Fully Automatic (Bullet) (45 page)

Val looked down, avoiding his eyes.
  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She might have said that, but he knew better.  Why else would she have come running to him?  She needed some encouragement, but he knew she’d tell him. 
“Come on, Val.  I know Ethan did this.  What the fuck was going on?”  He noticed then that she had bruises on her arm too, and he wondered why he hadn’t caught it before, but then he remembered she’d been wearing a jacket and it had covered them up.  He started to feel angry.  What the fuck had Ethan done?  He touched the bruises as though to confirm their existence.  “What the hell?  Did you call the cops?”

She started crying, and that told him all he needed to know.  Ethan would have to answer for this, but for now, Val was hurting.  He brought his chair closer to hers and brought her head to his shoulder.  She let it
all go, wailing and sobbing like he’d never heard her.  It made him imagine all the horrible things the man who’d felt like a brother had done to her.  Chris was still on Val’s knee, working on the wafer, and he tugged on Brad’s hair.  He looked down at the boy and smiled.  The little guy had short hair, but his dad and his dad’s bandmates all had long hair.  He wondered what kind of confusing message that would send to the kid as he got older, because long hair wasn’t accepted in mainstream society.  Ah, maybe the kid would realize that meant they were
cool
.

He felt like tousling Chris’s hair again, but he instead rubbed Val’s back.
  He loved this woman, would always love her, but they were destined to be apart.  All he could be now was her good friend and stay by her side while she needed him.  When it seemed like she was starting to wind down, he got up and grabbed a box of tissue out of the living room.  He came back and set it on the table near her.  He sat down again and asked, “Sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No.  I don’t even want to think about it anymore.”

“You need some sleep.”  He tilted his head toward Chris.  The little guy looked sleepy too.  Without giving it any thought, he said, “You can sleep on my bed.”

“Oh, no.  I don’t want to take your bed.”

“I have a couch, Val.  It’s no biggie.”  He would have had a guest bedroom or two if he hadn’t converted the damn things.  He’d bought the house on a whim, because he’d wanted a home.  Honestly, he wanted a bigger place, but for now it worked.  And the couch was comfortable.

“I can stay at a motel.”

“Damn it, Val, just say
yes
.”

She looked concerned
.  “What if Karen comes back tonight?  I get the feeling she doesn’t like me very much.”

“Don’t worry about her.  Just get some sleep.  You need it.”

He knew Karen wouldn’t be back.  Even if she changed her mind about the permanency of this breakup, she wouldn’t return that night.  She never had before.  He was confident that she wouldn’t tonight either.

So
he wanted Val to sleep, because he had plans.  Not so nice plans.  And they involved her husband.  He was going to have to leave the house, and he didn’t want to have to explain to her why or what he was going to do.

Chapter Fifty-six

BRAD HAD NO idea what he was going to say to Ethan, but he was angry as fuck.  He’d never been this mad in his entire goddamned life.

Traffic wasn’t as heavy as during the day, and by the time he got there, he wondered if he’d ever made it to Ethan’s house that quickly.

He couldn’t even fucking think straight.

He stormed up to the door and banged on it.  Then he remembered the doorbell and rang it.  Several times.  Banged again.

Rang the doorbell once more.

“I’m coming.  Chill the fuck out.”

Good.  Ethan.  Brad noticed his breathing was out of control and his fists ached, they were clenched so tightly.

It was seconds
later and Ethan opened the door, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  He wore a dirty white t-shirt and jeans.  His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot.  When he saw Brad, he was pissed.  “What the fuck do you want?”

Brad threw the screen door open and walked in.  Ethan backed away a little and then stood his ground.  “Why did you do it, Ethan?  Why?  Were you trying to kill her?”

“What?  You gonna be the fucking knight in shining armor, Bradley?  You think she didn’t have it comin’?”

That was all it took.  Brad pushed him back against the wall
, and the mirror hanging behind Ethan fell.  His hand wrapped around Ethan’s neck too and he said, “How you like it, motherfucker?”  Ethan struggled a little and Brad let go of his neck, following it up with his right fist in Ethan’s face.  One…for what he’d done to Val.  Then his left fist for Chris.  Another for all the hell he’d put Brad through.  Another for the band.  Another…another…another.

He felt tears falling down his face and saw the blood spilling from Ethan’s nose and cheek.  What the fuck had he done?  It had been red then black in his head.

Ethan hadn’t resisted, hadn’t fought back.  He’d
wanted
Brad to hurt him.

Brad backed away, holding his hands palms out at Ethan.  “Fuck.  I’m…I gotta go.”

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard Ethan ask, “Is she okay?”

“She’ll live.”  He had to leave.  “I’m sorry.” 
He turned around.  “You have a week. 
One week
, Ethan.  Get your shit straight.”  And then he stumbled to his truck.  His vision was blurry and his knuckles were throbbing.  He got in his truck and drove and drove and drove.

But it didn’t make the pain go away.

