7. Aubrey
Chapter 7
Aubrey
D inner is underway and going pretty well, surprisingly. For the past half hour or so, my parents, Caleb, and I have been eating together at the small table adjacent to the living room. Raine’s not here anymore. She started the meal with us, but she’s now lying on the carpet nearby, working on a new page in her coloring book.
Dad has dominated most of the dinner conversation thus far, by asking Caleb endless questions: about Red Card Riot, the art of drumming, the music industry in general. I’m grateful for Dad’s chattiness, since it’s given me the chance to stare at Caleb and assess him. Can I trust this man? What’s his real end game here?
Once again, my eyes rake over Caleb’s tattooed forearm as he lifts his fork to his mouth. And as he chews, my gaze remains, once again, fixated on the movement of his lips. Those are some damned fine lips, especially when framed by that beard. It’s a weird thought, since I don’t normally like beards. It’s a thought that makes me remind myself, yet again, that the physical attraction I’m feeling for this man isn’t something I could ever pursue. Obviously.
When Claudia told me about her shocking encounter with C-Bomb after his show in Seattle, she lamented that she never got to kiss those lips. Apparently, C-Bomb fucked her from behind while gripping her hips with those two, big, tattooed hands right there; and he did it without ever kissing Claudia or looking into her eyes. Claudia said the sex itself was super-hot. It was the hottest, most animalistic sex imaginable , she told me. Ten out of ten . But even so, she admitted she still felt a touch disappointed she didn’t get to taste the lips she’d been fantasizing about kissing since middle school.
Frankly, I’ve never understood Claudia’s fixation on C-Bomb. Truly, never.
But I get it now.
I still despise the man for the way he’s neglected Raine. Also, because he never asked for Claudia’s phone number after their encounter, which deeply disappointed her. But now that I’m seeing the guy in person, I can’t deny I finally get his worldwide appeal. At the very least, I can understand why hate sex is a thing. In a flash, I see Caleb gripping my hips from behind and having animalistic sex with me, while I shout epithets at him and swear I hate his guts for never once coming to meet Raine.
Dad laughs at something Caleb says, jerking me from my mortifyingly horrendous thoughts, and Mom and I exchange a withering look about his happy guffaw. We’d both normally be happy for Dad to get to meet the drummer from one of his favorite bands; but in this moment, we’re both far too wary about Caleb’s intentions to feel anything but unsettled and cautious. If Caleb gets custody of Raine, will he keep his word and always give us full access to her, or will he eventually ice us out, once we’re no longer useful to him?
In the kitchen earlier, when I rapidly explained Caleb’s unexpected presence in our house, I expected both my parents to express the same unadulterated indignance I felt. But even though both seemed highly protective of Raine, and even though they both expressed the need for us to always keep a skeptical, watchful eye on Caleb, they both also expressed deep joy about Raine finally getting to meet her daddy. My father, especially, was willing to help Caleb get to know Raine, for her own good, far more so than Mom and me.
“Would you forget he’s C-Bomb from Red Card Riot for a minute,” I whisper-shouted angrily at Dad in the kitchen earlier. “And focus on the fact that he’s an absentee father who’s shown up, out of the blue, to take our baby girl away from us?”
“Then why agree to stay in Prairie Springs for a month, if his only goal is to take her away?” Dad countered. “Look, honey, a child needs her father. Yes, C-Bomb’s made mistakes in the past, but he’s come to correct them. That’s a good thing. So, I vote we try to help him do that.”
When I grumbled, Mom said, “Even if we don’t trust him completely, the fact remains there’s no way we can defeat Ralph Beaumont on our own. So, what choice do we have but to align ourselves with Caleb, at least, at first? Your dad is right. We can pull a whammy on Caleb in court, if it comes to that. But for now, let’s help him with Raine, and get on his good side, so he’ll keep his promise and keep us in her life.”
“How’d you two meet?” Caleb asks my parents, drawing me back to the dinner table.
“I grew up in Prairie Springs,” Mom replies. “And Joe grew up two towns over. He played football for the rival team?—”
“Go Red Devils,” Dad interjects.
