Page 21 of When I Come Back
It just leaves Brooks. Where the fuck is he? I look over at the clock, we have two hours before the guests start to arrive, and he promised me he’d be here by now. I push a lock of hair back behind my ear and run my hands down the skirt of my black lace dress, letting my fingers trace the outline of one of the flowers. I take a deep breath and interlace my fingers, fidgeting with the rings on my left hand. My heels click as I walk toward the kitchen and find Josh already starting the prep work.
I hover in the doorway for a moment before I ruin his night. “Hey,” I drag out the word. “So, bad news. And we’re not going to freak out, okay?”
Josh is young, only twenty-two, but Travis says he has huge potential. I guess we’re about to find out. His eyes are as big as saucers as he waits for me to continue.
“Travis isn’t coming.” As soon as the words leave my lips, his eyes get impossibly wider.
“Wh-what? What do you mean he isn’t coming? He’s the head chef. There’s going to be a hundred and sixty guests, Thea.” His words come out as a stutter as panic rises in his voice. We can’t both be losing it. I need him to hold it together.
“I know, Josh, I do. But Melody is sick. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of her. So… it’s just you and me, kid. And maybe Brooks… if he ever decides to show up.Wehave to handle it.” He knows what I mean by that. There are other employees. I have plenty of servers and bartenders. I even have multiple hostesses to make sure every guest is taken care of. But I can’t be everywhere at once making sure there aren’t fires popping up. Travis was supposed to be in charge of the kitchen. He was going to handle it all for me so I could stay up front. There are too many moving parts within the event for me not to be on the floor. Brooks was going to handle the alcohol and restock the bar as needed, maybe even serve guests if the bar got too busy.
“I’m here, I’m here.” I hear Brooks’ voice behind me, he sounds out of breath, but I’m so happy he’s here, I look past it. For a moment, relief floods me—until I turn around.
“What thefuckhappened to your face, Brooks?” He bats my hand away as I reach toward the gash in his cheek. A bruise forming around it already.
“I’m fine,” he says as he winces.
“Right. Fine. Okay.” I’m shaking my head as I say the words, trying to calm my racing heart, but I’m on the verge of blowing up. “Fuck!” I scream, my voice ricocheting off the metal pans hanging throughout the kitchen. “Now I’m down two people.”
Confusion covers his face as he questions me, “Two? What do you mean?”
“Travis had to take Melody to the ER. Josh is taking his place.” I don’t make eye contact with Josh as I say his name. I know he’s nervous, I can’t let it get to my head. I’m throwing him into the deep end and praying he’s able to swim. “You had one fucking job, Brooks. One! I needed you today. All I asked was that you show up and help so this doesn’t blow up in my face.”
He throws his hands up in response, clearly still buzzed from whatever high he gets from getting the shit beat out of him. “I’m fucking here, Thea. I’m here, just let me help.”
I scoff back at him, “Help? How the fuck can you help when you look like you got jumped? I can’t let you be seen like this during a fucking domestic violence prevention charity gala.” He must realize that I’m right because his face softens, and regret shines bright in his crystal blue eyes.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll… I don’t know, I’ll help in the kitchen, whatever Josh needs.”
“You can’t be in the kitchen when you’re bleeding,” I say, motioning to his face and knuckles, which are also bruised and cut up. “Just… I don’t even know. I guess you get to bring the bourbon over from the distillery when I need it. You can’t be on the floor. I can’t have the guests seeing you.”
“But—” he starts to argue, but I cut him off.
“No fucking buts, Brooks. Just go put some fucking ice on your face, and let us handle this. Keep your phone on you in case I need you.” I see him walk out of the kitchen from the corner of my eye, pissed off as if he has a reason to be mad. I thought the stunt he pulled at the funeral—showing up bloody and bruised—was a turning point for him. He’d been so different afterwards, more vulnerable, seeminglywantingto take on responsibilities. I thought we were getting past his tantrums, but clearly, I was wrong. It’s always a tornado of emotions with him. He wants to be reliable, but it’s almost like he can’t help but fuck it up. I storm back to my office and pull out my phone to call Margot, my mother’s nurse.
The phone rings in my ear as I chantplease answer, please answerover and over in my head. Finally on the last ring, I hear her voice.
“Thea? Is everything okay?” Today is her day off. Seeing my name pop up on her screen probably sent her into a tail-spin thinking something is wrong with my mom.
“Hey, Margot. Yeah, Mom is fine. I, umm… I need a personal favor.”
“Oh. Okay. What’s up?” She sounds hesitant, which is warranted. I’ve never asked her for anything, let alone called her personal number on her day off. Everything with us up until this point has been about my mom and her care.
“I have a friend who… well, I don’t know what happened, and I’m honestly too pissed off to ask. But he might need some stitches, and I really can’t afford for him to leave and go to the hospital. He has a cut on his cheek that’s still bleeding pretty bad, I just need it looked at, cleaned up, and bandaged until we have time to take him to get it seen.”
I’m sitting in my desk chair now, leg bouncing as I wait through the silence to see if she’s willing to help. I don’t really have the time to be making this phone call, let alone waiting patiently for an answer, but I can’t let him walk around looking like that either.
Finally, she says, “Oh, no. I can be there in thirty minutes. I assume you’re at RED?”
I shoot up out of my chair, thankful that she’s willing. “Yes. Thank you, Margot. I owe you big time. His name is Brooks. He’ll be in the distillery since I banished him there while our charity event is going on.”
She laughs as she says, “You must be really pissed off if you banished him.”
“You havenoidea. Thank you again.” We say our goodbyes, and I rush back out to the dining area—one fire down, one more to go.
We’re down to forty-five minutes until guests are set to arrive, and nothing is going the way it’s supposed to. A woman came in looking for Travis but wouldn’t give me her name—I have to remember to tell him someone came in for him when I have a second to breathe. Josh is freaking out. Every ten minutes he comes out of the kitchen and tells me he doesn’t think he can do this. I keep reminding him we don’t have a choice, I have no other back-ups. I pat him on the shoulder, and he walks back to the kitchen looking defeated. I’m about ready to pull my hair out when someone spills a whole pitcher of water on one of the boxes of menus I have on the table.
Before I can truly lose my mind over it, Carrington walks in.
