His and Hers and Hers (6 page)

While Eliza sang, “I Could Have Danced All Night,” Cassie found herself singing right along. “I’ll never know what made it so exciting…”

When she saw Kyla gazing up at her, Cassie’s voice dried up and her face turned to flame.

“Keep singing, Cass.” Ky spoke gently. “It’s nice.”

Cassie shook her head in embarrassment. “No.”

Kyla sat upright and stretched sleepily. “It sounds like you know all the words.”

“I used to watch this movie with my grandmother all the time. It was one of her favorites.” She smiled as she remembered dancing hand and hand with Gran whenever they watched the movie and this particular song came on.

“You grandmother? But you said foster care—”

“Well, I lived with her till I was eight. Then she had a stroke and…” She shrugged, her voice trailing off. Hoping to preempt any expression of pity, she added, “She loved all the old musicals. We watched them all the time.”

Kyla smiled. “Those must be good memories. That explains all the old-school movies, anyway.” She smoothed her hand down Cassie’s arm.

Though Kyla’s touch was meant to soothe, it sent sensual awareness tingling through Cassie. She couldn’t help but remember what they’d done last night. Everything was the same, but different.

In the late afternoon, Cassie drove them to the supermarket so they could both stock up on their week’s worth of groceries. Ky stocked up on Halloween candy for the little ghosts, goblins, and Jedi sure to visit the suburban ranch house she and Jordan shared. Cassie never had trick-or-treaters—one of the perks of living above a pizzeria. She then took Kyla home and found Jordan’s truck in the driveway as well.

Ky greeted Jordan as he hurried down the front steps. “Hey, babe. Looks like you survived the hike.”

He took the bags from Kyla’s hands. “Did you forget we’re going to my parents’ tonight for Dad’s birthday?”

“Duh, no, I didn’t, and what kind of greeting is that, dude?”

“Sorry.” He leaned down and gave her a peck. “I just don’t want us to be late.”

“Yeah.” Kyla grimaced. “I’m sure they’d find a way to blame me for that.”

“Stop it. You know they like you.” He shifted awkwardly, the bags dangling from his hands.

“Uh-huh. After they forgave me for luring their son into
living in sin
.” She rolled her eyes then frowned. “Hey, what’s the matter? You don’t say hi to Cassie?”

“Oh. Hi, Cass.” Jordan waved at her as best he could with a plastic grocery bag hanging from his wrist. Her chest tightened with disappointment. Where was the teasing Jordan of this morning? The one who’d palmed her butt, who’d rubbed his hardness against her? The one who’d given her that naughty grin? This Jordan was a watered-down imitation.

 “Hi, Cass”? That’s all I get?
She wanted a kiss too.

How stupid. His arms were full of groceries. And they were in the driveway, in plain view. She could just imagine what the neighbors would think if they saw him give her the same kind of kiss he bestowed on Kyla. Not that she gave a damn about neighbors. But Jordan and Ky wouldn’t want to make themselves the subject of gossip.

After bidding them a hasty good-bye, Cassie drove home with her own groceries, immersed in confusion.

* * * *

At Jordan’s parents’ house, Kyla was finishing her helping of cake and ice cream when her cell phone rang. It was her sister Kendra calling. “Excuse me, everyone.” She found a quiet corner in the next room. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ky. You got a minute to talk?”

Kyla plopped herself into an armchair. “Sure.” She kept her voice low to avoid being overheard. “Just as long as it’s got nothing to do with the asshole.”

Kendra was silent. Kyla’s chest filled with dread. “Oh, shit. What’d he do this time?”

The asshole was their stepfather, Marty. Their mother had married him when both sisters were still children, after their father died. She’d thought her daughters needed a father figure. But nobody needed a man like Marty Burton in their life. He was a terrible stepfather and a worse husband.

Kyla clenched her teeth. “Don’t tell me he—”

“He got pulled over for DUI.”

“Again? Well, I hope Mom let his ass sit in jail for a few days.”

“Are you kidding? She ran right down there and posted bail.”

“Well, where’d she get the money?” Marty and her mother both worked, but their combined income barely covered their bills.

Again Kendra fell silent. Kyla groaned. “Jesus, Ken, I can’t believe you did that. You’ve got your kids to take care of.” Her sister was a single mom of two young daughters. “You don’t have money to throw away on Mom’s worthless-ass husband.”

