Fully Automatic (Bullet) (46 page)

“So…I just told him he has a week to get his shit together or he’s out.”

“That’s fair.”

“I don’t want you worrying about income, Val.  You’re still writing most of our lyrics.  You’re in the loop.  We’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“I know.  But…” 
He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw together.  He was
not
going to fucking lose it again.  “I also beat the shit out of him, Val.”  He hung his head, resting his forehead on his fist.  “I’m sorry.  I just…am so angry.”

She touched his shoulder.  God…she forgave him.  She’d already forgiven him when he didn’t know how to forgive himself
.  “I know, Brad.  I know.”

He looked at her
.  “If he ever touches you again, I’ll probably kill him.”  It scared him, but he knew it was true.

“He won’t.  Ethan and I are done.  Forever.”

Oh, God, if only he could believe it.  But they’d been there…over and over and over again.  Val had told Ethan she was done more times than Brad could remember.  And he couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—believe it ever again.

Chapter Fifty-seven

BRAD AND VAL started texting like the old days, but he stayed away.  Yeah, four months and Val and Ethan were still apart, but he knew they’d been apart longer in the past, only to get back together.  Brad would be a fucking fool to make a move, and he knew it.

He and Karen were definitely done.  As promised, she
had come by later that day to get her things.  Val had called her parents earlier that day and decided to visit them for a week or so.  Brad called Ethan a few days later and met him for lunch.  He apologized and Ethan said it was cool.  Brad could tell the guy was in the worst shape he’d ever been in, but he didn’t know what to do.

Ethan moved out of his house, letting
Val and Chris have it.  And he tried twice to show up to rehearsals, but he was blitzed out of his mind.  Brad went to the powers that be and told them Ethan was out of the band.  They weren’t pleased.  Ethan was publicity, plain and simple, and no publicity was bad, they said.  He kept the band in the spotlight.  After Brad yelled, asking them if they were out of their fucking minds, they asked him and the other two guys to sit tight for a few more months.  Money was still pouring in, not only from album sales but also merchandise.  There was no rush.  The band’s manager and label agreed, but the label was not amused with Brad’s demands.

They didn’t know Brad very well.  Brad felt the need to make sure he was still on top.
  Number one.  It wasn’t about the money.

To quell his fury, the
label let him, Nick, and Zane release a single, something to keep fans interested and eager, and they’d have no idea Ethan wasn’t involved.

Ethan was in bad shape, though.  He was living with a woman who was draining him dry
, and Brad decided not to deal with the guy anymore.  It hurt too badly.  If the goddamned label wanted Ethan, they could fucking deal with him.

A couple months later, Val called him and asked if he’d come over for dinner.  He expected her to want to talk to him about Ethan.  They’d been down this road before too.  When she
’d worried about Ethan in the past and hadn’t known what to do, she’d ask Brad.  This time, though, he’d washed his hands of the guy.  Until Ethan cleaned up his act, Brad couldn’t go there anymore.  It hurt too much.  He couldn’t watch Ethan kill himself anymore.

Reluctantly, he agreed
to visit Valerie.  Before he left his house, he stood in front of his mirror.  “Don’t you fucking give in to her, Payne.  Not again.  If she says Ethan’s name once, shut her down, right then and there.”  He nodded his head and walked out of his room toward the front door, continuing the thought.  When she mentioned Ethan, he was going to tell her to seek psychiatric help.  He’d be sincere about it.  He believed she and Chris had a lot of healing to do.

He ha
d managed to talk her into getting her long-overdue throat surgery now that she had the money to do it, so maybe she’d listen to him again.

He drove slowly to her house.  He was looking forward to seeing her and Chris, but he was afraid too.  Val had more control over him than she’d ever know, and he still felt like a major asshole for unleashing his fury on Ethan.

He almost bought her flowers and stopped himself from doing it.  They were
friends
and that would be all they’d ever be.

It didn’t matter that his heart was crying out to him, telling him he needed to tell her how he felt.

Fuck that.  Every time he’d ever come close, she’d driven another knife into his heart.  He had to stop torturing himself with those thoughts.

He rang the doorbell to her house and waited.  He could hear dried, dead leaves rustling on the lawn behind him as the breeze blew them around, and he took a deep breath.  He wasn’t cold, but he could tell the night was going to get colder.

