Just Be Her Page 16

  I remembered the woman from the restaurant, and a piece of the puzzle fell into place. No wonder they were so close—she practically raised him.

  “My parents bought this place before I was born, but by the time my father died, he’d run it into the ground. Hell, he’d drunk half his stock away. If it wasn’t for Loretta, this place would’ve gone under a long time ago, and we would’ve ended up homeless.”

  Another puzzle piece—that’s why Loretta seemed to know everything about this place. She’d been around from the beginning.

  “My father died alone after drinking himself unconscious like he did most nights. I hadn’t spoken to him in about a year at that stage. I was living with a girlfriend, being a complete bum and well on my way to following in my father’s alcoholic footsteps.

  “The day I found out he was dead, I went off the rails. My parents’ apartment and the bar were mine. I was finally rid of a parent who had been more of a burden than anything.

  “I called all my so-called friends, everyone I knew, and had a massive bender right here. I didn’t give a shit about anything. It was a total free-for-all, people helping themselves to whatever they wanted behind the bar, the music way too loud for regulations, people dancing on the tables and fucking in the corners. I got blind drunk—the worst I’d ever been. I passed out right there.”

  He pointed at a spot halfway between the table and the bar.

  “I woke up alone. Yeah, everyone had bailed and I was the only one in the bar, but I mean in the cosmic sense. I realized I was alone. Those people weren’t my friends. My parents were dead. I had dozens of messages from the girlfriend, the last ones telling me it was over and my shit was on her front lawn. I was alone and I felt like shit. Worst hangover of my life. When I realized I was exactly the same as my dad, letting myself get lost in the bottle to dull the pain of life, I bawled my eyes out. I cried like a little baby, sitting in a puddle of something sticky, in the remnants of my father’s failed life.

  “Eventually, the tears dried up, and I made a decision—I would not be like him. I would not piss away my life. I picked myself up and started cleaning. I scrubbed my soul clean while I scrubbed this damn bar from top to bottom. I wanted to quit so damn bad, but I kept going.”

  “You puked every hour.” Ren chuckled, shaking his head. “Almost like clockwork.”

  “That’s the day Ren and I met.” Andre leaned back in his chair, the invisible weight on his shoulders appearing a little lighter. “He walked in off the street and asked what the fuck happened. I couldn’t even pretend to care what other people thought of me in that moment. I told him the whole sad story. Most people would’ve left, but when I got back from the bathroom after puking again, he was sweeping. Loretta showed up in the afternoon, and the three of us cleaned the place up. I didn’t even ask him why he’d walked in until after it was all done and Loretta made us burgers for dinner. He was looking for venues where his band could perform. I gave him a spot without even listening to them play.”

  They exchanged a look full of shared memories. Not for the first time, I wondered how I fit in with them. The sex with Ren was mind-blowing, the flirting with Andre undeniable, yet there was definitely something between them. My logical, organized nature wanted to categorize it, label it so I could understand. But human nature was rarely that simple.

  “So you don’t drink anymore?” I asked.

  “Haven’t touched the stuff since that night, except once a year on my father’s birthday. The anniversaries are hard.”

  I nodded. Every time my father’s birthday or the anniversary of his death came around, I wondered if I was doing his memory justice, if he’d be proud of me, if I was letting him down.

  “I have one drink—just one—on his birthday. To prove to him and to myself that I can have just one. That I’m stronger than the bottle and stronger than he was.”

  I reached out and grabbed his forearm. “You’re the strongest person I know. Thank you for telling me your story.”

  “You’re welcome. I think it’s important to talk about the difficult things. Telling our stories helps not just others but ourselves know who we truly are. It’s important to be honest about who you are.”

  His dark eyes stared into mine, the weight of the secret he was keeping for me as arresting as the intensity of his gaze. I didn’t feel like he was calling me out, subtly taking a dig at me for wanting to live someone else’s life. He was just telling me, in his own way, that it was OK to be myself.

  Ren was plucking the strings lazily, but his gaze drifted between Andre and me. I had no idea how he’d take it, and I didn’t think I could handle him calling me a bitch—not today. So I deflected.

  “Well, since you’re in a sharing mood, what’s the story between you two?”

  They both chuckled. Ren darted his tongue out and licked the piercing in his bottom lip, smirking. “I don’t like labels.”

  Andre nodded. “Neither do I.”

  “We were friends. Then we were more. We’re family. Andre lost his parents, and mine are . . .” For the first time that day, a discordant note rang from the guitar. Ren clenched his teeth before setting it aside and leaning forward. “We’re just each other’s family now. Are we in a committed monogamous relationship? No. Do we fuck from time to time? Yes. Does it have to be weird? Fuck no. Toni, I gotta ask, after years of this silent lone wolf bullshit, why the sudden interest?”

  They were both looking at me with amusement in their eyes. I chose to ignore Ren’s last question. “So you don’t care that Ren and I . . .”

  “Fucked?” Andre flashed a wide grin, his eyes sparkling. “No. Actually, since you brought it up . . .”

