I Pick You Page 3

  I ran my tongue over a piece of lettuce stuck between my teeth, wondering what she meant by that. I got the job. Holy shit, I got the job.

  Chapter Three

  As much as I hated to do it, I called my mother, knowing without a doubt she would make it something it wasn’t. I waited for as long as I could, dreading the thought of it. I never called my mother. Never. I would rather have gone to the dentist than call my mother.

  “Wow, I’m in shock. You called back. Does that mean you’re coming home for the party?”

  With one quirked eyebrow, I glanced at my phone like my mother was an idiot. She was an idiot. “Hell no. I wanted to know if you had Lane’s number.”

  “Your cousin Lane?”

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I picked up my guitar and sat on the edge of my bed. “Do you know any other Lanes? Yes, the Lane that lives in Hudson, Florida.”

  “I think they moved.”

  “Damn, seriously?”

  “Yes, pretty sure, but hang on. I’m texting Aunt Kay right now. You should come home. I’m sure he would love to spend some time with you.”

  I played a simple down-up strum on my acoustic, ignoring the suggestion with a pick between my teeth. She knew we were never friends, and at no time in the past did we hang out. “I’m not coming there. Did she text you back?”

  “Why, Brantley? You haven’t been home since Aunt Margie’s funeral. Come home.”

  This was why we didn’t talk. I didn’t want to deal with this stupid shit. “Text me that number if you get it. I’ve got to go.”

  “Brantley.”

  “Bye, Mom. Christ,” I said aloud as my phone flew into the air, landing on the bed behind me. I picked the bottom two strings and droned something I had worked on in my head during my flight home from Florida. My toes tapped, keeping perfect rhythm with the notes on my guitar and the hums from my lips. As Taylor Swift as it sounds, my music had always been a personal part of my life and this song came from there, deep down in my soul. The chorus I had rehearsed for two and half hours came into words as I put it with some harmony.

  I hummed a tune while writing the words on the back of my electric bill, eyes glancing around my small apartment to the taped up boxes, reminding me once again how real this all was. I was about to become a daddy, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The scary thought was squashed with the chorus of a song and a little girl I didn’t even know.

  “Still finding myself, still searching for light, finding you, finding me, fighting hard for whatever is right. Is it for me, or is it for you? Still fighting for air, hmmm, mmm, hmmm, mmm.”

  My lips attempted a smile, but my eyes didn’t even bother. The Skype call interrupting my intense song left me with a feeling of annoyance and it was hard to hide.

  “Now, what?” I asked as Kit came into view, seated in the same chair as the last time we had spoken, Bay behind her on the bed. I heard the familiar kid movie, wondering if she ate only raisins.

  “Seriously, Brantley? You make me change my mind every time I talk to you.”

  I really wanted to spit hot fire at her, tell her how selfish she was and assure her she should change her mind, but I didn’t. “Whoa, chill out. I’m starting to worry about your blood pressure. Your ears turn red when you’re pissed. I’m working on it. I just accepted a job in Hudson, Florida, I’m waiting on word about a house, and I bought a car. Guess I’ll need one of those now, too, huh?”

  Her face was closed, carefully composed as she studied me, contemplating me like I was up to something. “I never asked you to do any of that. You don’t have to leave Nashville.”

  My hand spun my laptop in half a circle, showing her the one-hundred-seventy feet of living space. I could sit on the bed and spit in the toilet. Where the hell did she think I would put a kid? “Look around, Kit. What did you think I would do?”

  “I don’t know, not stop singing. I never expected you to leave Nashville.”

  “Yeah, because you don’t know me.”

  “I know you will love her and that’s all that matters.”

  “I’ll probably forget to feed her or something.”

  A short puff of air fell from her lips and she smiled with a twisted grin, her tone quiet and serious as she looked back to the little girl. “You won’t. You’re going to do great with her, Brantley. I think it will be good for both of you. I want to spend the weekend with the two of you together before I go. I’ll make sure you know what you’re doing and you’re comfortable with Bay.”

  “Great, can’t wait.”

  Kit walked over and picked up the little girl without warning. “Can you say, ‘Hi, Daddy’?”

  “Hi, Bay. How are you?” I questioned, unsure of how I should even talk to her. The kid probably didn’t even understand one thing I said.

