Xeni Read online

  She sunk down in her chair, trying to force herself to cry. She needed the release, but the tears wouldn’t come. Eventually she gave up, accepting the numbness that had come back to smother her like a pillow in the face. She picked up her phone again and went to her text conversation with Mason. She hoped his kindness could stretch a bit further with her.

  * * *

  I don’t know if you’re already close but

  could you grab some beer and some ice cream. I

  need to drown my sorrows in booze and sugar.

  The little response bubbles popped up before her phone went dim.

  Was looking for the perfect gif response.

  Nothing was good enough.

  But the answer is yes, love.

  Thanks, dear.

  * * *

  Xeni put her phone down, leaned over and pressed her forehead against the wood of the table. She could hear her mother, feel her slapping her shoulder, telling her to get her face off that dirty tabletop, but her mother wasn’t there to chide her. She closed her eyes and rolled her face back and forth, willing Mason to hurry up. She needed her husband.

  11

  The moment Xeni opened the door, Mason regretted leaving her. She still looked beautiful. She’d slipped on an oversized cardigan that somehow made her look even more comfortable and sexy, but the afternoon seemed to have aged her. There were bags under her eyes and there wasn’t even a ghost of a smile when she let him in. He’d planned to cook for her and hoped she’d let him spend the night fucking her into next Christmas, but first he wanted to bring the light back to her eyes.

  Mason lifted an eyebrow and shot her a smile.

  “What, you weirdo? Are you coming in or not?”

  “I am, but first, I have one question for you.”

  She rolled her eyes, then popped her hand on her hip. “Sure, but make it quick. You’re gonna let the bugs in.”

  “Oh, right.” Mason stepped inside and used his body to playfully nudge her out of the way.

  “Hey!” she laughed.

  “Sorry, madam. I just need to put my groceries down.” He felt her behind him, following him into the kitchen. He set the groceries on the counter and turned to her.

  “You wanna see a magic trick?”

  Xeni shot him a confused look. “I guess, but my standards for sleight of hand are pretty darn high. I’m not Palila. I expect to be wowed.”

  “First off, don’t insult my niece that way. Her standards for everything in life are top shelf. Secondly, when have I not wowed you?”

  “I can kick your ass out any time, you know.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna need a five dollar bill from a member of the audience.”

  “Jesus.” Xeni grumbled, but that didn’t stop her from going into her pocketbook and pulling out a crisp twenty. “Here. Don’t rip it in half.”

  “No destruction of legal tender involved, I promise. Now watch, as I make this twenty dollar bill disappear.” Mason made a big show of slowly folding the twenty in half and then in quarters. “One.” He pushed his hands out in front of his chest making sure she could see the folded bill between his fingers. “Two and three.” Mason tossed the bill behind him. Xeni eyes followed it as it bounced on the counter. Mason glanced over and saw it wedged behind a jar of sugar.

  “Poof.” Mason said, waving his now empty hands in the air. “Magic.” It was his worst work by far, but he held the bright smile on his face as Xeni fought to suppress any kind of reaction. He knew he had her when her nostrils flared and her lips started quivering. She held out her hand.

  “Give me my money back.”

  Mason grabbed the bill and gently unfolded it before placing it in her upturned palm.

  “All my terrible jokes aside, if we can find a deck of cards around here, I can show you a pretty fun trick.”

  “All serious magicians should carry the tools of their trade with them.”

  “Well, I forgot to keep a fresh deck in my pocket, but I did happen to remember these.” Mason reached into one of the grocery bags and pulled out a six-pack of beer. “And this,” a pint of cinnamon swirl ice cream. “And these,” a box of condoms.

  “Thank you and good thinking.”

  “For our main course this evening, I’d like to offer the lady a seafood alfredo.”

  “Ooh, that sounds good,” Xeni groaned.

  “Excellent.” Mason pulled his keychain bottle opener out of his pocket, cracked open one of the beers and handed it to her. “Please sit back and relax. This won't take too long.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Xeni collapsed at the kitchen island with a sigh as he went to work. Miss Sable’s kitchen was pretty well organized. She’d never let him cook for her before, opting to have him bring food from the cafe when he came over to jam.

  “Would you prefer music or sparkling conversation while I prepare our meal?”

  “How about you finally tell me what’s going on with your whole situation and we put on a little background music?”

  Mason thought for a moment, wondering if talking about his father while deveining shrimp was safe. He turned back to the counter, pulled up a streaming jazz station he’d been enjoying lately on his phone, then started unpacking the wrapped shrimp and scallops. He went to the sink and washed his hands before he grabbed what he needed from Ms. Sable’s magnetic knife rack.

  “Our story begins back in the Spring of 1986. A boy child came screaming into the world—”

  “Dude.” He turned and caught the are-you-fucking-serious look on Xeni’s face. “Let’s fast forward just a little.”

  “First year of uni, I started a band. Our drummer, Duncan, and I fell in love. My father found out. Threatened him enough that he was too scared to carry on with me. A year or so later, my father sets me up with one of his business associate’s daughters. I go back to law school, so I can become my father’s idea of a proper man.” Mason paused for a moment to look for a pot for the pasta. A memory of Ms. Sable suddenly popped into his mind and he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Xeni asked.

