Unlike Any Other (Unexpected #1) (7 page)

2015

“What up, Princess?” JC breaks the silence. He could never stand quiet time while growing up.

He’d hold the clock and showed it to whoever was in charge of us several times until the hour had passed.

Instead of acknowledging him, I keep my gaze toward the ocean enjoying the scene and the feeling of having almost all my family under the same roof for the first chance in a long time.

“Did you go a little psycho-bitch on the new woman?”

“No.” I lightly shake my head as I wonder why I didn’t. That’s something I always thought I’d do if we ever had a stepmom, being Daddy’s little girl and all that. “Other than asking for him and trespassing while screaming his name like a child about to die, no. Did you MJ?”

“What, go bitch on her?” he chuckles. “No, I’d have to be an annoying sister to be able to pull that off.”

He grins and blows me a kiss.

Ugh, annoying brother.

“Maybe I spoke to her harsher than I should, but can you blame me? Not that long ago, we got the call saying, ‘Your father and I are calling it off.’ They’re splitting holidays now, what the hell? We’re twenty-four, too old to be dealing with immature parents, if you ask me.”

“Why didn’t they call me?” I ask, aware that I sound like a whiny child.

“My guess, because you screamed loud enough that everyone in Canada and Alaska could hear you, ‘I hate you. You two are dead to me,’” JC reminds me as he fakes a squeaky voice. “Your own fault, Princess.”

“Stop calling me that, you know I hate it.” I exhale and turn around finding his humorous eyes waiting for a better comeback.

I have nothing.

“Whatever you say, little sister,” he rolls his eyes. “Just don’t go all full-blown bitch on me.”

“I’m not your little sister,” I correct.

In fact, I was the first one to be born, but I won’t go back to that eternal discussion. They both gang up on me with the theory that the last is the first and the first is last and then I’m so confused, they win.

“And for your information, I’m not that bitch you swear I am.”

“Your ex said something different,” JC’s shoulders lift in a casual shrug. “While living with him you were somehow bipolar and while enraged, a huge bitch.”

“True story,” MJ confirms.

I scratch my ear and think about fighting the image they have of me, but I don’t.

Knowing that if we go that route, I won’t stick around and listen to Dad finish his tale of the most perfect love in the world. And now that I know there’s no baby involved, the plan to fix his marriage is in motion. I change the topic of conversation to a safer one… and one that’s maybe less painful.

“Back to splitting holidays,” I say. “Are they really doing that? There should be a way to spend them together… we are, after all, a family. Family stays together.”

“Says the one who left the house years ago,” MJ adds. “Your shit started it all, AJ. Not that what you said wasn’t true… but let me tell you; you opened Pandora’s Box. Tell you what, to make up with the consequences of their separation—” His hand becomes a spider that travels from his opposite arm to his ear. “Because of this new feeling that’s crawling inside my heart and making me an asshole with the entire human race, you get to host Thanksgiving and make them be in the same room.”

“No, MJ, I think she’s going to have dinner with Mr. Football Coach and family,” JC says with a terrible southern twang. “Aren’t you, Princess?”

“You two are just ganging up on me, aren’t you?” I take a deep breath. “Sure we can have Thanksgiving at my tiny studio.”

I don’t own a table big enough, we can eat on the couch, next to Constantine—my baby grand piano. That will be an unforgettable dinner, no way to keep the parents in different rooms unless one is inside the bathroom and the other outside.

“No, JC, I’m not having dinner with Mr. Scumbag and family. If you must know, his wife isn’t too crazy about me. You can now call me the southern mistress.”

“Nose goes,” MJ shouts, like when we were children and didn’t want to do a chore. “Arm, I’ll take the arm of Mr. Scumbag.”

“No go?” I’m confused as what he’s trying to say.

“It’s shotgun, Matthew James,” JC growls at him. “You can break his arm, I’ll break his pretty face and then we can pay someone to break his legs.”

“Now you’re hiring a hit man?” My brother’s imagination is blowing me away. They should stop writing music and should start writing Lifetime movies.

“It’s the least that guy deserves,” JC waves his hand as if telling me he got it. “He played my sister.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s like a tradition… remember your friend?” I drop my head and close my eyes momentarily, chiding myself for bringing him back to the table. “He had me as a side dish while he screwed the hot chick from that vampire show.”

My brothers gaze at each other and shake their heads. Great, they’re hiding something from me. Let’s not break family tradition, but suddenly they start laughing like college frat boys after drinking an entire keg of beer.

Weird.

When my father enters the room, my brothers compose themselves and he narrows his eyes at them, knowing they are up to no good. Then he turns his gaze to me. I shrug, indicating that I’m fine.

“Why is she still thinking Porter dated that vampire chick?” JC throws his hands up in resignation. “Someone might want to inform her about what happened, and who came up with the brilliant idea, Dad.” Then he looks at me. “And the parental units should be informed of the why.”

