Trouble (Orsen Brothers #1) (4 page)

She started to say something but was interrupted by a passing waitress, who stopped in front of our table to ask if we need a refill on our drinks.

“We're fine, thanks,” Nina answered, welcoming the distraction. “Actually could we get our bill?”

“Sure. Together or separate?”

She looked over at me and answered before I could. “Separate, please."

The waitress nodded and walked off and Nina turned her attention back to me. “When I didn’t hear from you I thought you might have been dead,” she said quietly, “I’m not sure what Liam would do without you…”

“I’m not sure what I would do without you.” She stumbled a bit on that last part and took a sip of her melting beer to regain her composure.

When the waitress reappeared, I insisted on paying the bill and Nina decided not to make a show of protesting too much. After, we lingered in the parking lot for a while with our backs pressed against my bike and I lit a smoke, offering one to her. She took it and smiled at me, lighting it with the end of mine.

“You know,” she spoke up after awhile, breaking our comfortable silence. “When I heard you were back in town I didn’t believe it. I thought about askin’ your daddy where you were staying but…”

“But?”

She shrugged and ashed her cigarette. “I couldn’t work up the courage, I guess.” She swallowed hard and rubbed her tongue over her lips, flicking her eyes up to meet mine.

I exhaled a deep breath. I never could control myself when she looked at me like that. Without a word, I reached forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, gently cupping her face in my hands.

“Anders,” she breathed. “I don’t know if we should do this…”

But I didn’t listen. I kissed her with everything I had in me and she relented, dropping her cigarette to the ground and locking her arms around my neck.

The rest was a blur.

I took her back to the cheap efficiency apartment I was staying at until I found a more permanent living situation and we scurried up the stairwell without talking, relying on each other and the off-white walls to help us keep our balance. I fumbled with my keys and swung open the door.

This place was bare bones compared to Liam’s lavish estate out in Shoreline, but she didn’t seem to mind. She kicked off her shoes and stood in the darkness a few feet away from me, her eyes dark and propositioning.

I shut the door and watched as she collapsed on the futon in the center of the room, lifting her feet onto the coffee table and knocking off empty beer cans and clawed open envelopes in the process.

I crawled on top of her and peeled off her work shirt as her lips found their way to my neck and a soft moan vibrated against her vocal cords. I pulled away from her breathlessly and we met eyes. I could never seem to look at her the way she looked at me, with that wide-eyed fascination that conveyed exactly what she was thinking in the moment.

I sat up and stumbled into the tiny kitchen, grabbing a bottle of champagne I had been saving for this very occasion, should it ever occur. It was Taittinger—the expensive kind she said she liked because it tasted like berries.

I poured two glasses of it and stood in the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the “apartment”, drumming my fingers against the counter as I kissed the rim of the glass and took a slow drink. It was smooth and sticky-sweet. “You’re perfect,” I told her, reaching for her glass and taking a step towards her, “I just thought I’d remind you.”

“You’re sweet,” she laughed, sitting up to take the glass from my hands and curling her smudged lips over the edge of it. “But I’m not. No one is.”

I shook my head and reached out to brush her bangs away from her face. “You are,” I insisted.

She ignored me and set down her glass, reaching behind her back. “I can’t get this damn clasp,” she whispered, leaning towards me, “Can you?”

I swallowed the knot in my throat and pulled on it, my fingertips brushing against her freckled flesh. She eased her arms out of the bra straps and exhaled a deep breath, swallowing back the last of the too-sweet liquid as our eyes locked, a clash of brown on blue.

I pulled her against me and kissed her. The champagne lingered on her lips and tongue. My hands found their way to her hips as she arched her body on top of mine. We fit together perfectly and I could feel myself beginning to throb against her inner thighs.

She rocked against me and pulled my shirt over my head, trailing her small hands expertly down my chest. I was hard as a rock now and she seemed to take pride in it, smiling slightly as she took me in her hands through the fabric of my pants. A soft murmur escaped from the corners of her mouth. “Anders,” she breathed, bending down to whisper in my ear. “I want to be with you.”

