Zip, Zero, Zilch

  He laughs. “I knew she was mine the first time I kissed her. Then I just had to convince her.”

  “Do you ever feel like you dragged her along? Like maybe it wasn’t her idea?”

  He shakes his head. “Never. Is that what you feel like you’re doing with Peck?”

  I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know. She told me she loves me. And she sleeps in my bed every night. And now if she left me, she’d leave a hole behind. That’s all.”

  “Has she talked to her mom yet?”

  I shake my head. “Not that I know of. That’s kind of why she’s with me. So she can stay away from her mom.”

  “Maybe she needs to face that. Then she could at least be with you by choice rather than by necessity. You’d probably feel a little bit more comfortable about her reason for being there if you knew she was there for you, and not just for the safety of your apartment.” He shrugs. “But what do I know. I had to have Friday lead me around by my dick piercing to get it.” He grins.

  “So, do you think she might?” I ask quietly.

  “I think she’s an idiot if she doesn’t.”

  “She’s going on tour soon.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m going to miss her like crazy.”

  “Be sure to tell her that.”

  “I will.”

  “You know Logan and Emily are going to be traveling with them, right?” He gets a gleam in his eye.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just saying.”

  I just wish I knew what he was just saying.

  “So, you’re the last one to fall,” he says. He’s serious all of a sudden. “I never really worried about you. I worried more about Pete, because I knew you had more ability to love than any of the rest of us.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know,” he hedges. “You just wore your heart on your sleeve. You love, and you love well and true. That’s one of your strengths.”

  “I’m not sure if strength is the right word.”

  “A lot of men would be put off by her stutter. Embarrassed by it. You’re not, are you?”

  “I don’t even notice it when she does it, but last night we had a whole conversation without her stuttering even once.”

  “She’s learning to trust you.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “She reminds me a lot of Emily with her dyslexia. She fought so hard to hide it until she met Logan, and then she pretty much had to learn to trust him, and know that he saw all of her and not just her disability. Is that what Peck’s doing?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “It sounds like she’s learning to trust you. She told you she loves you. She talks. She talks without stuttering. It sounds like you’ve assured her that it’s the whole package you’re in love with. Not just parts of her.”

  “She grew up in foster care.”

  He nods. “I know. She told Friday about it. It was pretty hard for her until Emilio took one look at her and found a daughter.”

  That warms my heart. “Is that how it happened? I thought they just went for ice cream and he took her home, along with all the others.”

  “Ask her. Hell, ask him.”

  I nod. I will. “So, when do I tell her I love her? Without scaring her?”

  “You didn’t tell her when she told you?”

  “I couldn’t…hell, I couldn’t talk.”

  He laughs. “God, that’s a good feeling, isn’t it?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “No, it’s perfect,” he corrects me. “Your heart is in your throat and your head starts to swim and you suddenly can’t talk, all because your heart is too full. That’s when you know she’s the right one. It’s when the emotions slap you in the face and you don’t care.”

  “Do you think I’ll ever play football again? I mean, the way I used to?”

  “I think you can do anything you want to do. I didn’t raise any quitters.”

  “What if I don’t want to play ball for the rest of my life?”

  He shrugs. “Do what you want to do.”

  “When I first started, I wanted it because there was more money involved than I could ever imagine having.”

  “What did you want the money for?”

  “To take care of my family. Pete went to jail trying to take care of everyone. And I should have too.”

  “But you didn’t. You got an opportunity most people only dream of.”

  “Exactly.”

  “With that said, though, you need to set yourself up with things you love. Not things you can only tolerate. A woman you love. An occupation you love. A home you love. Children you love. If you settle, you’ll never be happy. Not really.”

  I spin my chair around. “You love what you do, right?”

  “Always have.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Finish out my contract and see how it goes.”

  “I meant about Peck, doofus.”

  I laugh. “Oh, I guess I’m going to tell her how I feel, and grab her and stick her in a closet when she runs screaming in the other direction.”

  “Something tells me you’re worried for nothing.”

  I hedge. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re smart, dedicated, sympathetic, and you have the ability to love her unlike anyone ever has. Stop doubting yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stop doubting myself. I’ll get right on that.

  Peck

  Emily is in the sound booth working on her new single, recording the lyrics. The background we laid down two weeks ago will be added later.

  She has the purest voice I have ever heard. It resonates with the listener, reverberates around in your head, and comes out all your pleasure centers. The hair on my arms stands up, and I look down at Kit, Emily and Logan’s daughter, and she pats my cheek. I’m standing outside the booth holding her while her mom works. I take her hand in mine, press it to my mouth, and blow a razzberry onto her tender skin. She squeals and giggles, and then pats my face again. “’G’in,” she says.

  I blow into her palm and she laughs. Kit is walking and starting to talk.

  What did she say? Logan asks me in sign language.

  Again, I tell him. She wanted me to blow on her hand again.

  She reaches for her daddy and he takes her from me, hoisting her into his arms. She bounces in his arms and he laughs.