  He leaned forward and I didn’t lean back. Not one bit of me wanted to. But whatever he was about to say, wherever this charged moment was heading, was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door.

  Andre frowned and growled. “We’re closed,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  But whoever was on the other side was determined. The knocking became louder.

  “I refuse to leave until you open this door,” said a distinctly feminine voice, the pronunciation indicating a good education, privilege.

  My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Had someone found me out? But I didn’t recognize the voice. Ren frowned too, cocking his head to listen better.

  “Do you hear me? I demand to speak with someone. This is the last . . .” The woman continued to ramble as Andre huffed and stormed to the door.

  Just as Andre started to unlatch the deadbolt, Ren’s eyes widened. He shot to his feet, one hand extended as if he could reach all the way across the room and pull the bigger man back.

  The deadbolt clicked; the door swung open.

  I knew the intimidating scowl Andre must be wearing—I’d been on the receiving end of it—but the people on the other side of the door weren’t perturbed at all. A woman and a man pushed past him and straight into the bar as if they owned the place.

  “Excuse me,” said Andre. “Who the hell do you think you are? This is private property, and I’m going to—”

  “This doesn’t concern you, sir,” the man snapped. “We’re simply looking for—”

  But he was interrupted too. The woman was on a mission. “Renshaw Bradley Lewis Pratt. This is how you treat your mother?”

  I’d had an odd pang of recognition as soon as they’d walked in, but the way the woman addressed Ren cemented who she was. She was a head shorter than him but had the same brown hair and intense eyes. Take away the tattoos and add a good twenty-five years, and the man was a carbon copy of Ren.

  “Well, Mother, you cut me off, so I cut you off.” Ren crossed his arms and stared down at the short woman, who wasn’t even remotely backing down from his attitude.

  Andre and I shared a look of shock, both of us stunned into silence.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Don’t you two start this nonsense again.” Ren’s dad pinched the bridge of his nose, coming to stand by his family.

>   His mother started to go red in the face. “He’s been ignoring our calls for three days, knowing full well we were in town specifically to see him.”

  “Yes, well, dear, let’s keep in mind why we’re here, shall we?” The dad was the only one who seemed to be keeping his cool.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Ren sneered at his parents with more disdain than I’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes.

  “Watch your language, young man.” She actually wagged her finger at him as if he were ten years old, and I couldn’t hold in the snort of laughter.

  All eyes turned to me as though everyone in the room had just realized I was there. For some reason I found that even more amusing, and a full laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Andre’s big shoulders shaking too. That only made me lose it more, and I doubled over, holding on to the back of a chair for balance while I let the laughter loose. Eventually, I got myself under control and wiped the tears under my eyes.

  “Who is this . . . woman?” The mom gestured in my direction, looking me up and down as though I were a stray dog. “What is this place? Is this what you’re doing with your life? This is what you have chosen over your own family?”

  “Seriously?” Ren uncrossed his arms, his hands balled into fists. “You came here to shit on my life again? We’ve been here, we’ve done this. I’m not interested. That’s why you cut me off from my trust fund. That’s why I cut you off from any and all communication. I’m not doing this again, Mother. Just leave.”

  Mom’s finger went up, ready to wag again. She opened her mouth, but Dad came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Her words died in her throat, her hand and her eyes dropping in defeat.

  “Son, we just want to see you.” Dad seemed to be the voice of reason in this family. “All we want is to have lunch. Please. We just want to talk.”

  “No. Get out.” Ren pointed at the open door, where Andre still stood with his arms over his chest, watching everything play out with narrowed eyes.

  “Renshaw.” Mom’s voice was calmer, but barely restrained frustration quivered beneath it. “We came all this way to see you. The least you can do is let us take you out to lunch.”

  There was a moment of tense silence. They stared at each other, no one backing down.

  Andre shifted by the door, his boots squeaking.

  “Fine.” Ren drew the word out as his lips curved into a slow smile—the kind that usually made me wonder what kind of vicious words would come next. “But I’d like to bring a date.”

  “Oh.” Mom flinched as if he’d sprayed her in the face like a misbehaving cat. “You’re seeing someone?”

  The jealousy that bubbled up inside was as surprising as it was unwelcome. Then I realized he was probably talking about Andre, and it melted away altogether.

  “Nope.” He kept that smile plastered to his face. “I wanna bring her.”

  One tatted hand pointed right at my chest. My eyebrows flew up.

  Mom didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  “She comes or I don’t.”

  No one was even looking in my direction. Was anyone actually going to invite me? Did I have a choice here?

  “Excuse me.” I put on my best boardroom voice—calm and demanding. Four sets of eyes flew to me, but before I could object, Dad piped in.

  “Yes. Fine. Bring her. One o’clock tomorrow at Le Clocher. Don’t be late.”

  He didn’t give anyone a chance to argue or back out. He just took his wife’s hand and pulled her out onto the street.

  Andre slammed the door behind them and leaned back against it.

  “What the fuck?” I demanded, channeling Toni in all her outraged glory.

