Chapter 9

Ryan had just saved her work log when her phone rang. She answered, hoping it wasn't a last-minute request for anything. She was anxious to finish up and get out; Brody was going to pick her up and they were going to get one last, quiet celebration in before the tour and the playoffs started up.

It was her supervisor, but luck was with her—the work was already done. Relieved, she sent the files and copied them to the shared drive on the network. She looked at the clock and groaned; the end of the day seemed further away than it had before. Annoyed, she pulled up the task list to see what she might be able to do for the last half an hour.

With work to focus on, time moved faster; when she next checked the time, it was going on five-thirty. Finally, she thought. She logged out of the system, turned off her computer, grabbed her bag and left. Once outside, she took a deep breath. It was spring at last, and it was a relief not to feel chilled to the bone after a damp winter.

Brody hadn't arrived yet, so she pulled out her phone and opened her music app. She toyed with some ideas, every so often looking up to look for Brody's car. She wondered if they'd go for sushi or if Brody had a new restaurant he wanted to show her. It seemed that his hobby, aside from watching cooking shows, was finding places to eat. He'd found more in the few years he'd been with the Caps than Ryan had found in her whole life.

"RYAN!!"

She jerked her head around and saw her father stalking towards her.

"What the hell did you say to Evan?" He loomed over her.

"Hi, Dad. I'm fine. You?"

"Don't get smart with me! Who the hell do you think you are telling Evan not to declare for the draft?"

"What are you talking about? I never told him that!"

"Then what in God's name did you say?" Jim glared at her.

"I told him he didn't have to decide now. I told him he should think about it."

"Of course you did." Jim scoffed. "It's bad enough you've screwed up your own life, now you have to screw up his!"

"Fuck you! I didn't tell him to quit and I haven't screwed up anything!"

Jim looked at her, incredulous. "You don't think you've screwed anything up? Have you looked at yourself lately? You don't even have a real job! You are throwing away—"

"I have a real job! You're just pissed that I'm not doing something you pre-approved for me!"

Jim gritted his teeth. "You know what? I don't care what you do with your life. But you will not screw with your brother's plan!"

"It's not his plan, it's your plan!" Ryan couldn't remember when she'd been so angry. "You think it's so fucking important that he turns pro just because you couldn't!"

"I want your brother to have a future, goddamn it! Which is more than you've got right now! You won't always get a paid vacation to play that crap you call music."

That stung, but Ryan ignored it. "I'm doing what I want, and that's all Evan wants for himself. I didn't tell Evan to do anything one way or the other."

"You didn't even try to stop him!" Jim threw up his hands.

"There was nothing to stop! He asked me a question and I answered him. What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"You should have told me about it the minute he said something to you!"

"Why should I? It's up to Evan."

Jim looked at her, incredulous. "Evan is fucking eighteen years old! He doesn't know what he wants, or what he needs!"

"But you do." Ryan crossed her arms in front of her.

"You're goddamned right I do! And he doesn't need anymore so-called help from you!" Jim took another step towards her and jabbed his finger at her. "I do not want you talking to him, do you understand me? No email, no phone calls, no goddamned texts!"

She smacked his hand away. "Christ, Dad, I'm not twelve! If I want to talk to my brother, I will!"

"What the hell is your problem? Why can't you, just once, do what you're told? Your brother has worked too hard not to go professional!"

"That's Evan's decision!"

"Decisions? You want to talk about decisions? Your life is the worst string of decisions I've ever seen!" Ryan could only stare as her father let loose. "First you decided to be friends with that slut, Lara. Your mother and I warned you not to hang out with trash like her and now you're no better than she is! Then you decided to be friends with drug addicts, which I guess makes sense since you'd have to be on drugs in the first place to think that noise you make is music, let alone that someone should pay you for it and—"

Ryan blinked when her father stopped short. She turned and saw Brody.

"Hey." He gave her a quick smile.

"Hi."

"Jim." Brody nodded at her father.

"Brody." Jim's voice was even but Ryan knew he was still furious.

No one said anything for several awkward seconds. Ryan was about to tell Brody she was ready to leave when her father spoke up.

"Brody, if you'll excuse us, Ryan and I are discussing some family issues." Jim took a step towards his daughter. Brody looked down at Ryan, who turned to her father.

"We're not discussing anything, and I am done with this." She turned to Brody. "I'm ready to go."

Jim grabbed her arm. "I am not finished with you!"

"Too damn bad, because I'm fucking finished with you!" Ryan yanked her arm back and stalked away.

x-x-x-x

"You okay?" Brody waited until they were a couple of miles away before saying anything. He went over possible plans for the evening while waiting for her answer. They'd planned to go out but after that blow up with her father, he couldn't imagine she wanted to sit at a restaurant.

