Chapter 9
Foot meet mouth. Seriously. Could that have gone any worse? Rubbing a hand over the back of my neck, I sucked down air and wondered what in the hell had climbed up my ass, because in no universe did anything that happened in the last ten minutes make any sense. Never once had Elora ever leaned on her older siblings for her success, and insinuating as much was like lighting a match in a pool of gasoline and not expecting to turn into a human torch.
I knew that Sarah got in my head, but holy fucking shit, El was as far to the opposite side of the spectrum as a woman could get. It was a damn cheap shot, and her grabbing her backpack and slamming the door on the way out of our room just hammered that final nail in my coffin.
It was irrational. Hell, even as I said it, some part of my brain knew I was being an idiot, but I couldn’t stop this slimy constricting sensation in my chest, the ugly head of jealousy suddenly alive, well, and rearing. Pacing the length of the room, I scowled at my phone where it lay discarded on the bed. This was the stuff I would normally talk to Rhyett about. But El and the girls had always been, and would always be, firmly off limits. I’d made a damn promise. And as ancient as it might have been, I was a man of my word. Always had been. It’s how Dad raised me.
The value of a man is rooted in his fortitude and integrity.
That’s what he told me as a kid. Some boys get bedtime stories, others grow up on superheroes. Robert Allen raised me on life lessons and parables—no doubt planting the seeds of my obsession with morality. But our word was as good as law—a hill worth living and dying on.
Phone as heavy as a dumbbell, I stared at my favorites screen, both of her brothers looking back at me from their tiny icons. But it was the names beneath them that my eye traced one too many times. Noel McShane. Brexley Rhodes.
Treasonous. This idea. Hell, I’d probably be better off calling Max or my father. But that knowledge didn’t stop my thumb from tapping the selfie of my three favorite blondes—Brex, Rhyett and Quinn, all boasting broad, cheesy grins.
Oh, fuck me, this is a horrible idea. I was just dropping the phone from my ear, my stomach in absolute knots, when the line clicked to life and a familiar—albeit breathless—voice broke the silence.
“Broderick?”
“Hey, Brex, how’s it going?”
A little giggle was audible in the background, a smile breaking through my anxiety. “Good! Just chasing Quinny around. She’s quite the scooter these days, but she pulls herself up on anything and everything, so it’s a twenty-four-seven game of catch the baby over here these days.”
That explained her lack of oxygen. “Ahh,” I grunted lamely. “Where’s Rhy?”
“At the bar, he got an order this afternoon.”
“Makes sense,” I said, nodding as my throat thickened. “And you? How you doing, pretty mama? Rhy said you’ve got a book on a deadline?”
“Yes,” she exhaled in a whoosh, as if she collapsed into the nearest chair. “The sequel to my fantasy is due next Wednesday. I’m just about there—I think. I mean, it could be absolute trash. It probably is trash. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it?—”
Laughing, I cut her off, “It is not trash, Brex. It’s going to be great. I loved the pages you sent me.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not,” I insisted, chuckling. “I think the sequel will be even stronger than the first book.”
“You really think so?” she asked, a strangled note of hope underlying her anxiety. I loved Brex, and honestly, she was one of few people in my life who could relate to the suffocating uncertainty of a mind that ran in circles until the body collapsed in a sweaty pool of panic.
“I really think so,” I echoed back. A relieved exhale was punctuated by another baby giggle that her mama immediately echoed.
When my throat tightened and the silence lingered for a beat too long, Brex softly asked, “You okay, Allen?”
Smiling at the endearment she put in my last name, I blew out a breath. “Can I, uh…talk to you about something?”
“Obviously, anything. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Something just between us?”
“Broderick, are you in some kind of trouble? You know James and Rhyett would flip their lid if you needed help and?—”
“No, nothing like that.” I said, chuckling at the panic creeping into her tone. Slowly, I eased my pacing in favor of leaning against the wall beside the front window, staring down at the chaos of the strip. “I promise I’ll talk to them at some point, if it proves prudent. But for now, can this conversation stay between us?”
“I have a nine-month-old.”
Blinking, an ache planted in my brow as it furrowed in confusion. “Yes, I’m aware. But I don’t see how Quinn?—”
“I am covered in a combination of homemade baby bottle food, spit up, a fluid I can’t confidently identify, and can count the cumulative hours I’ve slept this week on my fingers. I’ll be lucky to remember this conversation in twenty-four hours, let alone have the energy to relay it to someone else.”
