I Call Him Brady (18 page)

             
May had understood it. She and I had lost our father. We knew all too well what that absence meant, the hole it left behind in your heart. Good father or not, Austin was the only one Jessa had. Losing him would have meant the same thing to her, losing my father had meant to me. There was no way I’d ever put her through that if I could help it. Only now it seemed, I couldn’t.

A
 

nother week and I was still waiting.

                        
Waiting sucked.

There was a brief knock on the door before it flew open.

              “I’m here. What’s the plan?” May was standing in my kitchen, bags in hand. Then Marshall showed up behind her.

             
Meanwhile, I was mid-slide on an intense game of Chutes and Ladders in the living room.

             
“Aunt May!” Jessa jumped from her seat and ran to her. May’s reflexes hadn’t slowed any and she caught her just as Jessa leapt up.

             
“What are you guys doing here?” The shock was wearing off and I stood up to greet them properly as well.

             
“I got a text. You said you needed help getting Brady back.” She said it like driving down here on a moment’s notice from Detroit was the logical response.

             
“You could have just texted me back, you know?”

             
Marshall smirked. “Really? Texting? Was that an option?”

             
“Absolutely not! I want a front row seat to this happily ever after. After everything I’ve invested, I fucking deserve it.” May slowly lowered Jessa back to the ground and turned to give me a hug as well.

             
“Everything you’ve invested?”

             
“I would just go with it.” Marshall gently squeezed my shoulder as he moved past me to place their bags over to the side and out of the way. “I’ve spent the last several hours listening to her rationalize this trip and she’s fully convinced herself…and me…that it was the only sensible course of action.”

             
I reached over and hugged my sister a second time. “Thank you.”

             
“Obviously. So, what do you need from me?” She rubbed both hands together, ready to jump into action.

             
“Well, for starters, you can get your shit out of my living room.” I pointed at the bags Marshall had only just stacked along my wall. “You have a perfectly pink apartment downstairs. Store your crap there.” I grinned. The idea of having May right downstairs again even if it was only for a short time, made my heart sing for joy.

             
There was an exchange of glances between May and her man before Marshall picked up on his cue. “I’m on it.”

             
Apparently I wasn’t the only one excited at the sight of May’s stuff, because Jessa promptly reached for one of the smaller toiletry bags, hoisted it onto her shoulder and then led the way downstairs with Marshall right behind.

             
“You’re really going to do it?” May was staring at me probingly.

             
“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m really going to do it.”

             
“What made you change your mind?” She was leaning back against the breakfast bar, smiling smugly. “It was my awesome insight wasn’t it?”

             
I laughed. “Yeah, you had something to do with it.”

             
“Um, something? Are you sure you don’t mean everything?”

             
“Pretty sure, yeah.” I turned and started walking toward my bedroom.

             
“Then what was it? What was the turning point?” She was following right behind me as we turned the corner into my room and stopped. “Oh.”

             
I stood sideways, going back and forth between eyeing both her as well as the wall opposite her. “I started painting,” I said quietly.

             
For weeks after Brady had left, the wall had been blank. Just one big wall of white emptiness that for the first time in nearly twenty years had seemed impossible to fill. Then, out of nowhere, I had picked up a paint brush and started painting. Just like that first image I had conjured up of my sister and I, this one had evolved and morphed itself several times over, until all of a sudden I had found myself face to face with the truth.

             
“It’s beautiful, Em,” May whispered. It was probably the closest she’d ever been to speechless.

             
“Thank you.” I let my eyes travel over to the wall, let them trace the outlines, the brush strokes that had brought to life the deepest secrets of my heart.

             
The painting had started out quite simple. Sand, sun and surf.  Then the lighting had changed to crimson reds and rusty oranges and the sun had begun to set in the distance. Next, footprints had traveled the sand. Soon, they had led to someone. A man, standing near the water under an arbor that had been decorated with white magnolias and sea shells. He was faced out to the ocean, searching for something…or someone.

             
After painting the man, I had stopped for several days, until one night after working late on the truck, I had come home too wired to sleep. I had picked up the brush again and painted a billowing white cloud covering a large part of the wall. The cloud had gradually taken on shape, and soon, I had found myself standing in the center of it with a tight corset wrapped around my waist and a sheer veil flowing down my back. There I was, following the footprints in the sand leading me directly to the man beneath the arbor. It was then that I had an intense urge to turn the man around. To see his face. To know what his expression would be when he saw me walking toward him.