  “Say, ‘Hi, Daddy’,” Kit said again when Bay didn’t say a word. She pushed buttons on the laptop, giving zero fucks about me.

  “See, she doesn’t even like me.”

  Bay looked up to me after that with an ornery grin, rotten written all over her face. I swear she knew exactly what I had just said. I also saw something else. Me. Her sandy blonde hair. Mine. Her long eyelashes. Mine. The cadmium green in her eyes. Mine. The thin, yet pouty lips. Mine.

  “She will love you, won’t you, Bay?” Kit questioned with a noisy kiss to her fat little cheek. Also mine.

  “I buy film,” Bay said, her little body scooting from her mommy’s lap, off to buy film. What?

  “What’d she say?”

  “Oh, she said she had to find Phil.”

  “Phil?”

  “Her T-Rex.”

  “Oh.” That’s it. That’s all I had, the only thing my brain could come up with. We didn’t even speak the same language. How the hell were we supposed to live together?

  The odd number coming from my phone kept the scary conversation from going any further. I closed my laptop, telling Kit we would talk later, so I could take this incoming call for an even more bizarre talk with a cousin I hadn’t seen in years.

  “Brantley, my man. What’s up, dude?”

  “Hey, Lane, not much, man. Just landed a job in Hudson, Florida, thought maybe you knew someone with a rental, but my mom said you moved away from there.”

  “We did, but this is perfect, man. I just put my house up for sale. It’s on a beautiful piece of property. You’re literally two minutes from the beach, a cul-de-sac with well to do neighbors.”

  My eyes exploded into a shocked confusion when Lane’s suggestion hit me. “Whoa, dude. I don’t want to buy a place. This is only temporary, like a year. Wait. That’s perfect. Rent it to me.”

  I took the silence as hope that he might be considering it. “I can’t do that, Brantley. I’m paying two mortgages. I need to unload it.”

  “I’ll pay the mortgage. Come on, man. I’ll take care of the place and pay the utilities. It’s a win, win.”

  Again the silence boosted my optimism. “I don’t know how Candace would feel about this. I mean, I don’t really know you. How do I know you’re still not the Brantley—?”

  A hint of anger forced me to interrupt. “Not the Brantley my mom complains about?”

  Thank the good lord above Lane didn’t want to get into that dramatic conversation. He sidestepped it while changing the subject. “Why Hudson?”

  “I just signed a twelve-month contract there for a job. I sort of have an obligation to take care of, but only for a year.”

  “An obligation?”

  I was the one that stepped around the drama that time, not from him, but my mother. There was no way in hell I wanted to put that out there for Lane to call home about. I wouldn’t let her around my mother anyway. The less she knew, the better off I was. “You’re right, Lane. You don’t know me, but I assure you, my mother knows nothing about my life. She knows what Bridgett tells her and that’s it. I prefer to keep it that way. Come on, Lane. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “It’s not furn
ished.”

  A sense of relief fell upon me when I heard the defeat in his tone. “I’ve got a little money put back. I can take care of that. You have no idea how much this means to me. You won’t regret it. I promise.”

  “I’m hoping you fall in love with it and stay.”

  Using the bullshit that I was gifted with, I lied my ass off. “Yeah, for sure. That’s definitely a possibility.” Screw that. I would never call myself a Floridian, and the house would stay empty. Necessities, that’s all I had ever needed. I was sure that wouldn't change. How much furniture could a two-year-old need anyway?

  As messed up as it all was, I couldn’t help but feel a little excited. The beach was something I had never experienced, unless you counted that time I hitched a ride with a couple of college buddies one year for Christmas. I didn’t really count that because I didn’t go there for the beach. I went for the plentiful hot chicks. The beach wasn’t in my sights at the ripe age of nineteen, but it did sound a little appealing at the age of twenty-five. A nice looking cowboy with a cute little girl on the beach. Hell, yeah. I was sure I would have them flocking all over me. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Air depleted from my lungs and my excited smile fell into a frown when I remembered the kid that I would be responsible for. Jesus, David, and Goliath. What the hell had I gotten myself into now?

  Because of some meetings and Miss Brinkley needing to get me trained, Miss Day wanted me there as soon as I could get there. I promised to be there bright eyed and raring to go come Monday morning. That left me four nights in my Chinese scented apartment, but that wasn’t the part I would miss. Actually, I looked quite forward to getting away from that. It was the magic in the city that left me feeling a little sad, dread mixed with a frightened feeling.

