8. Harmony
CHAPTER 8
Harmony
I ’m beginning to think that Toby’s little town hall call out worked to my advantage. I seem to have more regular customers now. I love the busier days, but it makes me realize how much I need more help.
I don’t have much time to daydream or even think some days, but when I do, I find my attention turning to one of two things: the little nugget growing inside me or Toby.
When I met him, he loathed my very existence. But then there was the other day when our hands touched. And then again yesterday, when he brought the mail over. He seemed to be interested in me and exchanged pleasantries like a normal person. Why are guys so damn confusing? I don’t know what’s worse—not knowing where I stand with Toby or a guy like Rob who used me only when I was convenient.
I’m beginning to think that I failed to realize he was only into me because of who my father was. I thought I was decent at recognizing those kinds of situations and people. But Toby has no idea that my dad is the bassist for The Blind Rebels. Not that I should be thinking of Toby like that, but he doesn’t like me anyway. I shake my head. Stupid pregnancy hormones at it again.I happily turn off the open sign in my window and return to the counter to clean up. With my back to the café, I start my evening closing routine, swaying to the music playing a little louder over the state-of-the-art sound system my dad gifted the café. I turn up the volume of my favorite playlist. It’s a little bit more aggressive than my usual surf rock playlists for customer ears.
I wiggle and sing along as I make sure all the surfaces aren’t just wiped down but sanitized. Then, I move over to the bakery case to remove the few baked goods left. Maybe I should try to mix it up and take them to different neighbors this time. Introduce myself a little more to the people who live directly around me, especially since business has picked up.
The bell over the door rings, letting me know someone has come in, despite the small neon open sign above the door missing.
“Sorry, I’m closed,” I holler from my squatted position behind the pastry case. Dammit, I need to be better about locking the door at closing.
“Is that Mudvayne playing?” The deep timber of the voice on the other side of the counter has me immediately abandoning the baked goods. I fly up past the cash register and around the corner of the wall that blocks my view from the rest of the dining area.
“Gibson!” I rush to my younger cousin. He’s my first sense of home, of familiarity, since Uncle Sammy left after driving his Jeep up from Southern California for me. Gibs, my cousin who also happens to be my best friend in the whole world, is standing here in my café with a genuine smile on his face.
“You’ve always had the most interesting taste in music. You are Killian’s daughter through and through.” He laughs at my exuberance, catching me as I launch myself at him, my flying hug no match for his solid frame. “Mony, it’s been a few. A few too long.” The childhood nickname only Gibson calls me makes me grin even wider. It’s our thing and always has been. He gives everyone a nickname. He’s called my dad Uncle Kiwi since he was a child and even now will pull out an occasional Kiwi just for the reaction factor.
He lifts me up, my feet dangling, and swings me in his strong embrace. He’s taller than me by six inches and is all muscle. Despite being four years younger he’s like a big brother to me and always has my back.
Gibs sets me down and pulls back to look at me, his hands gripping my arms gently. He really looks at me with those always assessing deep sky blue eyes of his, eyes that almost match my own.
“The boonies agree with you, Mon.”He gives me a reassuring smile, and I instantly feel like I’m home.
He steps back to take in The SeaSong. My baby, or should I say, my first baby. I instinctively place a hand on my stomach then quickly remove it before Gibs notices.
“Wow, look at this place. The murals are amazing.” He moves to the main mermaid painting along the lengthiest wall of the café area, his knuckles grazing the beauty Mom and I worked so hard on. It’s a full-color mermaid wearing magenta headphones with a cup of coffee in one hand, music notes surrounding her head.
“Shit, did you do all these?” He motions to the other one behind the small stage in the opposite corner as well as the one behind the counter. “And the big one in the parking lot?” His long blond bangs flop into eyes as he smiles, a dimple appearing in his left cheek.
My cousin is irresistibly charismatic, and a talented multi-instrument musician. He’s the best cousin, and friend, I could have ever hoped for. We bonded at the very first family barbecue when my parents took me to meet the rest of the Rebels.
He doesn’t play the field like most musicians his age do. For Gibs, life is all about the music. He’s more focused and dedicated to his craft than anyone his age that I know. Of course, he’s this way. Unlike me, he was immersed in music in utero and was raised with it as a child. To put it simply, he’s the son of the guitarist from the famous rock band, Blind Rebels. Said guitarist is also known to me as Uncle Cal.