And that was all I had to hear…

Chapter 4

—

T
he bridge was empty when I arrived. But it was late. Everyone with any ounce of sanity was at home—safe within the confines of their beds. Not out frolicking around the forgotten part of Kitsap County.

I parked my bike under some oak trees and walked onto the unsteady platform, balancing my feet between the wooden planks as I dropped my smoke between them and watched the burning ember disappear into the dark current below.

It was hard to believe this place was bleeding with life once; but so much about this city had changed in the past decade. So much about
me
had changed. I was a ghost in human for; all the important parts about me, like this place, had dissolved a long time ago.

I rolled up my sleeves and examined the thick scars on my inner arms. Pulling a move like that in prison didn’t lend you any empathy; all you got was an extra set of eyes on you at all times and a month long stay in the infirmary. But it had felt right in the moment.

I walked closer to the edge and leaned against the termite-chewed wood. The corners of my eyes stung but I clenched my jaw and maintained my composure as I eased myself over the edge of the railing—holding onto it as I removed my jacket and set it down on the other side.

We used to do this all the time as kids—much to our parents disapproval. They always told us we would be sure to bite the dust if we fell the twenty or so feet into the rocky water below but we didn’t care. There was a lot we didn’t care about back then.

My past haunted me. It was like James Joyce had said in Ulysses, “history was a nightmare from which I was trying to awake.”

I laughed.

Nina would be impressed that I remembered that. I swung my legs against the concrete beams holding up the bridge as the wind picked up, blowing my hair around my face in torrents. I needed to get it cut soon. She never much liked it this long but that didn’t stop her from twirling it around her finger every chance she got.

I didn’t ever cry. Crying was for pussies and I sure as shit wasn’t one, but the familiar prickling sensation in the corners of my eyes was testing my reserves. I gripped the wood and leaned forward, looking back down at the lapping water. I was struck by the notion that if I fell—I would fall quickly—weighted down by the endless emptiness inside of me.

Liam would be left with the Bonneville and the rest of my material possessions. Nina’s parents would have the money I had saved up from my Veterans checks. And my body would find a new home somewhere deep in the Pacific.

But it wasn’t that easy was it?

With a deep sigh, I pressed my back against the railing and shook a cigarette free from my pack. I went to climb back over the railing but an intense gust of wind caused the platform to buckle and Nina’s voice—soft as honey—slipped through the breeze.

“Careful.”

T H E N

“I missed coming here,” she said as she bounced along the decaying bridge, her dark hair blowing around her neck, a half-smoked cigarette dangling between her fingers. “We always had fun didn’t we?”

I nodded. “We did.”

“Do you remember when Liam made that raft?” She leaned against the railing and flattened her hair away from her face. “That thing was so fucking fun.”

“I remember,” I said stepping onto the loose planks behind her, “I remember it almost killing you, that’s what I remember.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She sucked her lips. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Except it had been.

Nina laughed and stumbled along the bridge, nearly tripping and grabbing hold of the flaking railing to help regain her balance.

“Careful!” I called out to her. I looked at the scar behind her ear and swallowed hard.

I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before the town tore this thing down. It really wasn’t safe. But she liked coming here and I liked having a reason to be around her.

“Look!” she called out to me, amusement heavy in her tone as she skipped over the wide gaps in the planks. She knew it made me nervous as hell when she did that. I looked tentatively down at the water and swallowed hard.

Heights I could handle. It was the looming reminder that the impact of the water would kill her—kill me—that made me feel uneasy. But mortality never seemed to bother her.

“Oh don’t be such a worry wart,” she laughed, spinning on her feet.

I pointed at the current. “Do you see how fast the water is moving right now?”

“You worry too much,” she said, over enunciating the word ‘worry.’

I sighed and followed close behind her, wanting to grab her if she made a wrong step. She noticed the close proximity and stopped moving, turning around to look at me.

