Nowhere But Here

Oz

“EMILY FREAKING OUT—that was some funny shit.” Chevy bites into the mammoth ham sandwich he created from the meat tray Mom prepared for the party. Except for me and Chevy, the kitchen area of the funeral home is empty. We sit at the table while everyone else attempts to decipher what the hell is going on.

Only a handful of us know why Eli’s posted guards outside and inside every entrance and is allowing no access in or out. The funeral home is on disaster-area shutdown and if it wasn’t for Cyrus telling me to follow the long-lost daughter, I wouldn’t have had a clue that Emily has returned to Snowflake.

Eli’s real secretive about Emily and this surprise visit must be his worst nightmare, especially with the shit going down with the Riot. The next few hours ought to be interesting.

“Ahhh!” Two young kids race through the kitchen with their hands raised in the air. “Dead person. Dead person.”

Chevy laughs, then chokes on the sandwich, coughing into his elbow. Now that’s some funny shit.

While I should be concerned he’s choking to death, I’m more worried about the dark shadows under his eyes. The kid was up early running routes with his coach before the wake. Football and motorcycles are the boy’s life. Chevy’s an all-American boy with his dark brown hair, brown eyes and love of apple pie and football. That is, if Yankee Doodle went to town riding on a Harley.

I slap his back much harder than needed and he nearly spits out the sandwich. Chevy drinks from a longneck he swiped from a cooler. “Guess Emily thought Olivia was dead.”

“You think?”

Sneakers scuffle against the linoleum floor and Chevy and I nod our heads in greeting to the fourteen-year-old standing red-faced flustered near the table. Brandon’s a tall kid, fire-red hair like his older sister and as lanky as they come. More feet and height than he is muscle and he gets uncomfortable around people. We don’t care how he acts because he’s part of our non-blood family.

He blinks a lot then rubs his eyes.

“Contacts, Stone?” I ask. Good guess since those big, black, thick-rimmed glasses are MIA.

Chevy and I, along with another good friend of ours, Razor, nicknamed Brandon “Stone” when he turned fourteen last month. Some dickhead teenager who’s my age jumped Brandon as a birthday gift. Even though he was beat to hell, Brandon never shed a tear. That kid, he’s solid stone. The guy who gave Stone an ass-whipping—he cried after justice was served.

Stone shoves his hands into his pockets and blinks hard twice. “Eli bought them for me last week. What do you think?”

Chevy scans him as if he’s honestly mulling over an answer. Chevy and I, we dedicate every second with this kid to building him up. “I think Oz and I are going to have to give you the birds and bees talk sooner rather than later. Here’s the condensed version—cap it before you tap it.”

The kid’s neck flushes pink and he scratches his chin twice in that fucked up way of his when he’s nervous, but grins. Stone’s dad was a member of the club and worked for the business. He died in a motorcycle accident and since then the club takes care of Stone, his mother and his older sister, Violet, even though Violet is determined to extricate the club from her family’s life.

“You look good,” I confirm. Stone’s smile grows as he focuses on the ground. The kid is awkward as hell, but he’s one of ours. The club will always have his back. “You’re going to hang with us this summer, right? We need you on our team.”

His eyes widen. “You’re going to let me play football? On your team?”

The way Chevy eyeballs me asks the same question. Football on Sundays is the way we like it—blood-and-guts rough.

“You’re fourteen,” I answer both of them. “You’re a man now, and, yeah, I want you on my team.”

Chevy nods his understanding. He gets that I have the urge to protect and help people younger than me.

“Cool.” Stone goes to readjust the glasses that always slid down his nose and his hand twitches when he discovers them missing. “Who’s the girl that freaked out?”

Chevy and I share a glance. Family rule: no one outside a select few can discuss Emily. We don’t bring her up and no one else is allowed to know she exists. Because Olivia practically raised me for the first few years of my life, I’m part of the McKinley inner circle and know more than most when it comes to personal family business. But Stone is searching to feel like family and with Violet in his ear telling him we aren’t, I make an executive decision. “She’s someone who means something to Eli.”

Stone trembles as he realizes I told him something serious. “That’s Emily?”

“Never said that, but regardless of what you think, keep it to yourself.”

“Olivia and Eli don’t appreciate people discussing her,” Chevy warns. “Even in meaningless conversation.”

Chevy and Emily are cousins. The Emily situation is one of the sole reasons I’m glad I’m not blood-related to the McKinleys. Emily’s mother is a traitor and because of how Emily constantly pushes Eli away, I consider her a traitor, too.

“Is she staying?” Stone asks.

Truth? Stone hit on a question that neither Chevy nor I will dare to answer. Stone’s a part of us through the club, but only the McKinleys are allowed info on Emily. Though I’m not genetically a member, I’m an honorary McKinley so I’m more informed than most, but in the end, I’m still in the dark. Emily is this family’s dirty little secret.

“Where’s your sister?” Chevy asks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but unfortunately, he does. The two of us got wasted last night and picked up two girls in an attempt to extract Violet from his brain. We both got laid and a hangover, but it didn’t help his broken heart.

“She’s...uh...well, Violet said...that she wants to go to Louisville today and she wants me to go with her and since it’s such a long drive she had stuff she needed to do at the house—”

“Louisville’s over an hour away,” Chevy presses. “Why does she need to go there?”

Stone spirals into uncomfortable muscle spasms.

“Tell her to stay out of Louisville.” Chevy’s tone is demanding now. “There’s something going down between the Riot and the Reign of Terror and we don’t need trouble.”

The Riot’s based in Louisville and it’s not where any of us should be. We aren’t the type to run from a fight, but with the club’s focus on Olivia, our resources are split. We don’t need anyone associated with the Terror to take stupid chances.

