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Rogue approaches the bar where several bottles of different spirits sit on a silver tray with a pyramid of glasses. He rolls up the sleeves on his sweater and turns one glass open end up before he unstops a bottle and decants a couple of inches into it. “Do you want a drink, Ivy?”
“Please.”
“Whisky? Vodka? Bourbon?”
“Bourbon.”
A Christmas tree sits in the corner furthest away from the electric fireplace. Pink and silver baubles and beads cover the green branches. The top of the star barely refrains from touching the fifteen foot ceiling.
He pours a second drink from a different bottle. Brings it to me. “Here you go.”
I wrap my hand around the glass. “Thank you.”
“Any news?” He diverts his attention from me to Rochelle as Rebel enters the room.
“No.” Ro stares into her drink. “Not yet.”
I feel like I’m encroaching on their personal space.
I thought I escaped it. This pretending to be someone I’m not. Letting my family turn my life upside down. I fought so hard. I was so close to being happy.
I concentrate on the tree. It’s a little early to have one set up but with today being fake Thanksgiving it feels warm and inviting. Unique baubles peek out here and there. Musical instruments. Miniature fake Oscars in lewd positions. A heart shaped bauble with a bullet in it. Round ornaments with their names on them. A picture drawn by a child. Photos of three teen boys. I can tell by their facial expressions which twin is which. Rogue just has this look that says he’s up to the kind of no good that will end up with girls swooning all over him. Even then Rebel appeared to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Riot’s soulful eyes stare into the camera while his arms are wrapped around a guitar like he’s holding the love of his life.
There are photos of a girl with strawberry colored hair too. In pigtails and rain boots covered in tiny pink flowers. Hugging a horse. Hanging over the shoulder of a big burly redhead. Stuffed between a guy with caramel curls and another giant with dark hair and ginger scruff. They have their arms linked through hers. Her feet don’t touch the ground and she’s laughing. I wish I knew why. Is it because one of those big men told her a joke? Or because she has the kind of family that like each other?
There’s another photo of Riot with his arm resting on the shoulder of a girl with punk hair and ripped jeans. Her scuffed high-tops have candy skulls drawn on them and she’s holding a skateboard. The underside of the board faces the camera and is covered in graffiti. The look on her face holds the kind of confidence I can’t imagine having now, let alone at that age.
There’s one of Ro too. Her face is lit up with a smile stretched wide across it. She looks so young and innocent and happy compared to the woman sitting on the couch on the other side of the room.
There are more pictures. Ethan. Linc. Bianca Del Ray. Riot’s band, L.A. Riot.
It's not a perfect tree like Nicole’s will be. Her ornaments are always flawless. There’s nothing unique. All the baubles are uniform. The colors chosen with military precision. But that isn’t the point. Her trees always make good magazine spreads to go with her fake words about how Christmas is a time for family.
This tree is all about family. Blood and more.
“Are you okay?” Summer asks quietly.
I was so captured by their tree I didn’t notice her come up beside me. “Last year my mom forgot it was my birthday. My birthday is Christmas Eve.”
I don’t know why I tell her that, other than we’re sort of friends now. It’s not like I care what Nicole thinks anymore. And it’s not like Nicole had ever bothered, except to use it as an excuse for a social event where we never actually celebrated my birthday. And I’d hide in the study away from the guests who were there to be schmoozed for one of her projects.
But my dad had always remembered. He’d buy me a cupcake and take me to our favorite spot above the city. He’d hand me a present, never wrapped. Sometimes it would be a book. Sometimes it would be makeup. It was never huge, but it was always thoughtful. I had so much stuff that didn’t mean anything. Designer shoes and clothes because I had to look the part beside Nicole. Possessions that didn’t mean anything. So those thoughtful gifts meant the world. The last birthday I celebrated with him he gave me the best present of all. I’ll cherish it always.
Last year was the first year without dad. I’d celebrated my birthday with a red velvet cupcake that Adira had given me and a game of canasta with Oscar the orderly.
“I’m so sorry,” Summer says.
“Just…she’s my mom. You would think it would matter. Why has it taken me this long to realize it doesn’t? I don’t…matter…to her. Only how I reflect on her.”
Alec looks perfect, but he isn’t. He’s a monster in pretty packaging. Yet she cares more about him than anyone else.
“Sometimes the people who are supposed to love us the most let us down the most.” She reaches out and adjusts one of the ornaments. “And sometimes the love that replaces it is everything. We’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.”
I glance over my shoulder at the man I fell in love with from the very first second. That’s what I’m doing, right? Keeping them all safe. That’s how much I care about him. This isn’t about protecting myself from another loss, is it?
The fact that I ask that question, even if only letting it run amok at the edges of my conscience, is too telling. I can’t lose Rogue. I can’t. “How far would you go? To protect Rebel?”
“Not as far as he would go to protect any of us.” She hugs her hands to her elbows. “Including you.”
