Pretty Instinct Read online

  “Why do you insist on dragging someone in his condition across the country on your meaningless bout of rebellion? The money can’t be taken back, it’s yours, whether he’s with you or not. Let him have a home, a watchful eye.”

  I step even closer into him, rage and resentment seething in my veins, ringing in my ears. “He was home, not on my watch, when he got in this condition. And our mother saw to it we have that money, you pretentious fucking bastard. Don’t you dare talk as though you have one ounce of generosity or concern for him in your body!”

  He pulls the pansy ass handkerchief from his pocket and wipes my spit from his leathery, over-processed face. “Always a pleasure, Elizabeth. Do try not to get him killed.”

  “Wouldn’t want to steal your M.O.”

  Nothing. No jolt of shock at the accusation, no flabbergasted denial, not even so much as a “what’s that supposed to mean?” He simply doesn’t care enough to feign plausible deniability anymore, sure he’s untouchable. One in the ground, the other not talking—I’d probably be feeling pretty good about my odds too. Unless I was going up against me. Which he is. As long as I have breath in my body…he is.

  His footsteps echo off the pristine marble floor as he turns and walks briskly away. There’s the version of him I know best—his back to us. He won’t stop and turn around, smile longingly at the daughter he’s lost, beg her to forgive him and explain away her suspicions. I quit wishing for it long ago; an icy indifference has taken its place. Nor does he so much as hug his son goodbye, killing my sense of obligation to tell him we’ll be gone a while this time, heading across the country as soon as we leave here.

  Allowing one fleeting sigh, my eyes take a rapid sweep around my childhood home before I gather myself and reassume my armor. “Come on, Bubs, we’re going. Grab your bag.”

  “Can we take the fishes with us?”

  “You don’t want those fish, Con. They’re tainted. I’ll get you some fish of your very own. Okay?”

  “And Pez?” he coaxes me with a goofy, adorable smile. Completely unnecessary because I’ll give him anything he wants, but my favorite sight all the same.

  “Of course. Always Pez.”

  Chapter 2

  When I promised Conner I’d get him some fish of his own, I wasn’t lying…but I also wasn’t thinking right this second. He however, was, pointing to every single building we’ve passed in the last ten minutes asking, “Is that the fish store? Is this where we’re getting my fish, Bethy? Don’t you need to turn right there, Sister?”

  Pulling over in a random parking lot, I can’t help but snicker. To hell with what the doctors say, my brother’s all kinds of cunning, brilliantly wrapping me around his little finger every chance he gets.

  “Where are we? This isn’t the store.” He slumps in his seat, shoulders hunched and a pout tugging down his mouth. “You were only kidding me about the fish, huh?”

  See what he did there? Doesn’t know what he’s saying my ass.

  I scoff and blow a big raspberry at him. “You know better, you clever little monkey. I’m getting directions real quick, Bubs. I don’t know where the fish store is.”

  We’d never been allowed pets growing up; too messy, loud, undignified—pick an excuse. Therefore, I have no clue where to buy one. The Foster brothers, though…they always had some sort of creature in a cage, bowl, or box when we were young.

  Dialing Jarrett, I practice the “I’m sorry oh and can you help me” speech in my head as the call connects.

  He answers on the first ring, sounding panicked. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. I kinda need your help, though.”

  “Shoot,” he pops off, no questions asked, no apology demanded first. He’s kinda great that way.

  “First,” deep breath filled with shame, “I need you to forgive me for being an over-the-top bitch this morning. You know I love you and I don’t mean to be so harsh, but I can’t have—”

  “You’re forgiven, already were. What else ya got?”

  I let free the nervous sigh I’d been holding and roll my head back and around, the ease in my shoulders glorious. Deep down, I knew he’d forgive me, but sometimes I worry that he, or Rhett, or both, will finally figure out I’m a handful, more trouble than I’m worth, and leave me. “I’m parked in front of Keene’s Appliance Store right now and need to know where the nearest fish store is. And could you please clear a spot for our new pets? Conner,” I turn to him, “where do you want your fish to go?”

