Chapter Twenty-One

 

A thin sheen of sweat covered Luke during his afternoon jog around the Patuxent Park trail. Even in early September, breathing this region’s humidity was like sucking air through a wet sheet.

He’d been stupid with Brooke. His distraction at work was his fault, not hers. That night, he’d tried to reach her to apologize, but she hadn’t replied to his message. He’d hash things out with her at the baptism on Sunday if he had to, but it would be best if he could grovel a little before then.

A call came through on his phone, interrupting Carmina Burana.

Brooke? He slowed and slipped his phone from the case strapped to his biceps. As the phone pulsed in his hands, his hope nosedived into apprehension.

CJ.

Calls from CJ were rare. He was more of a texter. Did this mean Brooke told CJ about them? On one hand, it’d be a relief to stop sneaking around. On the other, it might cost him his best friend. No time like now to find out. Luke steeled his spine and accepted the call.

“You in town yet, you bastard?”

“Got in an hour ago,” CJ said. “My parents are picking up a half bushel of steamed crabs and a case of beer. We’re all here—Helena, Maria, my parents, and Brooke. You’re the only one missing.”

What’s the dude equivalent to a mother hen? Father rooster? Whatever you called it, that’s what CJ was. It’d be bliss to drive to the Burases’ house, crack into a beer and a crustacean, and shoot the breeze with his buddy. Except Brooke had explicitly asked him not to be there. He wiped his face.

What a fucking mess he’d made.

“Can’t. I’m on swing shift, and I’ve gotta be at the Fort in an hour.”

The excuse had the benefit of being true. He’d volunteered to cover for another analyst with a sick toddler and a deployed husband.

“Bummer,” CJ said. “Hey, speaking of work, I have news on my next assignment.”

Luke veered up the path toward his apartment building. “Yeah? Where are you headed?”

“Either MacDill or Andrews.”

“Florida or Maryland? That’s awesome. Do your parents know?”

“Nah, I don’t want to get their hopes up. No matter what, we’ll be closer. But my mom’ll be crushed if we don’t end up at Andrews since it’s only an hour from here.”

“Is that your first choice?” He entered his apartment and stumbled toward the kitchen. He needed water, full blast from the faucet, and a healthy chug to slake his thirst.

“Absolutely. We want to be close to family if we can swing it. Especially if I get deployed. My Air Force buddies and their spouses are great, but there’s no one you can count on like family. My parents and Brooke’ll be excited that we’ll all be in the same place.”

Unless Brooke started travelling internationally. Luke’s stomach churned. Between Brooke and CJ, he had way too much insider information.

“Luke, you there?”

“Sorry, did you say something?”

“Just that I’m hoping to get the final word on my PCS while we’re here visiting. I’d love to see my mom’s face if we land in Maryland.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed for you,” Luke said.

“Thanks, man. Hey, bonus—if I’m here, I won’t lean on you to check up on Brooke. I hope she hasn’t been too much of a pain in the ass.”

Pain in the ass? He couldn’t let that go. “Brooke’s great. She’s not the kid you think she is.”

Dead air for one, two, three seconds.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” CJ asked.

“Just…” Luke tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. In for a penny, in for a fucking pound. “She has her shit together, man. She’s got a great career and a nice group of friends. Have you met them? They watch out for each other like Band of Brothers.”

“Yes, I’ve met them. They’ve got their heads in the clouds like her, chasing after what… Art? Theater? The one doesn’t work and sponges off her parents.”

“You mean Grier?” Luke shook his head. “She started a photography business. Zara’s prepping for her second gallery show, and Melinda’s getting ready to start a new play.”

More silence, until CJ laughed. “I know I asked you to check up on her, but you didn’t have to conduct a background investigation on her little friends.”

Little friends? These women worked themselves to the point of exhaustion, and he refused to be complicit in diminishing them. “Way to be a dick, CJ.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“You’re acting like your sister’s thirteen and a Babysitter’s Club member. I’m saying she’s not. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that, huh?” CJ sighed. “Helena had this crazy idea you might have a thing for Brooke.”

Damn, nothing got past Helena. Doctors are trained to sniff for truth as much as any analyst.

Before he could respond, CJ continued, “’Cause I’d have a problem with that, Casanova. You’re a good guy in most ways, but no offense, romance isn’t one of them. My sister deserves someone who’ll put her first and won’t dump her in two weeks. You haven’t made a move on her, have you?”

He’d told Brooke he’d be honest when asked a direct question, but he couldn’t do it.

“No, we’re just friends.” The lie hurt.