Val answered the door, her hair pulled up in a ponytail.  She looked harried and overheated.  Chris came to the door too.  “Hey, come in.”  Chris tilted his head.  “You remember Uncle Brad, don’t you, sweetie?”

He nodded.  “Uncka
Brad.”

“Oh, you’re getting better at that.”  He closed the door behind him and stuck out his hand.  “Give me five.”  Chris grinned and slapped Brad’s palm.  “Atta boy.”  He started following Val to the kitchen, Chris walking beside him. 
He noticed she had flour on the back of her jeans where she’d wiped her hands.  “You look a little stressed.”

“Let’s just say nothing has come out according to plan.”  They walked in the kitchen.  The entire table was covered with flour and Chris handprints.  The kitchen was muggy, and the windows were fogged with condensation.  “I wanted to make cheese ravioli, but it’s all fuck—er,
messed
up.”  She gave Chris a quick glance.  He was eyeing the table, no doubt ready to rake his fingers through the flour again.  “They hit the water and fall apart, so I’ve got what looks more like mini lasagna noodles and boiled ricotta.”  She grabbed a raw ravioli off a plate on the stove and dropped it in the boiling water.  “See?”  No, he couldn’t see.  He was halfway across the room, but he could tell she was at the end of her rope.  “And I still haven’t made the garlic bread or the salad.”

Brad pulled
his jacket off and draped it over the chair in the kitchen farthest from Chris.  He didn’t want flour all over his black leather jacket.  He’d live if Chris managed to get it, but if he could avoid it, all the better.  “What can I do to help?”

She shrugged.  “Wave a magic wand?”

He laughed.  “I have a better idea.  Turn off the stove.  Take a deep breath.  Then hand me the phone and I can order a pizza.”

“But—”

“Or we can eat your mini lasagna noodles.  I bet your sauce is awesome.”

She started laughing hysterically, almost near
tears.  “I haven’t even made the sauce.  Chris kept getting into everything and I just wanted it to be perfect.”  She frowned, pulling her lips together.  Shit—she really
was
about to lose it.  “I wanted to have it ready by the time you got here.  I didn’t even have a chance to shower.  He—”

Brad was standing in front of her then
, and he put his hands on her shoulders.  “No big deal.”  He didn’t know what possessed him then, but he kissed her on the forehead.  “Go take your shower.  Relax.  I’ll call in a pizza, okay?”

Her beautiful blue-green eyes searched his and then he saw her let go of her tension.  “Okay.”

“Don’t come out till you feel better.”

She smiled.  “Thanks.”  She started to say something else, but she took the apron off and tossed it on the counter.

Brad watched her walk down the hall and then turned off the burner.  He looked at Chris who now had his hands in the flour on the table.  “You kept your mama busy today, didn’t you?”

Chris grinned.  “Ravi.”

Brad laughed.  “Yeah, ravi.  Crazy, dude.”

“Dude
.”

Brad pulled out his cell phone and looked up nearby pizza places that delivered to her neck of the woods.  He placed an order for a large, half pepperoni, half extra cheese, and a salad.  He spied a bottle of red wine on the counter and popped it in
the fridge to cool for a little bit.  He knew there was some rule about not putting wine in the fridge, but he didn’t give a fuck, and he doubted Val did either.  That woman was going to want a glass of wine when she got out of the tub, and it would taste better cool.

He filled the sink with hot soapy water.  “We’re going to clean up for your mom, buddy.”

“Keen.”

“Yeah, keen.”  Chris left the room and Brad wondered if he should check on him.  He figured he would after he got all the excess flour off the table.  So he found the trashcan and wiped the flour off the table with the rag into the trash.  Then he tossed the cloth back in the sink and walked down the hall. “Chris?”

Chris emerged from his bedroom with an electronic drum set. “Wanna come with me back to the kitchen?  Show me how that works?”  The child nodded and walked beside Brad.  He played the noisy toy while Brad cleaned the rolling pin and pot.  He left the plate of raw pasta and bowl of cooked alone so Valerie could decide what she wanted to do with them.  He finished cleaning off the table and was wiping down the counter and stove when she joined them.

She was a vision.  Her hair was damp and a little curly, but she’d combed it out.  She wasn’t wearing much makeup—just a little around her eyes—but she was stunning.  She seemed relaxed too, just like he’d hoped.  “Oh, my God, Brad.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t.”