“And I was the head cheerleader for mine. Go Spartans.” She giggles. “It was quite the scandal, actually.”
“Barb was forbidden fruit,” Dad says with a wink at Mom. “Irresistible.”
Caleb glances at me. “Forbidden is the best kind of fruit, if you ask me.”
I look away, blushing. I’m sure it was a coincidence Caleb looked directly at me when he said that, but my body reacted like he’d just used a Taser on me, just the same.
“After thirty years together,” Mom says, “I think everyone in Prairie Springs has finally forgiven my traitorous betrayal. The people in Joe’s town? Not so much.”
Dad laughs. “They’ve more than forgiven you, Barb, or else they wouldn’t have put you in charge of the summer festival for the past ten years.”
Caleb asks what that means, and Dad proudly launches into explaining that for the past decade, my mother has been in charge of the elite committee that meticulously plans our town’s biggest, annual fundraiser/community event: our beloved summer festival.
“That’s impressive, Mrs. Capshaw,” Caleb says.
Mom bats at the air. “It’s really not. I’m the only one willing to do it, basically. And, please, call me Barbara or Barb.”
“And call me Joe,” Dad chimes in.
Caleb asks the timing of this year’s festival, and Mom tells him the date: a Saturday that’s about two months away in mid-August.
“Every year,” Mom says, “the festival raises money for the school and some other local causes. And do you know what the committee did behind my back this year? They added Joe to the list of recipients because of his broken leg! I told them, no, no, we’ll manage. But wasn’t it sweet of them to want to do that for us?”
I shift in my seat, feeling annoyed with Mom for rejecting the committee’s generous offer to help us out this year. Dad’s surgery was expensive, even with insurance; and Dad’s going to be out of work for at least four months. Probably longer. And now, we might have to scrape together money for a lawyer, too? As hard as it might be for my proud parents to accept, we really could have used that donation, however small it might have been.
Caleb’s forehead creases. “If you need money, I’ve got a lot of it.”
“No, no,” Mom says quickly, blushing a deep crimson. “Joe will be back to work in no time, and I’ve got my job to pay the bills in the meantime.”
It’s total bullshit. Mom’s job will cover only a fraction of our living expenses, and she knows it. And it won’t make a dent in Dad’s medical expenses.
I address Caleb, eager to change the subject. “We’d love a donation from you for this year’s live auction. It’s always the biggest moneymaker of the entire festival.”
“Oh. Yeah, sure, I can do that. You mean, like, signed band memorabilia and merch?”
“Exactly. That’d bring in a pretty penny, I’m sure.”
Caleb looks at Mom. “When do you need it by?”
“A week or so before the festival would be great. That’ll give me enough time to post the list and finalize the auction programs.”
“Plenty of time,” Caleb murmurs with relief. “I’ll figure something out and let you know.”
“Thank you so much. That’s very generous of you. ”
“I’ll come up with something good.”
Caleb smiles at me, like he’s expecting a pat on the back; but I give him nothing. For all I know, this man will be back in LA in two months with Raine, after winning custody of her at the hearing in a month, and the promise he just now made to donate to the auction will be a distant memory.
Caleb shifts his attention to my father—the friendliest face at the table. “So, Joe, how’d you break your leg?”
Dad motions to his propped-up leg in a cast and frowns. “Oh, man, C-Bomb, it was a pisser.” And away he goes, launching into the same story I’ve heard on repeat, since the accident last week. If I were telling this story, I’d simply say, “Dad fell off a roof while fixing it with a newbie who made a big mistake and accidentally knocked Dad to the ground.” But Dad being Dad, he spins a yarn like he was the main character in a two-hour action flick that day.
“Oof,” Caleb says with a wince, once Dad gets to the part of his story where he’s writhing in pain on the ground.
“Oof is right,” Dad says with a chuckle. “Thirty years working construction, twenty of it as the owner of my own company, and it was my first broken bone.”
“Too bad you’re out of commission for a while,” Caleb says. “I just inherited an old cabin on Lake Lucille, and I’m predicting it’s going to need some major upgrades and repairs.”