“I know, I know, but Mom called me crying. Said that Marty would lose his job if they kept him in jail, and she didn’t know what to do.”

“For God’s sake.”

“So I gave her the money. And you’re right,” Kendra said, “I couldn’t afford it. So now I can’t pay my gas and electric bill.”

Kyla closed her eyes, counted to ten. “How much do you need?”

“Can you spare a hundred?”

“You don’t think I’m gonna let my nieces sit in the cold and dark, do you?”

“Thanks, Ky.” Kyla heard the relief in her sister’s voice.

“You’re welcome. But do me a favor and don’t do Mom any more favors. Not any concerning Marty, all right?”

Kendra promised, but Kyla knew she was blowing smoke. The next time their mother called in tears, Kendra would be right there, enabling her. Just the way their mom enabled Marty. And Kyla enabled her sister. And the only one who benefitted was Marty.

How’d we all get so fucked up?

This was why Kyla never wanted to get married. Most little girls grew up playing bride with their Barbie dolls, and later imagining themselves in the white gown and veil. But not Kyla. Seeing her mother get knocked around by her birth father, and later her stepfather, had taken care of that. She never wanted a man to “take care of her,” never wanted to be dependent. Vulnerable, like her mother and her mother’s friends. No matter how unhappy they were, they were stuck with too many kids and too many bills, and no way to get free. Ky promised herself she would never be like them.

She and her sister changed the subject to Kendra’s daughters. Before ending the call, Kyla assured Kendra she’d wire the cash. She’d make it two hundred. Kendra could use it, and Kyla certainly didn’t begrudge it. But she felt as though they were all trapped in a hamster wheel, spinning furiously and going nowhere.

Jordan’s mother had been giving Kyla looks throughout the evening, but waited until Kyla was on the way to the bathroom before swooping in helicopter-style.

“Kyla, dear. We were wondering when you’d rejoin the party.”

A little dig about taking the phone call. God forbid anyone should want to take a minute away from the Brougham hoop-de-doo. “It was my sister.”

“I hope everything’s all right.”

Kyla didn’t want to think anymore about her mother or Marty. “Sure.”

“Well, listen, dear. Jordan’s been so quiet this evening. I’m concerned. Is something wrong? Are the two of you having problems?”

Oh yeah, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?

But she knew exactly what Diane was referring to. Jordan was often the quiet one among his boisterous brothers, but this evening he’d been silent and downright morose.

Kyla took a breath and held it. When she’d shunted her anger aside, she responded in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. “No, it’s nothing like that, Diane. He’s just a little tired. It’s sweet of you, though, to be concerned.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved.” Mrs. Brougham’s smile was flat and insincere.

I’ll just bet you are
. She and Diane often played this little game of thrust and parry. Kyla knew Jordan’s mother would burst into a Snoopy dance of joy if the day ever came that she and Jordan broke up.

Diane wasn’t finished yet. “Well, he needs to make sure he gets enough rest.” Meaning
Kyla
should make sure and it was clearly her fault that Jordan wasn’t at his best tonight.
That’s right, Diane, I keep him up all hours of the night worshipping Satan and having wild orgies
. Kyla stopped short as she recalled what they
had
done the night before.

Wouldn’t that curl Diane’s hair?

She finally escaped to the bathroom and returned to the living room, where Jordan’s siblings, along with their spouses and kids, were chatting, eating, and playing. Jordan himself was nowhere to be seen. Kyla saw the door to the study was partially open, and she approached, ready to knock, when she heard Jordan’s voice.

He sounded tired. “Dad, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“And we’ll continue to have it, until you listen to reason.”

Kyla’s skin prickled. Was Joe Sr. giving Jordan a hard time about his relationship with her?

“You’re wasting your life in this career. Hell, it’s not even a career,” Joe went on. “It’s just a job.”

A sour taste filled Kyla’s mouth. It was worse than she thought. She could handle Jordan’s father disliking her, but it pissed her off no end when he undermined Jordan’s choices in life.

“It’s a job I like, which is more than a lot of people can say.”