“Thought so. I can’t wait to tell Helena she’s wrong,” CJ said. “You sure you can’t make it over? A brewery popped up in my parents’ neighborhood. Helena’s nursing, and she gave me a pass to check it out on my own.”

“Why don’t you go with your sister?”

Maybe then these siblings would actually talk.

“Huh, good idea. Might be nice to catch up with her,” CJ said. “But call me if your schedule frees up. I want to get your take on the Namor movie casting.”

“Will do. Catch you later.”

Luke hung up and tossed his phone on the counter. Dodging CJ didn’t sit well with him. For the first time in his adult life, he was having trouble keeping secrets.

~ * ~

In Brooke’s opinion, tonight’s dinner conversation was the most excruciating in recent memory. As she held her baby niece, she pretended her life hadn’t slipped out of control. Half her tailspin was not talking to Luke, and the other half was work.

Or rather, the place she’d wanted to work, but had turned her down.

Her masochistic streak wouldn’t allow her to delete the voice mail. The first time she’d listened to it she’d been shocked. After the twenty-fifth time she’d played it back, the words had worn a deep groove into her heart.

“Hello, Ms. Buras, this is Esteban Garcia from the Chesapeake Symphony Orchestra. Thank you for your time and artistry these last two days—you’re an extraordinary musician. The competition was fierce, and as much as we were enthralled by your talent, we’ve ultimately chosen to go in a different direction. Again, thank you for your time, and we wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

Click.

She’d wanted to run to Luke, which only doubled her despair. Instead, she’d turned to Melinda. Together they’d drowned their sorrows in whatever salty, sweet, and boozy items they could find at the townhouse. This next day’s rise-and-shine had hurt, but she’d dragged her ass to her violin to play through the disappointment.

Maybe this was it for her. Living within five miles of where she was born, while everyone left for fabulous careers and storybook romances.

“Earth to Brookie.” CJ waved his seasoning-covered hands.

“Sorry, I tuned out when you told Helena the story about me paying my taxes late when I was eighteen. Why, again, did you share that?”

Mom waved a crab claw at her. “Don’t be so sensitive. It’s funny.”

Maybe the first thousand times they’d told it.

Maria snuffled and stretched in her arms. She should be like Maria. Unbothered, her only ambitions food, sleep, and clean pants.

CJ unraveled paper towel sheets and scraped his hands clean. “I asked if you want to go to the brewery?”

The last time her brother invited her to do anything, he was sixteen and she was eleven. In theory, he was treating her to a night at the church carnival, but he’d ditched her to secretly meet up with his then-girlfriend.

“You want me to go with you? Why?”

CJ grinned. “’Cause it’ll be fun.”

“Why don’t all three of you go?” Mom asked. “I’ll watch Maria.”

Helena stretched. “Thank you, but I prefer to stay home. Not much for me at a brewery, but if you don’t mind, I’d love to go to bed early? There’s plenty of breast milk in the fridge.”

“Sure, hon.” Mom rose from the table and wrapped shells and crab guts in the thick brown butcher paper covering the patio table.

“Can I do anything for you before I go?” CJ asked Helena.

“No, I’m good.” Helena accepted his kiss, then shooed him away. “Have a good time.”

Annoying as her brother could be, he was adorable with Helena. Their marriage was a blend of friendship and family bond, and Brooke was here for it.

“Thanks, babe. Ready, Brookie?”

“Yep.” She handed Maria to Helena.

During the ten-minute walk, CJ marveled at the neighborhood’s improvements since he’d left twelve years ago. Older neighbors sold their homes to folks with disposable income who cleaned up the yards, fixed the sagging porches, and mended the broken fences.

She followed him up the brick path leading to the brewery’s tap room. CJ tugged open the heavy door and let her pass. After holding their IDs up for inspection and receiving their wrist bands, Brooke and her brother entered the cavernous space.

“Baltimore’s changed since I left.” He swiveled his gaze around the tap room. “It’s nice to see people moving to the city, instead of running away to the suburbs.”

“Agreed,” she said.

They parked themselves at them empty end of a table. A waiter with sculpted facial hair and inked forearms approached with tumblers and a carafe of water. “Hi there. Is this your first time with us?”

“Yes,” CJ said.

“No.” Brooke shook her head.

“I thought I’ve seen you in here before.” Mr. Waiter beamed at Brooke. “Welcome back. Need any recommendations?”

“No, we’re ready to order.” She scanned the list of draft beers chalked on the placard behind the bar. “Double Duckpin for me, and for my brother…what do you like? IPAs? Lagers?”

