Born Into Trouble (Occupy Yourself Book 1) (25 page)

“No, why shouldn’t you have? You don’t owe me anything.”

“Not true.” Low and quiet, the words vibrated between them. “I owe you everything.” She still hadn’t called him by name, hadn’t called him anything at all, and that apparent slight stung in ways he hadn’t expected. Until the booze took over her life, she’d been quick with affectionate words, and he’d always been
my Benny
. “I don’t have any secrets anymore. Anything,” her voice broke, and he glanced over to see her looking out the window, “anything you need from me is yours.”

Pulling up in front of the diner, he sat for a moment staring through the windshield. She was offering honesty on a level he hadn’t expected, and what he thought he’d wanted now seemed frightening. Terrifying. “Do you think I’m weak?” Where in the hell had that come from? He glanced in the mirror, catching Mercedes’ steady gaze. “You know what I’ve done, right? I assumed you knew everything.”

“I know some. I still talk to Allen’s mom, and I follow your band online. There’s a riot on social media right now, rumors of new music on the boards.” A soft laugh teased his attention, but he wouldn’t let himself look, didn’t want to see whatever emotion provoked the amusement. “I’m an OY groupie.” This got his notice, and he whipped his head to find her studying him. She looked away in reaction as if their gazes held a way to repel the other’s.
Polar opposites
.

“Took me off guard,” he admitted. “You said ‘Allen’s mom’ and I immediately thought Ruby, not GeeMa.” The apple of her cheek curved up, and he knew she was smiling, even if he could only see the edge of her profile. “A groupie, huh?”

She nodded. “I came to one of your shows.” The knowledge startled him, and he wondered immediately what kind of shit he’d pulled while onstage. “You’re so talented.” Pride rang through her voice, which startled him even more. “I was blown away.”

“Good to know I can impress.” He pressed backwards in the seat, lifting his arms and gripping the headrest in both hands, twisting side-to-side. “Look, Susan, I don’t have an agenda. I don’t have a series of questions.” He hated the tension filling the car, wanting to cut through it quickly. “I’m looking for help wherever I can find it. I know what started me down this path, how far I sank and I think we’ve had similar experiences. I wanted to talk to you because it’s part of the process, reaching out to those I’ve wronged.” She made a noise but he refused to look, again not wanting to see what might be on her face.

“I trust my brother.” Benny swallowed, squeezing the headrest before releasing it and resting his hands back on the steering wheel. “He reconnected and, I know you didn’t see him before, but it healed something inside him. He went from…the emotions of before, to being good with having you back in his life. That’s huge. See, he’s very much a ‘fuck me once, fuck you’ kind of guy. At least, he was, but he let you back in.”

Thumbs drumming on the wheel, he hated he was fidgeting like a little kid. Talking like this, it felt like he was circling an important fact, and he tried to dial in on it. Wrapping his hands around the wheel, he clutched it tightly. “I love he got that from you. What he needed. Because you were out. O. U. T. But you got back in. This means, if I fuck up bad enough to be out, he might let me back in. And if he can do that, if he can be that strong while I’m weak, then maybe I can be that strong one day.”
Not quite there.

“I want to be strong enough that he knows he can call me when he needs me, doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t have to worry about what impact or effect it might have on me.”
Nearly
.

“Like this meeting today.” He gestured to the space between them. “He knew you were strong enough, didn’t have any worries about you not hacking it. Just me. I want to know how you got to where it’s real for him.”
There
.

“If we’re to have a chance at being a family again.”
Is that what I want?
“And one of us is at risk, the weak link, then the whole thing can come tumbling down. I don’t want to be the weak link.” He paused, then nodded, affirming to himself this was what he wanted. “I want to make his life better, not drag him down a road he’s spent far too much time traveling.”

Throughout this, she’d been quiet, but not silent. Every so often she’d given little, hushed hiccupping sobs, but quiet. The atmosphere in the car had grown thick, heavy, weighing him down as he talked, now nearly suffocating while he waited for her reaction.

Her voice quiet, she began slowly, seeming to hunt for the words. “I never expected him to be so forgiving. I did the both of you so wrong, so many times. I knew I’d never be able to fix it, or change it…but he reached out. I didn’t know then, but it was Ruby’s doing. He pulled up in front of my house, and I told myself I was ready, ready for anything.” Her laugh was full of pain, shards of it impaling him, causing a deep ache in his chest. “I never told him, but in the twelve hours between his call and him at the curb, I got in the car so many times I stopped counting. At first, I was trying to lie to myself. I’d only go to the grocery store. A quick run to make sure I had enough coffee and bread. What you don’t know is the liquor aisle is situated between those two in the store. Then I thought that lie, the
‘one’
lie, the one that has led to so many wrong decisions for me. Just
one
. I’d only have
one
. If I did buy anything, I’d only pour
one
drink. In and out of the car so many times. I got the shakes, threw up, felt like I was going to come out of my skin.”

