The Ransome Brothers Read online

  “Yeah, but what would that mean for us?” I turn to him. “Think about it, Dalt. What do you think is going to happen once we all get our heads back on and want to record something? That doesn’t sound so easy to do if we’re getting sued by our own label.”

  I look around the room at them. “If we go down that road…I don’t know, man. It sure sounds to me like we’re saying that Ransom is…that it’s done. We’re done. At least for the foreseeable future. I know that things are messed up right now, but…is that what we want?”

  The room is silent. To be honest, I’m feeling something a little like panic at the very thought. For Ransom to not exist any more? I can’t imagine that. This band is…damn it, the band is everything to us. It’s our family.

  “No,” Reed finally says, his voice tired but firm. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”

  I release my breath in a whoosh, relief flooding through me. From the look on Daltrey and Lennon’s faces, they’re feeling just as relieved.

  “Good.” I place a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Because I’m not either.”

  Reed looks up at Paige, his face softening, and I can see the apology in his eyes. “What do you think?”

  She grins. “All of my favorite people coming out to LA, where we live, for months? Getting to hear Ransom play all the time? I am in.”

  Reed laughs. “It’ll be more work for you on the PR side,” he points out. Paige is a kick-ass graphic designer, and she handles most of the promotion for the band.

  She shrugs. “I can handle it.”

  Reed’s expression turns smoldering as he looks at his girlfriend across the room. “Of course you can.”

  I clear my throat. “You guys need a few minutes alone? Or you gonna keep eye-banging each other in front of all of us?”

  “Fuck off, Cash,” Paige says happily and we all laugh.

  “I want to talk to Sam before I commit,” I say, turning to Levi. “When do we need to tell the label?”

  “We have a few days,” he says.

  “And once we commit?” Daltrey says. “What happens next?”

  Levi sits up a little straighter, business mode kicking in. “We get to work on a schedule. Start looking at rentals for you guys.” He nods at me and Daltrey and Daisy. “Then we start rehearsals.”

  “It all sounds so fast,” Daltrey mutters, looking over at Daisy, concerned. “What about the wedding? We talked about summer…”

  Daisy shrugs. “We don’t have to postpone. We can get married on the west coast as easily as we can here.”

  “Oh my God,” Paige cries, clapping her hands. “This will be so perfect! We’ll all be together to help you plan!”

  “Plan?” Daltrey asks, looking understandably apprehensive at the familiar gleam in Paige’s eye.

  “Daltrey, weddings are a big deal,” she chides. “They take a lot of work.”

  “We were thinking of something simple,” Daisy says, looking almost as apprehensive as Daltrey but Paige waves her hands dismissively.

  “We can do simple,” she says. “But it still needs to be special. You only get married once.”

  “Unless Daisy comes to her senses and looks for someone better,” I say. Daltrey flips me off.

  “Paige,” Daisy says, a warning note in her voice.

  “I won’t go overboard,” Paige says, making a cross sign over her heart. “But you have to let me help you, okay? Please, Daisy. Please.”

  “Oh my God, just say yes,” Karen mutters. “You know she’ll never leave you alone otherwise.”

  “Okay,” Daisy relents. “You can help us plan a simple wedding.”

  Paige throws her hands up in the air. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

  “Now that that’s settled,” Levi says, rolling his eyes, “I’m going to make some calls, get the ball rolling.”

  “I still need to talk to Sam,” I remind him.

  Levi holds up his hands. “I know. Nothing official yet, I promise. But I’m going to have the label start looking for rental properties for you guys right away. Real estate is crazy out there, we need to get a jump on it.”

  Daltrey clears his throat, shooting a glance at Reed before turning to Levi. “Will you let Dad know?”

  Levi looks like he’s trying hard not to let his exasperation show. “Sure.” He pulls out his phone, heading into the kitchen, Karen following him.

  “I’m going to call Haylee and let her know what’s going on,” Lennon says, pulling out his own phone as a sharp cry sounds through the baby monitor. Daisy rises, but Daltrey puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get her.”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Paige says to Reed, holding out her hand. I can see the tension on my brother’s face, presumably from Daltrey’s mention of Dad. But he takes Paige’s hand without saying anything, following her out onto the porch, leaving Daisy and me alone in the living room.

  “So,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Sounds like all the Ransome boys are going to be together again.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “In the same town where your Dad lives.” I grimace a little, and she laughs. “What on earth could possibly go wrong?”

  Will

  For the third time in as many days, I find myself sitting alone at the bar, well on my way to getting drunk.

  I don’t necessarily feel like getting drunk. But the sad truth is, I can’t think of anything better to do.

  “I would ask if you wanted another,” a voice says at my ear, “but I’m thinking you should slow down a little.”

  I look up to see the waitress, that good-looking one from before. Her face is close to mine, eyes bright, her smile pretty. And I feel absolutely nothing. I sigh, turning back to my drink. “I will take another.”

  The smile slides from her face as she steps around me to the other side of the bar. “Really? Wouldn’t you rather have some food?”

  “No.” I don’t bother to make my voice friendly.

  The waitress crosses her arms, looking down at me. “How about I get you a burger?”