“Give me six months, and I’ll fix anything the place needs.”
“I’m not sure if I can wait that long.”
“You’re aiming to sell the place?”
Caleb shrugs. “Not sure yet. I haven’t been back here in over fifteen years, ever since my grandpa moved away and turned the cabin into a short-term rental. Once I see the place again, I’ll have a better idea about what needs to be done, and if I want to keep it or sell it.”
“Is that where you’ll be staying while you’re in town?” Dad asks.
“Yeah, I had a service go in there and clean it for me this morning, so I’m good to go.”
“You said you inherited it?” Mom asks tentatively.
A look of deep sadness flickers across Caleb’s face. “From my mother, about three months ago. She got the place when my grandpa died a couple years ago, but unfortunately she never made it up here to see the place again.”
We all express our condolences, and Caleb thanks us and takes a long guzzle from his water, like he’s throwing back a tall whiskey. I noticed Caleb turned down a cold beer earlier when offered one, and that surprised me. Normally, a person turning down a beer doesn’t register with me. Who cares? But the online version of C-Bomb I’ve studied relentlessly over the years seems like the kind of guy who’d never turn down a beer.
After supporting Claudia on her sobriety journey, I have a sixth sense about people turning down alcohol—when it feels meaningful and when it doesn’t. And in this instance, it felt meaningful. Like Caleb very much wanted to say yes to that drink, but he forced himself to refuse it.
My eyes rake over Caleb’s large, tattooed hand wrapped around his water glass; and my mind conjures to the vision of that hand gripping Claudia’s hip as he fucked her from behind. I can’t believe this famous man’s dick was inside my best friend, right after he’d played a sold-out show in Seattle . . . and that now, he’s sitting at my parents’ dinner table in Prairie Springs, eating my mother’s famous chicken pot pie. It’s boggling my mind to try to reconcile the peacock of a man I’ve seen online with the quiet, understated man sitting across from me.
Dad’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “If you want to FaceTime me in the light of day tomorrow and show me around the cabin, I’d be more than happy to give you my professional opinion about what upgrades and fixes the place might need.”
“I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Caleb says. “Thanks. I worked construction myself in my teens, and I’ve always enjoyed working with my hands. Depending on your advice, maybe I’ll tackle some of the projects on my own, since I’m gonna be stu—While I’m here.”
Stuck here. That’s what he was going to say. While I’m gonna be stuck here, anyway.
I exchange another look with my mother. One that says, “ I don’t like him .”
“Aubrey will be a good pair of eyes, too,” Dad says, oblivious to the nonverbal exchange happening between Mom and me. “She used to work for me during summers in high school, and she’s always had a great eye.”
I pat Dad’s hand on the table. “Don’t oversell me. I know how to use power tools and follow your explicit instructions to a T, and that’s about it.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Short Cake,” Dad replies. “By the end of every summer, you were better at supervising projects than my best project managers.”
Caleb smiles at me. “A woman of many talents.”
Once again, my body jolts at Caleb’s eye contact, the same way it did when Caleb looked at me while counting himself a fan of “forbidden fruit.”
Mom looks between Caleb and me. “Aubrey, honey, will you help me clear the dishes? ”
“Let me do it,” Caleb says, rising from his chair.
“No, no. You’re our guest. If you want a job, keep Joe company, since he’s stuck there.”
I smirk. I’m not sure if Mom purposefully used the word “stuck” to let Caleb know she knows he stopped himself from using that exact word a moment ago in relation to himself; but if so, I’m deeply impressed by her subtle sassiness.
Without daring to look in Caleb’s direction, I grab all the plates off the table, while Mom grabs the serving platters, and with items in hand, we both quickly scamper into the kitchen.
The minute we’re out of earshot of the men, Mom whispers, “Stop flirting with him, Aubrey.”
“ What ?” I gasp out.
“You heard me. It won’t end well for us, if you keep doing that. So, don’t.”