“But you’re capable of so much more. Look at your brothers. They all have college educations and good professions. You’re the only one—”

“Yeah, I know. I’m the only one without a four-year degree or more, the only one who doesn’t put on a tie when he goes to work.”

Son of a bitch
. Kyla wanted to storm the room and pull Jordan out of there. But that would only embarrass him, and she knew he felt low enough as it was. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Let him be happy with his choices?

Jordan was a middle child, the fourth of six children, and though his family loved him, Kyla knew they didn’t “get” him. His father was a professor at a local college and his mother a former teacher. He was the only child in the family with “only” an associate’s degree from a community college rather than a master’s from an Ivy League university. The only one who had a blue-collar job rather than a career as accountant, lawyer, or teacher. And the only one, aside from his younger sister Jilly, who wasn’t married with children.

Jordan wasn’t exactly a black sheep, but he was an anomaly in the Brougham family. And Kyla knew that was partly her doing. Her resolve never to marry and her insistence that he never propose was one of the reasons Jordan stood out among his siblings. Not that his parents knew of their bargain. They wouldn’t be at all pleased with her if they did.

Though they drove her nuts, Kyla knew Joe and Diane Brougham weren’t bad people, but their expectations were fucked up. If someone didn’t reach a certain level of success, he’d fallen short. There wasn’t much wiggle room for individuality. Jordan tried marching to the beat of the Brougham drummer, but he was always half a step behind. And his parents never let him forget it.

They had no idea how much their disapproval hurt him. The Brougham family might look perfect from the outside, but Kyla knew better. Oh, they weren’t as dysfunctional as the Denster clan, but Joe and Diane were a team, equally yoked and equally determined to mold their children into who
Mom and Dad
thought they should be. They didn’t raise their voices, didn’t use their fists. They did their damage in quieter, more subtle ways.

Shit
. And Jordan wondered why she hated the thought of marriage.

“Kywa, Kywa!” A toddler ran down the hall and launched herself against Kyla.

Kyla reached out and scooped the little girl up in her arms. “Hey, there, Lainey! What you up to, monkey?”

Lainey laughed and squirmed in Kyla’s embrace. “I not a monkey! I a girl!”

When Jordan’s sister Jilly appeared, Lainey allowed herself to be transferred to her aunt. “Come on, girlfriend,” Jilly said. “Your mommy’s looking for you.”

The commotion in the hallway had caught the attention of the two men in the study. When Jordan appeared at the door, Kyla could tell from his expression that he was trying to keep it together. “Ready to head home, baby?”

You bet
. Kyla followed his lead and tried to keep her cool. “Sure.” They made short work of saying their good-byes and headed out to the car. They were silent until Jordan pulled out of his parents’ driveway.

“Your mother cornered me tonight,” Kyla said. “Asked if we were
having problems
.”

The muscles of Jordan’s cheek bunched as he turned the steering wheel. “Why the hell’d she do that?”

“‘Cause you barely said two words to anyone tonight.” She watched him closely, knowing he’d been humiliated by his father, not wanting to make it worse. “Everyone noticed. Didn’t you see the looks you were getting?”

No answer. His stubborn silence frustrated the hell out of her. Arguments she could deal with. Stonewalling pissed her off. “Your parents already don’t like me. Now they think I’m making you miserable. So thanks for that.”

“They like you just fine.” The words sounded as if Jordan had ground them to bits between his teeth.

“Whatever. Look, if you’re pissed at me for some reason, just spit it out. I can’t stand this passive-aggressive bullshit.”

He was silent a moment longer. On a long exhale, he said, “I’m sorry.”

As she watched his expression, some of Kyla’s anger eased. She knew him well enough to see that he was struggling with something.

She scanned the road and spotted a gas-station-slash-Kwik-E-Mart up ahead. “Pull in up there, babe.”

“You need to go?”

“We need to talk. And I don’t want us to have an argument or whatever while we’re driving.” She’d seen too many accidents in the ER caused by texting and other distractions. Domestic disputes definitely fell into that category.

Once they’d parked, Kyla turned to him. “Okay. What’s the problem?”

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. Kyla’s heart sped up in fear. It wasn’t like Jordan to be so distant. “Nothing. ”

Suddenly she realized why he was in such a strange frame of mind and could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. “You’ve been thinking about Cassie, haven’t you? About last night.”