Chapter 16
Mal
I don’t know why I was surprised, but when we pulled through the gate at my house and I saw a familiar car parked in the driveway, I was shocked. “My mom is here?”
“Your best friend died. Of course your mom is here,” Naomi retorted in her trademark snark.
I know she was close to Gio too, but I was sick of her sniping at me today. And following me around. She usually stayed in the car unless I specifically asked for her. “Right. You’re done for the day. Don’t come back until—what day is it?”
“Monday,” Naomi replied. “And—”
“I don’t give a shit. You’ve been annoying all day, and I’m going to chalk it up to grief for the moment. But it stops now. Don’t come back until Wednesday. You officially have time off.”
“But there are so many things we’ve got to—”
“I’ll figure it out. I’ll text you about the service once I’ve scheduled it. Go.”
Naomi scowled at me then grabbed her bag and stomped down the driveway to the street where her car was parked on the curb.
Saylor coughed lightly. “So I guess this means I get to meet your mom?”
I laughed. Fuck, I loved how she just let it go and focused on the shitshow currently bearing down on us and not on the one we’d just shaken off. “Yeah, looks that way. Come on.”
Trusting the driver to offload our bags, I put an arm around my wife and led her to the front door.
Which flew open before I could open it.
“Mal!” Mom shrieked, tackling me in a blur of gray hair and paisley fabric.
I went back on one foot but managed to stay upright. “Ma, you gotta calm down.”
“I just can’t believe he’s gone. Gio had so many demons, but I never thought…” She shuddered in my arms and then gave a muffled cry.
I met Saylor’s eyes over my mom’s shoulder, and my heart clenched at the pain in her expression. She was hurting for me and my mom despite never even knowing Gio. “Let’s get inside, Ma.”
Saylor opened the door, and I made shushing sounds as I guided my wailing mom into my house. As we sat on the beige sofa with my mom burrowed into my chest, I watched Saylor curiously peer around the room.
I wondered what she thought. I hadn’t decorated the place—it came with all this furniture. Beige on beige on beige. I mean the walls were white and the kitchen countertops were marble, but it was all just so boring and soulless.
Odd how that had never bothered me before.
And how detached I currently was.
Was that one of the stages of grief? Detachment? Maybe this was denial. Fuck if I knew.
After all the appointments today—between the coroner, the funeral home, and the attorneys—I just felt numb.
I sighed and patted my mom’s back. “Uh, Mom, I know now’s not the best time, but there’s someone here I want you to meet.”
“What?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Who?”
“My wife, Saylor.”
“WHAT?” she screeched before hitting me on the chest. “You got married, and this is how you tell me?”
I hunched and rubbed at my chest where she hit me in feigned pain. “It’s not like I exactly had the chance. Shit hit the fan and you didn’t exactly call me before showing up here.”
“I called. If you’d checked your phone, you’d know I called.” She sat upright and carefully rubbed at her eyes in that way women did. “Now where is she? Where is this pillar of femininity who finally made my son fall head over heels in love with her? You are in love, right?”
“Yes, Mom. We’re in love. Saylor, come here, baby.” I held out my hand to my perpetually hovering wife.
She smiled tremulously at me and took my hand. I pulled her to me until she sat on my knee.
“Mal! You can’t—this isn’t how I should meet your mother,” Saylor protested.
“Oh, I like her already.” Mom wiggled forward on the sofa. “She’s not afraid to give you shit. Saylor is it?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry for your loss. Mal has told me a little bit about Gio. He sounds like an amazing man.” Saylor winced.
Mom smiled sadly. “Yes, he was. And you are just the picture of a gorgeous California girl. Where did you two meet?”
“She’s actually from Las Vegas, Ma,” I cut in.
“Makes sense you’d find a gorgeous local and elope without a word while in Vegas. Again,” Mom retorted.
“I don’t get married every time I go to Vegas,” I protested before turning to Saylor. “Really, I don’t. Just that one time.”
“Wait, what time?” Saylor gave me an incredulous look. “I thought you were only married once before.”
I tipped my head. “Technically, the wedding in Vegas didn’t count because you need legal paperwork from the county before you do the whole little white chapel thing.”
“You mean a marriage license?” Saylor gave a little laugh. “You didn’t have a marriage license?”
“Right. That.” I nodded. “We skipped that step, so it didn’t count. Or at least that’s what my lawyer said.”
Saylor’s eyes grew even wider.
“What? It was Vegas. I was drunk.” I lifted a shoulder. “And high. In my defense that was way before I got sober.”
“So like back when I was—what? In middle school?” She blinked innocently.