"Yeah." Ryan nodded. "So, where do you want to go?"

Brody darted a glance at Ryan, not trusting the even tone of her voice. "I thought you might want to head home. We could order in."

"Why?"

He drummed his fingers on the wheel as they waited at a light. "Ryan, you just had a major fight with your dad. You're upset; I thought you might want to keep it quiet tonight."

"I'm okay." Ryan shrugged. "Not like it hasn't happened before."

"Then why are you strangling your bag?"

Ryan looked down and saw that she'd been twisting the strap of her bag in her hands to the point that her knuckles were white and her palms red. She cleared her throat. "It was just a rough day."

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." He shook his head. "I'm not as clueless as I used to be. There may not be any angry music playing, but I can tell you're upset."

"I'm fine, I'm—"

"Give it up, sweetheart."

She slumped back. "You're right. I'm—I don't know. I'm furious and I'm upset and I don't know what to do. I hate it."

Brody covered her hand with his for the rest of the ride and waited until they were back in his apartment before saying anything else. "Want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about. Evan told Dad he doesn't want to go pro, so naturally it's all my fault and so Dad came to yell at me and blame me for it."

"That's ridiculous." Brody closed the door and rubbed her shoulder.

Ryan let him take her coat. "Dad thinks I'm a bad influence. He probably wants to arrest me for corrupting the morals of an athlete. You should probably send me home right now; I might damage your career."

Brody hung up her coat and chuckled as he pulled her into a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could feel some of her tension slip away as he rubbed her back. "I think I'm safe. Let's figure out some dinner, okay?"

"Sure. I'm not all that hungry, but you must be."

"Don't let him get you down, Ryan. It's not your fault. You said it yourself: Evan's an adult and this is his choice. There's no law that says he has to play professional basketball."

She scoffed. "Only Jim Bancroft's law."

"One that you—and Evan—are no longer subject to. Here, pick something."

Ryan scanned the menu he handed her and opted for spring rolls and pad thai. Brody took that as a good sign, figuring otherwise she might not have chosen anything. Not that he minded taking care of her; that thought made him stop for a moment before calling in the order.

He did like taking care of Ryan and couldn't remember having had that reaction to any woman before. He placed the order and shook his head as he ended the call; this was uncharted territory for him.

"It'll be here in about half an hour," Brody said as he put his phone away.

"Good. I'll probably be hungry by then."

He sat and put his arm around her. "You doing any better?"

She dropped her head back and thought for a minute. "I will be. I'm kind of all over the place. I'm mad at Dad and I'm mad at Evan for not telling me he told Dad. Do you know, I can't remember the last time Dad drove in to Arlington? That's how you know he was ticked."

"I thought it was the vein popping out of his forehead and the steam coming out of his ears."

"That, too."

"I doubt Evan would have hung you out to dry like that on purpose. But if it'll make you feel better, you can use my phone to call and yell at him."

Ryan rewarded him with a wan smile. "Thanks, but no."

"I want to say it'll be all right but I'm not sure it's the right thing to say."

She kissed him, then curled up against his side. "I guess there are different degrees of 'all right.' I'll deal with it."

They were quiet as they waited for the food, which showed up within the promised half an hour. Ryan started off nibbling at her pad thai, but soon ate with more enthusiasm and finished it off.

After dinner, Ryan told Brody to go while she cleaned up. He shook his head and they put away the leftovers and dishes, then he pulled her back to the living room.

"So what will we watch tonight? Food, superheroes or exploding buildings?" Ryan asked.

"I thought maybe we could listen to some music." Brody went over to his iPod dock and turned it on. "There, how's that?"

Ryan listened for a few beats and grinned. "Nancy Sinatra? Really?"

Brody flushed, turned around and tapped the buttons on the iPod. "What the fuck?" He gaped at the music player. "Bax, that son of a bitch! This is his iPod. I can't believe this!" He scanned through the songs. "He switched with me! There's all kinds of—of—I don't know, sixties and seventies easy listening crap! Jesus, that stupid piña colada song is on here!"

Ryan laughed while he sputtered in indignation. "I thought you were trying to suggest I dress like a go-go dancer with knee-high boots."

Brody stopped and grinned her. "I think you'd look fantastic in knee-high boots."

"Keep dreaming."

Brody put the offending iPod down, walked over and slid his arms around her. "Okay, you got me. Guess we'll do without. I just thought it might be better if you wanted to talk." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I think you're still upset."

"Yeah, I am. I'm trying not to be, but I am." Ryan let him pull her to the couch.

"I'd be upset too, you know. Your dad said some pretty lousy things."

