Honestly, I wonder if our father ever used a condom because how in the fucking hell did he keep knocking up these women?
“What do you want from me?” Mills asks.
I go ahead and explain everything that transpired in the past couple of days.
“It’s just a quick trip to Baker’s Creek,” I conclude, clasping my hands behind my back as I look outside the window.
I can see the Statue of Liberty from here. It’s pretty cool to at least look at something beautiful while you’re working. I, on the other hand, don’t have the time or the view.
“Do you know how many times I begged him to come to see me play while growing up?”
“You’re not the only one, Mills,” I say, exasperated. “I get it. He was an asshole who didn’t care about any of us. Dad missed games, practices, recitals, science fairs, and so much more. It wasn’t only you. He did it to all of us.”
“So, I have to act like a loving son and follow his wishes?” Pierce asks with sarcasm. “Or what’s the plan?”
“We go in, pretend to give a shit during the funeral, sit down while the lawyer reads Dad’s will and decide how to get rid of his money—unless one of you needs it.”
“The jock might need it since he’s too stupid to do anything other than punch assholes for a living,” Pierce says.
“Stop!” I order.
“We’re not teenagers anymore. Even then, it was shitty the way you treated each other,” I say, trying to put some order. They’re thirty-three and yet, they behave like they’re five. “Can you get through this without fighting or punching each other?”
“I can if the bloodsucking lawyer keeps his trap shut,” Mills agrees. “My issue is Arden.”
“Arden?” I ask, confused.
“My son, he’s with the hockey wives right now. They help me watch him during the games, but I don’t have anyone who can help me if I go to Baker’s Creek.”
“You have a son?” we all ask at once.
“Yeah, well, shit happens. Condoms break, and I have a fourteen-month-old kid who shouldn’t be at a funeral.”
“Where is his mom?” I ask.
“She’s not in the picture—long story,” he says dismissively.
I don’t say more, but I have so many questions as well as respect for him.
When Blaire scared the shit out of me saying, I think I’m pregnant, I wanted to bolt. Don’t get me wrong, I adored her, but the kid part scared me. In fact, even though she wasn’t pregnant, I bailed on her and left for Baltimore. Johns Hopkins was waiting for me, and I couldn’t risk my future by having a baby.
Blaire was too young, and I was … an idiot, because what I wouldn’t give to have her and a baby with her.
“We’ll find someone to watch him for a couple of hours,” Henry says with a smirk. “Actually, I have just the person for the job.”
“I’m not leaving my son with a stranger.”
“Sophia isn’t a stranger. She’s my assistant. I’ve known her for a couple of years. She has nieces and nephews. I’m sure she’s capable.”
“How about you?” Henry asks Pierce. “Any children or family we should know about?”
“A wife,” he says and clears his throat. “Ex, if she wasn’t stubborn and would sign the fucking divorce papers.”
“Sorry, Man,” Mills says. “That’s tough. Mom went through a few divorces, and it was never easy.”
“How is your mom?” I ask curiously.
“Happy with husband number five. They live in Calgary. I see her often,” he says. “Do you have any kids, Pierce?”
“Are Beacon and Vance going to be at this party?” Pierce asks, changing the subject. “Because I don’t see them here.”
“It seems like everyone ignored Dad’s lawyer,” I state the obvious.
“Except the nerd,” Henry says, staring at me. “The good son.”
“Fuck off,” I warn him and pull out my phone, calling Vance.
“Hey, it’s Hayes.” I start speaking right away since voicemail picked up on the first ring. “I’m with Henry and Mills. Dad died yesterday, and we want to speak to you.”
“What about me?” Pierce protests. “I’m here, too.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Pierce is on Facetime. We have to talk. The funeral is in a couple of weeks—in Baker’s Creek. We need you there—it’s not optional.”
I hang up, wondering if Vance will even show up. He’s the quiet one of the seven. He’s baby boy number six. Carter was five. When Carter was alive, those two were very close. If things had been different, I'm sure Carter would know how to reach out to Vance.
Scrubbing my face with both hands, I try to find my footing. I don’t like emotions, and they have been fucking with me since Friday. I miss Carter so much. Wondering how things would’ve been if he hadn’t died is useless, and yet, I can’t stop playing the different scenarios.
I was three when Carter was born. My memories about that time aren’t many. It’s understandable, since, according to my mom, I was a busy toddler. All I can remember is a baby crying, and my parents fussing over him. I liked him, and I was a proud big brother.
A few months later, Dad started making a few deals down in Atlanta, and that’s where he met Addison Belle Holmes. The daughter of a decorated general. That’s when Vance was conceived. Dad was lucky that the general didn’t shoot him once they figured out that my father was a womanizer and an asshole.
“I just texted Vance, too,” Mills says.
“You’re in touch with him?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I saw him once at the airport while he was traveling to Germany. Back when Atlanta had a hockey team. We chat sometimes.”
“What does he do?” Henry asks.
“He’s part of the military. Not sure if it’s the Army, Navy, or … he doesn’t talk about it,” he concludes. “We just text a few times a year.”
“Why him and not me?” Pierce protests, making Henry and I snicker.
“You two fight like cats and dogs,” I respond. “You’re fucking unbelievable. I could ask the same. Hey, why didn’t you invite me to your wedding?”
“Yeah well, I guess we’re not that kind of family, are we?” Pierce answers.
I shake my head.
“Vance is out of the country,” Mills informs us. “He wants you to text him the information, and he’ll see what he can do.”
“Tell him it’s not optional,” I press.
“Okay, one more call,” Henry says, somehow encouraging me to continue.
“Aww, we’re calling the baby,” Pierce mocks me. “He might be sleeping. Isn’t that what rock stars do during the day?”
Beacon plays for one of the most famous bands in the world, Too Far from Grace. At almost thirty, I think he’s the most successful one of all of us. I admire the kid because he’s at the top under his own merit. Even though he’s Hollywood royalty, being the grandson of the famous actor Kirk Fitzpatrick and the son of the famous singer, Janelle, he made it on his own.