She paused, and he filled the silence because he knew exactly what she was talking about. The internal dialogue that could start the slip. The physical reaction to being denied what was needed so badly. “What did you do? How’d you beat it back?”

“Called my sponsor. He came over and helped me sort through the emotions that were driving me. Steadied me until I could get a handle on myself. Until I could stand on my little porch and welcome my oldest child, who I had betrayed in a way no mother ever should, and invite him into my home. Sober. The first time he’d seen me sober since he was sixteen. More than half his life had passed without me in it. That’s what held me steady, what I told my sponsor. Knowing I’d missed out on too much, missed seeing him grow into the man he had become. Good, strong, loyal.” She drew a breath that fractured in a half-dozen places, each scoring through him with shared pain.

“Not untainted by my mistakes, but somehow stronger in spite of it all.” He twisted to look at her, seeing the tears flowing down her cheeks. “I kept telling myself I’d take whatever he needed to lay on me. My penance. I was ready for him to be angry, betrayed. Ready for him to take whatever pound of flesh he needed. Would have gladly taken a knife to myself, carved it out myself. Given him what he needed. Anything.”

“Not Andy,” Benny said, shaking his head, reaching out to thread his fingers through hers, pulling her hand away from the grip it still held on the purse in her lap. “He’s got enough forgiveness inside him for ten people.” The way she clutched at him was desperate, and he hated he’d made her feel that way. From what she’d told him about the visit with Andy, him calling her here would have laid her bare, opened her up to the same fears and terror, but still she came. Sober. “You were ready for the same thing today, weren’t you?”

Wordlessly she nodded, and he squeezed her fingers in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “It’s not that. I just…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to be sober. You seemed to have a lock on it at the wedding. I thought you could trade war stories with me, give me some of your mother’s wisdom.”

Sniffling, she laughed, lifting her other hand to wipe at her cheeks.

“No, I’m serious, Mom.” The name slipped out without him meaning to give it to her, but once it hit the air, projected between them from his lips, it felt perfectly right. He knew what to say next. “I’m still your Benny, and I need you.” Now his cheeks were the wet ones, and he felt the tears dripping off his jaw, soaking his shirt. “I need you.”

Sitting on the couch in Jase and DeeDee’s house, he marveled as his brother’s friends rallied around him. As in
him
, not Slate. They knew the history; that much was clear. What they didn’t know was how much of a trigger seeing his mother would be for him, and they were cautiously pleasant to her but pulled him close. One-armed hugs, pounding backslaps, tousled hair—they gave him the same affection they granted Chase, and seeing this, recognizing it for the first time, it warmed him. Sustained him in ways he didn’t know he needed, but aware of the bonds he’d built here over the past weeks and months, he suddenly got it. He understood what drove Slate to be anything these men needed him to be.

Staring down at the cup of coffee in his hand, he was still trying to come to grips with this knowledge when the cushions at his side depressed, and he looked to see Mason settling into the corner. Arm across the back cushion, the big man was turned sideways, leaned against the arm of the couch, one knee cocked, and ankle on his other leg. Mason looked like he was there for the duration, and Benny was surprised to find this no longer filled him with a twitching fear.

With a nod, he acknowledged the man, following it with a quiet greeting, “Mason.”

“Benny boy.” Mason gave him an easy grin then tipped his head towards the kitchen where Susan stood talking to various women from the club. Ruby stood close, and the two women each had a fast-growing baby in their arms, Susan cradling her namesake, Danielle Susan. Benny hadn’t learned the little girl’s middle name for weeks; another thing Slate felt he had to buffer him against, not knowing how he might react. “How’s it hangin’?”

He knew this wasn’t a casual question, not throwaway words meant to be polite and fill the time; Mason didn’t fuck around with things. If he asked it, he wanted a real answer, so Benny gave it to him. “Was a shit morning.” Susan smiled, reaching out to cup Ruby’s face and pull her in for a hug, the babies protesting as they were squeezed between the women, and he watched as they broke apart laughing, Ruby smiling at his mother. “A good day, though.”

“I reckon so.” Mason made a show of looking around. “No Lucia tonight?”

Benny smiled; that was another part of the day which had gone really well. “We stopped by Bear’s earlier, so I could introduce Mom to Luce. Seeing her is always the best part of my day, never fails.” Slate walked into view from the other side of the kitchen, stopping where he could slip an arm around each woman, tugging them into his sides and Benny watched their reactions, Ruby smiling up at him and their mom resting her head on his shoulder, her face relaxing. Benny thought they both looked like Slate had given them the world. “I don’t know who was more nervous, her or Mom. But by then Mom and I had the real talk behind us, knew what we were both hoping to get out of this, and knew we could deliver.”