"Yeah, he did. And he believes them." Ryan got up and started pacing the room. "He really does think that if Evan hasn't talked to me, then he'd declare for the draft. He cannot get it through his head that Evan might not want what he wants."

"I'm not defending him, but it is tough sometimes when parents expect one thing and get another."

"I'll give you that, but it's more. Dad wants this stuff because he didn't get it. It's like he thinks JT and Evan owe it to him. He thinks the world will end if Evan doesn't declare for the draft and of course it won't. Nothing will change." She slowed and stopped by a window, then turned to him.

"That's the thing, isn't it? It won't change. Whether or not Evan declares for the draft, Dad will get up and go to work, and Mom will make frozen chicken pot-pie for dinner, and I will never get any kind of approval from them. Nothing will change." She walked over and flopped on the couch. "Well, that's a hell of an epiphany."

Brody rubbed her arm. "I wish I could say you're wrong but I think you've got it. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, but thanks." She was quiet for a minute. "You know, I was so glad when you showed up. It was nice to know someone was on my side."

"Happy to help."

"I'm sorry to drag you into my family drama crap. You don't need that with the playoffs coming up."

"Don't worry about it. Speaking of family drama, I'm going to take an extra day on our road trip and visit with Rick. I want to see how he's doing. My parents say he seems okay but I can tell they're worried. And I want to see him; I haven't seen him in person since before he told me about the separation."

"That's really nice of you, to take the time." Ryan hugged him.

"It's not much but it's all I can do for now. Maybe I can even get him to come out here for a visit during the summer."

"What do you do during the off-season?" Ryan asked. "With my family, there never seemed to be an off-season."

"Usually I go back to Michigan, see family, keep up with training and all. I thought this year I'd spend more time in Virginia. With you." He wondered what she'd think of that.

"Really?" Ryan looked both surprised and pleased. "That would be great."

"I thought so. I know it's been tough, with my games and your shows. I thought it'd be nice to have some time when things aren't so hectic. Maybe you could even come back to Michigan with me for a while."

"That sounds fantastic." Ryan hugged him again. "Thanks."

x-x-x-x

"Remember this place?" Rick clapped Brody on the shoulder as they entered the bar.

"I don't know—wait." Brody looked around. "Is this the place you took me when I turned twenty-one?"

Rick grinned. "The very same. Although I remember it as the place where you barfed in the parking lot when we left."

"Thanks for bringing that up."

"You're not going to do that again, are you?"

"No. Jesus." Brody aimed a punch at Rick's shoulder but his older brother easily dodged.

"Come on, man," said Rick. "Let's grab a table."

They wound their way back to a table in the corner. Rick waved at a couple of patrons as well as a couple of the waitresses. Brody wondered just how often his brother was here that the staff would recognize him. On the other hand, there weren't that many places to choose from. Rick gestured at a small round table and Brody nodded. As he took a seat, he looked around again.

"What do you think?" Rick asked.

"I think ... it looks like a bar." Brody grinned and picked up a menu. "And I wouldn't mind a drink. And a burger."

"They still don't have decent burgers in Washington?"

"Sure they do. Five Guys is the best. I'll have to take you there next time you come East. The kids would love it, too."

Rick gave a non-committal shrug and turned his attention to the menu. Brody ordered a cheeseburger with onion rings and a beer. Rick went for the bacon-cheeseburger and French fries.

The beers arrived first and Brody watched as his brother downed almost half his bottle in one go. Had he always done that?

"So, how's it going, Rick?"

His brother raised his eyebrows. "How's what going?"

"Everything. Come on, man. Mom's worried about you."

"When isn't she worried about all of us?"

"True, but right now I think you're at the top of the list. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm adjusting." Rick downed more of his beer. "How's everything with you? That was a tough game last night. Is your shoulder okay?"

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. You know how it is. You get hit enough you don't even notice some of them." Brody rolled his shoulder, pleased when he felt nothing more than a twinge. "Would have been better if we'd won." He frowned. "The ice there sucked; I caught a rough spot and fell. If I hadn't done that, the pass never would have gotten by me."

"You can't do everything. And isn't that what your defense is for?"

"Yeah, I know." Brody shrugged. "Anyway, we're not here to talk about me."

"What do you want to talk about, then? The Tigers are looking good."

Brody was saved having to reply when the food arrived. He tried to organize his thoughts, buying more time by drowning his onion rings in ketchup. "Nice try, man. How are you doing, really?"

"What do you want me to say? I come home one day, the kids are at Amy's mom's, and Amy's telling me she thinks we need to separate. Now I'm living in a crappy apartment and scheduling time with my own kids." Rick signaled for another beer before he started on his burger.

"Sorry, Rick. That has to be rough."

