Fade In (35 page)

“You don't know what hearing that feels like, baby. It's the most precious gift I've ever received. I just need a little time. Besides, you know all the real parts.”

I guess that just has to be enough. For now.

“I bet you're exhausted, Molly.” I say sympathetically when I call Winnie's sister to finalize everything for the bachelorette party that we're preparing for. Initially, she was going to orchestrate the whole night, but being majorly pregnant isn't really conducive to planning trips to the strip club and going to porn shops to buy dick supplies. So I've taken some of the weight off her shoulders and offered to do some of those things.

“I am. You know, I didn't think it would be this much work just carrying around a baby, but holy shit! It is. September cannot come soon enough.” She confides in me that, since seeing her at the shower, she's gained another ten pounds. She claims that they all landed in her ass and that we'll have to make the aisle at the wedding a foot wider so that her butt can fit down it.

“Well, I've got all of this stuff under control. Don't worry about it.” I reassure her.

“How is everything going with you? Your brother said you were dating your assistant. If you don't mind me asking, how in the hell does that work?” That's a good question. Sometimes it works like a dream and, like as of lately, sometimes it feels weird.

I glaze over the question. “It's working for us right now. We've talked and I'll probably just get a new PA after the wedding.”

“The wedding? Shit, Tatum, are you guys getting married!?”
What the...

“Hell no! Winnie and Cooper's wedding, Molly! Shit. We just started dating a few weeks ago. Jesus. Who do you think I am?” my voice screeches.

“Right, sorry. Baby brain. Of course. It's going good though, I hope?” Molly and I have always gotten along. She's a more traditional version of Winnie. So I loved her immediately, but she could be so daft at times.

“We have a great time together.” And when it isn't awkward because he's working for me and I'm not piecing parts of Ben's puzzle together, I've never been happier. But all that goes without saying.

“Good. Is he going with the guys on the bachelor party then?”

“He is. Cooper invited him when they were over for dinner a few nights ago. They get along really well. A lot better than...” And I shut that whole line of conversation down, continuing with, “Well, they get along. It's actually pretty funny watching them together. They're both such nerds.” We laugh because it's true.

After talking with her and making a list, I make a few calls and sort out all the things she thought would be so stressful. It isn't like I have anything better to do.

We've rented a small theater, hired a bunch of male strippers, and planned for a bar service. It is better than going to three or four different places and just hoping for a good time. I don't like those odds. Not when I could plan a sure thing.

Who knew there were places you could call just for this type of occasion and order a man in every flavor to come dance naked for you?

I love America.

When the day of the party arrives, Ben has Cooper pick him up at my place when Cooper drops Winnie off around two. They're going golfing and meeting up with the guys at the course before heading to some sleazy titty bar.

Winnie and I finalize some details for their big day until Ray comes to get us.

With Ben off with Cooper, I finally have a little bit of time alone with my best friend. I really want to know what she thinks of the whole me-and-Ben thing. She'll be supportive regardless, but I'm curious to know her take on it.

“Tatum, he's in love with you. I think you're in love with him. Do worry about any of that other shit,” she says flatly without any cushioning or fluff while rolling her eyes.

“But, Winnie, he's not telling me something. Isn't that, like, a huge red flag? I mean, he's perfect. He's attentive and sweet. He's funny and keeps me on my toes. He's hot as fuck and eats pussy like it the Last Supper, but I just have this feeling that, whatever it is, he isn't telling me because it's bad.” Sounding like I’ve sucked a tank of helium, I finish, “What if it's bad, Winnie? What will I do?”

“That's your call, Tate. Is he worth it? Because if he is and you trust him, just let it go. It doesn't matter.”

“You're right. I'm such shit at this relationship shit. Shit.” I face-palm myself, obviously I'm overthinking everything.

Stress swearing is a legitimate condition. Just ask Dr. Meade. Last time I was in his office and he told me—again—that my condition was still progressing, I believe I said, “Well isn't that just fucking great. Fuck.” It's hard for people to get used to it, but Winnie has heard way worse from me.

She tries to comfort my crazy mind by saying, “You'll get it. Just loosen up. Quit worrying about every little thing that could go wrong. For real. Just enjoy it.” She kicks me under the table. “And since I'm not allowed to divulge any naughty talk about your glorious brother, I'll just say congrats on the oral. You deserve it.”

We laugh and began our night with a little pot that big Devon gifted her. Neither of us smokes anymore, but one summer between junior and senior year of college, we smoked enough weed to last us a lifetime.

We stood on my balcony puffing and passing the joint back and forth since we still have a lot of time before the party.

I say, holding my inhale, “This was a good idea.” Then I exhale. Funny, you always have something to say with lungs full of smoke.

“Yeah.” She sucks in. “Why'd we ever stop?”

It wasn't the jobs. Most everyone at my first job was blazed up for every one of their forty hours a week. “I don't know. Maybe the weed made us too lazy to find more weed,” I answer as honestly as I can.

“Can you get marijuana for your sight?”

Why haven't I thought about that? “I don't know. I'll ask Dr. Meade next time I see him.”

“Tell him... Tell him I need some too.” She snorts and laughs her ass off.