“All of it,” he said. “I’m not picky.”

“He’ll have a flight of…” she tapped her chin. “Duckpin, Anthem, Royal Farmhouse, and Pink Flamingo.”

“All great choices. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As the waiter left, CJ raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked.

“That guy was hitting on you.”

“Was he?” She leaned over to check out the waiter. His whole vibe was the type she’d have scooped up before this summer. Now, he wasn’t doing a goddamn thing for her.

“What’s a Pink Flamingo?” CJ asked.

“A delicious beer named after the John Waters film.”

“Who’s that?”

She sighed and drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s like you’re not even from Baltimore.”

“Newsflash—I’ve haven’t lived here since I was a kid. After six cities and three countries in twelve years, I’m from every-fucking-where.”

“Nice try. You can take the boy out of Baltimore, but you can’t take Baltimore out of the boy, hon. I bet you have Old Bay in your spice cabinet. Ooh, speaking of which, if you get hungry again the kitchen here has amazing Old Bay deviled eggs.”

“How often do you come here?”

She lifted a shoulder. “How often do Mom and Dad invite me over for dinner?”

Concern etched his forehead. “That’s a lot of booze.”

“CJ, I’m kidding. I don’t hit the taproom every time. Only when they’re super-irritating.”

“You let them get under your skin too much.”

“Says the man who joined the Air Force and flew far, far away.”

He leaned back and smirked. “You think I enlisted because of Mom and Dad? Don’t be silly.”

“Silly?” She flashed her palms. “It was the perfect way to leave without an enormous guilt-trip.”

“Double Duckpin for the lady.” The waiter set a pint glass in front of Brooke and a paddle board with four different small glasses in front of CJ. “And a flight for the gentleman. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope, we’re good,” she said. After the waiter left to check on another table, she raised her glass. “A toast to the beautiful little family you’ve started.”

“I’ll drink to that.” CJ raised the Pink Flamingo, they clinked, and he chugged. “Huh. Tastes like summer. Citrusy and ginger and shit.”

“You should write reviews.” The pint glass was cool in her grasp. “Can we circle back to the Air Force thing?”

“The reason I joined? Did I never tell you this?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I wasn’t running away so much as running toward something meaningful.” He rubbed his hand over his buzz cut. “At the time, I was in full-on asshole teenager mode. Angry, sneaking out, slamming doors.”

“I remember. Didn’t Dad take your door off the hinges once?”

“Yeah. Said I’d lost the privilege since I didn’t know how to treat doors properly.” CJ chuckled. “I hope I’m half as good a dad as he is. Anyway, I was on the road to becoming a major fuck-up.”

“Like how?” She drank and wiped the foam from her lip.

“Drinking underage, daredevil stunts, shoplifting. Shit like that. Hell, the crew I ran around with in high school is a mess. Some of us turned out okay, but the rest… Jail, struggling to stay off drugs, and a couple died. I’m thirty. My high school friends shouldn’t be six feet under.”

She covered her mouth. “Who?”

“Joey and Sean.” He sampled the next beer in the flight. “That’s tasty, too. Where was I?”

“On the road to becoming a fuck-up.”

“Right. There I am, a petty crime asshole, about to graduate high school with a dim future. My dreams weren’t even big. I wanted a steady skilled job like Dad had. Something to support a wife and kids. But with the unions letting in fewer apprentices, I figured I’d end up in a dead-end job.” He shrugged. “So, I joined the Air Force.”

He was the same big brother who’d watched Superman with her, cheering on the flying hero, who’d fought to protect truth, justice, and the American way. Of course he joined the Air Force.

“Oh.”

“All you have to say is oh?”

She laughed. “I’m a musician, not a poet. Why the military, though? Why not college?”

“I didn’t have the grades for scholarships, and Mom and Dad couldn’t afford full tuition.”

“Because they were paying for me to go to the Conservatory and Mom couldn’t work full-time because of my schedule.” She covered her mouth. “Oh God, Ceej, I never put that together before.”

He waved her off. “It’s all good. No grudges. You were devoted to violin, and I was cutting class to take naps. Pretty obvious who the better return on investment was. In the end, I’ve got everything I wanted. Career, education, purpose, wife, family. I’m a lucky guy.”

Brooke’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Sometimes I forget what a total teddy bear you are.”

“Don’t let my secret get around.” He grinned and swigged the third beer in his flight. “Enough about me. What’s new with you?”

Nothing she’d tell him about, that was for damn sure.

“Same old same old.” She sipped her beer.