  “In my room.” He nods his head up and down eagerly. “Yes, in my room, for sure.”

  “A spot in Con’s room, please.” And for five seconds it seems that easy, until inner Liz rears her complex head.

  “Wait, what if they spill? I guess I can get a lid. Oh, you better pick a spot by a plug, for the bubble thingy. Not by a window, too hot or cold,” I huff, “I don’t know.” I don’t know anything about this whole spontaneous project, let alone trying to pull it off on a tour bus.

  Conner’s in the big bedroom in the back, all the rest of us in the bunks or the pull-out couch in front…and I’m suddenly regretting giving him a choice for the tank’s home. Lord only knows what he’ll do with the fish all secret-like back there; I’ll have to keep the food, and net, and whatever else they come with in a safe place. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing somewhat labored, panic level rising, and try to find solace in the fact he didn’t ask for a dog. Unjinx, unjinx. I did not just think that.

  “Yo, Mama Bear!” Jarrett’s amusement rings in my ear. “Curb the crazy, it’s fish, not a fucking alligator. It’ll be fine. Go get the man some damn guppies and I’ll have everything ready. There’s a place called The Tank on the corner of Riker and 23rd, in the shopping center. Head there.”

  “Okay, you’re right. Only fish. We can do fish.” I breathe out all the unnecessary worry, firming my grip on the wheel. “See ya in a sec.”

  ***

  “That one,” Conner yells, sliding his pointer finger across the tank, chasing one fish, then another, and so on. “And that one!” His feet shuffle a mile a minute, excitement uncontainable. “Sister,” he turns to me, “they got a red one for Jarrett and a blue for me!”

  “I see,” I say, giggling at his enthusiasm. “We’ll take the red and blue one,” I tell the young guy helping us.

  “Anddddd,” Conner’s voice is a full scream, “the yellow one and orange one and blue one for Rhett!”

  “Two blue ones,” I amend to the helper, raising a warning brow as he sighs and rolls his eyes. Don’t even go there, dude. Help my brother, service with a smile, or else. Ruin this for him and you asked for what you get.

  “Bethy,” he says softly, the sadness in his voice snaring my attention, “they don’t got a bright pink one for you. You gotta pick a different color.”

  I lean in and examine all my choices, darting around the tank so fast my eyes can barely keep up. “How about a couple of those tiny little bright green ones?”

  “Yes,” he drawls out in fascination, “great choice. What ones for Cami and Uncle Bruce?”

  Thoughtful angel, never forgetting anyone.

  “They can share with me,” I assure him, patting his arm. “I think that’s enough, Bubs. We don’t have room for too big of a tank and you don’t want them to be crowded.”

  He considers that, tapping his index finger on his chin, then finally happily agrees. Carrying one of the clear bags with his blue and red fish toward the front, he positively bounces the whole way. Yep, we can do fish. Together, we gander around as the guy tries to chase down the rest of our order with the tiny net, Conner scooping up all kinds of castles, ships and treasure chests to go in the tank.

  “Remember, not too much, Bub. They need room to swim.”

  “Two things?” He holds up that many fingers, begging me with his sweet smile. When I agree too easily with a bob of my head, he goes in for the kill. “Three things?”

  “Two.” I stifle a laugh…trying desperately not to cave
and tell him to grab four.

  ***

  “Jarretttttt, I’m home!” Conner screeches the minute the door to the tour bus opens, his poor fish ricocheting off the sides of the bags from his exuberant shaking. I’m unsure why he always calls out for Jarrett first, the boys both equally good to him, both in our lives the exact same amount of time. I wonder if Rhett ever asks himself the same thing, or if it hurts his feelings? Knowing Rhett like I do, the answer is undoubtedly yes.

  “There he is!” Jarrett smiles, standing from the bench seat to give him a hug. “We missed you, bud. You have a good time with your dad?” He glances over Conner’s shoulder to me as he asks. He worries too, after living through it all right by my side.

  “Ask if he saw Alma,” I mouth.

  “Did you see Miss Alma today, buddy?” he questions casually, my jaw clenched tight as I wait for the answer.

