Chapter 5: The Forbidden Note: Chapter 5

“They say it’s bad luck to have a funeral after a wedding.” I wrap my fingers around the soda can, but I don’t drink. It doesn’t have the same kick as a strong, cold beer.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Finn asks, lounging in the pool chair with a book in his hand.

“And why the hell should we care what they think,” Dutch adds.

“You know, I actually haven’t heard that.” I lean back on my elbows. My legs, up to mid-thigh, are in the pool. “But it should be a thing. A wedding and a funeral on the same day feels like bad freaking luck to me.”

“We actually haven’t had the funeral yet,” Finn points out, flipping a page of his book. “We just identified the body.”

“Still bad luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck. I believe in Cadey,” Dutch says. “I believe in us.”

Finn makes a face.

I splash water in my twin’s direction. “You’re despicable.” I point a finger at the man who, hours ago, went from single to husband in a hot New York minute.

I swear, there was a point I thought Dutch wouldn’t ever get it together. Or maybe that he shouldn’t get it together.

But the impossible happened.

Dutch and Cadey are like oil and water yet, somehow, they figured it out.

My situation is different.

Vastly more complicated.

A spectacular crapstorm of ‘Do Not Enter’ signs.

Damn, but I do like trespassing in places I don’t belong.

“What’s wrong with what I said?” Dutch frowns.

“You’re being sentimental.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You like Cadence—”

“I love Cadence.”

I spray more water at him. “Get this married man away from me. He’s turned into a sap.”

Dutch jumps back to avoid getting splashed and scowls in my direction. “I can still break your neck.”

“You want to see more dead bodies today?” I fire back.

Dutch thinks about it and grunts, backing off.

Love should have softened him, but it hasn’t. At least, not towards us.

To Cadey?

Guy’s a doormat.

To everyone else, he’s just as snarly and gruff as ever. Maybe even more so now that he has the weight of a family to protect.

I know he takes that crap seriously—being a husband. Maybe even a father someday… hopefully soon.

Of the three of us, Dutch is the most ready for that kind of life.

“How’s Cadey holding up?” Finn asks.

“She’s insisting she’s fine and wants to do everything by herself.”

“That why you’re here drinking with us instead of at her apartment helping her pack?”

Dutch scowls. “She told me to come home. Said I’m breathing down her neck.”

“For the record, women never push me away when I’m breathing down their neck.”

“Is that why I saw Miss Jamieson ripping you a new one in the parking lot?” Dutch spits back.

Touché, brother.

I take a swig rather than admit defeat.

Dutch stares straight ahead. “Cadey wants to go through her mother’s things on her own. I agreed to give her a few hours.”

“Marriage is about compromise,” Finn says wisely.

Dutch’s wedding ring glints in the light as he lifts his beer. “I’ll let her pack on her own. I’ll even let her decide where we live. But I’m hiring a funeral parlor so she doesn’t have to think about all those details. She’s got enough on her plate.”

“She’ll still have to direct the funeral people. Tell them what she wants,” Finn says.

I glance at my brother. “How do you know that?”

“That’s common-sense.”

“I’d rather she didn’t mess with this funeral at all. It was bad enough she had to lie to the police and falsely identify a dead body last year. This year, she’s doing it all over again. Except she has Viola’s grief to handle on top of her own. She shouldn’t have to go through the motions of a memorial service twice.”

I twirl my drumstick around my fingers. “I’ll do it.”

Both Finn and Dutch stare at me.

“You’ll do what?” Dutch blinks slowly.

“I’ll plan the funeral.”

“Like hell you will,” my twin grunts.

“What’s wrong with me planning it?”

“You?” Dutch’s eyebrows fly to the top of his head. “Between you and Sol, I don’t know who skips class the most. You barely show up to gigs sober and you want to plan a funeral for my wife?”

“Ugh.” I groan. “You’re going to throw that phrase in as often as possible, aren’t you?”

“She is my wife.”

I shudder dramatically again.