“Mom and I painted them together before I opened.”
“Makes sense. Art always comes so easily to you. And you’re so talented.” He throws me a wink before continuing his walk around the café. He takes everything in before settling at one of the purple resin tables and tipping the chair back on two legs. “So,” he rubs his hands together, “when are you done with your shift? I’m starving. I drove straight through pretty much. I want a burger, a beer, and a chat with my favorite person.”
“There’s a great burger place a few blocks down, you’ll love it. But you won’t get a beer there. They’ll card you, Gibs. You don’t turn twenty-one for another eight months.”
He shrugs. My cousin is charming and convincing when he wants to be. He’ll likely get the beer he wants through flirting shamelessly with the waitress until she’s witless enough to give in. I’ve seen it happen before. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past him to have his fake ID on him. He’s used to playing in clubs as an underage musician. His band, Muted Anarchy, has developed quite a following in the downtown LA club scene, just like his father’s band before him.
I rush through my closing chores, finish preparing the café for tomorrow, and lock up. Soon, we’re walking the two blocks down to The Beachside Grill, and I’m pointing out my favorite places I’ve discovered over the few months I’ve lived here.
“So, how goes it in Port Boondocks?” Gibs asks as we settle into our corner booth.
“It’s great.” I smile brightly.
The waitress approaches and slides our menus across the table, shyly making eyes at Gibs. He doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. She leaves with our drink orders, a beer for Gibs and a sparkling water with lime for me.
“Why’d you come?” My cousin has to be here for a reason. Port Haven is almost in a different state, it’s so far from SoCal. I did that on purpose—moving far enough away from my family that visiting almost seems like a hassle. I needed clarity. To stand on my own. To find out who I am when I’m not the kid of the bassist from the Blind Rebels.
“I miss you, and I was in the mood for a drive. Plus, I wanted to see what’s so cool about Port Haven that you’d uproot your entire life to move here.” He sighs, looking out the window at the ocean across the street.“Come on, Mon. You forget, I know you. Being a Rebel kid, we grew up closer than most siblings. Something’s up with you. I feel it. What gives?”
I detail my plans for The SeaSong and tell him about the jerk in the bookstore next door and the town hall meeting a week ago. In true Gibson fashion, he listens to what I’m saying, not what he thinks I’m saying.With Gibs, I’m always heard. I’ve told him anything and everything since we were young. Despite our age difference, he claimed best friend status the first time we met, and honestly, the feeling is mutual.
It would kill my parents if they found out Gibs knew my other news before they did. But I need to talk to someone I trust, and Gibson’s always been that person for me. The person who knows my deepest secrets and my darkest fears but doesn’t judge.
“I’m a vault, Mon. You know whatever you say stays with me.” He pretends to lock up his chest and throw away the key, as if he knows something heavy is weighing on me, something more than just the café.
“Promise you won’t tell?” I don’t know why I ask because I know Gibs just like he knows me. He wouldn’t tell a soul unless I was in danger, and I’m not. But my stupid eyes fill with unshed tears that blur my vision because of all these damn hormones rushing through my body right now.
“Pinky promise.” He’s solemn as he lifts his hand, offering to link pinkies with me. And I take it, holding hands with the kid who welcomed me into his family without question. And who became my confidante way back then. Because I need the reassurance that, no matter what, someone is going to be there for me despite what I’m about to say.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words tumble out so fast I’m not sure he hears them until his hands flex and ball up, taking my pinky with them.
His slightly stubbled jaw goes tight, and the muscle in it flickers in the low light as he clenches down, causing me to worry about his teeth.
“That fucker.” His eyes fill with fire. “That. Fucker,” his growl is low and deep, and I tear up even more despite knowing his anger isn’t aimed at me. Gibs knows Rob and I broke up before I came to Port Haven.
He lets go of my hand and smashes his fist on the table, our cutlery clattering and heads in the diner turning toward the clamor. I can’t help but jump, this show of anger from my cousin is not something I’m used to. I’m an outsider in this town as it is, so who knows what the gossip mill will say about me come morning.