  “Yes, she loves me. Bethy too.” My brother can contain it no longer, already over any conversation not about his pets. “See my fish?” He shoves the bags in Jarrett’s face. “The red one’s yours. You can name it if you want.”

  Still behind them observing, I roll my hand, wanting Jarrett to confirm specifics. He winks, reading me like a book. “Awesome fish, dude, we’ll put them in a bowl in a sec. What’d Alma make you to eat today?”

  “Grilled cheese. Rhett, Bruce the Moose, I’m home!” Jarrett and I both chuckle at Conner’s clear dismissal of any further banter. He says he saw her, and he’s back with me now, seemingly unharmed, so I guess all’s well enough for me to move on.

  Jarrett leans in to conspire in his ear. “Your uncle ran to town, but Rhett’s in bed, go wake him up.”

  Such a shit, sending Conner to do his dirty work.

  Once he’s bouncing down the hallway to torture anyone in the vicinity, Jarrett sits back down and pats the spot beside him for me to take. “How bad this time?”

  I flop my head on his shoulder, letting him entwine our fingers. “Not too. Short and bitterly sweet.” I tilt my head and grin mischievously up at him. “I got in a few good jabs.”

  “I’d expect no less.”

  “I didn’t see Alma, though, which worries me. I just wish Conner wouldn’t ask to go. I wish he’d remember why he shouldn’t want to go.”

  “You sure about that? Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember. There’s a lot of bad shit stuck in my head I wish I could forget, ya feel me?” He squeezes my hand and brushes a kiss at my temple.

  In a way he’s right, I don’t want Bubs to have those visions in his head, waking him up at night, confusing him. But without his recollection, and him saying it out loud, I can’t ever prove what I know to be true. And therefore, I can’t keep him from our father. It’s never ending, these thoughts, the internal debates on the lesser of two evils. It’s exhausting.

  Conner played soccer and football from youth to high school; our father didn’t attend a single game. He was in a garage band for almost three years; Daddy Demon never heard a single song. He didn’t give a shit about Conner before the accident, which I’d bet my left tit was far from an accident, but now he’s hell bent on playing house with a twenty-seven-year-old man he barely even knows? I haven’t figured it out, but I will.

  My thoughts are splintered by a nasally shriek. “Get out, you retarded freak! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I’m on my feet and down the corridor in a flash, Jarrett hot on my heels.

  “Bubs? Bubs, what happened?” I ask as calmly as I can, dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around him. He’s curled into a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth and banging clenched fists against his head. “Conner, stop,” I command, trying to restrain his arms, gasping in piercing pain when I catch his accidental elbow to the jaw. Always the damn elbow. “Shit,” I howl, shaking my head and rubbing it quickly before going back in. “Jarrett, help me! Rhett!”

  They’re already there, caught in the flurry of commotion, one of them now flinging me out of the way so they can stop Conner from hurting himself. This time it’s my back, a sharp blow knocking the air from me as I’m tossed aside, landing against the edge of a bunk. I’ve gotten pretty tough over the years, so I take the moment to ignore the back and rub on my jaw some more, working out the ache.

  Cami, our bassist and the one who’d set this catastrophe in motion, scrambles down and out of her top bunk, pulling a t-shirt over herself. “Liz, you can’t expect us to live like this! Your pervy fucking brother was creeping on me again. I don’t care what the hell’s wrong with him, I have a right to privacy!”

  You live on a tour bus with four men, sleep nude, and have an expectation of privacy? Anyone else think that train of thought is asinine? Not my job to show her the light, though, that epic fail is all on the fools who raised her “cry wolf when convenient” exhibitionist ass. Helluva job. But more importantly, I haven’t the time or energy to waste on the about to be ex-member; I have to take care of my brother, the innocent, precious soul she name-called and scared to death.

  Rising slowly to stand nose to nose with her, I concentrate on my breathing as a source of center, reminding myself the last thing Conner needs to see is violence. How badly he reacts to it, over-exaggerated even for him, is one of the biggest reasons I suspect foul play that summer I went to camp. If I dust this bitch right now, I’ll make things worse for an already petrified Bubs.