“Let him be,” Finn says, turning the page. “The funeral is cutting into his honeymoon. Plus we have school on Monday. Things are going to get a lot less romantic. He might as well experience some benefit of being married.”

“Makes sense. Having to identify your mother-in-law’s dead body can put a damper in the bedroom.”

Dutch scowls harder and takes another sip.

I fall into the beach chair beside my twin. “Come on. Let me plan it. It’ll be fun.”

“The fact that you put fun and funeral in the same sentence is already a bad sign,” Finn says dryly, eyes never leaving his book.

“Not helping, Finny.”

Finn looks up at me with a hard stare. “Don’t call me that.”

I grin.

The one thing I love most in the world—more than beautiful girls getting on their knees for me, more than a sweet drum solo with sweat rolling down my back, more than Miss Jamieson shooting fire from her eyes and telling me to back the hell off…

Okay, not that last one.

Miss Jamieson raining hellfire on me, those plump lips mashing together, just begging for me to plunder them is the only thing I love more than messing with my brothers.

“Fine.” Dutch glowers at me. “But nothing crazy.”

“Would you define strippers bursting out of a casket as ‘crazy’?”

“Zane,” Dutch growls.

I smirk. “Got it. Keep it tasteful.”

“Respectful,” Dutch snaps. “Viola’s having a hard time. I don’t want her to be in even more pain after the service is over.”

“Look at him being a dad.” I point a proud finger in Dutch’s direction.

Finn just rolls his eyes.

My phone rings.

“Damn,” I hiss under my breath.

“What?” Dutch arches a brow.

“It’s Sol.” I show them the phone. “I told him we’re back in town, and he’s coming over.”

Finn sits straight up, a worried look crossing his face.

I stare at Dutch next. It was his idea to leave Sol out of the wedding. There’s something weird going on between those two. And since Sol is like a brother to us, the only thing that could cause friction is Cadey.

Should have figured this would happen when I saw how obsessed my twin was with both ‘Redhead’ and Cadence Cooper.

I love my brother.

But I know he’d plunge a knife in our backs for Cadey’s sake.

He’d find a way to bring us back from the dead—even if it meant going down to hell himself. But he’d still shove the knife in.

“He’s going to be pissed,” I mutter.

Finn rubs the back of his neck.

“Let him,” Dutch says casually.

I scowl in response. “We don’t do this, Dutch. We don’t fight over girls.”

“She’s not a girl. She’s my wife.”

“So you’ve said.” My eyebrows crash together. I didn’t like the thought of leaving Sol out of the loop. Now that the moment of reckoning is upon us, it feels like an even worse decision.

Sol has been through a lot this year.

Most of it is our fault.

I might be a heartless bastard most of the time, but I own my damage.

“Screw this. I need a beer.” I hop off the chair and stalk into the house.

On the way back, I overhear Finn and Dutch talking.

“You think dad has something to do with it too?”

“I’m seriously considering if I should hire a protection team for Cadey.”

“She’ll hate that.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than something bad happening to her.”

I step onto the pool deck. “Dad being involved in this crap? Yeah, I had the same thought.”

Dutch and Finn stare at me.

“What?” I sink into the chair, my eyebrows tightening. “I’m not an idiot.”

“No one said you were,” Finn says calmly.

“Someone helped Cadence’s mom fake her death in the first place. Now, she conveniently overdosed and died right after we find out about the inheritance. Something’s off.”

“I don’t want to think dad is a killer,” Dutch says. “He’s a twisted, manipulative, psychotic bastard. But murderer is next level.”

“Who’s a murderer?”

We all jump at the voice.

Sol stands in the sliding glass doorway, his eyes on Dutch. He’s been our best friend since we were kids. Practically a Cross by association.

“Sit down,” Dutch says gravely.

Sol gives him a wary look.

“We need to talk,” I add.

“About what?” Sol asks.

“About everything.”

Sol takes it well, although I’m not sure how any sane person is supposed to respond when he finds out that…

A: Dutch got married to Cadence—partly because of an inheritance our grandmother left us which states we need to be married and have a son to qualify.

