Getting by (A Knight's Tale) (10 page)

“You promised,” since none of us answered, she reminded us.

“No, Mom,” Liam said.

“We promised to behave, stay the whole week and…” Mitch nudged me, “help me here, Jay.”

“Drive her around.” Wrong answer. My stupid memory blurted out what I was supposed to avoid—the truth. His mumble gave me the clue that he had expected me to make something up. Give me a break, my brain had been focusing on the girl two rows behind me.

“You drive then, eidetic boy,” Liam said, and turned to Emma for an explanation. “He has a photographic memory, this guy got the brains.” I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end up pretty. “Mitch barely snatched a few cells while cooking inside the womb.”

“I’ve got a selective memory, Sparky.” Mitch’s grin bothered Mom, but she didn’t say anything about the immature behavior of my brothers. Her adult sons were behaving like children. “What did you get? Nothing, we got the looks, the brains and the talent.”

A lie, we all excelled at everything. Mom said she was blessed with gifted children. Her tiger-mom tendencies created three crazy men with lots of ideas and plenty of time to play with the world. She stayed home and taught us all she knew, and she hired tutors to complement those teachings; the advantages of homeschooling. We all learned to play various instruments, the languages of the countries we lived in, and began college by the age of fifteen. Dad settled us in England by then so that’s where we owned the family home.

Rachel Knight had drilled us in math, science, history and literature during breakfast, lunch, and dinner since I was able to walk. Her sneaky methods were annoying. Yet another reason why we should stay single and not put our own children at her mercy. Our night books contained the words: In 1876 the…. If I had a child, I wanted to start a story with Once upon a time.

“Rachy, did we take a wrong turn into the past?” Dad asked, and Emma hid a chuckle. “Well, my boys, since that’s the case, the three of you will drive your Mom and this lovely lady during the entire week. How does wine country sound, my dear?” I checked the rearview mirror, and I met Emma’s eyes. Before she diverted her gaze toward Mom, I caught a little humor in her eyes. Yet, I didn’t have enough time to know if she was being polite or meant to join the family. “Emma approves, so tomorrow after the fitting we’re going. And, Liam, you’re the designated driver on our way back from the wine tasting.”

*

“Why are you the designated driver?” Emma asked Liam, after my parents left us in the lobby. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“I called Jake names.” He shrugged.

You start it, you faced the consequences. Dad’s number one law, even after we reached adulthood. I needed to respect my brothers and not upset Mom. The latter was what really pushed him to behave the way he did. Liam placed an arm around Emma and pulled her toward the bar. “Come with me, sweetheart. We’re getting wasted, since tomorrow I won’t be able to drink any wine.” Liam and Emma had a strange relationship. Business at work, semi-friendly outside, and like today they could also behave like best friends. I didn’t get them, but was happy that they both liked each other. Not that it mattered, she meant nothing to me.

Mitch gave me the look and in unison we decided to bother Liam. “Sparky is upset,” we both said, while walking behind him and Emma. Fine, we couldn’t help our behavior; it was fun to irritate our little brother.

“Seriously, Jay.” Sparky, or rather Liam, turned and glared at me. “You’re awesome at thinking fast, and instead of making up something, what did you say?
Drive her around town.
And the old man gets fatherly. Wine country and no tasting, not fair. Screw you.” He stopped and pointed at me before continuing on his way to the bar. “I bet he’s going to be all touristy, since he has drivers…shit. I’m designating you as our driver, Emma. My brothers and I will disappear until Saturday.”

“Sure,” she responded, coming to a second halt and looking at him with a smirk. “I’ve only driven once since I left Cali. But let the bad driver behind the wheel.” Emma shrugged and moved from Liam’s embrace. “I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t think so,” Mitch said, and linked his arm with hers. Those two needed to stop touching my girl. “We’re going to do the meet and greet, and also talk restaurant business. We need new menus and I want you to do it.”

“Liam.” Desperation or a plea for help came out with the word.

“Emma can’t work or take someone else’s account, bro,” he interceded. “Company policy, sorry.” Plus, she had been grounded for overworking herself to death, taking accounts away from others and pissing Sam off—our other partner.

“But I saw what she did with my competition. Don’t be an asshole.” He pouted like a little child. Exhibit ‘A’ on why our parents treated us like children. “Jay, talk some reason into your little brother.”

