Chapter 6
JASON
I’m trying to unwind with my favorite pastime, kicking back with a beer, crossword puzzle, and binge-watching Game of Thrones. Trying being the operative word because my neighbor’s dog won’t shut up.
The groceries that were supposed to arrive early in the morning were dropped at six. And then some delivery guy comes twenty minutes later with the wrong address. So by the third time my doorbell rings, I’m well past annoyed.
I sigh, setting my beer on my new coffee table. Maybe it’s Em again, back for more pestering. Emmeline and Jack let themselves in earlier today. The not so sweet woman came by with a few new furniture pieces for my apartment.
Isn’t she nice?
She used me as a fucking excuse to go antique shopping with my brother last weekend. The poor bastard is whipped to the max.
Who spends his weekends buying used shit and then refurbishes them by hand? Only an idiot in love. Who needs that kind of lame hobby?
I check the small monitor next to the door and groan. This day just keeps getting better. It’s my cousin, Marek. Why today?
Why any fucking day with this clown?
“Cuz, open the door,” he says showing me a six-pack.
“Go away,” I shout. “The answer is no.”
“Nothing says welcome to mi casa like ‘go away,’” he says, cheerfully. “My life is a shitshow, and you don’t see me yelling at you.”
His life is always a shitshow.
Marek is my only cousin from my mother’s side. His dad was a deadbeat and his mom—may she rest in peace—depended on my parents’ help ever since. He’s almost thirty and still thinks that we’re his clean-up crew.
I love him like a brother, but sponsoring his art is fucking expensive.
“Hard life?” I snort as I throw the door open like a chump.
His face is as pitiful as the beer he brought me. Reluctantly, I let him in, handing him a real beer when we get to the kitchen. I let him grab a seat and take a sip before he ruins my night.
“What is it this time?” I ask slowly.
Marek laughs nervously. “Can’t a guy come to visit his best buddy?”
Sure, if you had a “best buddy,” I think.
Marek is a world-class disaster. I’m just the schmuck dumb enough to bail him out every single fucking time.
“Real subtle with the flattery, there,” I say, leaving the kitchen.
“This is the last favor I ask for the rest of my life,” he says finishing his beer, grabbing a new one, and following after me.
“Uh huh,” I say incredulously.
He stands in the middle of my living room, squirming a bit. I honestly don’t give two shits about what crisis I have to fix this time. There’s a time when a guy has to say enough is enough. I just want to finish my damn show before bed.
I settle back into the couch and do just that, letting Marek flounder on his own for a bit. Then, since I really want to get back to my show, I ask, “What’s the deal?”
“It’s Charlie,” he says finally.
“Remind me who Charlie is,” I say dispassionately as I stare at the TV.
“The girl I’m dating,” he explains. “You met her a couple of months ago. Jack had some office party.”
I shrug because I have no idea who this Charlie person is. Marek combs through his hair with his fingers and starts pacing around the living room. He reminds me of a deer that’s too skittish to be on the side of the road but too dumb to move out of the way in a safe direction.
Now that I think about it, he’s been weird since he got here.
“Marek?”
“She’s pregnant,” he says, swallowing hard. “She’s keeping it.”
The fucker’s practically shaking. It’s weird. He’s even more laid back than I am.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Is that even a question?” he says. “I’m not him, Jason. I’m not—I can’t be my father.”
I nod stiffly. “Ok, so now what?”
He takes a swig of his beer. I wince. That shit has to be lukewarm by now.
“You have to help me,” he says, but it sounds slightly like a demand. “I don’t have a penny to my name.”
“Uh, no offense, bud, but... what the fuck?” I utter.
What is he asking here?
He shakes his head. “This isn’t another get rich quick scheme, Jay. It’s about my kid.”
Marek stops in front of me and says, “Your niece or nephew.”
I scrub my face. I can feel a stress headache like no other coming on. “Why don’t you ask Jack for help?”
“I was hoping you’ll convince him to give me a hand too. Maybe give Charlie or me a job.”
“What about your art?” I question.
Shit, I have invested years in his work. He can’t just toss it away because of this. Can he? What’s even the responsible call here?
“I’ll stop for a couple of years until we’re settled,” he says.
I nod.
Who’s to say he’s wrong?
Then again, who’s to say he has any marketable skills and can survive as a real fucking adult.
“Where are you going to live?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Charlie lives with her parents, and my studio is too small for the two of us.”
I sigh, bracing myself for more bad news. “I hate to even ask, but...how old is this Charlie?”
“Twenty-nine,” he says. “She’s between jobs.”
Of course she’s between jobs and dating Marek. He looks like a million bucks, but his bank account is drier than the Sahara Desert.
“Look, if you help me fix this, I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” he pleads.
I snicker. Of course he won’t ask me for anything, until the next time he fucks up.
But I guess that makes us both fools. He believes this is the last one—and so do I.
“Call the Four Seasons or the Ritz-Carlton hotel,” Jack says as I keep browsing my phone for a wedding helper or whatever.
Twelve hours and six cups of coffee later, Jack and I are on one of his ugly ass couches pulling together a shotgun wedding.
“What’s the name of those organizing wedding people?” I ask Emmeline.
“You mean a wedding planner?” She smirks amused.
“I guess. You know any?” I ask, playing dumb and waiting for her to take over for us.
Weddings aren’t my scene. In fact, I hate weddings and the whole concept of marriage. It’s just a dumb way to attach yourself to another person who will let you down one way or another.
She grins and I divert my gaze.
“You do have a heart, don’t you?” She asks, and I can hear the satisfaction in her voice.
I keep my eyes plastered to my phone. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh,” she says. “What happened to let’s stop fixing Marek’s life? You’re both a couple of gullible saps for trying to pull together a last-minute wedding and making it good.”
“We can’t leave him high and dry. We’re all he has,” I argue meeting her gaze.
“Don't you think the bride should get some input in all this?” She arches her eyebrow.
“Marek says she's just as lost as he is,” Jack finally speaks.
Sometimes I feel like he enjoys when his lovely woman makes me squirm. Fucker.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Even if that’s the case, you can give them a hand. Not just do everything for them. Suggest the venues, but let them choose. I bet she has a favorite color. What if you choose bubble gum pink and she hates it?”
“Personally, I’m more of a black and teal guy,” I joke.
“Call him, ask him to bring his girlfriend. Or maybe you can get the families together,” she suggests ignoring my joke.
That idea isn’t too bad, until I remember one little detail, “Our parents are in Athens.”
“You two will be there,” she says. “Maybe Jeannette can join. I know June is working on a project so don’t count on her. Alex’s week should be clear. His physical therapist is on vacation.”
I grimace at Jack. “Does she have our schedules memorized?”
Jack smiles and shakes her head. “She talks or chats with our sisters daily and with Alex even more. Aren’t you coming too, Em? I’m counting on your contacts to get some of this done.”
She winks at him and says, “To the family reunion? No. I’ll give you my contacts, but it’s going to cost you.”
“It’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he answers. “Some sacrifices will be made, but I’ll submit to any of your wishes to make up for your services.”
“I wouldn’t expect any less from you,” she pauses, licking her lips. “Mr. Spearman.”
“Incredible. My powers of invisibility have grown. Next stop, NORAD. I’m stealing one of their fancy airplanes,” I say deadpan.
They kiss and ignore me.
My body freezes for a moment.
I hate being the petty third wheel, but what else is there for me?
Somedays, their love is just too much and too depressing. It threatens to push me toward the past and drown me with the memories of what I once dreamed and can never happen. Not that I want some shitty relationship. There’s no fucking way I’ll gamble on love again.
I glance at them and repeat inside my head, never again.