“You have to promise not to go home and take it out on him.” I grab at his hand and pull it toward me, trying to distract him. I can’t let him get in trouble. I don’t want that for my cousin. I don’t want Aunt Ari and Uncle Cal upset with me if Gibs goes home and beats the everloving shit out of Rob.
“He knows?” Gibson’s pitch perfect voice drops an octave causing a shiver to race down my spine. I’m not fearful of my cousin, but I know how protective he can be. Of me, of his other cousins, our parents.
Even though Rob’s not part of Muted Anarchy, they were once bandmates and friends. Gibson kicks at the table leg, and I try to ignore the weird feeling in my stomach. I’m not sure if I’m going to be bolting for the bathroom with my near nightly round of nugget induced vomiting, or if I’m worried what Gibson might do to his former bandmate.
“I called him the day I took the at-home test. It took him three days to get back to me so I could tell him. So, he definitely knows.”I can’t look at my cousin because I know what he’s going to ask next, and it’s what will shove him over the edge.
“And he said?” Gibs asks, small particles of spit flying from his mouth. He’s so pissed.
My lip quivers as I recall my phone call with Rob. “‘What’s your Venmo, I’ll send a few to help you get rid of it, if you’re even pregnant. But keep the money even if you aren’t. Consider it a parting gift but then we are done, Harmony.’” Rob’s words will forever be seared in black over my heart.My heart that now beats for the baby we created.
Not able to hold it back any longer, I burst into a fit of ugly crying, my chest heaving with dramatic sobs. Fat tears roll down my face, probably taking my mascara with it as my chest hitches. I’m making a huge scene, but I can’t help myself. I’m upset, freaked out, and hormonal—and, of course, it all comes to head in a very public place. None of which are things that a non-pregnant me would do.
I didn’t plan for this baby. I’m younger than my dad was when he found out my mom was pregnant with me. He wanted me from the moment he knew about me, though.This baby is a part of me, even this early on, and I am part of it. Her . I definitely feel like my baby is a girl.
Poor Gibs. My show of emotions isn’t what he’s used to from me. He shifts awkwardly in the booth across from me, wanting to comfort me. But he also looks like he wants to murder someone. His ex-bandmate, Rob, probably at the top of that list.
“I’m sorry.” I sniffle and wipe my nose on my sleeve. “Please don’t hurt Rob. I can’t have my best friend in trouble. I thought I had come to terms with his assholery. I’m obviously keeping the baby.” My hand automatically touches my stomach. Gibs’s eyes follow it, his expression warming as his lip lifts into a soft smile.
“We’ve got mom issues, you and me, Mon.” He pushes his messy blond hair out of his eyes. “Different moms, different issues, but mom issues all the same. Likely why we bonded so closely as kids.” He grabs my hand that rests on my stomach and squeezes it. “But I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll make a phenomenal mama.”
He leans forward, looking directly into my eyes. “I take it Killian and Vi don’t know.”
I shake my head. “I found out after they left.” I take a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to tell them, but I figure a text or phone call isn’t the way.” I don’t want to disappoint either of them. Especially not now when they’ve invested their time and money into my café dream. Plus, I don’t want to come across like I’m rubbing it in Mom’s face that I can obviously get pregnant easily, when she can’t. Her sister, my Aunt Ari, had troubles too.
He’s quiet and pulls his hand from mine. “Knowing your parents, they probably already sense something is wrong. Not that being pregnant is wrong, but you know what I mean. That something’s off-kilter in your world.”
“You’re probably right. Dad left me a voicemail the day I found out, and he never leaves voicemails. He loathes them. And Mom’s been majorly helicopter-y from a distance.” I gulp and give words to the biggest fear I have. “I don’t want them to be disappointed.” In me , I leave out.
“I don’t think you could ever do anything to disappoint them.”
My embarrassment heats my neck and face, and I can tell Gibson’s looking at me, looking through me. Part of me knows he’s right. But…
“Fuck, Mon, you’re an adult now. They aren’t going to take you back to Miss Shelly.” As soon as he says it, the quiver starts in my bottom lip and my lower lids struggle to keep back the stream of new tears threatening to breach them. Only this time they aren’t due to my hormones. How Gibs realizes my deepest, unvoiced fear that the family I always wanted, that I dreamed about as a young girl, would reject me, is beyond me. Them throwing me away like Sevenya did is a fear that has always lingered—despite them showing me nothing but the contrary.