“I’m . . . Mom, I haven’t been flirting. If anyone’s been doing that, it’s him. ”
Mom looks unconvinced. “You might think it’ll help our cause for you to cozy up to him. But when he inevitably loses interest, then what? We’ll be screwed.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not even remotely attracted to him. And even if I were, which I’m not, I wouldn’t act on it. Give me some credit.”
After one last, lingering look of warning, Mom starts loading up the dishwasher with an assist from me. Once that job is done, I grab the brownies from earlier today and head out to the table with them, while Mom stays behind to wash some pots and pans. But when I get back out to the dining area, Caleb and Dad are no longer sitting there. I walk into the living room and discover Dad is nowhere to be found, while Caleb is lying on the floor next to Raine, helping her color another page from her coloring book.
“Oh, dat good!” Raine squeaks out, leaning her cheek against Caleb’s massive bicep. And just like that, my left ovary feels like it’s rupturing.
“That’s because I have the best teacher in the world,” Caleb replies happily.
“Who?” Raine asks innocently.
“You,” Caleb replies with a chuckle.
“ Me ?”
“Who else?”
They both giggle uproariously, and, suddenly, I’m hit with two competing sensations: one, my right ovary joining my left in total obliteration; and, two, the sensation of foreboding descending upon me. Suddenly, I know my parents were right earlier in the kitchen: I need to get on Caleb’s good side, rather than trying to fight him, or I’m likely to get screwed.
Feeling overwhelmed, I put the brownies down on the table with a loud thunk , prompting Caleb to look up at me. When his green eyes meet mine, and I can plainly see the look of pure joy on his face, the foreboding I was feeling a moment softens a tiny bit. Obviously, this man screwed up by not wanting to know Raine till now. Obviously, this man has missed out on getting to know the best person in the history of the world. But he’s here now. And it’s in our baby girl’s best interests to have him here, assuming he’s genuinely going to commit to becoming her father. Time will tell. But in the meantime, my only path forward is to help Caleb succeed. Not for his sake, but for Raine’s. And, ultimately, for my own, too.
Mom comes out of the kitchen and gasps when she beholds the happy scene on the floor of the living room. She silently watches Caleb and Raine for several minutes, while exchanging looks with me. But, finally, Mom says, “Rainey, honey. It’s bathtime. Say goodnight to Caleb and thank him for coloring with you.”
Raine loves bathtime, thanks to the colored, foamy soap Mom bought for her to paint with on the tile walls, so it’s a brilliant maneuver. In lightning speed, Raine ditches Caleb like a hot potato, hops up from the floor, and takes my mother’s offered hand.
“Thank Caleb for coloring with you,” Mom says as they depart.
“Tank you, Coobie,” Raine calls to Caleb, batting her eyelashes.
“No, thank you for teaching me,” Caleb says, and I let out a sigh of relief that’s his reply. Mom’s call to action to Raine assumed our girl would be bathing and sleeping here tonight, at our house, as usual, rather than going to Caleb’s lake cabin with him for the night. So, it’s a huge relief he didn’t correct that assumption and ask us to pack an overnight bag for Raine.
When Mom and Raine are gone, I sit on the couch with my heart pounding in my ears.
“She’s incredible,” Caleb says, taking the arm chair across from me.
Yes, I want to say. A fact you would have known already, if you’d bothered to meet her, even once, over the past two years .
I take a deep breath. “She’s really warming up to you.”
“You think?” Looking pleased, Caleb leans back and spreads his muscular thighs. “So, let’s talk some more about that nanny job.”
Crap. I can’t let him dictate the narrative here. I need him to understand we’re holding the power here, not him. Because we’re the ones who already know and love Raine .
“Here’s what I think we should do,” I say, trying to sound casual and unbothered. “You don’t really need a nanny while you’re here in Prairie Springs, because Raine will be staying with us, and you’ll be visiting her every day, either here or at your cabin. Why don’t we wait to find out the result of the custody hearing before we?—"
He leans forward. “No, I need you and Raine to stay with me at my cabin, actually. The whole time I’m here in Prairie Springs.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck . I didn’t see that coming. “But Raine is happy and settled here with my parents and me. So, I propose we?—”
“It’s non-negotiable. You’re both coming to stay with me.”