  “I want to hear her talk,” he says out loud.

  What? I ask him. What could he possibly mean by that?

  Em and I went to talk to a doctor last week. I’m scheduled for surgery right before we leave on the tour. He looks at me. Going to get a cochlear implant. Then they’ll activate it when the tour is over.

  Seriously? I never imagined he would do that.

  He nods. I don’t want to miss anything. I already missed her first word. I can’t hear her cry in the night. I can’t tell if she’s calling for me. I can’t hear her laugh. He looks toward Emily in the booth, where’s she’s perched on a stool with a guitar in her lap. She smiles at him and kisses her palm, then blows it toward him. He grins, reaches for the flying imaginary kiss, and tucks it into his pocket. He turns back to me. Kit has laid her head on his chest, and she snuggles under his chin. He lazily strokes her back, and her eyes start to drift closed. He talks with his hands behind her back. I can feel when she needs me, but I can’t hear it. He shakes his head.

  Deafness is a culture—a strong one. This much I know. For him to get an implant, he must feel very strongly about his desire to hear, to experience all the sounds he’ll miss with having a daughter.

  That can’t be an easy decision for you.

  It’s not. I haven’t even told my brothers yet.

  Seriously? He told me and he hasn’t told them?

  Em’s the only one who knows. I’m still working it out in my head.

  Are you ready for the tour?


  I’m ready to see her get to play her music for everyone. He nods toward her. She’s made for this stuff.

  I’m glad you’re going with her.

  She’s my heart. I’d stop breathing if I couldn’t be with her.

  He says it like he’s saying he wants a pastrami sandwich. Like his words don’t pack an emotional punch. Like what he’s saying isn’t pivotal.

  She’s the air I breathe. She’s the food that keeps me from starving. She’s the mother of my child. He shakes his head. A couple of years ago, I never would have thought this feeling could be possible.

  What feeling?

  The feeling that she is the only thing I need to survive. I used to fuck women. That’s all. Then I met her. He looks at her through the glass. And I didn’t fuck her, because I couldn’t bear to lose her.

  I don’t even know how to respond to that.

  How are things going with Sam?

  Fine.

  Fine? He grins.

  Heat creeps up my cheeks. Fine. I want to ask him so many questions about Sam.

  He’s pretty taken with you.

  Taken? What does that even mean?

  Absorbed. Entranced by. He really, really likes you.

  How do you know?

  He snorts. Because you got him all tongue-tied all the time. He doesn’t know up from down. Left from right. Top from bottom. That boy is taken. He lifts a hand and chucks my shoulder. But then he gets really serious. Honestly, I’ve never seen him with anyone the way he is with you.

  What do you mean?

  He avoids my eyes. He used to be a little bit of a horn dog. But he dropped all that the moment he met you. He’s different. It’s like you fill him with possibility.

  I lay a hand on my chest. That’s not me. That’s just him. He is one big possibility, all by himself.

  You see him as more than he is. That’s why you’re good for him.

  He’s a professional football player. Seriously? He’s the shit. He knows he’s the shit.

  He’s a man. And he has the same insecurities as the rest of us. His hands stop moving for a minute. They’re almost hesitant when they start back up. It hasn’t been easy for us. We had a mom who was awesome. And a dad who wasn’t. But even with all we were lacking, we had each other. That was never in doubt.

  So, where’s the problem?

  The problem is that we had no example of love. We had no idea what to look for. Then we found it and BAM! He smacks his palm against his forehead. Hits you like a ton of bricks.

  No ton of bricks has hit Sam yet. I told him I love him and he didn’t reciprocate.

  Logan winces before he speaks, and I brace myself for what’s coming.

  If you don’t feel the same way he does, just tell him. Don’t lead him on. And don’t hurt him. He’s more invested than you think.

  Emily pushes the mic back and gets up from her stool. He opens the door to go in to her, closing it softly behind him, leaving me completely alone with my thoughts. But they’re scattered into such disarray that I don’t know how to put them together.

  Part of the reason that I’m here instead of at Sam’s apartment is that I needed some space to think. I needed to find out where my head is, and it’s not here in this room. It’s with Sam.

  Once, I thought life was all about the music. It filled my soul, opened my mouth, and allowed my sound to come out. It gave me a voice. But now…now I’m not so sure that life is about music. I think it might be about more than that, but I don’t know what that more is.

  I let myself out of the studio. My sisters went home a while ago, and I just stayed because I didn’t want to go home yet. Logan and Emily are in the sound booth so Emily can hear the sound track. Her voice wafts over the speakers, and Logan is oblivious to it. It’s like a gift for the ears—for the soul. But he can’t hear it.

  They’re so different, but they make it work. Hearing Logan talk about his feelings for Emily, it gives me hope. It makes me think there is more to this life than what I’ve been given. More than what I’ve taken for myself.

  ***

  I get out of the cab at Sam’s apartment. I have worried over it the whole way here. I need to have a talk with Sam and I don’t even know where to start. I need to know how he feels about me. I love him, and I told him so. I thought it was what he wanted to hear.

