Chapter Thirty-Four A Cool Guy
Chapter Thirty-Four
A Cool Guy
Beverly
I now know Beau is the biggest dickwad in the world. Not just a runner-up—not a bronze or silver trophy, oh no—but literally the biggest wad of dicks ever.
I know that. But my brother doesn’t.
I lightly knock on Rob’s door. After a couple of seconds of no response, I knock again. Finally, I hear him say, “Come in.” I creak the door open and slide myself through. I lean my back against it to shut it.
“Hey, bud. How’s it going?”
“It’s all right.” But his grip on the video game controller says otherwise.
“Mind if I sit?” I ask, already walking to the center of the room—the only truly empty space—and then taking a seat on the ground.
Rob’s room is the type of teenage-boy lair that probably stresses Momma out.
There’s a sock graveyard next to the perfectly empty laundry hamper, a propped-open trombone case with sheet music spilling out, and walls coated in various flyers for concerts.
I spot Griffin Harvey’s last album cover hung over his desk, topped with his book bag, its open zipper spitting out notebooks.
The TV glows, and the logo for his usual video game appears.
“Need a second player?” I ask.
The corner of Rob’s mouth crooks up into a smile. “Last time you played, you kept running into walls.”
“I was figuring out how to reload.”
He huffs out a chuckle. It sounds so similar to Griffin’s exhausted laugh, but that realization only hurts more. I don’t want my brother to be exhausted. He’s fourteen, for Pete’s sake. He’s got so many years ahead of him to sulk.
Rob grabs a controller from a dock and hands it to me.
I squeeze the grips. “Wow. So comfortable,” I say with a grin. Actually, it’s bulky and foreign in my hands, but now is absolutely not the time to admit that I’m confused by video games again. Rob is the one who’s lost right now.
He sits on the end of the bed again and sighs.
“So…” I start, nodding slowly and adding, “Beau, huh?” I cringe.
“Yeah…” he says slowly.
“Is that…um, how are you feeling about it all?”
He sighs and sets his controller aside. I do too. Thank God.
“I knew he wasn’t the best guy,” he confesses. “I mean…I had a feeling. That video from two years ago…I mean, I knew.”
He keeps repeating it, like maybe he’ll convince himself. But Rob didn’t want to know, and I don’t blame him.
He exhales again, and it’s almost a groan. Visibly frustrated, he pulls at a string on the hem of his jeans and flicks it away. He levels a look at me. My brother has never seemed so adultlike before.
“What happened?” he asks. “Out in LA? Really?”
My body tenses. It’s like a hardness in my chest, like overfilled concrete weighing me down. At my silence, Rob rolls his eyes. I don’t know if he’s ever rolled his eyes at me without a smile or a laugh.
“Beverly. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Beau cheated on me,” I blurt out. I cough out a laugh and wince. “Boy, saying it out loud is…weird. He, uh, yeah. Cheated. That’s it. End of story, really.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” Rob deflates, and it kills me. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s all right…” I wave it off. Except it’s not all right, and it’s never really been all right.
“Does it still hurt?” Rob asks.
I twist my lips to the side. “No. It’s funny…maybe not in a ha ha way, but…funny like…that my weird feelings aren’t associated with pain anymore. It’s weird that I feel almost…nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Not really. Not for him. No.”
Rob nods to himself. “I mean…he wasn’t always like that, was he?”
“He…” I think for a moment. “No. He was nice in high school.”
And for the first time, it hits me.
But was Beau ever kind?
Rob leans his chin on his fist. “He always kinda seemed like a big brother.”
I give a wistful smile. “And I love that for you two. I do. That’s why we never really talked about this before.”
But Rob’s face scrunches up. “No, I mean…he always seemed like…he was picking on you. Just a little bit.”
My face falls. “Oh.”
Well shit.
Was I really that blind? That hopelessly enamored with him?
Rob’s eyes widen. “I don’t mean that he was awful. You…it wasn’t…” He groans. “It just…seemed like it worked for you guys.”
I chew my lower lip. Maybe that was our dynamic. Little pokes. Little jabs. Until the knife slashed. Or maybe I realized sharp objects just weren’t for me.
“You deserved better than him,” Rob says.
“What?”
At that point, like a ghoul crawling its way back, my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s Beau.
And, in my gut—not all that deep, actually—I want to throw this phone across the room.
“Does he text you a lot?” Rob asks.
My head jerks up to his, and I inhale. “Lately, yeah.”