He breathes out a heavy breath and squeezes my shoulder. “Like I said, Mon, mom issues. We got them in spades, you and me.”
“Vi loves me as much as she loves Fender.” It comes out defensive, but I don’t mean for it to. “I never knew my birth mom. Not like you with Becka. I never thought I had mom issues.” My lips pull down at the corners as I begin tearing my napkin into little pieces.
“But how can you not, Mon? How can you not?” He huffs heavily, and his gaze drifts back out to the shoreline outside our window.
At this point, I’m not sure he’s even talking about me anymore. Gibson struggles with what his birth mom did to him. Abandoning him shortly after birth with his father, then helping kidnap him as a toddler, and then continually asking for a relationship with him despite it all. When he was a kid, Uncle Cal shielded him from her, but now I’m left to wonder if she hasn’t started coming to Gibs directly since he’s an adult.
Gibson loves Aunt Ari like a mother. Understandably though, he struggles with having this other mother out there, wanting a relationship with her son despite the abandonment and later kidnapping. And who can blame him for his struggles?
Ironically, our adoptive moms are sisters. So we are double cousins in a way because our dads are twin brothers. Probably another subconscious reason that Gibs and I are so close.
Our burgers are brought to our table. I forgot we ordered, but now that our food is in front of us, I’m reminded of how hungry I am. I’m usually nauseous this time of day, but not tonight.
“Shit, this looks amazing.” He grabs his burger with both hands and takes a huge bite before wiping his face on the napkin after his first juicy mouthful. “You were right, they do have good burgers.”
We eat in comfortable silence, with quiet ravings about the food here and there occasionally, oblivious to the comings and goings of the other diners. Gibs orders dessert, and we share a piece of coconut lime pie.
“I’m assuming I can crash with you?” He looks up at me, smiling before he snags a fork of whipped cream, taking most of the topping off the pie. It’s always been his favorite part of any dessert.
“Of course. Dad insisted I get a pull-out couch in case someone came up to see me. So far, only Sammy has used it. And I mean, I washed the sheets and stuff.”
“Cool. I knew you’d have something for me. Even if it was only an air mattress, I’d take it.” He leans back against the booth and rubs his stomach. “I think I’m full.”
“So, what do you miss the most being up here?” he asks as he turns his attention back to the ocean. It’s gotten dark, making it hard to see where the shoreline ends and the water begins.
“Mom and Dad.”
He nods. “I get that, but it’s not the answer I was hoping to hear, Mon.”
Shit. I’ve hurt his feelings.
He leans forward, dropping his head slightly before placing his elbows on the table.
“I miss you too, Gibs. So much. It’s so good to see you. To talk to you face-to-face.” I feel my freaking chin trembling again.
He lets out a deep full-belly chuckle, his eyes sparkling. “Still not what I was looking for, but I appreciate that sentiment. I miss you a ton, too.”
My head cocks as I try to figure out what he isn’t saying. “I was hoping you’d say you miss the music, Mony, the music!” He laughs again and shakes his head at me, his shaggy blond bangs falling over his eyes, obscuring the dark blue color that is not unlike mine.
I sigh, and I’m sure it tells him everything he needs to know. But apparently, it doesn’t because he just gives me an expectant stare instead. “You’re so talented, Mon. Seriously.”
“I haven’t sung on a stage in years, Gibs. If I followed that path, I’d always be living under the shadow of the Rebels.”
Now it’s my turn to avoid his gaze and look outside. A pair of early season tourists walk hand in hand down the boarded walkway.
“I don’t understand how you do it. They cast a huge shadow, it’s hard to find your way out from under it. Plus, The SeaSong is my way of giving music life. With my playlists in the café. By hosting events, if I get my liquor license.”
“ When you get the liquor license. I know you will, Mon.” His eyes twinkle in a way that tells me he’s up to something. “I have an idea.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Just hear me out.” He sits up straighter, his eyes dancing with the excitement he feels about his idea. “Let Muted Anarchy be your first band. We’ll do an all-ages show, no alcohol needed so that the Little Rebs can open for us. You won’t need your license, and it will be a total family affair. It’ll be great. Give us a month or so to get it worked out so we can make sure everyone’s available.”