“I’ve heard stories about people killing themselves here. Have you?” The words coming out of her mouth contradicted the slight smile on her face.

I shrugged.

“I think it’s kind of beautiful,” she said, leaning against the railing. “Not the act, of course. But jumping right into your death. I don’t know…”

“You’re morbid.”

“Would you miss me?” She furrowed her brows, suddenly serious. “If I was dead?”

The fleetingness of the question made me feel uneasy.

“Are you kidding?”

“Would you?”

“Of course.” I reached for her hand. “Don’t ask questions like that.”

She cocked her head and looked out at the water. “Do you think Liam would?”

“No shit.”

She smiled coquettishly, her lips curling around the end of her cigarette. “Why are you so afraid of heights?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’m not.” I shrugged. “I’m more afraid of you.”

She snickered and bumped her hips against mine, her dark eyes glowing against the water. I loved her. Goddamn I loved her.

“Careful,” she whispered, twisting her fingers around her cigarette and stuffing the butt of it into her pocket. I never once saw her litter. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine and she shook her head. “Careful.”

I didn’t have to ask her what she meant.

Part 2

V E N U S

Chapter 5

—

I
had come to know hell as a mental health building on 5th and Broadway, nestled between a small coffee shop and a Korean owned Laundromat. And right then I was inside of it. Floor three, room two hundred and five. Seated in an eggshell white office across from the one person I detested most.

“I’ve told you a million times.” I pursued my lips at her and picked a piece of lint off my blouse. “It just isn’t working out between us.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “We’re too different.”

“Is that why he isn’t here?”

I sighed and glanced over at the empty chair beside me. “He had to work late. And I don’t think he likes the idea of this, talking to you about out marital problems. It’s awkward, isn’t it?”

“You’ve been drinking,” she observed, changing the subject and blowing on her espresso.

I rolled my eyes and sighed into my palm. “You don’t have to do that. It’s been over a half hour since I bought it. Just drink it already.”

“Yes, well…”
She waved a hand in the air derisively. “Never mind that. I burned my tongue this morning. You smell like sin and your eyes are puffed up the size of golf balls.  Coffee can’t disguise that can it? Have you been going to your meetings?”

“Every Wednesday night like clockwork…”

“Tonight, then?”

I squinted at the calendar hanging on the wall behind her chair. The page was pinned on March. It was August. “Is it hump day already?”

“Venus
…
”

“I’m kidding.” I sat up straighter. “Sheesh...”

“And I assume Stephen will be going with you?”

“What would make you think that?”

“Sorry?”

“That he would be going with me,” I clarified, “you know how his schedule is. Besides…therapy isn’t really his thing.”

“Isn’t really his thing?” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “It’s your mental health, darling, not a cocktail party he’d rather not attend…”

I pulled my cigarettes from my purse and shook one free from the pack. “I don’t know how many times I have to explain it to you,” I said, “we’re separated. He’s not obligated to go with me to things and I quite prefer it that he doesn’t.”

“Separated isn’t the same as divorced,” she noted, pointing her pen at me. “You should still be trying to make progress.”

“We’re making progress,” I lied, “we get together once a week. In fact, you’re right. I’ll be seeing him for dinner tonight.”

“After AA?”

“Right…” I pressed the end of the cigarette between my lips and lit it with a peeling lighter, taking a slow drag. I stopped going to those meetings months ago but the last thing I needed was her on my case anymore than she already was. “After. We’re going out for our anniversary.”

“Well, that’s
fantastic
.” Her entire face lit up like a jack-o-lantern. “It’s good to know I don’t have to abandon the hope of ever having grandchildren…”

“Oh, god.” I let out an audible snort and flicked a piece of ash off my blouse. “That’s a little crass don’t you think?”

“What?” she retorted, feigning offense. Her smile dissolved and she narrowed her eyes at me. “So I want at least one of my daughters to give me grandchildren one day, is that really such a crime?”