  I feel a swell of frustration that I’m pretty sure doesn’t actually have much to do with the waitress. “I don’t want any damn food. Okay?”

  She leans across the counter, resting on her elbows as she peers into my face, apparently unaffected by my snapping. Up close, I can see that her eyelashes are impossibly long, fanned out across her cheeks when she blinks her eyes. She has freckles, too. I didn’t notice that before. In place of the hoop she’d worn in her nose, a little purple gem twinkles up at me. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever it is that has you so worked up.”

  I sigh, looking down into my glass. “Who says I’m worked up?”

  “You’ve been in here every night this week,” she says. “And you’ve gotten pretty sloshed every time.” She grins a bit. “At first I thought maybe it was for me, your dedicated appearance at my bar.” She narrows her eyes a little. “But now I’m not so sure.”

  I gape up at her. Is she flirting with me? God, I can’t even tell anymore. That should tell me everything I need to know about the sad state of my love life. My nonexistent love life. My long since retired, covered in mothballs, hidden-in-the-corner-of-the-attic love life.

  I sigh. “You have kids?”

  She nods. “A daughter. Works over at UCLA. She’s the reason I’m out here.”

  “You’re not from LA?”

  She laughs. “God, no. Key West is home.”

  I look around at the brightly colored walls, the garish dolphin and palm tree decorations. “You fit right in at this place.”

  She laughs. “I should think so, considering I own it.”

  My eyes snap up to hers. “You do?”

  She’s still leaning across the counter towards me. If I look down, I have a feeling I’d have a pretty nice view. I also think she might be the kind of woman to rip my eyes out for it. “Why is that surprising?” she asks.

  I shrug. “I
guess it shouldn’t be. You sure as hell are bossy enough to be the boss.”

  Her head falls back as she laughs, the sound low and throaty and somehow the most arousing thing I’ve heard in a long time.

  “Insulting me is an interesting tactic,” she says.

  “Tactic?”

  She leans a little closer, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. “For trying to hit on me.”

  Without consciously deciding to do it, I realize I’m inching toward her. “Who says I want to hit on you?”

  She raises an eyebrow and her expression couldn’t be more clear. Why wouldn’t you be hitting on me?

  The woman has a point.

  “Have that burger,” she says, straightening and I feel something very much like regret at the increased distance between us. “And you can tell me how your kids messed up.”

  “They’re not the ones who messed up,” I mutter, all the warmth I’d felt at our encounter slipping away.

  She tilts her head. “Then you can tell me about how you messed up.”

  Before I can argue, she’s walking back into the kitchen to put my order in. I pull out my phone, staring down at the text from Levi. I’ve already read it a dozen times, but I can’t seem to stop torturing myself. Daltrey and Daisy got in this morning, the text reads. They’re staying with Reed for now. Cash is at Lennon’s.

  They’re all here, then. My whole family back in town. And I have to hear about it from Levi.

  A Coke appears in front of me and I look up to see her standing there again. “Burger will be right out,” she says. “Drink that in the meantime. You don’t need more whiskey”

  “You know,” I tell her, reaching for the Coke. “I didn’t actually say I wanted to eat your damn burger.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’ll eat it and you’ll like it.”

  I laugh, shaking my head at her. “What’s your name?”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Who wants to know?”

  I hold a hand across the counter. “Will Ransome.”

  “Nice name.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, not taking my hand. “Sounds a little dangerous.”

  “If by dangerous you mean nights spent getting drunk next to…whatever that is, then yes, that describes my life these days.” She follows my gaze to the brightly painted tin creature on the wall behind her.

  “That’s a manatee,” she says. “You’re not too bright, are you?”

  But she’s grinning at me, and I decide I’ve never enjoyed being insulted more. “You still didn’t tell me your name.”

  “Ruby,” she finally accepts my hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Will.”

  Her hand is soft, her fingers fitting between mine like they belong there. I swallow, feeling…something. I’m not sure what. But then Ruby’s releasing my hand, apparently unaffected by the contact, and reaching for a dishrag. “So what has you so mopey, Will?”

  “I’m not mopey,” I mutter. “I’m a grown man, I don’t mope.”

  “I see more than my fair share of mopers around here,” she says. “Mopers of all ages, all walks of life. Mopers love to drink away their problems. And I promise you, ninety percent of them are men. Your gender has the drama gene in abundance.”

  “My kids are in town,” I mumble, reaching for my Coke.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Her eyebrows are high on her forehead. “From the way you were so eager to show me that baby picture, I would have thought you were a family man, gramps.”

  I blow out a deep breath. “They’re not exactly talking to me right now.”

  “Ah.” She seems to be studying my face. “Do you deserve it?”

  I close my eyes. “Absolutely.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “You try apologizing?”

  “It’s…it’s complicated.”

  “Doesn’t sound too complicated to me.” She shrugs. “All parents screw up, Will. It’s a tough gig. Say you’re sorry.”

  “I have. Many times.” Hard to do much more than that when they won’t talk to me.

  “They know you love them?”

  My head snaps up to stare at her, and I’m feeling distinctly offended now. “Of course they do.”

  Her eyebrows are still high on her forehead. “You sure about that?”