             
So, I painted it. I painted him. I painted Brady.

             
I watched May as she walked closer to the wall. “This is going to happen Embers. This will be real someday…and I’m going to take a picture of it to show you when it does.”

             
My eyes were swelling up with tears again, only this time, they weren’t causing me any pain. “I hope you do. But first, I need to find a way to reach him so I can tell him how I feel. And how really fucking wrong I was about everything.”

             
May seemed to hesitate for a second before she said, “Have anything particular in mind?”

             
I did. “A gesture. I’m going to make a goddamn gesture. Because he’s fucking worth it.”

             
Her mouth spread into a smile. “I like it. Where do we start?”

             
I led the way back out into the living room just as Marshall and Jessa reappeared in the doorway.

             
May didn’t skip a beat. “Hey Babe, how long has it been since you got your ass kicked at Chutes and Ladders?”

             
Marshall peered over at the coffee table and the half-finished board game. “Too long. Jessa, you want to have a go at me?”

             
Jessa jumped up and down several times, nodding happily. “You’re going down mister!” she shouted as she ran for her spot on the sofa.

             
“Yeah, most likely,” Marshall agreed. For a tough guy, it was hilarious to watch how easily the Fillios girls were able wrap him around their fingers.

             
Once they were both taken care of, I took my laptop from the desk and took it over to the kitchen table where May and I had a seat.

             
I opened it up and clicked on several links to show her what I’d been working on.

             
“You want to buy advertising in airports?” She wasn’t seeing the whole picture yet.

             
“Yes, and no. I want to buy space, so I can display images. Paintings.” I moved the mouse across the screen and opened up another window. This was a file I’d been working on for the last few days and it was almost finished.

             
“You did these?” She asked as she clicked through them.

             
“Yeah, on canvas. Crazy, right?”

             
“They’re gorgeous. But what are you going to do with them?” she looked at me quizzically.

             
“Remember when Brady left the first time and he arranged for all of those flowers to be delivered?”

             
She nodded, a glimmer of understanding lighting up in her eyes.

             
“And remember how each bouquet came with a note?”

             
“OH MY GOD!!” she squealed. “You’re going to leave a trail of love notes for him at the airports!”

             
“That about sums it up.” I waited for her to calm down again. “There’s just one tiny problem. I don’t have access to his travel itinerary.”

             
“Aha! I see now where I come into play.” May grinned slyly. She was a master at uncovering any and all kinds of information via the internet. I had no idea how she did it, but she could track down anyone, anytime. At one point she had used her mad skills to locate each and every one of the remaining Beatles and she had empty water bottles stolen from Paul McCartney’s hotel room trash to prove it.

             
“Think you can do it? I know he’s got that new movie premiering, starting next week, so he’s bound to be on the move.” I was kind of surprised she hadn’t already started typing away, exploding my keyboard and blowing up the google search engine.

             
“Oh, I can definitely do it. In fact, I’ll have all the info you need tomorrow morning.” She sounded particularly confident about that. Well, she was always overly confident, but this time she seemed to think she actually had a reason to be.

             
“Should I leave you to it then?” My version of politely asking her to get to work already. It didn’t take.

             
“No, you’re fine. I’ll do it later in bed. You know I do all my best stalking after dark when the insomnia kicks in. For now, let’s talk about what you’re going to write in these little Brady love notes.”

             
I made a face and closed the screen on my computer. “I’m not telling you that. It’s private.”

             
“Um, you’re planning on sticking these on billboards scattered across airport terminals. There will be nothing private about them.” She had a point. Still, it felt weird to discuss them beforehand.

             
“Well, you’ll just have to wait like all the other travelers.”

             
And so she did.

I
’d been lying in bed wide awake for nearly an hour when my phone rang. I peered over at the clock first. It wasn’t even six am. Then I looked at my phone. May. Obviously she hadn’t considered the time difference. Or, maybe she had and hadn’t cared. That sounded more likely. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

             
“Hey.”