Crash!  Boom!
went Chris’s drum toy.  “And I am
over
that stupid thing.”  He laughed.  “Only Ethan would think that was a cool toy to give a kid.”

“Aw, Val, he’s learning music.  That’s a good thing, right?”  She shrugged and kissed Chris on top of his head.  “Where are your wine glasses?”
  The doorbell rang.  “Ah, that’d be the pizza.  I stuck the wine in the fridge.  Be right back.”

They wound up eating in the living room, Chris in his portable high chair and Brad and Val on the couch.  They watched an animated movie—one of Chris’s current favorites—but Brad was
simply enjoying their company.  He and Val chatted off and on during the movie until a song would start.  Chris would “sing” to it, and they enjoyed listening to him.

Long after the meal was over and Chris was out of his high chair, they talked and talked, and it felt like old times to Brad.  Not once did he worry about Ethan or the future.  It was like he and Val were old friends, long
ago when he was crushing on her but before he’d fallen into deep love with her.  He realized that when she excused herself, picking drowsy Chris up off the floor so she could tuck him into bed.  She was gone for a few minutes and Brad allowed himself to think about all that.

He picked up the plates off the coffee table and took them into the kitchen, then headed back to the living room and carried the high chair back too.  He wound up cleaning it off and putting it back where Val had it before they’d taken it to the living room.  Then he headed back to the living room and poured himself another half glass of wine.  He knew it wasn’t the best idea because he’d have to drive, but he suspected it was contributing to his warm feelings.  Then he carried the glass to the kitchen, determined to take care of the dishes.

He spied the dishwasher under the counter next to the sink and opened the door.  There were already a few dishes inside, so he loaded in the ones they’d used for dinner.  Val walked in the kitchen then and said, “Holy crap.  You’re feeling productive.  Guess I should invite you over for dinner more often. I didn’t even have to cook.”

He turned around, smiling, and he took a drink of the wine.  She walked over to him then and just looked in his
eyes.  She grabbed the glass out of his hand and placed it on the counter and then rubbed his cheek with her hand.  “Thank you…for everything.”

He closed his eyes then.  He wanted it to happen—he did—but he knew it was wrong.  It would never work.  It was a bad idea.

But then he opened his eyes and looked in hers, and when she brought her lips to his, he couldn’t shut himself off.

His arms wrapped around her as he kissed her back.  This woman was all he’d ever wanted, and he knew now that she was going to be the death of him.

Fine—let him die.  He kissed her again.  He didn’t care.  She’d been all he’d ever dreamed about for almost as long as he could remember.  She would make him complete…or she’d kill him.

But his heart protested.  It didn’t want to ache anymore.  When they finished kissing, he opened his eyes and looked at her.  “Ethan…”

“Ethan is going to be my ex soon.”  She must have seen the doubt etched in his eyes.  Oh, yes, he’d heard it before, dozens of times, and he couldn’t hide that fear from her.  “You don’t believe me.”  He didn’t want to say anything.  He felt too exposed and raw.  One strike and she could fell him like a mighty oak.  She smirked and then he felt weak.  She knew.  She knew the power she had over him and she didn’t care.  She let go of him then and walked across the room to the tiny desk tucked in an alcove.  She opened the second drawer on the side, pulling out some folded papers and walked back over.  She unfolded the papers and held them out for him to see.  It took him a little bit, but he was able to put two and two together, thanks to words like
Dissolution of Marriage
and
Ethan Allen Richards, Respondent
.

He took a deep breath
, and she set the papers on the counter.  “Something I’ve been thinking about…
a lot
.  Brad, you’ve been my friend forever—through thick and thin, good times and bad, and you’ve put up with a lot of shit from me.”  He smiled and she said, “Don’t deny it.  You know it’s true.”  He started to say something, but she placed her finger on his lips.  “I was so blinded by my feelings for Ethan that I never gave you a fair shot.  And that was stupid, because…what you felt for me was pure and—”

He laughed.  “Oh, Val, my thoughts were
so
not pure.”

She giggled then too.  “You know what I mean.”  He took a deep breath.  “I was blind to what was in front of me the whole time.”  He felt hesitant but she said, “I love you, Brad.  God, I love you, and I was so stupid to not see it.  I can’t regret Ethan, because I have Chris, but—”