“Since you started hanging out with Griffin?”
A laugh chokes out of me. “Yeah.”
“Block him, then.”
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Block him.”
“People do that?”
“Yeah. I have, like, at least ten people blocked.”
“Huh.”
I stare at my screen, at the texts upon texts, running a finger over my lips.
“Do it,” Rob says.
With shaking fingers, I listen and do what I should have done forever ago.
I block him.
And Rob watches, forcing a smile when I finally look back at him.
Is this another betrayal? At what point have I caused Rob too much heartbreak? But…I feel good about this decision. It’s like a weight falling from my shoulders.
I pat the edge of the bed near Rob’s gangly knee. “Thanks.”
Rob silently nods, then says, “You deserve Griffin.”
I immediately jerk my hand back to my side, as if sizzling lava just touched my fingers. I even feel a little hot.
I sputter out, “That’s not…we’re…” Well, what the heck are we? I don’t know. Does Griffin know? Have we ever known?
Strangers, sort of dinner dates, fake boyfriend-girlfriend, colleagues, friends, lovers…
Lovers.
Feels so sensual.
I’m not a sensual person. Far from it.
I’m me. I’m just Beverly.
“Griffin’s my friend,” I say. “He’s just…a cool guy.”
Rob scoffs. “A cool guy?”
“Mm-hmm. A cool guy,” I say, exaggerating the word. But that’s not right, and we both know it. I don’t have the capacity to consider a word that is. “Now, are we playing this game or what?”
“You’re gonna run into walls again,” he says.
“I will not.”
“Don’t you have to take Griffin to the airport or something?”
“Wow. Gut punch,” I say, earning myself a little smirk.
I place the controller back on its home charger. I prop my fists on my hips and point to it. “I will learn to play one day.”
Rob smiles. “I know.”
He’s very confident in me. Sometimes I wonder if we Larks are simply too trusting. Maybe that’ll be our downfall.
The next two hours fly by too fast, like a whirlwind brushing past me with hail rather than the gentle snowfall from the previous two months.
Griffin finished packing their bags while Rob played with Ava on the rug.
Greg prepped way too many snacks. Nana sat on the phone with every person in town, spreading the news that should anyone ask about Ava, they must lie.
Daughter? What daughter?
He was just passing through to see his girlfriend, who he adores.
Me.
But the world now knows about Ava, and that genie isn’t fitting back in the bottle. Pictures are damning. I’ve already gotten a few emails asking what I know, how long I’ve known, and Wait, are you the mother?
Despite the nosy—very ill-informed—press, we’re feigning ignorance until Griffin and Jimmy can figure this thing out.
This wouldn’t be the first time someone has denied clear evidence.
Beau denied ever having a high school girlfriend even though we had a fun little viral video that ruined the better part of two years.
Remember that?
Remember that shit?
Beau.
Fucking Beau.
I pull up to the empty airport tarmac in my rumbling station wagon.
We’re one hour away from Elk Grove, past two chain-link security gates and any cars that might have followed.
Greg and Dad drove Griffin’s SUV back to the rental place in the hopes that it would shake any future unwelcome visitors from our family cabin.
When I step out of the car, the wind whistles past my ears, shifting my bangs all over and forcing me to pull everything up into a ponytail. Griffin unbuckles Ava in the back seat and hikes her onto his hip. He walks her over to me, and something about it churns my gut.
This feels a lot like goodbye.
Ava pokes a finger at the airplane. “Go, B!”
I smile. “No, I’m not going with you this time.”
But she repeats, “Go, B!”
“Not today, A.” I hold out my arms, and Griffin hands her to me. I nuzzle my face into her neck, making her laugh before she can repeat “Go!” again. If she did, I might sob all over her cute plane pajamas.
I’ll miss this girl. I’m pretty sure a new puppet is created every time Ava laughs.
“Hey, do you think you’ll drink some coffee on the plane? That’s my favorite.” She giggles again, and I shake my head, making a show of how silly I am. “Oh, right, you can’t have coffee. Darn. Okay, chocolate milk will have to do then, right?”
She nods and points at the plane again. “Go!”
Dang it, girl.
“That’s right,” I agree. “The plane is gonna go, go, go.”
I give her a squeeze, and she squirms to be put down. She probably has no idea it’ll be a while until we see each other again. There’s no reason for big goodbyes, I guess. I set her down.
“How about you go get some of that chocolate milk, huh?” Griffin says, gesturing to a smiling flight attendant waiting in a coat at the bottom of the stairs.
