Page 10 of Protecting Her

Sunlight poured through the windows, and the world was silent. The television had gone off as I slept. I looked at the clock that hung on the wall and groaned. I’d missed Ember!

I went into the bathroom, determined to go see her, even if it meant I’d have to wake her up. Trent had other plans, though, and he’d already sent me a dozen messages by the time I got out of the shower. He needed some paper in the office, and I sent him a message to tell him where they were. He still couldn’t find them so I decided to fetch the damned papers so he’d leave me alone and then go find Ember.

“Hey, this woman you’ve got Mason catering to, what is she to you?” Trent asked as soon as I walked into the office. Bright sunlight streamed in through the wall of glass behind Trent, and I blinked.

“What?” I asked, my patience thin. Why did he think he was the boss here? Because he was the oldest? He could suck my…

“The woman, who is she?”

“None of your business,” I said with a hint of a sneer and went to find the papers he’d asked for.

“Fine, whatever. Thanks, I need you to take on some work while you’re here, Kevin. Dad’s had the reins so long, but we have to figure out his system. He should have brought you two into check a long time ago.”

I stood there, an eyebrow lifted as my eldest brother insulted me. I doubted he even meant to, but he did. He always did. I rolled my eyes softly, adjusted my jaw to a place where it wasn’t clenched so tight, and breathed in to let the annoyance go. “What do you need me to do, Trent? I have plans today.”

“We need to try to see Dad again. Your plans can wait.” He shoved papers against my chest as he walked past me and his desk. “Find out what those are about and let me know.”

“I, what? Trent? You have to give me a little more than that for instructions.” I looked down at the crumpled report he’d slapped against my chest and tried to make sense of the title on the cover. “Trent, this is stuff Dad never let us deal with. We can’t… he’ll be back to work in a few days…”

“No, he’s going to be out for quite a while. We have to take over for now. And not let his empire crumple around us. Figure that out and get back to me. You know as much as I do at this point.”

I sat and looked over the report. I’d talk to Ember later. She was probably asleep anyway, right? I’d obviously needed sleep, so I knew she probably did too. That trip across the Atlantic could be rough on you. Maybe I could take lunch to her room and we could…

Trent gave a frustrated growl, and I looked up to watch him pick up the desk phone, punch in numbers, and bark something at somebody. Then he stood and left the office. I didn’t bother to ask where he’d gone. It wasn’t important. I put the report down and went over to look at the pile of papers, files, and other detritus on the desk.

This was my father’s desk, his office, and we’d been left to just get on with it. What was my father playing at here? We didn’t even know for sure what was wrong with him, and all of the information we received about him came through our sister, Emily. My father wasn’t above trickery when it came to his children. Was this all a game to him, some effort of his to bring us together for some reason?

I thought about my siblings as people I knew but didn’t really want to be around most of the time. Trent always had some kind of superiority complex. He was the first born, and that made the rest of us illegitimate in his eyes. We were the children of his stepmother, things to be ignored because we weren’t of the royal line, or so it seemed to me.

Mason was carefree, the eldest of my mother’s children, but the first to invade Trent’s space. He had a way of letting Trent’s nastiness roll off his back. Emily had that knack too. She could just sweet talk Trent, or our father for that matter, into doing whatever was best. Or she’d just bluntly tell them how they’d fucked up and what they needed to do to fix it. Emily was our little sister, but she was also a hub for all of us, and we kind of circled each other around her.

Emily made me smile with her antics, and I adored her. My mother really made someone special with that girl. Poor Mom, so many thought she was just a gold digger, but she really did love my father. I wasn’t sure why she did sometimes, but she did.

I knew I had my father’s arrogance, to an extent, and his way of rolling over problems that people had. Like I had with Ember, to an extent. She had major problems, and instead of giving her money to let her fix those problems, I’d dealt with it. I found it easier to just eliminate the problems that could be dealt with than to wait for others to figure out how to do it. I supposed Emily and I all had inherited that trait from our father.

I went back to work on the report after that little reverie, a little perplexed at where the whole thing had come from. It was kind of like that dream of Ember I’d had. I had never considered settling down with one woman, though it had seemed to hold a little appeal lately, and when I’d seen her, something deep inside said, that’s it. She’s the one. Which is part of the reason I’d just taken away all of her problems without even consulting her about them.

She was the one, I knew it down to my toes. What amazed me was, I was good with that.

Ember

I strummed nimble fingers over the strings of my guitar and stared out the window of my room. I was in America again, in a state that I’ve only ever driven through before, without a clue as to what to do next. I’d decided to work on a new song, but all I could think about was what I needed to do next. I was at loose ends.

“You brought me to the moon, and you took me through the stars. But when you left me there to… eat spaghetti, it tore my world apart.” I laughed at myself but wrote down the lines anyway. Writing songs wasn’t always serious.

It was skill I’d picked up a long time ago, but I hadn’t really done anything with it. I didn’t know how to get the attention of bands, singers, or record producers, though I knew people did. I wasn’t sure I wanted someone else to sing my songs anyway. Although, there were a couple female singers out there who would probably do them justice.

I was proud of my work, but at the same time, my confidence wasn’t strong. My skills had never really been tested, although the ones who had heard me play loved my voice and my style. That had been part of the problem while we were in England.

Legally, I wasn’t allowed to work on the Visa Waiver Program, so I hadn’t been able to play anywhere for money. That had been a major argument between Graham and me. He’d wanted me to play anyway, but I’d refused. Quietly at first, and then in a louder voice. He’d wanted me to put my stay there in jeopardy, but I’d been terrified to do it.

I’d never been inside of a jail cell, and I planned to keep it that way.

I frowned at the notebook where I’d written on the first page. A fresh, clean notebook, that I’d just defiled with words. I liked that the first thing I’d written had kind of turned into a joke. I was in a good place then.

My phone buzzed as I went back to the guitar, and I picked it up. The layout in the rooms in Charlotte were exactly the same as the ones in London, and I was kind of glad about that. It meant there was a coffee table of ironwork and glass in front of me and a similar but much smaller version beside me. I picked the phone up and saw it was my Twitter account. Someone had sent me a message.

“This is for you,” the sender had written. I felt my face form into a puzzled look but clicked the link inside.