My laugh slowly dissipated into something more in the ballpark of a sigh. “Alright. Point taken. This is like, skull and dagger, sworn to secrecy level of?—”
“Christ, Broderick—spit it out.”
Chuckling nervously, I pushed off the wall and collapsed into the armchair, leaning forward to brace myself on my elbows. “Look,” I admitted on a loaded exhale. “The guys would kill me for even saying this, but I kinda have always had a thing for El.”
“Yeah.”
There wasn’t a hint of surprise. Not a trace of it in her tone or blunt delivery. Confused, I clarified, “Elora. Elora Rhodes.”
“Yeah.”
“Their younger sister.”
“Oooooooh,” she said dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm that made my mouth pop open. “That Elora! I was confusing her with another Elora Rhodes. Continue, but please get to the point before Quinn sprouts another tooth.”
Stunned, I managed to stammer, “You knew I was into El?”
“Honey, anybody with eyes knows you’re into El.”
“The guys?—”
“Oh, well no, not the guys. As much as I love them both, they’re not the most perceptive when it comes to emotional intelligence. Sometimes I think that Rhy suspects, but he hasn’t said anything.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled, mouth hanging open as my mind whirred through the implications of that assumption.
“You didn’t honestly think we were all oblivious, did you?”
“Kinda,” I admitted gruffly, frowning at the tacky hotel carpet as I palmed my jaw. Her laugh was light, like this was the best entertainment she’d had in a decent stretch of time.
“Honestly, Sarah felt like a self-destructive bandage of procrastination.”
“Your writer brain is showing,” I muttered, squeezing my temples between my fingers, but breathing a little deeper when she giggled.
“Okay, so you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re into their sister. Why are you calling me?”
“I don’t really…have anybody else I can talk to about this shit.”
“What shit?”
“So, El and I are both at a conference, competing for a…life-changing amount of money via a leadership grant.”
“No way,” she cut in enthusiastically. “Rhy told me you were going to that, but I didn’t realize she was too!”
“Well. We’re here. And she couldn’t get a room—they double booked, it’s a long story. So, she’s crashing in my?—”
“You’re sharing a room?!” she squeaked. “Shut up, please tell me there’s only one bed?”
Scowling, I turned to glare at the singular mattress I was adamantly avoiding, and then at the murder sofa in the corner. “How did you know that?”
A trill of laughter carried through the line. “Classic,” she muttered, tone way too satisfied for my liking.
“I’m beginning to think this was a mistake.”
“No!” she yipped, and it sounded like the speaker brushed against skin. “This is textbook fate, Allen. People write this shit all the time, I sell it every day. Do not—I repeat, do not—fuck this up.”
Wincing, I begrudgingly admitted, “I might’ve already. But this isn’t a thing. This isn’t?—”
“It is totally a ‘thing’ that you don’t want to screw up. Also, what on earth did you do? No!” The abrupt barked demand startled me so severely, I yanked the phone away from my ear, glaring back at the screen before tentatively returning it.
“What?”
But she was still reprimanding quite vocally, and it took me a second to make sense of what the hell she was saying. “We do not chew on cords. That is a no, Quinny. Sorry,” she muttered, now back towards the phone as a happy little coo sounded near enough I knew she must’ve picked up the baby. “How did you screw it up?”
“Look, I just wanted to get through this week with some pride intact. But…the idea of competing against her was bugging me, and there’s this guy that’s just all over her, and it was grinding my gears, and I said some stupid shit.”
“Broderick Allen, jealous. Never thought I’d see the day.”
“I am not jealous,” I stated matter-of-factly. “You should see these guys, Brex. It’s ridiculous. We’ve been here twenty-four hours and they’re surrounding her like scavengers.”
“Sure. Such a very disinterested, not jealous observation. Go on.”
“I am not jealous.”
“Mm—hmm. So. What did your not jealous mouth say?”
“That she should drop out of the competition.” The line went entirely silent save for the quiet baby babbles in the background. “And that if she asked, the guys would back her foundation.
Brex’s dramatic groan did absolutely nothing to ease the tightening in my belly. Nor did the irritated exhale that followed.
“What?” I demanded.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“Dude. What the fuck?”
“It’s bad. Isn’t it?” Honestly, it wasn’t really a question. I was fucked.
“The only way this could be worse is if you told her she’d somehow ridden someone’s coat tails to success.”
Grimacing, I rubbed my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose.
“Your silence doesn’t bode well,” she noted flatly.
“I…may have told her that networking with the men here was looking to win based on who wanted to lure her to bed.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m a writer, not a miracle worker. What is wrong with you boys? I swear to God, Rhyett got all the sense of the three of you.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumbled. After a long moment, I said, “So? What the hell do I do?”