“Jay, reason with your reflection.” Bad move. Mitch and I hated to be lumped into one person. I slapped Liam in the head. Mitch had his arm around Emma and moved it to do the same as me, making Emma lose her balance. I caught her by the waist, and by instinct pulled her toward my body to support her. Emma’s eyes went wide and I loosened up my grip, but I didn’t let her go. It was easy to mold her close to me, as if we had been made for each other.

“Sorry, I grabbed you too tight, right?” She nodded, but didn’t push me. My brothers apologized to her after I gave them a well-deserved glare. I didn’t release her. “We’re ridiculous together, sorry. Strawberry Daiquiri, peace offering, on me. You can draw some ideas for him.” Work, a distraction that brought a smile to her face, and she didn’t notice I still had her in my arms sucking in her sweet aroma, relishing the softness of her body. “Mitch, after you’re done, you can give them to whoever has your account. They don’t need to know she did them. Happy everyone?”

Thank you, she mouthed.
I gave her a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

Chapter 12

Emma

I STARED AT THE pad where I had been doodling for the past twenty minutes. Jake found me some paper and a pencil—a brand new pad and a box of pencils. That was Jacob Knight, a solverer—my own word for his superpower—to any problem, even though such a word didn’t exist. Mitch needed a new menu, and I needed paper and pencil. He made it happen. I took a deep breath while I glanced at Mitchel Knight, who had asked me to reinvent his menus. Easy task, if it wasn’t for the daiquiri I was drinking, the fact that I didn’t know his restaurants, and my personal confusion.

I sat next to Jake with his brothers. Mitch was the exact replica of his twin—Jake—a slight difference between their body tone and minus the scar on Jake’s left eyebrow. Oh yeah, and the slight bump on Jake’s nose. They had the same green eyes. Unlike Liam who had amber eyes and light brown hair. They were about the same shoulder width and height; a quarter inch taller than six foot three.

This entire picture was wrong, I cut ties with Jake three months ago. I made sure we didn’t bump into each other, and all that work went to the trash today when Gaby introduced him as the cousin to be. He should be in London, or wherever he had to travel for work on that rent-a-cop gig he had on the side. Not here, next to me while I was having one of the worst crises in my life. Yet I wanted to place my head on his shoulder for one second, and feel as if someone had my back for once. Stupid tears, they really didn’t want to stay put today.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Jake came close to my ear and whispered, sending a shiver through my entire body. Then he pointed toward the pad. I wanted to explain that it seemed as if my hand-brain communication system had been turned off. However, he didn’t wait for an answer. “Too many daiquiris?” I wanted to say yes and let that be my excuse, but my disconnected brain didn’t stop my mouth in time and proceeded to answer honestly.

“No.” I had only had one so far and was making my way through number two. “Though, I could use more strawberries and limeade to level the alcohol quantity that thing has.”

My ninety percent rum, two drops of limeade and one drop of strawberry mix didn’t help with the moving room and series of ants marching through my arms. Jake sipped some of what was left of my drink. Immediately he snapped his fingers, calling the waiter.

“Leave it like that,” I said.

Infuriated, I rolled my eyes. Jake problem solved—everything. He didn’t solve the weather when I was too hot or too cold, because God and he agreed not to mess with the ecosystem. A self-reliant person like me didn’t like meddlers, and the guy had a doctorate in meddling—like his Mom. I noticed that today.

He snapped his fingers at the waiter, and the entire bar listened to him lecture the guy about the amount of rum he put in my drink.
Not the bartender!
Stares began to pity the boy, and some women drooled at the three men sitting at my table. I wanted to hide under the table; too much attention poured my way.

Perhaps alcohol played a part in my creative block, but the main problem with Mitch’s menus… I’d begun with the main problem which was that Mitch Knight—I repeated for the thousandth time—was in front of me. Two years, and I finally met him; Jake’s twin, best friend and partner in crime. Why was it a problem?

“You’d love Mitch if you met him. Liam isn’t as funny. He’s my opposite, but we’re the same. The two of you would connect so well,” Jake had repeated several times for the past two years.