  I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don’t even see her. But I hear her say my name. Or at least I hear her say the name I used to have.

  “Renee!” she calls.

  I spin around and look at the bench beside the apartment building. My mother is sitting there with her knees pulled up to her chest, her skinny arms wrapped around them. Her hair is long and dark like mine, but hers is stringy and greasy.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  She stubs out her cigarette, her hand shaking all the while. “I just wanted to talk to you. You’re too good for your mama, now?” she asks.

  “My mama is Marta Vasquez. She’s the woman who took me in when you gave me away. She raised me. I’ll never be too good for her. You on the other hand…” I let my voice trail off as I drag my eyes up and down her body.

  She gets to her feet. “I see. That’s how it is, huh?”

  “What do you want? Just say it.” I heave out a sigh. Maybe once she makes her demands, she’ll go away.

  “I need some help.”

  “Of course you do,” I murmur. “You always did."

  Her eyes narrow as she gazes at my face. “You finally outgrew that awful stutter.”

  No, I didn’t. I’ve been beating a rhythm with my thumb on my pant leg ever since I started talking to her. “There’s nothing wrong with my stutter. There never was.”

  She scoffs. “You couldn’t put two words together.”

  “I don’t remember you ever wanting to hear two words I had to say.”

  She rolls her bloodshot eyes. “I’m in a little bit of trouble,” she suddenly blurts out.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “The kind where there are people after me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I took something that didn’t belong to me. And I owe some people some money for it.”

  Usually, that means she stole something and hocked it to buy drugs, or she just stole money from someone. “How much?”

  “Ten thousand,” she says quietly.

  “That’s all?”

  Her eyes fly wide open. “That’s all?” She sneers. “Sometimes I forget that you’re a superstar now. You’re probably wiping your ass with hundred dollar bills.”

  Suddenly, the door of the apartment building opens and Sam walks out. He comes straight to me. “You okay?” he asks, taking my elbows in his hands. He looks into my eyes.

  I shrug him off, because I really don’t want to be touched right now. Just being near my mother makes me feel dirty, and I don’t like it. “I’m fine.”

  He nods and then turns to my birth mother. “Sam Reed,” he says, and he sticks out his hand like she’s someone he should want to impress. I want to jerk his hand back because I’m afraid he’ll catch something. “Nice to meet you,” he says as he shakes her hand. I’m actually surprised she touched him.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  “I’m Peck’s boyfriend.”

  She looks at me. “Peck? What kind of a fucked-up name is that?” She glares at Sam. “Her name is Renee.”

  Peck is the name that two loving parents gave to me when I desperately needed a new start. Tears burn the backs of my eyelids and I blink hard to push them back. “My name is Peck,” I say, correcting her.

  She glowers at me, but she doesn’t argue.

  “She wants ten thousand dollars,” I tell Sam.

  “For what?” he asks.

  “None of your fucking business,” she snarls.

  Sam thrusts me behind him. “It is my fucking business,” he says as he points a finger at her. “I am in love with her, and I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about me. S
o everything about her is my fucking business.”

  My heart starts to pound. He said it. He finally said it. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it. He looks down at me and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear.

  He turns back to her. “I’ll ask you again. What do you want the money for?”

  A short pause. “Bone.” Not more than that. Just one word.

  Sam freezes. “Bone.”

  She nods. “I owe him some money and I need to pay him back.”

  “Why should she help you?”

  “Because if she doesn’t, he’s going to kill me.” Fear skitters across her face, and I know that she believes it.

  “Why is this our problem?” Sam crosses his arms in front of his chest. He said our problem. Ours. Not mine. My gut clenches.

  “I don’t have anyone else to go to.”

  “We’ll think about it.” He rocks his head toward Henry, who is standing in the doorway with a baseball bat in his hand. He slaps it against his palm over and over. Henry is older, but I like that he’s on my team. My team rocks. “Leave your contact information with Henry. We’ll call you if we decide to help.”

  He tugs my hand very gently and pulls me toward the elevator.

  “You can’t just leave me hanging,” she protests.

  I can’t stand it anymore. I just can’t. I rush toward her and stick my finger in her face. She freezes, maybe because of something she sees in my eyes? I don’t know. “You left me h-hanging for years. You left me alone for d-days. Months. Years. Where were y-you? You left me w-waiting. I used to sit up at night and wait for you to come home, until finally I just stopped waiting. I stopped hoping. So you don’t fucking get to fucking tell me you’re tired of waiting, bitch.”

  “Okay,” she says quietly.

  I fucking hate that I just stuttered in front of her. Sam tugs my hand and I walk with him to the elevator. I suddenly feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.

  I don’t let a single tear fall over my lashes until the elevator doors close.

  “Come here, cupcake,” I hear Sam say softly. He pulls me against him and holds me close as I sob on his shoulder.

  I pull myself together when the elevator stops on our floor. Sam leads me into the apartment and over to the sofa. He sits down and tugs me onto his lap. I curl into him and he holds me close.