My brain feels like it’s melting. Grasping for words. “But why? It makes much more sense for me to take care of Raine here, like always, while you?—”
“The truth is I need to hire you as my sobriety coach for the next three weeks and two days, Aubrey. In addition to hiring you as Raine’s nanny during that same period of time.”
My brain freezes. “I-I . . . What ?”
With a long exhale, Caleb leans back again and explains the entire situation to me. When he’s done speaking, I remain silent for a long moment, trying to process.
Finally, I say, “I’m not qualified to be a sobriety coach. I have no idea how to do that.”
“You’re over eighteen, right?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Are you capable of abstaining from alcohol and drugs for the next three weeks and two days?”
I scoff. “I haven’t had a drink in over two years, and I’ve never done any kind of drugs. I quit drinking for Claudia and never looked back.”
“Congratulations. You’re qualified.”
“But I don’t want to live with you,” I insist. “I want to stay here with Raine and my parents and?—”
“ It’s non-negotiable, Aubrey .” When I say nothing, he throws up his hands in frustration. “It’s not like I’ll be holding you prisoner at my place. You can see your parents every day, if you want. But you and Raine absolutely have to come live with me for the next three weeks and two days. Non-negotiable. ”
I rub my neck, feeling a bit hot and dizzy. “How much will you pay me to do both jobs—sobriety coach and nanny—for the next three weeks and two days?”
Caleb pauses. “Five grand.”
My heart stops. Holy shit. Five grand for only three weeks of work is more than I’ve ever made in my life! But even so, he’s clearly desperate, so I think I can get even more, if I push back. Six grand, maybe? Two grand per week, to make it a round number.
I open my mouth to suggest the new, higher number, but Caleb speaks first.
“I think that’s fair for now, considering you’re doing both jobs,” he says. “But once the sobriety coach portion of your job is over, and once we know the result of the custody hearing, we’ll re-negotiate your full-time nanny salary, For now, though, while I’m staying here in Prairie Springs, I think it’s fair for me to pay you five grand per week to do both jobs.”
Per week ?
Wait.
Did Caleb just say he’s willing to pay me five grand . . . per week . . . and not five grand . . . total ? I feel like I’m going to faint.
“Come on, Aubrey,” Caleb huffs out, when I’m too shocked to speak. “Don’t play hardball with me. You’d be taking care of Raine for the next three weeks, anyway, for free. Granted, I realize I’m also asking you to babysit me, on top of that, but that’s why?—”
“No, no, I . . .” I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Five grand per week is fine. For now.” Holy crap, this is a godsend. With an easy fifteen grand in my pocket, I’ll be able to help my parents put a major dent in their medical bills! Do I want to spend the next three weeks and two days living under the same roof with a pathetic man-child who’s got the fate of my happiness in the palm of his hand? No. I’d rather eat rusty nails. But what choice do I have? At least, this living arrangement will afford me the chance to help my parents while also trying to influence Caleb before the hearing. If I play my cards right, maybe I can make him see it’s me who should get custody of Raine, while Caleb gets unlimited visitation rights.
“So, we’ve got a deal?” Caleb asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
I clear my throat. “Yes. For now.”
I take Caleb’s offered hand, but when electricity courses between us at the point of contact, I release his palm like I’ve touched a hot stove.
“ What, uh . . .” Damn. Come on, Aubrey. Focus . “What time do you want me to bring Raine over to your cabin in the morning?”
“Raine can sleep here tonight, but you’re coming with me to my place.”
“No, Caleb. Let’s start this arrangement tomorrow. Give me a day to?— ”
“I can’t do that. As my sobriety coach, you’ll need to submit a form certifying my sobriety, starting tonight.”
My jaw hangs open. “ What? But, Caleb?—”
“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t bother. Like I keep saying, it’s non-negotiable.” He smirks at whatever he’s seeing on my face. “Go on, Aubrey. Go pack a bag and say goodbye to Raine and your parents. Whether you like it or not, you’re coming home with me.”