  I worked a lot over the next few nights, but not really for the money. It was mostly for the nostalgic feeling that I already felt for my home, and I hadn’t even left yet. The surreal sensitivity hovered like a cloud, following me everywhere I went, up until my last day, and all the way to my post on Third and Broadway, music row.

  I played my heart out that last night and it showed. I had a bigger crowd, bigger bills, and more photo requests than I had ever had as a busker. The intensity in the way I sang and strummed my guitar stirred emotions I wasn’t too sure about. I thought about my Grandma Sarah’s sweet, sweet voice while I sang to a street full of strangers. Although she was the one who bought me a guitar, she never expected me to make a living with it. She wanted Bridgett and me to go to college and make better choices than our parents did. Of course, I never told her about my side job. I did well in school because I promised her I would. At least, there was that. I did have that to fall back on, and even from heaven, Grandma Sarah knew what was best. I would never stand on a stage in front of thousands of people and it was time I faced that fact.

  My intentions were to play until around midnight, get a good night’s sleep, and be on the road by nine the next morning, hoping to be there by eight that evening, give or take a few. I don’t know what came over me really. I just had to go. I walked up the dark stairwell to my empty apartment, caught a whiff of fried rice, grabbed my duffle bag, and left. Just. Like. That. My feet skated down the steps, leading me to my new-used Ford Explorer, and I hit the road. With everything I had to my name, my GPS set for 223 Cul-De-Sac Circle, and a pocket full of cash, I set out for an eleven-hour drive; a new adventure.

  I left figuring I would park at some truck stop about halfway through for a power nap and food. It worked as I had planned until just after ten. After a massive plate of the best breakfast bar I had ever had in my life, I covered my eyes with my cowboy hat, curled up with the driver side door, and dozed off.

  For ten minutes.

  I groaned and tried to straighten my stiff knees when I was woken by my ringing phone. This was why I didn’t have friends, talk to my family, or have permanent girlfriends. First, Kit bugged the hell out of me for months, then my mother, Miss Day, and now my sister. My stupid phone rang more in the past couple weeks than it had since I got it.

  “What, Bridgett? I’m sleeping?”

  “Why are you going to Florida, Brantley?”

  “Which big mouth told you?”

  “Marline. What the hell? You’re moving to Florida and you don’t even tell me? Wait, you told Mom?”

  “No, I didn’t tell Mom. I can’t even stand to talk to her. She called me to invite me to some stupid anniversary party and I called her back to get Lane’s number. I didn’t tell her shit.”

  “Why, Brantley? Why are you going to Florida?”

  I sat up and started my new car, knowing I could put a lot of miles behind me while I explained the whole story to my meddling sister.

  “Wait, you’re going to see your little girl? You’re going to have her? Oh my God, Brantley. I’m coming. When can I come and meet her?”

  “Not until I get settled in. Let me get my bearings first, and don’t you dare say a word to Mom.”

  I heard silence except for a horn in the background. “Can’t you just give her a chance? Please.”

  “We’re not going there, Bridge. Why the hell do you even care about what she thinks? She didn’t care what we thought when she left us for five years with a grandma that barely had enough money for herself. I don’t even know her. I don’t need her in my life.”

  “She couldn’t help it, Brantley. She was in prison.”

  “She could help it. We’re all given choices in life. She chose money over us, and I’m not going to wrap that up in a pretty little package with a shiny bow for you. It’s a fact.”

  “She chose money for us. Everyone deserves a second chance, Brantley. She’s not like that anymore.”

  My immediate surprise distorted into a shocked expression, horizontal lines felt across my forehead. “Second chance? For us? Seriously? We didn’t need to wear designer jeans, we needed our mother. And furthermore, this would make about ten chances, even a cat only gets nine. No, stop forcing this shit down my throat. I’m not talking about it, I’m not interested in a relationship with her, and if you don’t stop, I’m never going to let you meet Bay.”

  “Oh, my God, Brantley. I can’t wait. I won’t say another word about Mom only because I can see the change in you. This is only a start. You’re going to fall madly, deeply in love with your baby girl, and I think the rest will come. I believe that you have it in your heart to forgive her and I believe that you will.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.”