             
“Can you email me your travel plans? Like, airports, dates, etc?”

             
I sat up, propping myself up on some pillows. “What for?”

             
“Can’t tell you.”

             
“Is it Embers? Does she want to see me?” My heart began to pound faster.

             
“Calm down. Just give me the info and let it play out. Remember, we’re dealing with a wild fucking animal here. Any sudden moves could scare her off.”

             
I definitely didn’t want to do that. “Fine. I’ll email you the stuff. Just text me the address.”

             
“Done.”

             
“So, this is a good thing though. Right?”

             
“Yeah, Brady. It’s a good thing.” Her voice had softened ever so slightly. Then I heard a click and she was gone.

             
If I had expected to receive a follow up call from May, or at least some sort of confirmation from her that she had received my email, I was wrong to. There was no call, no text, no fucking smoke signal.

             
So, I went about my business. My part in the project I’d been working on wrapped just in time for me to get ready to dive into promo mode. Incidentally, my least favorite part of the job, but not to be avoided.

             
Everything had been arranged down to the last detail. Along with my manager, Markus, who happened to also be my cousin, Crisco was tagging along too, as he did most trips. This particular outing would consist of ten cities in fifteen days, multiple premieres and red carpets to attend in addition to countless TV appearances I was already dreading.

             
In an attempt to keep things fairly low-key, the production company had assured me that all of my flights would be via private plane and that all the basic security would be provided at all the major events. It was one of the more humiliating aspects of fame. Being a grown ass man but needing another dude around to babysit you. Mostly, I avoided it whenever possible and simply stuck to traveling in small groups consisting of my close buddies.

Then there was that one time I traveled solo thinking I could just blend in like a normal human being and we all knew how that had turned out. If I ever got Embers back, she’d probably see to it I never traveled alone again. Who knew who’d be standing in that elevator next time
around.

             
It was mid-morning on a sunny Monday as Cris, Markus and I strolled through the private terminal. Aside from a handful of high powered executives and random wealthy retirees, there weren’t many travelers to speak of.

             
We had just passed through security when a small backlit diorama of a colorful painting depicting a single flower caught my eye. There was something familiar about the style. I felt like I’d seen it somewhere before.

             
I strayed from my group and wandered over to get a better look. That’s when I noticed the writing.

             
“There’s something insanely sexy about that trademark smirk of yours,” I read out loud. It couldn’t be. It had to be.
Embers
.

             
“What’s this?” Markus had walked up beside me and was studying the display in front of us.

             
I shrugged and began to turn away. “Just one of those billboards reminding people to feel good about themselves.”

             
I could hear Markus reading the words to himself. Then he smirked as if the compliment had been directed specifically at him. “It works.”

             
Indeed it did.

             
So did the one I saw at the gate the next day. It was another flower. This time it simply had the words ‘Nice Ass’ scrawled across it.

             
Crisco winked as he passed it. “Why, thank you.” Fucking moron.

             
Twelve days, seven airports and seven notes from Embers later, I was about to board my last plane of the trip. Convinced that she had left me another message somewhere, I searched the area. There was nothing.

             
Disappointed, I walked through the gate and down the narrow hall toward the door that would lead outside. From there we’d take a small trolley to the actual plane.

             
As I got closer to the end, I saw it. Hanging right there in the bend as the hall veered right. Her final painting. Majestic Roses and the words,
I’ll tell you when I see you
.

I was a nervous fucking wreck. It wasn’t until now that I could fully appreciate what Brady had meant when he’d said the whole thing had been easier in theory. In hindsight, laying my heart on the line would have been considerably easier in writing than the way I was preparing to do it.

Having left both Jessa and Coyote in May and Marshall’s capable hands, I had taken what little cash there was left from my art show money after paying for my various ads, and jumped a plane to LA.

Not wanting to chance anything, I had arrived a day prior to Brady’s mini promo tour ending. Naturally, I hadn’t slept a wink the night before, but compliments of caffeine and boatloads of adrenaline I was somehow standing upright and my eyes were open.

My brain, while sleep deprived, was running a mile a minute as I ventured my way through the foreign airport. Normally I prided myself on being at home in any terminal. Having grown up an international army brat had certainly allowed me the benefits of seeing plenty of them all over the world, but somehow, this smaller, more upscale looking airport was strangely intimidating.