JC’s comment and the way he dragged out the last word makes me focus on my father whose skin color is turning a shade of red. My cheeks heat up while my heart accelerates with a bad case of nerves about telling Dad the truth and anger because there’s more to the story about those magazines. You don’t live with celebrities all your life and not know what that might mean.

One: that my pseudo boyfriend had been hiding the girlfriend for a long time and someone finally caught them.

Which is the one I believed—still believe.

Two: they both needed some free publicity, and it sounded like a perfect idea to have them start a relationship.

In showbiz, they might always be friends or enemies who pretend in front of the cameras to be the hottest couple. That’s number three.

Four: a hoax to…

“What is he talking about, Dad?” I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.

“We heard that you were ‘kind of getting close,’ Porter’s words.” He tilts his head and leans his body against the wall opposite of me. “I didn’t think he was the right guy for you, sweetie.”

Tell me about it,
I want to say.
Talking about a little too late.

“Kind of?” I squeak and blink my eyes rapidly as I try to assimilate what he said. It doesn’t sound like much, but ‘kind of’… we lived together for three years.

“We…” I growl nonsense.

“We know what’s best for you, AJ.” Dad rakes a hand through his hair. “Trust me on that one.”

If they had taken a little time to find out more about me. If they had paid more attention… they would’ve learned that… there was no use in telling him about the
if’s
when things had already happened.

“The magazine on top of the dining table of your house.” I stand up and walk toward the big windows hoping the big ocean swallows me as I learn my parents had a hand in those pictures. “It hit a nail inside my heart, Dad. Looking at that, it felt as if…”

…
everything we had had been a bunch of lies.
My already wounded heart wilted.

I turn around to face him.

“It doesn’t matter, you helped him construct those lies. The same lies I lived with while growing up with you,” my voice loses memento and strength. I don’t know what he believes I had with Porter, or he might think I had some juvenile crush on him. It doesn’t matter. I’m not about to tell him anything. “As I stared at those magazines, the pictures… Then you two—my own parents lashing out at my nonsense and…”

I lean on the desk before my knees give out, the hurt is overtaking my body and I have no idea how much longer I’ll be able to stay standing.

My limbs feel light, my head dizzy, and overall I am numb.

“I needed my parents,” I blurt out. “You have no idea how much I needed you that day and for so long after that night. That’s why I went to see you… All that stuff was sensitive, the tabloids and the hidden truth drove me insane. If I saw those things in the state I was in… he knew I was in a bad place. Why did he do it?”

A heavy sigh leaves my body and the pain in the center of it increases.

“Those pictures were there at your house.” I lift my gaze to Dad. “In fact, he was there too. That night I lost everything. Porter didn’t say a thing to you, he remained quiet. He let you think I was crazy. I was lost and hurt and… What’s wrong with you, with him?”

“What was he supposed to tell me, Ainsley Janine?” Dad raises his voice.

I shake my head because there’s no use in continuing. To tell him how much I… and then he—Porter—finished burying the remains of who I was months later.

That’s it, Porter must have been looking out for his career, to save himself and not lose my parents’ respect and love.

To think I still want to protect him… I’m such an idiot.

My brain is trying to work all this out as I only have a few drops of blood after my heart bled out.

“AJ?”

“Nothing, Dad, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.”

My brothers stare at me, then look back at Dad, and thankfully neither one says a word.

“I should be mad at you, for playing God with my own life.” I point to Dad. “For years we lived in the middle of nowhere with so many lies entwined together serving as our protective dome. In the end, you didn’t protect anyone, even your marriage broke. You two only ended up protecting your careers.”

Dad lowers his head, releases his arms, and shakes his head.

“I can’t believe it,” I tell Dad, taking a few steps towards him.

Enraged with my father and swimming in adrenaline, I find the strength to continue and confront him. My finger accuses him of the betrayal to his family as some light dawns on me.

“You chose your career too, didn’t you?” Fire ignites my voice and keeps my body steady. “That’s why you said earlier that love isn’t all. The perfect love, the three children, the home you built isn’t as important, is it? Was it mutual or did you get an ultimatum and chose to leave? That’s your pattern, Dad, choosing fame. Have you listened to your story?”

“I like what I do,” he responds. “That’s who I am, Ainse. I’m not even sixty, why should I retire?”

“Retiring?” I squawk. “Stopping that fake publicity doesn’t mean retirement. Come on, you have a production company. You can write, direct and produce your own shit, and do what you love without hurting the ones you love.”

Dad’s brows draw closer, his face tightens, and his blue eyes avoid contact with mine.

“You two are so alike.” I head to the door, not knowing where or how to deal with this for the moment. “Porter and you, Dad. Your priorities are screwed up when it comes to family, to the ones who love you. Our stories ended the same way—yours and mine. A selfish bastard decided that his career mattered the most.”

My tone becomes a flat line; I have no more energy for this, for him.

“In this case, that’ll be you.”