* * *

He’d had a hell of a time falling asleep.  His hands hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to what was in his heart.  He felt bad about what had happened to Val, but he felt even worse for what he’d done to Ethan.  As he’d left, he saw his friend’s lips, cheeks, eyes swelling, and he knew Ethan.  He’d get rid of the pain with drugs, alcohol, or both, and now it
was Brad’s fucking fault.  What the hell kind of friend was he?  His friend needed help and he’d instead beaten him mercilessly.

So he lay on the couch, immersed in guilt.  He looked back, though, and didn’t know what or how he could have done anything differently.
  He’d been too angry for too long.

He was starting to awaken, these thoughts in his mind.  He’d heard the front door open, and it had started him on the path to wakefulness, but he was trying to fall back asleep.  He heard a baby fussing, though, and that made him wake the rest of the way.  Well, no, it wasn’t a baby.  It was Chris.  He wasn’t so much a baby anymore.  He heard him making noise, winding up to start crying.  He sat up.  He wasn’t sure where Val was—outside somewhere—so he decided to check on Chris.

He was wearing jeans under the sheet on the couch, but he’d taken his shirt off and thrown it in the dirty laundry.  He hadn’t checked it closely, but he was pretty sure it had blood on it.  He knew it had tears.  It was painted with shame, and he didn’t want to see the goddamned thing.

He walked in his
bedroom and Chris spotted him.  The child babbled and smiled and Brad said, “Hey, there, little buddy.  Let me get a shirt on and then we’ll go see your mama.  How’s that sound?”

“Mama?”

Brad nodded while he opened a dresser drawer and grabbed the first shirt he touched, pulling it over his head.  Chris sat up in the bed, surrounded by pillows, and Brad came over, holding his hands out.  He picked up the little guy and brought him to his chest.  “Let’s go see that beautiful mama of yours.”  He was praying that Val hadn’t done something stupid, but he hadn’t heard a car start up.  He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d run back to Ethan, but he hoped he was wrong.  Ethan needed to seriously get his shit together, and until he did, Val needed to stay away.

He wouldn’t say that to her, though.

He was talking to Chris as they moved through the house.  “Where’d your mama go, buddy?  What’s she doin’?”

He opened the front door, expecting to find her on the phone with Ethan.  He didn’t know what else she would be doing out there.  Instead, he found her sitting in one of the chairs he had on the porch.  She was just looking at the trees, lost in thought.
  The sun was starting to lighten the sky.  As soon as Chris spotted Val, he said, “Mama!”

Brad sat in the chair next to Val, ready to hand Chris over to her, but he seemed content in his arms. 
“How’d you sleep?”

She
shrugged.  “What about you?”

“Probably about the same.”

“Did I wake you up?”

He lied. 
“No.  Chris did.  He might be hungry.”

“Yeah, probably.” 
She touched Chris’s nose.  “My little pumpkin.”

The child smiled at his mother and touched his nose too, imitating her
.  “Pukkin.”  Val started laughing.

Seeing the smile on that woman’s face made everything seem better.  She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.  No, it wasn’t her looks.  If it were looks only, she’d have stiff competition.  Yes, she was beautiful on the outside, but it was the person he saw inside too.  She was a beautiful soul—caring, giving, passionate, even if she was sometimes stupid in love.  Since he’d met her, he’d felt like she was his other half, like she could see inside his soul and knew him, really knew him, and he felt the same way.  He
would read her lyrics and feel like she’d reached inside his heart to pull out his raw emotions and slap them on the page.  But, more than that, he would read her words and know what the catalyst was for a particular song.

That was why he’d known at one time she’d considered loving him but had held herself back.

And why was he letting himself feel these things so deeply
now
?  It would never work.  He knew that.  He was just fucking putting himself through the wringer if he deluded himself into thinking otherwise.

Still…he was going to allow himself this moment to enjoy her and her son.  No pressure, no thoughts about tomorrow.  They’d get there at some point, but for now…for now, he wanted to enjoy her beauty, let it wash over him, and maybe—just for a second—he could pretend that Val had chosen him and not his fucked up friend.  How different their lives would have been if…

No.  He couldn’t go there.  Instead, he let her laughter wash over him and he smiled at her.  “I can put some coffee on, or would you rather grab some breakfast somewhere?”

“I just want coffee right now.
”  She frowned.  “I hate to bug you, but do you have some cereal or something Chris could eat?”

“Can he do scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let Uncle Brad make some breakfast too.”

She touched his arm then, and that made the psychic scar he’d been fiddling with all the more painful.  “Brad…thanks for everything.  You’ve always been my best friend.  I can always turn to you.  Always.  And…I’m sorry I always get you involved in the middle of all my bullshit.”

His mind flashed back to last night, his fist in Ethan’s face over and over.  He tried to laugh
, but he really wanted to cry.  “Jesus.  You have no idea.”  She grimaced.  She’d misunderstood, and that was his fault, because she had no idea what he’d been up to the night before.  He shook his head.  “Come on…I’ll explain over breakfast.”