“I can’t pay you, Gibs.” I’m upfront with him. “My idea was meant for local bands just starting out. I can’t afford things like travel and lodging, and I can’t fit you all in my apartment.”
“Let me work out the logistics with the guys and the fam. You know everyone will come, especially if we have the Little Rebs open.” He waves his hand around as he talks, becoming more and more animated as the plan comes together in his mind.
“I’m sure we can rent an RV, worst case scenario, Mon. The band has some money saved up, so we’ll use that if we can’t get some funding from The Rebels. I mean, you’re Killian’s daughter, and it’s mutually beneficial to my band and for the Little Rebs. You know that, at the very least, Sammy, Mel, Killian, and Vi will want to come up. But I imagine Mav and Kady will want to join in too. And you know my parents will come. Let us play and help you show Port Boonies what The SeaSong is about. It’s perfect, Mon. Really, it is. This is probably the best idea I’ve had yet!”
I mean, he has a point. Muted Anarchy is gaining momentum in the LA rock music scene. The Little Rebs are greener than Gibs’s band, but even they have a following, if not just because they are comprised of the younger Blind Rebel children. Having this kind of support would be awesome.And a cheap-ish way for me to show this town that what I want to do here is not crime-inducing.
We make our way back to The SeaSong to retrieve our cars. Gibs follows me back to my apartment. He texts his bandmates, and then we settle in to watch TV and have one of our epic chats. God, I’ve missed him. But my eyelids droop, and I make my way to the linen closet to retrieve the bedding for the pull-out. I throw it at him.
“I have to be up early to accept my pastry delivery and get the coffee brewing for the morning crowd.”
“I’ll come in with you. See you in action. It’ll be cool! Maybe I can even help.”My cousin grins up at me.
“I mean early, Gibs.” I can’t help but doubt him. Gibson loves sleeping in. He’s not the morning person I am.
“I know, I know. I’m better at getting up when I need to now.” He smiles at me as he hugs the pillow I tossed to him from the closet I keep extra linens in. “I need to tell you two things about this show, Mon, before you hop off to bed.”
He sighs and something in his face tells me I’m not going to like either of the things he’s about to say.
“By the time the show happens, you’ll probably be, um…showing, at least a little, and Killian and Vi will be coming. You understand that, right?”
“If the show happens, I’ll worry about it then.” Unconsciously, my hand gravitates to my stomach.
“Oh, it’s happening. The guys are on board and working on it right now.”His smile grows wider. I should have figured he’d move heaven and earth to make this show happen.
“Okay, so that’s one. What’s the other thing, Gibs?”
“We don’t need money to play. Not for you, you’re family. But I will ask for one thing, Mon.” He stands and moves the couch cushions to the corner and pulls out the bed from within the couch with one easy pull.
“What’s that?” My stomach clenches because I am pretty sure I know exactly what he’s going to ask.
“One song. A duet with me. That’s it. You pick the song, just give us enough time to learn it if it’s something we don’t know.” His eyes gleam with the same excitement as they did when he started talking about bringing his band up here to Port Haven. It probably doesn’t matter what song I pick, he’d know it and could teach the Muted Anarchy guys easily. This is the kid who’s been so ensconced in music his entire life that singing is a cakewalk. A kid who basically learned the drums while sitting on Uncle Sammy’s lap as a toddler. Who plays guitar as good, if not better than, his father.
“Gibs, singing is not really my thing anymore.” I sigh as I watch him tuck the sheets onto the pullout mattress. As kids, Gibson made music and singing fun for me. But it just wasn’t something that spoke to my heart. I love music but not as a singer. And I don’t play an instrument well enough to be doing it professionally.
“It doesn’t have to be your thing. Just one song. I’m not asking you to join the band or cut a record.” His eyes hold mischief in them like they did when we were kids. “I miss singing with you. All my favorite memories are of us singing together, Mony.” He pauses. “I want you to know I thought about not asking you and just pulling you onstage, but that’s not cool. Think about a song and get back to me. I’ll make sure the guys and I know it well enough to do you justice.” He kicks off his Vans and takes off his socks before settling onto the pull-out.
“Fine. One song. If it even happens at all.” I turn and go to bed, hearing his deep chuckle serenade me as I make it to my room.