  My hands tighten into fists on the counter top. “Everything I’ve done in my entire life has been for those boys.”

  “Oh, I get it.” She leans her hip against the counter, watching my face. “You’re one of those guys.”

  “What guys?”

  “You know—the guys who think they can show all their emotions through action. Don’t get me wrong—actions speak louder than words, and all that crap. But the words still matter. And sometimes people need to hear them. Especially kids.”

  I try to remember the last time I actually said those three words. Surely at some point in London, when all the mess about Rebecca came out…or did I? Maybe when Lennon was in the hospital, in Vegas? I definitely said it then. I must have.

  “If you have to think about it that hard,” Ruby says, her voice gentle. “You’re not saying it nearly enough.”

  “We’re not that kind of family,” I mutter through tightly clamped teeth. Maybe we would have been, if Rebecca stayed. She was the type to tell you a dozen times a day. I used to say those words a lot, with her there to remind me how. But then she left. And I had to do it myself, raising those boys. I’d tried my best, I really had. But I’m perfectly aware that I’d rarely gotten it right. I failed them, in so many ways. Everything that’s happening right now is proof of that.

  “Maybe that’s your problem, then.”

  I glare at her. As if my reluctance to spout sappy words to my grown sons is the cause of our problems. This woman has no idea what we’ve been through. No idea the mistakes I’ve made. Saying I Love You doesn’t even register in the top twenty list of ways this family is screwed up.

  But Daltrey’s at Reed’s, I remind myself. And Cash is with Lennon. Which means, no matter how I might have screwed things up, one bond is holding strong—the one they have for each other. And so long as that’s true, I can almost stand the idea of them cutting me out. So long as they’re together.

  “Hey,” Ruby says, her face concerned now as she leans in. “You okay?”

  My exhale is shaky. “I think I’ll take a rain check on the burger—”

  “The one you didn’t even want?”

  I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth without even meaning to. “Yeah. I think I’m going to turn in.”

  “Will.” She reaches across the counter, placing her hand over mine, and her eyes are serious, large and understanding in her face. “I don’t think you should do that.”

  I’m finding it suddenly hard to breathe, for some reason. “Why not?”

  She grins. “Because my chef makes really good burgers.”

  I snort out a laugh. Strange, that she can make me laugh right now when my chest feels like it’s wrapped in an iron band.

  “And because I think you could use a relaxing night and some good company.”

  “Good company, eh?” I ask, throat dry.

  She grins again, releasing my hand. “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Dangerous. I’m a respectable woman and I have work to do. But I wouldn’t mind sharing some fries while I take my break.”

  So my options are to share a plate of fries with this completely gorgeous, often surprising woman. Or go back to my condo, alone, and think about that look of hatred I’d seen on Reed’s face in Tennessee.

  When I don’t immediately agree, Ruby gestures over her shoulder towards a glass door. I hadn’t given it much notice on my previous visits, but now that she’s pointing it out I think it might lead to a patio. “We have live music out there, couple times a week. It’s going to start soon.” Her eyebrows go up again, that jewel in her nose winking at me. “You like music, don’t you? Everyone likes music.”

  I laugh out loud at that. “Yeah. You could say I like music.”
/>   “So how about it, then? You gonna sit and mope or you gonna come with me and have a good time?” There’s a challenge in her eyes that I feel myself responding to. It’s strange, but for some reason I really don’t want to disappoint this woman.

  “A good time,” I hear myself saying before I’ve even consciously made up my mind. “Definitely a good time.”

  * * *

  I can’t believe I didn’t notice this patio before. It’s large, double the size of the bar itself. And while the bar has had a half-empty, quiet vibe to it every time I’ve been in, the patio is full to the brim with people, everyone talking and laughing, music playing softly over hidden speakers.

  “Whoa,” I mutter, stopping in the doorway to look around. “This is…this is something.”

  The patio’s enclosed on all sides with lightly stained decking and tall bamboo fronds. A multitude of Christmas lights are strung from each side, crisscrossing each other in the middle, an occasional lantern hanging from the wires. Potted plants and trees fill the corners, also decorated with lights. There aren’t so many of the crazy Florida beach-themed decorations out here, though I do spot what I’m pretty sure is a stuffed blowfish on one wall. The tables and chairs are a mismatch of styles, most of them pretty battered-looking.

  I love it.

  I don’t generally give a lot of attention to my surroundings. I’m always too busy to properly look around, too focused on my phone or my sons or their schedule. The next meeting, the next rehearsal. I’m always moving.

  So it’s strange, really, that I stop there in the doorway, looking around, taking it in. Noticing the details—the chalkboards listing the beer specials. The brightly colored Spanish tiles embedded in the gravel floor. The fountain, inconveniently located in the middle of the main aisle, waiters and waitresses forced to walk around it as they hurry by with their trays. Mostly, I notice the way it feels back here. There’s a buzz on this patio, a rumble of noise and laughter and conversation. Of people having a good time.

  It makes me feel slightly less lonely.

  “Come on,” Ruby says, grabbing me around the elbow as she pulls me down off the steps and out into the space. “I see a table back there, and we need to be quick.”