  “When is this all happening?”

  “Now. Well, I mean it’s been happening. I start work Monday for some preliminary bullshit, meetings and parent-teacher stuff, and Kit is bringing Bay the next weekend.”

  My sister couldn’t have contained the excitement in her tone had her life depended on it. “I’m coming that weekend.”

  “No, I’ll let you know. Kit is staying the weekend with her so she can teach me some stuff. Let me get settled in and get to know her myself first.”

  Disappointment was heard in the exhaled breath, but I didn’t give in. I had to wait until I wasn’t so freaked out about it first. “Fine, but I want pictures. Lots of them.”

  “I can probably do that. Hey, I’ll call you later. I want to jump off this exit and take a piss.”

  “I’m so excited for you Brantley. Drive safe, love you.”

  “Love you, too, see ya.”

  “Bye.”

  “Aye, aye, aye,” I said in a chant, my phone landing to the passenger seat with a thump. Well, at least it was behind me. I had been dreading to tell my sister about everything for weeks. Not because we didn’t talk, or I didn’t want to. Mostly because I didn’t see any sense in telling her about something that would never happen.

  Chapter Four

  “223 Cul-De-Sac Circle,” I said aloud, as the robotic voice coming from my phone informed me that I had arrived at my destination.

  The lady back at the real-estate office told me how
nice the place was, but damn, I wasn’t expecting that. Not even a little. I had no problem stopping by to pay Grant Realty a thousand bucks a month for a place like that. It was a million and one times better than what I was used to. A trillion, and not much more in rent.

  “Jesus Christ,” I audibly exclaimed, as I got out of my car looking at a neighborhood I could only imagine in my dreams. It was everything a man could ask for - Large lots, huge homes, new houses. The first house on the left was also for sale, and I cautiously wondered why. Then again, there were two more being built, so I didn’t worry too much. That led me to wonder why Lane had left. The last I heard, he had his own practice, striving and doing well. Oh well, lucky for me he moved on. I could spend twelve months in his house. No problem. I would have to carry a shield to keep the chicks from getting to me. Go, Brantley Jandt, I cheered to myself, smile fixed across my face.

  Just inside the foyer, I gasped my surprising approval. “Fuck.” The entrance was bigger than my entire apartment and the great-room that it led into, “Fuck.” With everything I saw, I dropped the F bomb. I guess I didn’t really expect that; then again, I knew Lane was a doctor, and if I wasn’t mistaken his wife worked, too, maybe in real-estate. I expected a nice home for sure, just not that nice, that big, and—“Fuck.” I unlocked the latch to a wall of glass, opening the French door to a pool. “Fuck.”

  Four bedrooms, one already in pink, three bathrooms, an empty gym, an office big enough for a library, a kitchen a chef would die for, not only inside the house, but one out by the pool, as well. “Fuck.”

  Things didn’t seem so bad after all. A trade off. That’s how I looked at it. I could spend eight hours a day with a few second graders, hang out with a baby, and fuck a different girl every night after she went to bed. A weekend babysitter and some new friends to party with. Yeah, life wasn’t so bad after all.

  As much as I loved the place, I didn’t get much time to enjoy it. Had I known what I would be living in, I would have left sooner, not a day before I had to start work. I spent my Sunday at Target, buying sheets, towels, beer, and a few other household items that I didn’t really use in Nashville. Although my Grandma Sarah had taught me how to make the best lasagna in all of Italy, I didn’t really cook. I had a pot for Ramen noodles, but most of my dishes were leftover plastic containers from takeout. I didn’t bother with many groceries, unsure of what little girls ate, deciding to wait for Kit on that one. I did buy a couple new pairs of khakis, black, tan, and dark blue. I hated all of them, especially the blue ones with the pleats. They put too much focus on my manhood, and no matter which way I tried to adjust it, you could still see the outline of my dick. They were going back to the store. I wasn’t about to wear them in front of a class of little kids, but…I could wear them to train with Miss Brinkley. It wouldn’t hurt to give her a peek, plant a seed to use later on. Maybe they wouldn’t go back. I had a whole week alone with the cute little Miss Brinkley, and being the noble Samaritan I was, I thought I might like to watch her eyes while they lingered below my belt. I loved those pants.