“You mean besides grovel?”
“Yes,” I sighed.
“Start with the groveling. Profuse groveling. And then we have to move into offense mode.”
“Offense mode?”
“You called me to win the girl, right?”
“I, uh…”
“Oh please. If you can’t be honest with yourself, just don’t lie to me. It’s insulting. You want her.”
“The guys would never forgive me?—”
“For robbing you both of a happiness you deserve and have waited far too long to claim? Yes. I agree. So, what we need is a strategy.”
“Strategy,” I repeated stupidly.
“Yes, you big, loveable asshole.”
“Hey,” I complained, but Brex was already moving into boss mode. What was with all of these world conquering women in my life?
“Don’t ‘hey’ me. You admitted it yourself. That was a total prick move, and we gotta compensate. Phase one? Grovel. Apologize. Phase two? Remind her of what you two do like about each other. Phase three? Win the girl.”
“You sound way too excited about this.”
“My only company has a one-word vocabulary, so Ive been feeling a little isolated. This is the most excitement I’ve had in ages.”
Shaking my head as I ran my palm over my hair, I said, “Alright. So, I need to tell her I’m sorry. I’m shit for verbal communication, so do I write a letter?”
“Shit for verbal?! Broderick, you literally lecture America’s youth for a living. What do you mean ‘shit for verbal communication’.”
“That’s different,” I argued, commencing my pacing.
“How so?” she demanded, and I could just picture Rhyett’s five foot six powerhouse popping a hip expectantly.
“It’s not emotional, it’s logical. It’s information I have time to research and prepare for before I’m opening my mouth.”
“Research?” she scoffed. “Hell, Allen, how much research do you need? You’ve got thirty-one years of research, from where I’m standing.” Her words brought me up short, pausing as I thought that through.
“Yeah, uh…I guess I do.”
“Duh, you do! You get to bypass all that awkward favorite color, what’s your sign bullshit and skip right to the good stuff.”
Yeah. Right. If she’d even have me. If I could avoid choking on the betrayal. Nodding to myself, I turned on my heel to pace a new groove in the carpet. “Yeah. Okay, so where do I start?”
“What about a peace offering? Not a letter—grow a pair and talk to the woman. Something that she’ll love. That will make her feel seen.”
“Well…food is her love language?”
“Good! That’s good. What’s her favorite?”
“Um…Mexican is a safe bet.”
“Anything that you do just the two of you? That’s a bit generic. Unless you once shared a romantic flan on a mountaintop or something.”
Chuckling and grateful she was willing to crack my tension with humor, I weighed my options, thinking about our life on that windy fishing island. “We always got sushi together. We both like the same rolls.”
“Good! Yes, okay, we can work with that. Do you know what she likes with it? She a soy sauce girl? When it comes to women, details matter, Allen.”
Christ, didn’t I know it. On a huffed laugh, I added, “With enough wasabi to make your eyes bleed.”
That earned a cackle. “Excellent! Okay. Next up—favorite color?”
“Didn’t realize I’d get a pop quiz on this phone call.”
“Oh, yes, you did. It’s why you called me and not Noel.” She had a point. “So. Answer me, Allen.”
“She’d say red, but it’s actually purple.” Growing up sandwiched in brothers, El tended to lean into her masculine unless she was around her sisters, or it was just us. I got to see those pieces of her that James and Rhyett didn’t.
“Not even gonna ask. Flowers? Shells? What’s she like?”
“Uh, roses, and those great big balls.”
“Great. Big. Balls?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
The cackle crackling over the speaker was absolutely maniacal. “Come on, you gotta give me that one.”
“Did you and Noel share an egg at one point?” Seriously, no wonder these two were best friends. Double trouble.
Her laughter was renewed, breath a little shallow as she said, “I wish. Honestly, we’re probably closer this way. Come on though, stay focused. You gotta have something beyond balls.”
Smirking, I added, “The big, soft, fluffy ones.” Brex’s ensuing laugh seemed to earn one from Quinn, the happy little coos making me smile. Questioning myself, I guessed, “Peonies, I think?”
“Ooooh, we don’t have those here. They die too fast to ship. But they’re awfully pretty.”
“I think they’re out of season?”
“So stick with roses. Can’t go wrong if she likes red. Now, what’s something you can do together?”
“Umm…”
“Come on Allen, you’re in Sin fucking City. Your options are unlimited.”
“I uh…I think I have an idea.”
“Well hurry up. Out with it.”