  It’s this concern alone that saves her life. Otherwise, I’d have already mopped the floor with her and made her like it. “Cami, what’s wrong with you? He didn’t mean a thing by it.”

  “I’m sick of it! I’ve bit my tongue long enough. ‘Nobody upset the retard’ gets old,” she air quotes snottily, testing everything in me not to lower those hands for her. “He’s always spying on me. I almost think he’s faking it just to get a peep show!”

  Yes, that is exactly it, diva. He’s been faking it for seven long years in hopes of one day getting a glimpse of your uneven mosquito bites. Way to go, Cami the Case Cracker!

  I literally have to take a minute and simply stare at her for my brain to compute such venomous hatred coming out of nowhere. Cami’s lived on this bus with Conner for months. I’ve even seen her help him with his puzzles a time or two, so the level of animosity pouring from her now is shocking and completely unexpected.

  “He was looking for Rhett, you delusional, heartless bitch. He wanted to show off the new fish he got and mixed up the bunks.” My voice cracks and I gulp down the threatening sob, a cumbersome bubble in the middle of my throat. “But luckily, Conner isn’t doomed. He’ll be fine in a few minutes, still an angel. You,” I take a step in, crunching her toes under my own and making sure to curl my lip and bare my teeth, “however, are screwed for life. There’s no hope for the kind of evil inside you and I’m only sorry I didn’t see it sooner. Ugly and mean to the core is no way to go through life, Cami. I’d pick the way Conner does it over yours any day of the week. Now pack your shit, next stop is yours.”

  “You can’t be serious! You’re kicking me out of the band, whose only chance in hell is me, because I don’t want some freak staring at my tits?”

  “Jarrett?” I plead, flexing my fists in and out, praying for willpower I don’t usually possess.

  “On it.” He inches himself between us. “Get your shit together, Cami, you’re out. And shut the fuck up while you do it. I don’t hit women, but you call him another name and I’ll damn sure smack a bitch.”

  “You can’t just dump me, I don’t have a car! Unbelievable,” she scoffs.

  “And your tits aren’t.” Jarrett scores one for the whole team. “But we’ll take you where you need to go. We have some decorum.”

  While he stands guard over her, I move to the front of the bus where Rhett’s corralled Conner. Squatting down in front of him, I pry his hands away from over his face. “Hey, look at me.”

  “S-sorry, Sister,” he chokes out in a trembling voice.

  “What are you sorry for, huh? Being amazing, kind, and
good lookin’? Being a winner? Cause that’s what you are!” He doesn’t answer me, burying his face behind Rhett’s shoulder. “What’s the rule, Conner?” I jostle his leg. “Huh? Tell me the rule.”

  Still shaken and ashamed, he doesn’t answer, so I do it for him. “You win and every other motherfucker loses, right?”

  “Right,” he grunts from his hiding spot, Rhett rubbing his back and smiling at me.

  “Who’s the winner?”

  “I’m the winner.” He peeks one eye out at me. Precious. How could anyone ever be mean to that face; those huge, innocent eyes, filled with unconditional love, and those sweet dimples?

  “You’re damn right you are.” I hop up, grabbing his hand to raise his arm triumphantly in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls, Conner Matthew Carmichael is the winner!”

  The boys clap and hoot while Cami rolls her eyes and continues to stuff shit in her duffle. Now Conner beams ear to ear, all again right with the world.

  “I’m keeping her fish,” he boasts and we all die laughing.

  Oh shit, he was holding the bags of fish! And now he’s not, surely lost in all the commotion.

  Looks like we’re making another stop.

  “And I’m getting the top bunk back!” Jarrett chimes in, sick of sleeping on the pull-out.

  My boys, so resilient.

  Chapter 3

  After the longest two hours of any of our lives, with suffocating amounts of tension in the air, we finally make it to the rest stop Cami designated. Lucky for her, we’d still been in our homeland of Ohio when she’d lost her shit, so she was able to call someone to meet her a small jaunt down the road. Otherwise, I would have offloaded her randomly. At least, I think I would have.