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I ignored that. I’d never understand Renee’s undying affinity for our old neighborhood or her enmity for Waterford Village. We weren’t in high school anymore–they weren’t the rival team. “It’s a standing invitation.”
“I appreciate it, big brother.” Renee paused. “It’s pretty, uh, heroic of you. Moving Quinn into your fortified castle.”
“Not really,” I said shortly. I didn’t like the way her voice dipped and then rose at the end, like an inquiry. As a rule, we didn’t ask about each other’s personal lives. Renee and I were ten years apart, so we were hardly those siblings who could anticipate the other’s every move and practically read their thoughts. I had suffered her babyhood as an impediment to my freewheeling, ten-year-old existence. Then, as a teenager, she’d suffered the additional fatherly figure. I wasn’t the cool big brother who tossed her his car keys and turned a blind eye to the skunk-like odor emanating from her bedroom.
Now though, we were slowly but surely drawing together. Emma’s death had been a big part of it. Renee had stepped upto be there for Noah in a way I hadn’t expected. It made me see her differently. Now we were closer, but not confidants. I wasn’t about to admit that I’d thought about kissing her best friend earlier.
And I definitely wasn’t going to admit that I wasn’t sure how I would continue to keep my distance once we were under the same room.
Heroic? Hardly.
I was just trying not to be the villain.
CHAPTER 9
QUINN
Iwas moved into the guest room of Callum’s palatial, three-level home before Renee even got off work that day. Mr. and Mrs. Evans rolled up in a Cadillac Escalade that looked brand spanking new. It even still had that new car smell seeping out of the leather. I had plenty of time to breathe it in because just as we were about to drive off, no fewer than three neighbors descended on the Evans’.
I relaxed in the backseat, while they got out and had a mini reunion with their old neighbors. I recognized and loved them all, but I was glad they couldn’t see in through the tinted windows. If they saw me, they’d want to hear about my career. What was I doing now? When was my next album coming out? The critics didn’t know shit, my second album had beenamazing. A whole heap of love and lies and questions that might suffocate me in my current state.
Mrs. Evans apologized profusely when they finally got back in the car twenty minutes later after promising to come back for a neighborhood barbecue in a few weeks.
“Mrs. E, don’t apologize, please.” I held my hands up. It was too weird to have them apologizing. “I’m just grateful you guys could come and get me. I don’t know what I was thinking, not bringing my car.”
“We’re happy to do it,” Mr. Evans said as he backed out of the driveway. I noticed he still twisted around and craned his neck to see over his shoulder rather than using the backup camera. “And girly, if you and Callum hear so much as a twig snap outside, call me. I’ll be over with the Glock in two seconds flat.”
My whole life he’d called me and Renee and the others thegirlies. It made me smile now. It gave me something to focus on besides the image of Mr. Evans, who would be sixty-eight in a few months, going up against Jason Cain with his Glock. Because if I focused on that, I might go insane.
We drove out of the maze that was Belmont Springs and pulled back onto the road that bisected the main artery of the town. Just like I remembered, the road widened as soon as we crossed over. The trees weren’t as majestic, but they were manicured within an inch of their lives, and the topiary was carved into perfect spheres and stood sentinel around the perimeters of yards at even intervals.
Mrs. Evans tried to act like this was all so normal. She chatted up Callum’s house like she was a realtor and I was a prospective buyer. I heard all about the recessed lighting in the living room, the rainfall shower head in the guest room, the top-of-the-line oven in the kitchen that couldn’t burn a Thanksgiving turkey if youtried. When we pulled into one of the spacious garage bays, she switched over to acting like she was dropping me off at college. Something my own parents had never had a chance to do, but I’d tagged along for Renee’s drop off day, so the tone was familiar.
The only problem was, this wasn’t a college dorm. There was no stripped bare bed to make up. No roommate to make small talk with. I only had a small knapsack of clothes, so she could hardly help me unpack my suitcase. She ended up sitting forlornly on the edge of the bed, her fingers braided together in her lap.
“Honey, I just don’t know what to do to make this better for you,” she finally admitted.
I sank down beside her and leaned into her comfortable bulk. “You don’t have to do anything, Mrs. Evans. Your family is doing enough for me.”
“I just don’t see how anyone can be so horrible. And overmoney.” She said it like it was such a silly thing. Like Jason Cain was coming after me because I’d eaten the last strawberry glazed donut or something equally trivial. She and Mr. Evans had never shared Callum’s opinion that money was the foundation for everything that mattered in life.
“I wish more people thought like you,” I said, my head still on her shoulder like I was a little girl again. “Everyone in LA thinks money is the only thing that matters. All roads lead back to it. No one wants to make music for the sake of creating something beautiful. They want to commodify it.”
“Silly.” She leaned her head against the top of mine. We were silent for a moment, and then she said, “Honey, can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure,” I said, surprised. “Anything.”
“Can you keep an eye on Callum for me while you’re here? I’m worried about him.”
“Oh, um. Hmm.” I straightened up and pushed my hair back over my shoulders. I’d said anything, but that was when I thought she was going to ask me to double check the locks every night or something. “How do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t mean that I want you to spy on him.” She picked up on my concern immediately. “I just mean… he’s not like those horrible people who only care about money, exactly. But he issofocused on it. I wonder if maybe he would be happier if he focused on other things. So maybe you could remind him of other things.”
I stayed perfectly still, willing my mouth not to split into a smile that would inevitably devolve into helpless laughter. I knew Mrs. Evans didn’tmeanthat she wanted me to sleep with her son. She probably wanted me to see if I could get him back into tinkering with cars with his dad or running or playing the piano, or any one of the hobbies he’d dabbled in before he began to focus on acquiring wealth.
“I’ll try,” I said, my voice halting with the effort of not giving into the laugh expanding in my chest.
“Thank you, honey.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I wish it were under different circumstances, but it’s so nice to have you home. Maybe we can get your parents back in town, too.”