“She needed to know if I could forgive her. And, until I heard her talking about Slate’s visit, I didn’t know I already had.” He smiled as he watched Slate jokingly complain as his arms were filled with babies, and then pulled fountains of infectious laughter from each child as he blew raspberries into their necks in turn. “I needed to know she didn’t hate what I’d become.”

“What you
did
.” Mason leaned in, put a hand on Benny’s knee and squeezed until Benny looked at him. “You’ve never been anything other than Slate’s brother. Susan’s son.” Thick fingers tightened, digging in. “My boy’s friend. All that blond hair, you’re a little lion man. Brave, fierce.
Loyal
.” Leaning back, Mason released him, settling back into place. “You aren’t what you’ve done, what you’ve lived through, Benny. You learn from that shit, pick your ass up and go forwards. You aren’t what you’ve done.” Abruptly changing topics, Mason asked him, “You know about Mica, up in Chicago?”

Benny knew the name and had heard stories about the woman the Rebels protected like they did DeeDee and Ruby, so he nodded. Mason said, “Couple years back, she got a tattoo.”

“Good for her?” Benny had no idea where this was going and knew his questioning tone revealed his confusion when Mason laughed.

“Yeah, except I had to sit beside her and watch her flinch as they dragged that needle up the skin of her side, blood and ink oozing out. She about passed out. Pain ain’t the point, boy. The tattoo is the important part. Hers says, without fear, there is no courage.” Leaning in, Mason got close, holding Benny’s gaze as he did so. “You’re afraid of failing your family, your band, and your friends. You are so afraid, it bleeds from you. Just eat up with that fear, boy.” The room was silent; the only noises were murmuring conversations from the kitchen, shouts of children’s laughter from outside. “Gotta let it go. Trust yourself to be what you need to be, so you can move past this. You can’t forget the past, no way to learn from it if you set it aside, but you have to let go the guilt and fear from your past decisions. Learn from the results, but give yourself a goddamned fucking chance.”

Scowling, the big man leaned in another intimidating inch, and Benny held himself still, trying not to react. “Without fear, there is no courage,” Mason repeated the words, then paused. “That’s what you hold onto. Mica’s ink. Courage. What you’ll find on the other side of that fear eating you up inside. That’s where you’ll find your courage, little lion boy. Find it, hold on to it…feed it. Two things inside you: fear and courage. Feed what you want to grow.”

He gestured around the room, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned their way. Benny knew Mason spoke for all of them when he said, “You are your brother’s favorite person. Slate was scarcely a man when he took on the role he was born to, his brother’s keeper. He’s lived his whole life in service to others, including me, but you are one of the people who make his world richer. Now, seeing you through his eyes, I know your worth in a way I didn’t before. You aren’t what you’ve done, what’s happened to you. You are what you became in spite of what life threw at you. In spite of stumbling and falling.” Mason grinned, and in his smile, Benny caught a glimpse of the man Chase would become. For the first time, he was glad down to the bottom of his soul that his life had brought him here to witness this. “Like your shadow says, it ain’t how many times you fall, Benny. It’s how many times you get back up.”

***

“Dude.” Chase laughed as he whirled, walking backwards up the sidewalk towards the house his dad had bought. “You don’t know, man, it could happen.” Slapping his hands together, Chase made a sound like an explosion. “Out of the blue, like that. Come on, she’s only here for a couple of days. I want you to meet my aunt.”

“Chill, little dude.” Benny was frustrated, but trying to not let his mood sour Chase’s excitement. He’d gotten off the phone with yet another label earlier today. Their music was going great; actually, better than great. The demo they’d cut was rock solid, four songs, all original, each uniquely different, showing their range of skill. With every practice, they found new ways to fit together professionally.

The only downside was on the management side of things. Benny knew in his gut they needed representation. He could handle setting up and organizing promo pieces, but getting them booked onto a tour took connections, and every one of his had splintered over the last year. People in the industry changed jobs as fast as they changed underwear, and keeping up with who knew who when you spent half a year in rehab? Nearly impossible.

So he’d spent the last month working angles to try to get their music in front of labels that would be willing to leverage names and connections, sweet-talking them into taking a chance on the Occupy Yourself brand.
Not that there’s much of a brand left
, he thought, watching as Chase continued to walk backwards, chatting with Luce like a magpie bird, endless noise with little substance. Chase was doing well, holding onto his newfound drive fearlessly, so Benny had put off the next call of the day. The boy was important to Benny and needed to know it, so when his aunt came to town, and the runt wanted Benny to meet her, he’d by God make time to meet her. He snorted,
By God? Thanks, GeeMa
.