Unbelievable…

I shook my head in disbelief. She even found a way to make Luna’s early menopause about her.

“God, is that really all we are to you?” I questioned, my eyes darting briefly to a copy of her best selling book
—Venus Unearthed
—propped up on the shelf behind her. “Baby making machines? Hot topics for you to write about?”

“Venus
…
”

There she went. Saying my name in that way again.

“Please,” I interrupted, rubbing my temple. “Can you just not?”

“Honestly…” She sat up straighter and shook her head, running her fingers through her perfectly tousled hair as she pursued her lips. “Why do you always have to be so negative? Taking a more light hearted approach every now and then would only help you…”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I just think it’s something you should be thinking about sweetheart. You only have a small window of time to…”

“What part of
‘separated’
don’t you understand mother?”

“I know, I know.” She held up her hands and shook her head. “I’m not trying to upset you. It’s just, if I
don’t remind you of these things who will?”

Her tone couldn’t have sounded more condescending if she tried.

“You know,” I spoke up, “I didn’t realize I was here to be grilled about my reproductive health…”

“You’re not,” she said, sighing into her palm and keeping her eyes trained on me. “But Stephen wants children doesn’t he?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” I lied, clenching my jaw.

She nodded and uncapped her pen, pressing it against her notepad. “Since the separation?”

“No,”
I corrected. My mouth suddenly felt dry. I flicked my tongue over my lips and tore my gaze from hers, crossing my arms over my chest and slumping in my chair. “I mean…in general…”

T H E N

He slid into our room like a thief in the night, his drunken stupor clashing against the smell of cheap perfume. I remained perfectly frozen in bed but briefly fluttered my eyes open to get a look at him in the adjacent mirror. He was debouched out of his mind, stripping off his work suit and using the wall behind him to maintain his balance.

Times like this made me wonder why I was the one going to the meetings.

He collapsed onto the memory foam mattress beside me and I braced myself, keeping my back turned away from him as he leaned forward, his whiskey tinged breath warm and tickling against my neck as he skimmed his hands beneath the blankets and caressed my torso.

I stiffened beneath him. The artificialness of our façade chipped away at me with every passing moment. It was a terrible disease, the heaviness I got in my chest every time he laid a finger on me, which remained there longer after he relented. I began to think of him as a sort of poison, and if there was an antidote, I certainly wasn’t aware of its existence…

“Venus,” he whispered, his honeyed voice void of any and all repartees. He didn’t have an explanation to give me as to where he had been and I didn’t expect one from him. I had come to the conclusion a long time ago that he savored my jealousy, which was why I offered him none. These women were trashy nothings unworthy of any searing words I might have had to offer him.

We had been down this road before, long before it was ever paved. He made the money; my job was to look pretty and not ask any questions. It was pathetic, pitiful even, but it was what worked for us. At least that’s what I told myself when I married him.

It was like some sort of case study. The kind my mother always loved. What happens when you combine one screwed up girl from Poulsbo, the mayor’s son, and all the expensive chardonnay a person can get their hands on?

With a groan, he pressed his lips against my shoulder and I winced, glancing over at the clock. Morning would steal him away from me soon, as it always did. I probably wouldn’t even see him at breakfast. He would get up before me. He’d shower and scrub himself of her scent. He’d put drops in his bloodshot eyes. He’d put on a new suit, one void of any make-up smudges. And he’d leave me perfectly written instructions on what he wanted for dinner.

I half-wondered when he ever slept but the white, chalk-like substance dusted over his fingertips quickly gave way to an explanation. He didn’t. He was as flighty as a bird and I was silly to think I could ever cage him.

He began to pull at the silk fabric of my nightgown despite my whispered protests, molding my breasts in his heavy palms. I lived for this once—the way my body melded with his as we danced, or made love, or even just talked—but those days had long since passed. “Stephen,” I breathed, shoving his hands away. “Not now. I’m tired…”

He sighed and collapsed on his back. “You’re always tired,” he slurred, the words falling from his mouth with a drunken ease. “Why is that?”

