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“You were Little Tree before you were Ciara, to me anyway,” Michael returned and sat down. “It fits.”
“I think you guys need new nicknames.” I looked at Sean. “We can do it hockey style.”
“Seanie, Romy, Keithie.” I turn to Michael. His eyebrows rose. “Mikey. . .”
Ricky returned freshly showered in his service uniform, his jacket folded over his arm, his bag slung over his right shoulder. He winked and his lip curled into a crooked smile. My heart skipped a beat. He pulled up a chair and sat behind me.
“Ciara feels we need new nicknames.” Keith nodded.
“Ricky doesn’t work.” I turn back to facing the front. “Lopezie sounds weird too.”
“Call him Daddy.” Roman scooted his chair closer to me and placed a hand on my knee. “That’s what he wants you to call him.”
“Shut the fuck up, Roman.” Ricky hit him on the back of the head. They both stood up. Michael stepped between then.
I scooted my chair back out of the way. “Are you guys serious?” I rolled my eyes; couldn’t stop myself that time. I stood up and headed outside.
“You’re such a . . .” They continued arguing as the automatic doors closed behind me. It wasn’t the arguing that got to me. For such a tight-knit group, they had some internal issues. Roman and Sean were always going at it. Ricky and Roman fighting for who was the biggest alpha in the group. Michael and Keith had some beef over a girl that started in high school. It was like any family, but I didn’t want to hear it this morning.
The humid air threatened to choke me. I pulled at the collar of my shirt.
“Ciara.” Sean stepped outside. “Hey, you okay?” He put his arm around me and guided me toward a bench a few steps away. We sat and he hugged me to him. “Don’t worry about those guys. It happens now when we get together. At one point, someone picks a fight, everyone takes sides, but it’s all forgotten and forgiven in a matter of minutes.”
“I know.” I laid my head on his shoulder. He smelled like marijuana. “I’m not upset about that.”
“What’s got you off-balance?” Sean had a bit of a Zen streak, which the guys constantly ripped him for. It didn’t gel well with the whole addict vibe.
“I’m worried.”
“About?” he asked.
“I’m worried about all of you, but at the moment, I’m worried about you.” I lifted my head and turned to him. “You have to get clean, Sean.”
I removed his arm and put space between us. “I’m scared you’re going to spiral and not come out of it because no one could talk you back from the edge like Bishop.”
“Ciara—-“
“No, listen to me.” I grabbed his T-shirt. “I need all of you, including you, to survive this.” I blinked the tears from my eyes.
“It’s not that simple.” Sean rubbed his face but turned to look at me.
“Has anyone ever asked you to stop?”
Sean’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean, really.” I gripped his bicep. “Do it for me. Stop self-destructing for me. I can’t handle it, Sean. If I have to go the rest of my life without hearing about how amazing my brother was from you, I will freak the fuck out.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the recordkeeper.” I giggled and squeezed his arm. “Just think about it. If you’re not around to remind us, then he dies all over again and I don’t think I can handle it.”
“Damn. No pressure.” He chuckled.
‘That’s the way it is.” I squeezed his hand. “It won’t work without you.”
“You won’t have to, Little Tree.” He kissed the side of my head.
“You promise?”