B: Our dad sent Cadence out of the country to keep her from Dutch, got Dutch arrested and he might also be responsible for murdering Cadence’s mother.

And C: Dutch will now actively and intentionally proceed to get Cadence pregnant.

“You good?” Finn clasps a hand over Sol’s shoulder.

He blinks slowly.

I think we broke him for real this time.

Dutch’s phone goes off.

From the way he shoots to his feet, I know it’s Cadence calling.

“Gotta go,” he says gruffly. Picking his way past the scattered beer cans, he hustles out the door.

Finn checks his watch and snaps his book closed. “I’m heading off too.”

I don’t ask where he’s going. Not like he’d tell us anyway.

Finn is like a magic mirror. He only reveals what he wants and if he doesn’t want to show anything—screw you.

I lean back on my elbow and twirl my drumsticks.

Sol turns to face me. “Why the hell did all that happen and you didn’t tell me a thing?”

“Ask Dutch.”

Sol’s voice is sharp enough to cut. “Like I’m doing that.”

I ease up and stare at the man I consider a brother.

“What?” Sol takes a sip of the beer. The sun is setting and the moon is already out, reflecting on the blue of the pool.

“Do you really have feelings for her?”

Sol’s shoulders stiffen, but that’s the only indication that he’s affected by my question.

He says nothing for a long time.

I wait, already sensing what the answer is.

“She’s like me.” He squints into the distance, fingers tightening around his beer can. “It feels like we’re made of the same stuff. Like we beat with the same heart.”

“Sounds like love to me.”

“It’s deeper than that. I want to protect her like I couldn’t protect myself.”

That is deep.

I let the comment sit because I can’t think of a joke to lighten the tension.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.

As darkness sets in fully, I struggle with what to say. I feel Sol’s desolateness. It’s like a person sitting between us, sipping a beer. Like a living breathing thing that’s got a leash on him.

I face my best friend. “Have you been going to therapy?”

“Screw off, Zane.”

“I’m just asking.”

“No, you’re asking a whole lot behind that.” He gets up, crushes the beer can and tosses it. “My folks locked me up in the loony bin for months, so excuse me if I’m not a fan of doctors.”

“Is that a no?”

“I’ve got my own form of therapy.”

“Which is what?”

He stops and throws a look over his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Damn. That makes me even more worried.

Sol disappears and I’m left with the silence of my house.

It’s usually like this. My brothers and I converge for a bit and then we go off to do our own things.

Alone, I default to two options—bang my heart out on the drums or bang a chick into next year. Usually, one or the other soothes my restless soul.

Tonight, I’m not feeling like going off on the drums. Music takes something out of me. It chomps at my flesh, pierces a hole in my heart and oozes out all my energy. I’m always spent after a good drum session. Just like I am after a good hookup.

I open my phone and scroll through my contacts. It would take all of two seconds to have a girl under me, groaning my name while I make her see stars.

But my night’s shot after meeting Miss Jamieson.

No matter who’s under me, all I’ll be able to see is her face. The way her lipstick smeared over her mouth from my kisses. The way her curls got big and frizzy when I grabbed her head. The way her chest heaved, hot points piercing my sweaty skin.

No girl compares to her. Her heat. Her taste. Her groans in my ear.

The way she responded to every touch made me wonder if it was her first time. Or maybe it was just her first time being lapped up like the feast that she is.

An uncomfortable throbbing starts in my pants.

It sucks that I won’t be able to find satisfaction tonight.

I sigh and pick up another soda.

The urge to drink gets stronger, like a craving that I can’t control.

Fighting it back, I set the soda can down and pick myself off the lawn chair. I need to do something to keep busy.

Guess it’s time to plan a funeral.

Jinx: Three kings left Redwood Prep in a cloud of mystery. Three kings returned in a blaze of glory. One came back with a ring on his finger. One came back with a book in his hand. One came back with a scandal that could rock the halls of Redwood Prep forever.

Guess which king is which?

Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.

– Jinx