His attention sharpened when he knew Chase had somehow gone wrong with his recitation of a story, watching as Luce glanced up at first Chase, then Benny, fear flashing across her face. He stared at her. Luce wore her feelings on the surface all the time. You could look at her and know what she was thinking, and after the time spent together, he knew these nerves weren’t normal. Chase kept moving, so Benny didn’t get a chance to ask what was up before they hit the door and were inside, Chase shouting the house down.

In the massive kitchen, Chase greeted his father and Benny gave a chin lift to Mason, watching the comfortable affection the man offered his friend.
Yeah, loves you more than you know
, he thought with a grin.

A petite brunette was walking into the room. Benny knew this feminine version of Mason had to be the aunt. Benny was still focused on Lucia but heard Chase laugh when the woman stopped walking to mutter something to Mason. Slipping an arm around Luce’s waist, Benny pulled her close to him, wanting to settle her from whatever the mood was that took her confidence. “My Aunt Bethy,” Chase introduced half of the equation, giving a wave. Bethy whispered something else to Mason, pointing at Benny and he wondered if he’d found a closet fan or a hater. Then she stuck her hand out, taking a step towards Benny.

“Mr. Jones, it’s a real pleasure to meet you. I’m Bethany Taylor-Mason, a talent scout for Iron Indian Records.”
Well, nice surprise
. He knew a little about Iron Indian; they were solid, mostly into rockabilly music, but they had recently signed a group similar to Occupy Yourself.
Hmmm
. Benny reached out and shook her hand, starting with a small smile, but allowing it to morph into his flashy, plastic grin when she gave him an impressed eye flare, letting him know he was right. Closet fan
and
a talent scout.
Time to work it a little bit.

“Ms. Taylor-Mason.” He tipped his head to one side, keeping the smile going, “Please call me Benny.” Shoving his elbow into Chase’s side, hard, he ragged Chase a little because he hadn’t been primed to meet a representative. If the kid was going to be in a band, in the business, he needed to know what connections to leverage. “Little dude, you lose points for not telling me your aunt is hot.” Luce gave his waist a squeeze and he grinned; she understood the schmooze routine.

“But I gain points because I remembered this.” Chase dug around in the bag Lucia had on her shoulder. “One demo CD, coming up.” Case in hand, he reached out and handed it to his aunt who first looked like she was about to have a heart attack, but then made a happy face at her nephew.
Definite fan
.

“I’ll have to determine if I can clear some time on my schedule to give it a listen, Mr. Mason.” Joking with Chase, she ruffled his hair before turning back to Benny, her gaze assessing. “Seriously, if you are looking for a label, I can guarantee you an audition.”

Interesting
. Tilting his head, Ben asked her, “How can you guarantee an audition if your label hasn’t listened to the demo.”

“Because I’m pretty sure ‘my label’ has already heard this in rehearsals.” She laughed and stuck her tongue out at Mason. “After all, your rhythm guitarist is living with him.” Benny skated a glance at Mason, then brought his attention back to Bethany.

Mason owns a record label
. Hope had his heart thudding in his chest. This could be everything.
Our luck is changing
, he thought, then his mind skittered, echoes of Ruby on the phone from New Mexico ricocheting past, then a memory of Luce’s hands stroking up his back as he heaved.
No
. His thought was sharp, like a knife’s edge coming down on a string, severing bad from good.
Good change this time.

Twisting, he looked at Chase.
All my work and we had a captive audience the whole time.
“You knew this.” It wasn’t a question. He could see in Chase’s face he had known, and it was fast dawning on him that not telling Benny was very, very bad. “I’ve been bustin’ my ass for weeks, trying to get our demo in front of the right people. You knew it, knew what I’ve been doing because I’ve bitched about it often enough.” Chase stood there, frozen in place, staring, his face fixed in an indecipherable expression. Blank, looking as if he were entirely ready for a reaction that would wound him deeply. Waiting to be told he was failing at something, and Benny knew that feeling in his bones.

Fuck, make this right. Don’t derail the progress the kid’s made
. “Probably a good call on your part, little dude.” Teasing might get them through this, but Chase still looked like he’d been kicked in the teeth. “If she’d gotten an earful of your playing a couple months ago?” He mimicked the explosion sound Chase had made earlier, watched as one corner of the boy’s mouth curled up. “Wouldn’t have been good.” A full smile testified to the success of his efforts.
Finally
.

***

With arms wrapped around Lucia’s torso, Benny held his controller to one side, trying to avoid her elbows as she became engrossed in the firefight they were working their way through onscreen. Hilarious body English helping her focus as she leaned side-to-side, twisting and grunting as her character moved. In his headset, he heard Chase say, “Delta sector is clear.”

Lucia responded to him, distraction bringing out her accent and a mix of Spanish and English, “
Bueno
, Chase, good.
Este pinche cabrón’s
gonna die here, too.
Un momento, por favor
.”