  “Just thinking about how annoyed your aunt would be seeing me searching through her cabinets.”

  “Well, it was her bright idea for us to get married and to leave me this house. Some concessions from the afterlife will have to be made.”

  Mason glanced over his shoulder and looked at Xeni’s beautiful face as she became fixated on the label of her beer. He ducked back into the cabinets and found the big pot he was looking for. He let the music fill the air while he filled the pot and set it on the stove. He found a skillet and set that to heat while he got the shrimp ready. Eventually Xeni spoke.

  “I talked to my Aunt Alice today. And, ugh…” She tilted her head back and sucked in a deep breath, blinking a dozen or so times. “I can’t cry right now.”

  “Why not? Nothing beats a good cry.”

  “Well for one, I don’t like crying in front of people. Also, the levels of frustration I’m dealing with right now? If I start, I might not stop crying until New Years. I don’t have time for that.”

  “As your husband, I want you to know that it’s okay for you to cry in front of me.”

  Xeni let out a mirthless chuckle. “I appreciate that. I prefer to cry alone in my car or late at night in the dark. It’s more dramatic that way. More cathartic.”

  Mason thought back to the last time he cried and he guessed she had a point. “Had a real good cry in an alley behind my favorite pub once. Wasn’t cathartic exactly, but it had to be done. I didn’t need anyone to witness that event.”

  “Finish your story and then maybe we’ll find someplace quiet to sit back to back and we’ll cry together.”

  “That sounds romantic. Anyway, Moira and I actually started to get pretty close. I thought she was a great girl. A few months before the wedding, we were talking and I told her about the band and I mentioned Duncan. I maybe put a little too much emotion behind his name, because she had follow-up questions. I th
ought I could trust her, since we were about to get married. So, I told her we’d been serious, but he was an ex. We all have exes. He’d moved on. I’d moved on.”

  “Right. This sounds like normal ex stuff. Minus your father threatening him.”

  “Exactly. She asked me if I was gay. I said no, I’m bisexual. I gave her the basic definition of what that meant to me. She seemed to accept that and I thought that was the end.”

  “But it wasn’t.”

  “She was a no show on our wedding day.”

  “Oh, okay. Also holy shit.”

  “Two hundred guests packed into St. Sebastian’s and she’s not there. She told her father she just couldn’t. There’s a conversation between our fathers and somehow it’s reported that I’ve told Moira I am gay and that it’s a secret I asked her to keep to herself. I never asked her to keep anything to herself. I thought I was just letting my wife-to-be get to know me better.”

  “Jesus. Right, go on.”

  “Everyone’s upset because you know my being gay is akin to me being a serial killer. And the wedding’s been cancelled, so people are even more upset. A couple of days go by, I finally talk to her and she tells me she never said that. She just isn’t secure enough to be with a man who might want to sleep with men again in the future. I thought I would be spending my future sleeping with her. But I guess I was confused about how monogamy and marriage go hand in hand. I don’t know.”

  “Ah. Yeah, a lot of people struggle with bisexuality as a concept and they also struggle with the fact that bisexuality and commitment can work together just fine. It’s annoying. I came out to my parents because I didn’t want them to be shocked if I popped up with a person who wasn’t a cis dude. They handled it well, but I don’t think my mom fully gets it. But this isn’t about me. Please continue.”

  “No, you talk about yourself too. Open forum. Free exchange of ideas here.”

  “No, I want to hear the rest. So, she makes it clear that she just can’t hang and your wedding day was probably the worst day to share this information. Then what?”

  “I didn’t really have time to be upset or hurt or whatever because her father takes back his offer to hire me at his firm and apparently I’ve botched some investment deal he had with my father that would have secured funds to keep a small bit of family land and restore the even smaller castle that sits on it.”

  “Wow. Shit.”

  “Wow shit would be right. We—” Mason stopped himself from going on. He wasn’t proud of what happened next. “Things were said and then things got physical. I’ll spare you those details, but in the end, my mum thought it would be better if I came to the States for a while. Put a whole ocean between me and my father, and give us both a chance to calm down.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Seven years.”

  “So what exactly is your dad charging you for? I’m guessing that money was sent directly to him.”

  “Law school and the wedding. Moira’s father wanted his money back.”

  “Ouch.”

  “With interest.”

  “And I’m sure—or I hope—Silas is letting you live rent free, but I doubt he can pay you eighty-five dollars an hour. Question, though. You said you had dual citizenship. You’re a White dude and you’re clearly smart and talented. Why didn’t you look for something that paid more the cafe? Not that I’m knocking that gig. It seems like you guys are having a blast over there. It just, you know…”

  Mason had asked himself that question many times and lately he was less and less impressed with his own logic. At first, he’d convinced himself he was sticking around for Silas. After his falling out with Scott, Silas had spent years building up the farm, living in that huge house all alone. But after Liz moved in and it was clear that each was exactly what the other needed, Mason wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore.