“Yeah, I'll be all over that.” I think about what that conversation would sound like and then laugh and laugh. He might go for it. If it could help. Then again, he probably would have already mentioned it. My dope hopes disappear.

I still plan on asking though. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?

Winnie and I get high. So high.

When Ray picks us up, I think he can smell it, because he reminds us that we're not allowed to smoke in the car. Not that we would, but I feel a little juvenile when I hear him say it. It’s like being caught by your dad, only my dad would have just gotten in line for a hit.

The party is fun. Winnie is so greasy from the oily men rubbing on her all night. We do shots and dance with the entertainment. Molly even gets a lap dance, and she laughs so hard she pees. A few times actually.

The only men who were invited were Neil and Luis. For some reason, I thought that the big, beefy strippers would be put off by men being there, but they just play right along. Honestly, I think that Neil is more uncomfortable than they are. Luis hijacks more than one routine, getting up and trying to jump into their choreography without getting caught.

It is fabulous.

When I get home, I call Ben to tell him all about it. He doesn't answer, so I leave a message.

“I'm sure you're still out with my brother throwing dollars at boobies, but I just wanted to call and tell you I had a fun night.” I stop, thinking about what else I want to say.

It's so easy to talk to voicemail sometimes. There's no interrupting. There aren’t any sighs or buts. Only you.

“And I wanted to let you know that I got home. I missed you tonight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” I still don't hang up, my throat stuck on something else, feeling a little sad that he isn't here.

Then my cell lights up. I end his call and see a text from Cooper.

Cooper
: You're boy is fun, but drunk. He's staying at my place.

Me
: Thanks. Love you.

I'm glad that Cooper and Ben are getting along so well, but I didn't expect Ben to be the drunk one and Cooper to be taking care of him. A least not tonight.

“Tate, is it serious with Ben?” Cooper asks me the next morning. He brought me over breakfast and is dropping off the keys Ben left at their place that morning.

“I don't know,” I answer honestly. “Why does everyone keep bringing this shit up? If you have something to say, just say it then.”

“Bitch.” he says around a mouth of jelly doughnut. Weird how siblings get away with name-calling so easily. We've actually kind of mastered it over the years. He's called me a bitch so many times that it's almost my second name. He's my brother though. He loves me. He loves me enough to deserve the right to call me a bitch when I'm being one.

Them's the rules.

“Dick.”

“Okay. Here it is.” He wipes his mouth and looks me straight in the face. “I like the guy, Tatum. I do. How much do you like him?”

I must act like a real piece of work. Everyone insists that he's into me and they have no clue how I feel.

Whoa. I'm doing it again.

Was Kurt like this in the beginning? No.

I thought I was doing better. I thought that I'd progressed. Just goes to show you that, just because you think you're doing something, it doesn't mean you are. I guess.

“What are you talking about? I like him. A lot.”

“You do? Then why do you seem so mechanical with him around us? I'm just trying to see what big brother talk I'm supposed to being giving here.” Fuck. He's not taking it easy on me today.

“I like him. I mean…I care about him. Uhh… Where's my time machine? I want to undo this conversation.” I start to pick up the trash to get away from him.

But he follows, turning me back around by the elbow. “So why do you act like that then?”

“You don't see what we're like in private, Cooper! Maybe I'm just not into public petting around my brother. Ever think about that?” I shout.

His face registers my point, but he knows better than to believe it. “It isn't about that. Are you worried about something? Is he good to you? I need something here.” What a brother thing to assume.

Lowering my voice, I say, “Cooper, he's so, so, so good to me. He is. Maybe that's my problem. Maybe he's a little too good.” I stand there looking down at my feet. “And here it is. I think it's just going to disappear like everything else. Maybe it's easy for me sometimes and almost impossible other times to even look at things, feel things, enjoy things. I might love him, Cooper. But what good does that do him? He has things he doesn't want to tell me, maybe because he doesn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me. I'm flighty and moody. I want him. I want him to leave. I need him. He could do better. Have more.” I offer to keep rambling, but Cooper shakes his head that it was enough.

Then I stand up, flinging around until I smack my hand against the counter. My knuckle gets the brunt of it. It's not bleeding, but I stick it in my mouth to better it somehow.

My fist is in the way, but it doesn't stop the rant I'm on. To hell with what Cooper wants to hear. “What if he gets sick of me, taking care of me, helping me? What if I don't end up with anything to offer him?”

He looks at me with such compassion. “Love's like that, kid. It's a risky fucker. It is the ultimate best and worst thing.” He pulls my finger from my mouth, sets my hand at my side, and continues after some thought. “Only love can scare you this shitless. But would you want it any other way? That's where you're at, Tate. You're in love, but you're still fighting the fear. You'll never win. First, it's a fear of them leaving or finding someone knew. Then, commitment sets in and washes you with worry for their safety. It doesn't end until the love does. So it's your call. You can end the worry, but you lose him too.”

My arms furiously shoot up in the air. “You sell houses! What do you know?”

He grabs my arms again and calmly puts them at my sides again. “I know a lot about you, little sister. And believe it or not, I'm actually a pretty decent dude.”

“You are.” I hug my brother. “But you're still a dick.”