I was starting to wonder if maybe I was headed in the wrong direction when I encountered them.

The Women.

So many women.

Instinctively, I spun around and began to make a run for it. Then I stopped.
Not again
.

I took a deep breath, turned back around and forced myself to march onward.

Overall, the crowd was quiet except for the anxious murmurs of anticipation that continued to wash through the ladies in waves. Several members of airport security had already arrived and were standing by to hold the cluster of female fans at bay, should they require it. Under no circumstances did I intend to get lumped in with those women. I was
not
one of them. Well, not anymore anyway.

Then it happened. Out of nowhere, screaming erupted. Startled, I ducked down behind the nearest plant. When I realized it was just the howls of welcome let loose by the horde of hungry
fanzillas I came back out of hiding.

I jumped up and down several times trying to peer over the crowd, but it was pointless. I couldn’t see a thing. Not even the tell-tale point of the fedora Brady was no doubt wearing was visible above the manic mob.

With no other alternative than to wait, I stood back in hopes he would eventually move in my direction and leave the mass of females behind. No such luck. The entire flock began to maneuver its way through the terminal, having now completely surrounded Brady in spite of the security staff’s repeated attempts to gain control of the situation.

Desperate not to miss out on my one shot, my one moment to be face to face with him, I did the only thing I could think of. In the midst of all the cries for
Jack Cole
, I shouted at the top of my lungs.

“BRADY!”

Then, like magic, the sea of women parted and there he was.

He came at me at full force, and I met him with the same intensity until we came together in the middle, his
arms wrapped around me and his lips crushed to mine. All of time stood still. The women disappeared. The airport ceased to exist.

All of the pain and heartache of the previous months healed while I stood there, safe in the shelter of his embrace. My heart had finally found its home.

              “What are you doing here?” Brady whispered hoarsely.

             
I reached up and brought his mouth back down to mine. Before our lips met I murmured, “Making a gesture.”

Somehow the airport security managed to disperse the mob of Jack Cole fans, who likely left the scene feeling somewhat bitter with disappointment. Fortunately, Brady and I were far too wrapped up in one another to take notice of much else.

I was sitting in the car before I realized we weren’t alone.

I awkwardly began to slide down from Brady’s lap, but his grip tightened, making it impossible for me to go anywhere.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled in my ear, nipping at my lobe.

“We’re not alone,” I informed him, reluctantly trying to put a stop to his much desired advances.

“What?” His head pulled up from my neckline. “Oh shit.” Apparently he had also spotted the two other passengers sitting at the other end of the limo.

“Don’t stop on our account,” the guy sitting closest to us called over.

“Sorry,” Brady mumbled, “For a moment there I forgot.
Em, meet Cris and Markus. Guys, this is Embers.”

“Hello.” I waved uncomfortably.

“It’s fine. Really. We’re getting out as soon as we clear this traffic. I’ve got another car meeting us to take us home,” Markus said smiling in a totally non-creepy way.

“Are you sure? We can take you home, it’s not a problem.” Brady was doing his best to look convincing, but I didn’t buy it and neither did they.

“Right. It wouldn’t at all be weird if we sat in the car with the two of you for the next hour and a half while we try to get through rush hour traffic,” Cris laughed.

Five minutes later the car was pulled over and they were getting out.

Cris popped his head back in one more time before he shut the door. “By the way, I get it now. I didn’t see it before, but it’s obvious now that she’s here…with you.”

Brady nodded. “Thanks man.”

Then they were gone and at last, it was just us.

“So, I believe there was something you were going to tell me,” Brady murmured as he went back to kissing the nape of my neck.

“Hm?” I could barely focus on anything he said when he did that, let alone form a coherent sentence myself.

“The last painting, it said, ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’” He lifted his head and stared me square in the eyes. Mesmerized by the depths of his emotions so clearly there for me to fall into, I paused. Then…

“I love you. I’ve been in love with you since the very first time you smirked at me. The first time you reached down and held my daughter’s hand. The first time you carried my sister’s bag for her. I’ve loved you. I have
loved
you. And no matter how hard I’ve tried. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”