Ava beams, running to the plane and then climbing the steps with assistance. The attendant tosses me a welcoming wave, maybe remembering me from our award-show trip. Or maybe it’s a goodbye wave.
I look to Griffin. His eyebrows are tugged in the middle.
Oh, don’t do this to me.
“You’re coming to LA,” Griffin says. There’s no question. He’s so sure of himself.
“I’ll be there in a few weeks to pitch.”
“And you’ll get the show.”
I tilt my head to the side. He reaches out with both hands to cup my cheeks, tucking a strand of wind-blown bangs behind each ear as he steps closer.
No no no. I’m not crying.
“I expect a text,” I say, poking his chest. “A report on that great chocolate milk, okay?”
But his eyebrows pinch even closer.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m sure it’s great milk.”
“Beverly…” he says gently.
“Okay, maybe just good milk.”
“B…”
I’m babbling. My heart aches. This feels like a trap I willingly walked into.
We’re supposed to be back at the house writing songs, performing Bernie for Ava, maybe even making out in the corner when we think nobody is looking.
We’re supposed to be eating pancakes at the diner.
I’m supposed to be making them laugh with Dr. Napkin or maybe even Colonel Fork (note to self: add to project ideas).
But I’m separating us early. And don’t be fooled: It is my doing. Because I felt compelled to buy crafts instead of going on a date with Griffin like a normal person. Because I’m always working, even when I don’t want to—even when I’m sitting here about to say goodbye to this incredible man.
“This is my fault,” I admit.
Griffin shakes his head, taking my chin with his forefinger and thumb. “Don’t do that.”
“It is,” I insist. “I knew we were in public. I should have been more careful talking about Ava.”
“We were in a random store getting craft supplies, talking like normal people.”
“But you’re not a normal person.”
His eyes widen. I shake my head quickly, as if trying to shake away the sentence, hoping the wind eases the embarrassment warming my cheeks.
“You know what I meant,” I say. “I should have known better.”
“You couldn’t have.”
I go quiet. My body is tense—so tense it hurts my limbs to even stand here.
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “I’m not normal.
This is what my life is like.” He traces fingers down to my jaw and my shoulders, sending shivers over my skin, even through my thick purple coat.
“Things just…happen. Things I don’t want out there.
Things about people I care for.” His jaw tics. “People I want kept just for myself.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
And the thought strikes me again: Damn it, Beau.
Everything sucks because he sucks. Rob is distraught over a brother he once had.
Ava’s life will be public knowledge way before she’s ready.
And Griffin is trapped in his private life.
Again. No room to laugh with his daughter or eat at a diner or escape to a bench at a lookout.
I bet Beau is grinning somewhere, watching video after video pop up with theories about Ava, her mother, and Griffin’s life.
I don’t know how he knew, but he was sure quick to make a statement.
He made some post that would disappear in twenty-four hours, only to get screenshotted into infinity, which of course it would be.
But God, I don’t want to think about Beau right now.
I’m tired of thinking about Beau, Beau, Beau.
I only want to think about Griffin.
“I’ll mail you some pancakes,” I say.
He chuckles but doesn’t banter back. Maybe, being next to an airplane, we’re past jokes.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he says. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. “You’ve gotta help decorate my house, remember?”
“Of course,” I answer, but it feels empty in my chest.
The magic of our time in Elk Grove is slipping away.
Griffin is going on tour soon. I’m pitching a show.
And, if I’m lucky, I’ll get funding, and then my life will be consumed with work for every hour, day, week, and month.
If Griffin had any semblance of free time, that house would have been decorated by now.
He has a life, a career, an album to record, and a tour.
I know that, and so does he.
“Let me know when you land,” I say.
“I’ll see you soon,” he repeats. “Okay?”
But I’m a terrible liar, so I kiss him instead of answering.
He tenses as if caught off guard; then Griffin clutches my jaw to pull me closer, cupping the nape of my neck and holding me steady, like our kiss grounds him to the tarmac.
I know it does for me. Our kiss feels like fire, deep in my belly, flickering and keeping light.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine, and the candle dims.
I force a smile. He does the same. He doesn’t call me out for not agreeing.
I’ve been here before. I’ve been at an airport, kissing someone goodbye as he made his way back to California, back to his busy life without me. He’s not Beau. Griffin is a good man. I believe him when he says he wants to see me.
He’s not Beau.
But Griffin still loves what he does, and so do I.