"It sucks. Everything sucks right now. I have to talk to a fucking stranger about what happened in my marriage. Some goddamned shrink with papers up on the wall saying she knows how to fix marriages. And you know what?"

"What?"

"She's not even fucking married. Can you believe that shit? I guess that's fucking irony for you."

Brody waited as the waitress delivered Rick's beer. She asked Brody if he wanted another, but he declined and asked for water instead. As the waitress walked away, he turned his attention back to his brother. "So, ah, is the counseling helping?"

"Are you kidding? The shrink's on her side, so of course everything is my fault. Amy says I'm not around enough and she's tried to work it out but it wasn't working. She says I'm not listening. Ha." He took another swig of his drink. "Like I ever do anything else; it's not like she ever stops talking."

Brody made a sympathetic noise and reached for his glass of water.

Rick went on. "Every day I'd come home and she was badgering me about where I was, what kept me so long. For Christ's sake, I'd go for drinks with the guys after work once in a while and she'd acted like I'd been gone for a month."

"She was probably just upset. Maybe tired, too."

"I mean, is it so much to ask that after a day of hauling heavy shit around, I grab a few beers before going home?" Rick shook his head, drained his beer, and indicated he wanted another.

Brody searched for a comment. "Well, she works hard."

Rick scoffed. "Yeah, works. Double-shifting all the damn time." He drank some more. "Like I don't make enough. I mean, yeah, I know I've had some slow periods, but what the hell—the economy sucks for everybody." Another drink. "So she works more and more. I didn't even want her working in the first place, you know?"

Brody looked up from his meal. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. What, I can't take care of my own damn family?" Rick drained his beer and looked for the waitress. He caught her attention, indicated he wanted more, and turned back to Brody. "She doesn't need to work."

"Okay, but—"

Rick waved a hand. "Yeah, I know. Women work all the time. Feminism, choices, blah fucking blah. She told me she always wanted to be a nurse and she was going to do it, so it's not like I kept her from doing that." The waitress dropped off the beer and Rick drained half the bottle before she'd gone ten feet away.

"Anyway," Rick continued, "I figured once the kids were born, she'd stop. We talked about it; she said she thought she would like staying home with kids. Then when she was on maternity leave she told me she wanted to go back."

"Lots of women change their minds about that."

"I don't fucking care about 'lots of women.'" Rick glared. "She didn't have to go back to work. She could have stayed home with the kids and gone back later."

Brody chose his words with care. "Not every woman wants to stay home with kids."

"We talked about it and she said she would. Then she changed her mind. Now she's working overtime, talking about taking courses so she can earn more money. What, construction money's not good enough for her?" Rick snapped up another bottle.

"Maybe she just likes it."

"Yeah? Maybe she just likes talking to those doctors. Doctors make plenty of goddamn money."

Brody stared at him. "What the hell? You think she was cheating on you?"

Rick shrugged. "She probably thinks I'm too dumb to notice that she had lunch with Doctor What's-his-name five times in a month."

"No, man." Brody shook his head. "Amy wouldn't do that. I just can't see it."

"Oh yeah?" Rick raised an eyebrow and gestured at Brody with his beer. "You telling me you never worry about Ryan and all those guys in the other bands?"

"No." Brody hadn't given it a thought.

Rick threw his head back and laughed. "Brody, you are ... look, think about it." He leaned across the table. "You can honestly sit there and tell me you don't give a shit about Ryan going on tour, surrounded by—by—all those guitar players?"

Brody relaxed back in his chair. "She's been working with Nate and Mitch for years and as far as I know, nothing ever happened. Why should I suddenly start worrying about guys she hasn't even met?"

Rick gave a mirthless laugh. "'As far as I know.' Yeah, that's what I thought. When Amy was looking for a job I figured, hell, she's been in school with men, what's the difference if she's working with them?" He finished his beer, signaled for another. "Let me tell you, man, there's a difference."

After the next beer arrived, Rick challenged Brody to a game of pool. Relieved not to have to continue the conversation, he accepted. The rest of the night was uneventful, although Rick drank at a rate that surprised Brody, especially since his brother had to work in the morning. When he made a comment, Rick waved it off and said he had it under control.

Back at his hotel, Brody tried to put it all aside. He was beat from the game and from the extra travel, and he had an early flight the following day. Even so, sleep didn't come easy.

At last, on the plane, Brody let himself think about his time with Rick. He hadn't seen that side of his brother before and he didn't much like it. Presumably it was exacerbated by the beer—Rick had downed six or seven to Brody's eventual two—but one thing he knew about alcohol was that it didn't give a person new personality traits. It just magnified ones that were already there, and in Rick's case it appeared anger and bitterness were prominent.