I remained quiet and refused to grace him with an answer. How cliché, that he’d come to me for comfort after being turned loose by his latest screw up. It was almost laughable.

At breakfast the next morning, I stared down at my bowl of watered down oatmeal, catching a brief look at my reflection in the spoon. I looked like shit on a stiletto.

He sauntered into the room with an air of confidence and we met eyes. He should have been at work by now but I didn’t ask him why he wasn’t. He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down across from me, shaking his newspaper open without a word.

The silence wore away at me until I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Stephen,” I spoke up, setting down my glass of orange juice. “I need to tell you something. Something serious.”

“Serious?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. I sat up straighter and cleared my throat, forcing the words out. “I’m pregnant.”

His face gave way to no reaction. He pushed his reading glasses up on his nose and licked his fingers, slowly flipping the page.

“Well?” I urged, waving a hand at him, “aren’t you going to say something?”

“Yes,” he said with an unfazed shrug, “you could get rid of it.”

“What?” My voice cracked. “Get rid of it? I don’t know if I could—”

“You don’t know?” He looked up at me over the frames of his glasses and nodded. “Tell me then. Can you be a parent? A mother?”

The thinly veiled bewilderment in his tone made my blood run cold. I bit down on my bottom lip and studied my hands. “I don’t know,” I said firmly, ignoring the creeping terror that had taken shelter in my chest. “I hadn’t ever thought about it…we were always safe…”

“Yes, well, obviously not safe enough.”

“Accidents can happen, Stephen.”

“They can also be taken care of,” he bit back, his eyes burning against mine. “Sweetheart, just think about this for a second. You’re in recovery. I’m up for office soon. And what about school? What happened to wanting to get your Masters?”

God…

Did he have to sound so condescending?

“I still want to,” I said softly.

“Well how will you with a child?”

“Our child,” I corrected, putting emphasis on ‘our.’

“Yes well…” He waved a hand in the air and took another drink of his coffee. “It doesn’t have to be.”

A lump surfaced in my throat. “Why are you so against this?” I questioned, “am I stupid for thinking a small part of you would have been happy? Look, I know this might be inconvenient timing but…”

I reached for his hand but he pulled back and sat up straighter, flattening his tie. “It’s not just inconvenient. It’s completely impractical. It’s a mistake. One I won’t let you make.”

“You won’t let me?” I retorted. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the deciding factor here.”

“Venus…”

“No, don’t.” I jumped to my feet and knocked over my chair. He knew I hated when he said my name that way. It reminded me of my mother. “I get it. Lets just drop it, alright?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re not being rational. If you’d just think this over for a moment, you’d see that this is the best option.”

I shook my head and bit down on my bottom lip until I tasted iron. “It’s not for me,” I said, turning for the door. “But clearly it is for you.”

Chapter 6

—

“
Venus?”

My mothers voice jolted my forward. I sighed and sat up straighter, trailing my fingertips along the edge of her desk. My name always sounded like something toxic leaving her mouth.

“I was just thinking. I got distracted, that’s all.”

“About?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Sweetheart…” She smiled tightly and picked up the metal trashcan beside her desk, holding it out to me. “You know I appreciate your cooperation.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” I said, flicking my half-smoked cigarette inside of it on top of a pile of others stained with her choice red lipstick. She could be such a hypocrite. “It’s just a cigarette.”

“It’s a disgusting habit,” she corrected, waving her pen at me, “one I’m sure Stephen doesn’t appreciate.”

“Trust me, he couldn’t care less.”

She folded her hands together and cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me. “You’re better than this.”

It was her standard line but she still didn’t sound as though she believed it. I pulled my knees up against my chest. It wasn’t comfortable in the way it was when I was a kid but the strained look she got on her face whenever I sat that way made it worth it. “What makes you so sure that this
isn’t me at my best?” I asked her.

“I don’t know.” An elongated sigh left her mouth and she shook her head. “I’m only your mother.”