“C’mon, Brookie. I’m not the smartest guy in the room, but I’m not stupid. You dodged all Mom’s questions tonight, especially when she asked about the symphony. What’s up?”

Leave it to CJ to pick up on her discontent.

“Work’s fine. The Charm City Orchestra is fine.”

Her brother narrowed his eyes.

And waited.

Despite the noisy taproom, silence thundered between them.

“But?” he prompted.

“But I don’t want to be there anymore, okay?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “That’s why I’m bummed. I auditioned for the Chesapeake Symphony Orchestra in DC, and I got to the final round of auditions, but they didn’t pick me.”

“Assholes.”

She laughed. “Thanks for your support.”

He polished off his third beer. “Where are you auditioning next?”

“I hadn’t—wait, you’re not shocked I was planning to move to Washington?”

“Fuck no. Separation would be good for you and Mom and Dad. Why haven’t you told them you’re looking for a new job?”

“I don’t want to deal with the wailing.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake. Let them wail.” CJ picked up the final beer in the flight. “A perk of being an adult—a real adult, not a technical adult—”

“Hang on.” She held up a hand. “What’s the difference?”

“A technical adult is eighteen or older and can vote, join the military, get married, and ruin their lungs with cigarettes. A real adult pays their bills, has a time horizon that’s more than five fucking minutes from now, and has a sense of personal accountability and communal responsibility. A real adult makes tough choices and owns up to mistakes, and their back-up plan doesn’t completely depend on other people.”

“Whew. Nice Ted Talk.”

CJ snorted. “Lots of technical adults think they’re real adults, and it grates like sand in my ass crack. Like they aged into respect instead of earning it by doing the shit they’re supposed to do, but you’re not like that. Mom and Dad don’t pay your bills, right?”

“Euch. God, no. They try, but I got off their accounts when Mom lectured me on my cell data usage.” She circled her middle finger around the lip of her glass. “It’s hard because they did shitloads for me when I was younger. Driving me around, stopping my chin rest from chafing, scheduling my lessons and auditions and performances, paying for the conservatory. It’s like I was Mom’s main job. When I grew up, her career went away, but she won’t retire.”

“Tell them.” He slapped the table to punctuate each word. “Tell them you’re planning to audition for different symphonies every-fucking-where and then deal with the fallout.”

“They won’t like it.”

“Their opinion matters, but you’re the only person who’ll be with you for your whole life. You’ve gotta do what’s right for you, or you’ll end up with a shit ton of regret.”

He wasn’t wrong, but the likely confrontation with her parents made her want to climb under a blanket and take a nap.

“It’s not that easy,” she said. “Mom fell apart after you left. She didn’t crack a smile for six months. When I got accepted into the high school program at the conservatory, she perked up, and it got better from then on. I don’t want to do that to her again.”

“Apples and oranges. She was worried I’d get killed in combat. Still is. Big difference. And anyway, it’s not your job to manage their feelings. I promise it’ll be fine. Like with me. I joined the military, knocked a woman up out of wedlock, and got married outside the Church. Guess what?”

“What?”

“They’re throwing a big-ass party for us on Sunday.”

Her cocktail napkin bounced off his chest. “Because you’re their favorite.”

“The fuck I am, violin prodigy. Don’t let Mom and Dad hold you back. Go away, do your thing, and come back to visit. They’ll throw you a party, too.”

“The prodigy and the prodigal.” She pursed her lips.

“Want me to tell them for you?”

Real adults owned their shit. They didn’t offload it to big brothers.

“No,” she sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” CJ drained the pale golden beer. “Let’s go. For the record, hanging with you was nice.”

“I’m writing that in my journal.”

“Nerd.” He slipped cash into the bill folio. “Still would’ve been nice if Luke could’ve joined us. You guys have been hanging out, I take it?”

She narrowed her eyes. Did he know something? Her brother was as subtle as fireworks, though. If Luke confessed to him, CJ couldn’t have hidden it.

“Here and there,” she said. “We went to lunch that one time.”

She would not blush she would not blush…

“When you reamed me out.” He rose and stretched. “Those beers hit the spot. Wish we could do another round, but I better get back. Mom’s got baptism questions. Like, do I want roses or crucifixes on the cake? Or both?”

“Mind if I don’t go back with you?”

“Nah, escape while you can.”

Her brother hugged her goodbye and she requested a Lyft. As flat as she’d been during dinner, the chat with CJ had pumped her up. She wasn’t ready to deal with Luke yet, but she’d spend tonight scouring violin vacancies in other cities.