  Ren had the decency to look bashful, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed me. “Look, it kills me to ask literally anything from you, but please come? I hate my parents. The only reason I’m going is to get them off my back, but the only way I can get through this disaster is if I can fuck with them while I’m at it. And they really seem to dislike you.” He chuckled, losing some of that apologetic, groveling vibe. “Like, instant disdain.”

  I gaped at him, then turned to Andre for assistance, bugging my eyes out.

  The asshole just shrugged. “Could be fun.”

  Those words and his smirk reminded me of the conversation we’d had over beignets. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fantasized about saying and doing improper things in a high-class establishment, seeing the outrage on stuck-up, filthy-rich faces. And here was my chance to do just that.

  “Fine. Whatever. It’s a free meal.” I picked at my fingernails to really sell the nonchalant, aloof vibe.

  …

  A: Hey, did you know that Ren’s full name is Renshaw?

  T: LOL! No! But thank you—I’m gonna give him endless hell for it. Maybe I’ll make up a rhyme . . .

  A: Also, did you know his parents are some rich jerks?

  T: Didn’t even know he had parents. I just assumed he hatched out of a giant egg, a fully formed asshole, and immediately set to finding me so he could fulfill his species’ natural instinct to be a douche.

  A: Well, they came to the bar today. They’re really awful. I actually kind of felt bad for him.

  T: Don’t. He wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. Trust me, don’t waste any kind of feelings on Renshaw (LOL!).

  A: Toni, I really think if you got to know him a little, you might actually get along.

  A: Also, he’s ridiculously talented! I can’t believe his band isn’t already famous.

  T: OMFG! You fucked him!

  A: What?

  A: No. How did you . . .

  A: I mean . . .

  A: Maybe . . .

  T: Fuuuuuuuuck!

  T: When I said to get laid, I meant literally anyone BUT him.

  A: I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. It was just a bit of fun, OK? It’s not like he’s expecting a relationship.

  T: FML!

  A: Now that it’s out in the open, can I just say that it was the best sex of my life?

  T: Eew! NO!

  A: It was so hot! And he has his dick pierced!

  T: Gag! Stop!

  Fifteen

  Toni

  We were silent on the way home from lunch. George walked up just as we entered the house, took one look at my panicked face, and followed the four of us into Oren’s study.

  Oren senior turned, about to say something, but clamped his mouth shut when he saw George closing the door behind us.

  “George knows,” I said hurriedly. “He and my mother are the only ones across the whole situation.”

  “What happened?” George asked, looking between us.

  “My wife happened,” the older man grumbled, then rehashed the disastrous lunch.

  George ran a hand through his sandy hair, propping his other on his hip. My lungs constricted, as if Cousin Preston were gripping them and squeezing the air right out.

  George spoke directly to the Winthrops as if I already knew everything. “Preston thinks of himself as an entrepreneur, but most of his business ideas are . . . for lack of a better word, crap. He’s greedy and persistent, though, and has been trying to get a foothold in Zamorano Wines since I can remember. If he found out the winery was in financial trouble, he might just leak the information to hurt the business out of pure spite. I never liked the man and I don’t trust him, but as long as he’s kept in the dark, he’s harmless.”

  “Oh, I really messed up, didn’t I?” Caroline wrung her hands, her big eyes starting to water.

  Her husband ignored her. “How long could he possibly stay? We just keep him occupied, keep his focus away from the business, and you two”—he pointed between me and Oren—“better put on a damn good show.”

  He stomped to the door, wrenched it open, and walked out, grumbling under his breath.

  “Naturally he’s going to blame me for this.” Oren sighed, moved to a bar cart in the corner, and poured himsel
f a large whiskey.

  Caroline rubbed his shoulder. “Oh, darling, but it was my running mouth that got us into this mess.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the one who couldn’t find a wife like a real Winthrop man,” he mumbled into his glass before taking a large sip.

  To stop my eyebrows from rising in surprise, I walked over and poured myself a drink too. Oren was tall, handsome, and rich—I found it hard to believe he couldn’t find a willing participant. But I couldn’t exactly ask him why he’d agreed to this in the first place. For all I knew, he’d already had that conversation with the real Alex.

  When I straightened and took a sip of my drink, I found his eyes on me. The alcohol burned a smooth path down my throat as Oren’s intense gaze burned a hole in my soul. I couldn’t look away. I wanted to tell him everything and be done with it.

  But he spoke first. “I didn’t want to marry someone just because I had to. I didn’t want some poor woman to end up wrapped up in this mess without knowing the details. I didn’t want a loveless marriage. At least this way, we both know what we’re getting into.”

  I nodded, and we both took another sip, breaking our stare-off.

  “The fact that this had to be organized for me makes me a failure in my father’s eyes. He’d rather I just picked some unsuspecting socialite and made do. This puts our family at higher risk of being caught out and shamed. But he’s got no choice if he wants the business to stay in the family.”

  “I’ll go talk to him.” Caroline was no longer cowering and apologetic. The look on her face was determined; I almost felt bad for Oren senior and what he had coming. “I love you and I am proud of you, sweetheart.” She kissed her son on the cheek and marched out of the room, head held high.