  He’d used Palila’s birth as an excuse for a while. Of course, he wanted to help out with the new baby, but between Ms. Bess, Maya, Ginny, Sydney, and Liz’s sister and friends from the city, there was practically a line around the corner of volunteers asking to look after the adorable child. Now he knew that the longer it took for him to pay back his father, the longer he could put off going back home.

  “I was dragging my feet,” he admitted. “Your aunt knew and I suppose that’s why she gave me the money. She didn’t want me to spend my life fighting with my father. Or maybe she didn’t want me to spend my life hiding from him.”

  “Are you going to quit now and go back home?”

  “Another good question from the Mrs.” Mason set the cooked shrimp and scallops aside and started on the sauce.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to go back. You can say that. This is a safe space. A circle of sharing, if you will.”

  Mason didn’t want to be an asshole and say all the terrible things that had run through his head over the years out loud. Still, one thing was true. While he missed his mom, he didn’t miss his father and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see him again. Mason was who he was. Yeah, he wasn’t his father’s ideal version of what a McInroy man could be, but he was a hard worker and a loyal friend. He’d been there for Silas and Liz through their ups and downs. He knew what he had to do to get back in his father’s good graces, to restore the peace in his family and it would only cost him his soul.

  “I’ve considered not going back.” He looked over at Xeni to gauge her reaction. She just shrugged and took a sip of her beer.

  “Understandable. If your father hadn’t ruined things between you and Duncan, where do you think you’d be now?”

  “Finishing up a sold-out North American tour. Duncan and I would have broken up seven or eight times and I’d be dating our new bassist to make him jealous.” Mason was joking about the last part.

  “What instrument did you play in the band?” Xeni asked.

  “You’re looking at lead vocals and any wind instrument we could fit my old truck, but mostly bagpipes. You’ve never heard real funk until you’ve heard funk on the bagpipes.”

  “Really?” Xeni laughed.

  “Look up Reggie Harkness on your cellular device there.” Mason added more salt to his sauce and, just as he was about to taste it, heard the opening chords to Reggie and The Blaze’s “Bagpipe Blues, On the Bay” drown out the light jazz coming from his phone.

  “Oh my god,” Xeni laughed as she paused the video. “I know this guy. I think he dated one of my aunts.”

  “According to Ms. Sable, he dated at least three of your aunts. He’s the only reason I took up bagpipes. Dear old dad wanted me to carry on the tradition. I hated going to lessons, but when my instructor realized I didn’t give a shit about tradition, he played Reggie’s first LP for me. I was hooked after that.” Hearing the Blaze’s first album had been transformative for Mason. He knew then he could make any kind of music with any instrument. He could be unstoppable.

  “That’s amazing.”

  “They asked me to play the national anthem over at the high school for one of the football games. Your aunt came up to me at the cafe the next day and asked me if I’d heard of the Blaze. That was the start of our beautiful friendship.”

  “The musical accompaniment at her service makes a little more sense now.”

  “I promise, that was one hundred percent her idea.”

  “I believe you.” Mason looked over as Xeni let out another heavy sigh. Almost as quickly, her expression changed and she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed and her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. Mason couldn’t help but think about what it would feel like to have that tongue wrapped up in other places.

  “Are you checking out my ass again? I saw you at the clerk’s office,” he said.

  “Yes and no. My friend told me she fell for her husband because he was a good cook. I mean, he’s tatted to the nines and hot as hell and great with her kids, but I’m starting to get what she means about the cooking thing.”

  “I’m sure it’s nice t
o have a man who can keep you fed.”

  “That and it’s kinda hot watching you work. You’ve been talking to me this whole time and whipping up a meal I’ve been too lazy to make like it’s nothing.”

  “Well, it’s a very easy recipe. I can show you anytime you like.”

  “That’s fine. I like the view from here.”

  “You’re not flirting with me, are you now?”

  “If you couldn't tell, I barely have an internal filter, especially when it comes to you. I’m not flirting. I’m just incapable of not telling you what I find attractive about you. It’s embarrassing as hell, so if you could please stop pointing it out, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll consider it. It’s kinda cute when your voice gets all high that way.”

  “It does not.” She pressed her hand against her cheek, crossed the kitchen and grabbed another beer. Mason liked teasing her, but he knew he had to give her a break. He checked his pasta, then searched for a colander.

  “And what about you?” he said to her. “What dreams are you putting off to the side?”

  “What makes you think I’m not living my dreams?”

  “You tell me. What’s it like teaching the wee ones? I did magic tricks for two of Palila’s little friends and I thought they were going to eat me alive.”

  “Oh, the kids are easy. I don’t know. They’re… they’re easy, but the work? It’s not as fulfilling as I’d hoped it would be.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I knew I was going to aim for a private school. Higher salaries, better resources. I work with two of my best friends. It’s a great school. Not too many problems from the administration. The parents are okay. But, like, these kids do not need me. They have everything. Money, access, privilege. A few times, I’ve thought about moving over to a school where I can really mentor students who need it, but I’m not sure I want to be a teacher for the rest of my life. Wow, I have never said that out loud to anyone.”