Of course it was a figure of speech about meeting him because that would’ve made us…a real item. I didn’t want to meet his opposite; I would love the guy. No strings attached included no introducing the family.

In addition, I didn’t have one of those—family—to introduce the guy to unless we drove to the cemetery where we laid their ashes. That was the perfect place to meet the parents. It beat the hell out of any other introduction made in relationship history. No, hold on, I should backtrack. There wasn’t a relationship. Only casual sex; fuck buddies. The lines became blurry—to me—and I bailed before he kicked me to the curb for wanting more. The color of rejection stained like hell and was hard to remove—the hardware store didn’t carry any stain remover for such.

A new daiquiri appeared along with a bowl of fresh strawberries on the side. Was he insane? “Over” meant we don’t do nice things for each other, including ordering strawberries for the ex, fixing drinks, or injecting butterflies in the pit of her stomach. I took a bite of one strawberry and was sent to heaven. I just needed some sexual release and life would be better. “You must scratch my itch,” Jake would say when he surprised me with a visit. Romanticism wasn’t part of his superpowers.

“Emma, you ok?” Two years, we spent two years having sex, and obviously the over practiced Sex-God learned to perceive my moods and read my body language. I tried to design something for Mitch, but nothing came up. He tapped the pad. “Talk.”

“Jacob Knight.” I shook my head, we weren’t having one of those sessions where he tried to find out the reason behind my foul mood and finish with a mind blowing night cap. Where he sucked my sensitive parts and licked me until I screamed his name and ended up with him inside of me sending me to Nirvana. My brain fogged with urge so I took a couple of shallow breaths.

“Emma Anderson.” He gawked, understanding my entire reaction. “The alcohol and you aren’t agreeing.” The gentleman pushed a glass of water my way. He was, after all, one of the good guys. He shoved his emotions under the table and didn’t take advantage of my hunger because, like him, I could also feel his need. “Not the time for
it.
”

I remembered when he begged and convinced me that it was always the time and place for
it.
Day, night, lunch, dinner, breakfast, midnight, office, plane, kitchen counter, breakfast nook, pool, Jacuzzi…so many places and times. How dare he say it wasn’t?

“Malory Horton.” Mitch broke the staring contest I had with the hand Jake kept holding. Certainly his brothers were one of the reasons why it wasn’t the time. Another reason, we weren’t together anymore. “She looked good for a week affair.”

Malory snatched an invitation to the major event thanks to her family. They were close to the Smiths. I saw her five year old boy today. He looked nothing like Tom or her. Malory “Whoreton” slept with all the football team—except Tom I always thought. I wondered why Tom didn’t marry the bitch after getting her pregnant. Stephanie, another unwanted pregnancy. I didn’t pay attention to how things worked out; it was a waste of time to listen to high school gossip.

“Tread carefully, she’s a single Mom.” Even if it was just Malory, it wasn’t right. I had a sister who I would’ve hated to see hurt by an asshole. His frown was pretty much like Jake’s when something had to be explained further. “Malory has a five year old son, Mitch. You don’t want her to—”

“Son?” Mitch’s drink splattered around the table after he slammed the glass. “She never mentioned a son, are you sure?”

“Yep, he’s my ex’s little offspring,” I confessed. “Not my best decision during my teenage years—dating him. I’m terrible at making those. I really need to fire me, darn it. But then I’ll have to hire someone, and what if I hire the wrong person—” Jake gave me a light nudge to keep me focused on the conversation. “But yeah, the rumor mill says we dated him simultaneously, but I was the blind idiot who didn’t know. And the asshole had the balls to break up with me. Imagine that, as if I deserved to be cheated on for not giving him the goods. Even when one time he gave me plenty of alcohol in an attempt to date rape me at a party.” The three gasped, and the ever protective Jacob Knight pushed himself off his seat, but I stopped him, shaking my head.

“I didn’t drink whatever he served.” A sigh of relief and a big gulp of whiskey later, he allowed me to proceed. “Obviously back then I was too innocent to know why he was trying to get me drunk. But I avoided anything with alcohol because of Dad. He owned a Breathalyzer that he kept handy for after parties. After Chloe’s teenage performance, he and I battled to get along. Dad never trusted me, and I resented his insinuations. No matter what I did, he was never happy with me. I was always in trouble with him.”