I know there was a lot of food, courtesy of Xavier, and I know at some point we got so loud Brock and Zane had to escort us upstairs so we didn't bother the rest of the customers, and I know at one point Tate showed up while we were trading dirty stories about men who weren't our current men, and I ignored her because I wasn't having any of that shit, and eventually she left again. Which is understandable. She was sober, we were all colossally hammered, and she and I weren't in a good place. I remember laughing my ass off with the girls, and I remember Dru trying to get me to tell her what had happened, and I may or may not have lost my mind at her, screaming incoherently, sobbing, trying to slap her...all of which she handled with more aplomb than I would have in her situation. I think I passed out, after that, or blacked out. Not sure which--I don't remember anything else.

  Which, after a
ll, was the point: get so drunk I could forget about Canaan.

  I woke up and wished immediately that I hadn't. Even my pulse was too loud, and my stomach was a pit of boiling acid, and my mouth was so dry the Mojave seemed like an oasis in comparison, and my head hurt so bad I wanted to cry. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't.

  So I got up, stumbled out of the bed, somehow found a bathroom, peed, and drank water straight from the faucet until my stomach rebelled, sloshing, and then shuffled back to bed. Eva was in the bed. She was wearing a sweatshirt of Baxter's, and she had an actual eye mask covering her eyes.

  She must have heard me come in, because, without removing the eye mask, she pointed sloppily at the bedside table. "Tylenol. Vitamin Water Zero. Shot of whiskey. Orders from Bax."

  I realized I was, yet again, in Baxter's bedroom, although I have no memory of how I got here; last I knew, I was in the apartment over the bar, sobbing on the kitchen floor, drinking a beer all the girls had insisted I probably didn't need, but which I was adamant about drinking.

  I twisted the cap off the bottle of Vitamin Water, took the painkillers, and then slammed back the shot of whiskey and chased it with more water, and promptly passed back out again.

  Next time I woke up, I was feeling a little less like death warmed over, and the alarm clock on the bedside table told me it was two o'clock in the afternoon.

  After checking to make sure I wasn't naked--I was wearing a hoodie I recognized as Canaan's, and a pair of his gym shorts, and although the scent of him on the clothing stirred anger and hurt and confusion inside me, it also stirred emotions I didn't mind, which I also didn't dare examine too closely--I exited the bedroom, following my nose to coffee, bacon, and waffles.

  Claire was on the couch, laptop on her thighs, giant headphones on her ears, and Lucian was in the kitchen, creating the smells.

  He saw me first. "Ah, good. I hoped the food would bring you out." He poured me coffee and pointed at the kitchen table; I sat, gingerly, and sipped at the delicious black nectar of the gods, bringer of life, and infuser of all things that are good. "Hungover?"

  I put a finger to my lips. "Sssshhhh. Not so loud. The world hurts me right now."

  Lucian chuckled. "You knocked out about half that bottle by yourself, you know, and you're just a slender little thing."