“AJ, don’t you dare talk to me like that,” he says. “I’m your father.”

“No, Gabriel, you’re anything but that at the moment. Where is the man who raised me?” Then I turn to my brothers. “Sorry, I tried, I really tried. You can keep being neutral, Switzerland or whatever. I can’t deal with them… maybe just him. I’m heading home to find out the other side of the story.”

JC surprises me by standing up and getting in Dad’s face.

“Is she right? Did you take off because you chose your career?”

Dad closes his eyes and slightly bows his head. We all take that as a yes, and the three of us form a united front marching out of the library.

2015

Ainsley isn’t screaming; her silent disappointment is worse than the scene she made three years ago.

“You are a couple of liars who care more about your fame than your own children!”
she screamed as she rushed out of the house.

Before I lose her for another three years or forever—along with her brothers, I follow behind.

“I thought you said you wanted the story?”

She stops but doesn’t turn around. Her two bodyguards do though. Their flaring nostrils and pinching expressions say everything I need to know.

They hate me.

“Please, AJ, you three are the only thing I have left.”

She pivots and stares at me for a long time, her green eyes darker than usual with a red shadow around them, a sign she’s angry.

“What would you do if I asked you to release a statement that you already have three grown children?”

I suck in deep breaths of air forcing myself to calm down because that’s… I no longer would be the most eligible bachelor.

The hot actor who has a girlfriend for a few months and continues his single life…

I’ve lived a big lie.

I’ve never actually dated those girls, only paid them with a few stocks and some fame of their own.

“At the end of the day, Dad,” AJ twists one of her long delicate fingers inside my bleeding wound. I grimace. “All those people who idolize you have no idea what makes you tick, what makes you laugh, and what makes you love.”

Almost the same words I heard a few months ago, and they have the same effect: pain, a tight squeeze of my heart as my stomach clenches.

“We, your family, love the real you, the human with defects.” Her watery eyes stare at me. “No amount of Photoshop and makeup will erase all those wrinkles, wrinkles we love. Your fans only care about the actor, not the person, not the guy I call, Dad.”

“If I had the opportunity to choose between my child and the fame,” she speaks up. “There’s no contest, your children matter the most, Gabriel. You don’t ever want to lose a child, that’s an unconceivable pain you never want to go through. Think about it.”

In other circumstances, I’d tell her that I’m Dad, not Gabriel. That we aren’t in public to address me by my first name, but a wave of pain takes hold of my chest, and my hand flies to my left side as I gasp for air. Air that doesn’t make it all the way through my lungs. Beads of sweat begin to form on my forehead, and my lungs scream for some air flow.

The pain in my chest intensifies; whatever or whoever is gripping it, is tightening it harder. Another tremendous wave of pain strikes, and my legs lose all the strength in them. My chest feels as if an entire brick wall hit me and keeps pressing it.

My head explodes as I lose the strength of my legs. My body crumples to the floor, and the thud it makes ripples through my entire body.

My head.

The images of my family, the family I don’t want to lose flashes through my mind.

Taking the three babies out of the hospital and heading home with our bundles of joy. Their first steps. How AJ would pull her brothers down trying to stand up. MJ crawling faster than we could walk behind him. JC banging the piano before he could talk.

I’m lightheaded, losing consciousness but I can still hear them.

“Call 9-1-1,” I hear one of the boys yell.

“Dad.” Ainse’s voice is the last sound I make out. “Please don’t leave me.”

The beeping sound of machines disturbs me from my slumber. There are monitors on my left side with cables snaking all around my arms and chest. Needles connect to a tube that goes to a plastic bag filled with liquid. After I’m done conducting an inventory of my body, I scan the room. I take in the white walls and my children at the foot of the bed staring at me.

“What happened?” my groggy voice asks.

“A full-blown panic attack,” JC responds. “They ran a few tests and your arteries are clogged. They want to run some more tests. Something about you being an old model and needing an oil change, some replacements parts. You know, the usual—at your age.”

Leave it to my child to give me a bunch of crap when they are nervous. AJ moves from the frontline and slides to the side of my bed, kisses my forehead, and then shakes her head.

“You scared the crap out of me—of us—Dad,” she sighs. “The doctor says that you must be under a lot of stress. They want to keep you overnight to make sure you don’t have a concussion. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell down. They’re going to ask you a bunch of questions and make sure you know where and who you are. You might as well continue with the story… a way to keep that brain of yours working.”

JC and MJ join her and also kiss my forehead before the three stare at me, looking like they did at bedtime when they were about six, hopeful for a good story before they went to sleep. My children, shit, and to think that for a moment I thought I had died and would never see my family again.

“Let me have a drink of water first,” I say. My throat feels full of feathers. After AJ hands me a cup of ice water and I take a few sips, I finally ask her, “Where was I?”

“Hmm, I think at the part where you were living at Christian’s home while searching for a new agent.”