I groaned. “Fuck, you know the rule. It’s not fair making me feel like a creepy old guy.”
“Then don’t hold back history like ‘once I got married, but it doesn’t count.’ Like seriously.” Saylor huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
Mom gave a muffled laugh, reminding both of us of her presence.
A chagrined expression crossed Saylor’s face.
I shook my head. “You hungry, Ma? I’m pretty sure the kitchen is empty, but we can order in.”
“No, and don’t think you can just change the subject that easily.” She shot me a suspicious glance then turned to Saylor. “So tell me about yourself, Saylor.”
“I, uh, met Mal in Fiji where I was on my honeymoon.”
Mom’s eyes widened.
“Alone! I was on my honeymoon alone because I broke up with my ex. Turns out he was lying to me for years, had a huge gambling problem, and owed people all over Vegas money. But anyways, I met Mal at the resort in Fiji and eventually we hit it off.”
I appreciated that she’d left out our awkward first meeting on the airplane.
Kinda sad that we didn’t get to recreate it on the flight home.
And then I remembered.
Gio.
My best friend died, and that was the reason we hadn’t joined the mile high club on the flight home. I’d been too busy mourning my best friend.
I’d forgotten about him during that back and forth with Saylor.
I’d forgotten my best friend was dead.
Tears filmed my eyes and clogged my throat.
Grabbing Saylor by the waist, I moved her over to the couch between me and Mom and hightailed it out of the room with a mumbled, “Excuse me.”
“Mal? You all right?” my mom called distantly.
No. Nothing was right. My best friend was dead, and I’d missed all the fucking signs.
I shut the bedroom door behind me and headed for the bathroom to splash some water on my face.
It didn’t help.
My hands shook, and when I looked at my reflection, I saw the same red eyes and gaunt expression that I’d seen so many times when I was using.
The thought of not feeling anything but bliss sounded really good right now.
Just one little hit.
I bet with a few calls, I could get my hands on—
“Mal?” Saylor’s tremulous voice came from the other side of the door. “Your mom and I are going to get some groceries delivered. Do you want to weigh in on the order?”
I closed my eyes and had to clear my throat before I could speak, “No, baby. I’m good with whatever. Ma knows what I like.”
“Oh.”
I winced at my less than stellar reminder that despite being married we’d just met.
“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind. Or if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else.
Everything about my life honestly felt like a colossal mistake.
What the fuck had I been thinking? I didn’t know how to be married. But I also couldn’t go back on it.
I felt trapped.
Like the walls were coming in on me.
My band was probably breaking up.
My best friend had died.
My assistant was being a bitch.
I was being a shit partner to Saylor.
Nothing was going right. Nothing.
What I’d give to feel nothing right now.
Fuck.
I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and made a call.
I expected voicemail, but surprisingly he picked up after only three rings.
“Mal, man, I heard the news,” Caden Dawson, Hollywood A-list actor and my NA sponsor, answered. “How are you holding up?”
“Shitty. I, I’m afraid I’m going to break my sobriety. I just, I just really need…fuck if I know.”
“All right. I’m in town. We’re actually filming on the backlot at Paramount. Why don’t you come to me, and we’ll talk?”
“I didn’t realize you’re filming. I don’t want to bug you at work, Cay. I can look up a meeting and—”
“Shit, you’re so fucking hard-headed. I see there’s a meeting in North Hollywood at noon. I’ll meet you there since you’re being a stubborn asshole.”
“I already went to a meeting this morning.”
“And you’re going to go to a meeting at noon and get a coffee with me. And you might need to go to another meeting tonight. You’re going to go to as many meetings as you need to if it’ll keep you sober.”
I sighed heavily. “Fine.”
“I’ll see you there. Don’t make me chase you down.”
“I’ll be there. Thanks, Caden.”
“Anytime, man. See you soon.”
I ended the call and avoided my reflection as I put my phone back in my pocket.
I already felt lighter just having talked to Caden.
His Texan no nonsense tone always made me feel better, like having a big brother look after me.
And I didn’t need my bloodshot eyes or my haggard expression ruining that for me.
I left the bathroom and found my mom and Saylor in the kitchen, bent over a paper on the counter.
“Oh.” Saylor looked up at me with a hesitant smile. “Did you change your mind? Because I was thinking of making chicken tikka tacos. I got the recipe from this actor’s cookbook. I can’t remember his name, but he’s always the baddie in all the movies. Apparently he has few restaurants in LA.”
“Robby Lopez?” I shook my head. “You realize we could just save all that hassle and order the tacos from the restaurant?”