They got inside and Chris then decided he wanted his mother.  She took him in her arms and said,
“Oh…he needs a diaper change.  Be right back.”

She went back to his bedroom and he felt like a heel.  He probably could have changed that diaper, but he’d never changed one before.  He could tell Chris was soaking wet, but he didn’t even know where Val had put the baby stuff.

He was being way too hard on himself.  He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed some eggs out of the fridge.  He melted butter in a skillet and then scrambled a few eggs before dumping them in the skillet.  Val came in then, setting Chris on the floor with a toy.  She had a bottle of juice that she took the lid off of and then screwed on a nipple, handing it to him.  She asked, “Want me to make coffee?”

“Sure.”
  He needed it.

He glanced over at her while she looked around the kitchen. 
“I don’t have a high chair for the little guy.”

“Maybe a stack of book
s or something to sit on?”

“If you don’t care if he’s standing, he could just eat in the living room, and we could put his food on the coffee table.”

She smiled at him.  God, he’d do anything for that smile.  “Have you seen the way he eats?”

He shrugged
, removing the skillet from the hot burner.  “Fuck it.  You only live once, right?  I own a vacuum.”

“Your house.  If you’re sure.”

He pulled a saucer out of the cupboard.  “Little guy’s gotta eat.  You want any?”

“No.”

He pulled a plate out of the cabinet as well, just as the bread popped out of the toaster.  “Suit yourself.”  He filled both the plate and saucer with eggs and then buttered the toast for Chris, placing it next to his eggs.  “A spoon for the little guy?”

“Yeah, but he’ll probably just use his hands.” 
He smiled and opened the silverware drawer, taking out a spoon for the kiddo and a fork for himself.  The coffeepot started to sputter and Val asked, “Sugar and cream?”

He nodded,
and then took the food to the living room.  Then he went to the linen closet in the hallway and took out a bath towel to spread out where Chris would be eating.  He didn’t want Val to fret about Chris’s eating habits. It would be easy to clean up if it all landed on the towel.  By the time he returned to the kitchen, Val had two cups of coffee doctored and ready to drink.  “Want me to get the coffee or Chris?”

“If you don’t mind getting Chris…”

“Come on, buddy.”  He bent over and picked Chris up, grabbing his bottle of juice with him.  When he got to the coffee table, he stood Chris right in front of his food.  Brad touched the top of the scrambled eggs—not too hot.  Then he sat on the couch on the other side and Val joined him, placing a cup of coffee in front of him on the coffee table but out of Chris’s reach.  Chris was already shoving eggs in his mouth, using his hand just as Val had predicted.

Brad
touched his fork but didn’t pick it up.  “I don’t know why I made any for me.  I’m not that hungry.  Sure you don’t want any?”

She
nodded, sipping her coffee.  “I’m sure.”  She took a deep breath.  “So what were you going to say about being in the middle of my crap?”

He shook his head.  Part of him didn’t want to tell her, because he didn’t know what she’d think of him from that point on.  She’d know he
had a dark side, a horrible secret.  He’d pummeled her husband, for Christ’s sake, and she might not find it easy to forgive him.  “It’s not what you think.”  He had to force the words out, though.  He’d never lied to Valerie, and he didn’t plan to start now.  He took another drink of his coffee and said, “I went to your place last night.”

She looked at him for a bit before saying,
“You
what
?”

He couldn’t stop now. 
“Yeah, Val.”  Hurting Ethan had been the culmination of
years
of shit, but seeing what his friend had done to Val had caused the dam to break—he hadn’t been able to hold it in any longer.  He didn’t know how to explain that…but he had to try.  “You’re not the only one having Ethan problems.  And…what he did to you yesterday.  That’s it.  We’re supposed to be rehearsing three days a week, and we’re lucky if he comes to one.  And when he bothers, he’s argumentative and asinine.  Nick, Zane, and I have been considering kicking his ass out, even though he was a founding member.”  He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands.  “He’s a wrecking ball.  He doesn’t create; he destroys.  He tells us our new material
sucks
, but he won’t do anything to help.  And know what?  He couldn’t, because it’s the most perfect stuff we’ve ever written.  But he wasn’t involved in it, and that’s why he hates it.”

“That’s his fault for no
t being there.”

“Damn right.
”  It didn’t make him feel any better about what he’d done, though.  “But he doesn’t see it that way, and until he does, he’ll never change.”  He grabbed his coffee and forced himself to look at Val.  “I was lying here on the couch last night, and I was pissed.  Pissed about what he did to you, even though you haven’t told me exactly what happened.  Pissed that he doesn’t give a shit about his friends, his band, his kid.  Nothing.  He’s so goddamned self-absorbed.  When we were kids, you know, that was fine, but Ethan never grew out of it.  I’d stood by and never said a word, but I’m done.