“Tell her to go to Lexington,” Chevy continues. “Or if she’s so damned bent on going to Louisville, tell her to wait until I can go with her.”

Because Violet can’t remove her head from her ass, her younger brother is now dealing with the guilt of her selfish decisions. I tighten my fist, trying to squeeze away the sharp surge of let down and pissed off.

Growing up, Violet, Chevy, Razor and I were sibling-close and now...she treats us like dirt. Even on a day that’s precious to Olivia. I passed up walking in graduation because the funeral home conceded and let us have a party. They said if we were going to do it, it was now or never.

Stone’s still stuttering out whatever pathetic crap Violet forced him to memorize and Chevy goes in for the deflection. “Hey, Stone.”

Stone squints at Chevy. In a smooth motion, Chevy waves his open palms in the air, claps them together and in a twitch of his fingers produces a daisy. My eyes automatically flash to the now empty vase on the table.

Chevy’s been doing sleight of hand shit since we were kids. “Give this to your sister and tell her we missed her.”

Meaning Chevy misses her. Stone takes the flower and his eyes glow. “That’s cool. Will you teach me?”

I wink at Stone. “Girls don’t go for guys who do magic. If a guy relies on sad shit like that it means he’s got no game.”

Chevy snorts. “Tell that to the girl who let me in her pants last night. Stick with me, Stone, and the world will be ours to dominate and control.”

“No, Mom.” Eli busts into the kitchen with Olivia hot on his heels. His stride is wider than normal, indicating he’s upset or pissed. I’m going with a combination of both. “I’m calling Jeff after she calms down to find out what’s going on. Then and only then will I bring her over to see you and Dad. Not everyone in the damn place.”

Chevy gets up, reaches around Eli and dumps his trash. “Where’s Emily?”

“In the bathroom with the funeral director.” Olivia has a hop to her step that makes me smile. The past week has been rough on her. So rough she wasn’t sure she could last the whole party. But now there’s color in her cheeks.

“You know Meg will make her leave. Meg thought I was dead. This was a pity offering. Let’s take her up on it. Get Emily a drink, give her a second to collect herself then bring her out to meet her family.” She motions to us. “Don’t you want to meet Emily?”

The girl’s my kind of gorgeous, no question: sexy, beautiful dark hair and eyes like a doe’s. Gotta admit, her curves turned me on and that dress she wore sealed the deal. It clung to her in all the right ways, but what was smoking was the way she wore it. Mysterious. Classy. Never seen anyone from Emily’s world walk up to the Reign of Terror as if they didn’t have a single fear.

But Emily is bad news. She’s been a nonstop thorn in this family’s side and has continually caused the people I love to bleed. Her being here will rupture already vulnerable arteries.

“No.” Chevy, as always, preaches the truth. “I don’t want to meet her.”

Olivia points at Chevy. “For that answer, you’re tilling my garden and spreading compost to get ready for tomato planting.”

“Hell,” Chevy mutters.

“Hi, Olivia,” Stone says quietly. “I’m really enjoying your wake.”

Olivia touches her fingers to her lips. Twenty bucks she didn’t notice him, otherwise she probably wouldn’t have spoken so openly. She reaches out and pushes Stone’s overgrown hair away from his eyes. “There’s something different about you. What is it?”

Stone peeks at Eli, who stands behind Olivia beaming like a proud papa.

“Contacts, ma’am.”

“Well, I love them, and don’t ma’am me. You know better than that. Why don’t you go find Cyrus for me? I need to talk to him after I get done grilling Eli. And Stone, remember, what’s said in my house, stays in my house.”

He beelines it out of the kitchen into the thick crowd in the hallway. Once Stone’s gone on the hunt for Olivia’s husband, she returns to hammering her son. There’s no question of kicking us out—Olivia has always talked openly in front of me and Chevy because she considers us her flesh and blood, too. “She’s my granddaughter. I want the chance to meet her. Talk with her. Get to know her. Meg will never allow that if she knows I’m alive.”

“As I said, once she calms down, I’ll bring her to the house. I don’t like the idea of her being here.” He drops his voice. “It’s too wide-open. Too many eyes.”

“A few minutes here won’t hurt,” pleads Olivia. “A half hour tops. If you leave, you’ll have to tell her father. He’ll tell Meg I’m alive and then I’ll lose my chance.”

“You’re telling me what you want and I’m telling you what I can give you.” Eli rummages through the two-liters, continually picking up the Sprites only to come up empty each time. “Damn leeches drank everything dry.”

He goes to pull his wallet out of his back pocket and his face turns an unusual shade of crimson. “Chevy.”

My best friend tosses Eli’s wallet back.

“Do it again and I’ll nail you to the wall, got it?” threatens Eli.

“It’s compulsive.” Never met a guy that can pick any pocket clean like Chevy. “Besides, I always give it back.”

Eli checks his wallet and when he’s certain everything’s inside he yanks out a couple dollars. “Oz, there’s a vending machine across the street. Go get Emily a Sprite. After that, help Cyrus keep this place contained. If they aren’t associated with the Reign of Terror, throw their asses out. With Emily here and the shit going on with the Riot, I want this placed locked down.”

“Dammit, Eli!” This gains everyone’s attention. A lull falls over the once boisterous conversations in the hallway. Olivia hasn’t raised her voice like that in months.

She continues in a whisper. “She’s my granddaughter. My granddaughter.”

Olivia thumps her fist against her chest each time she says granddaughter. Both Chevy and I shoot to our feet, but it’s Eli that catches her before she sways too far.

My heart beats wildly and my throat constricts. I don’t understand what the hell is happening inside me, but I know what’s happening inside Olivia. She’s dying and there’s nothing any of us can do to stop it.

Eli hugs his mother. “We’ll go in after we get you something to eat.”

I move because it hurts too bad to stay still. “I’ll get her the Sprite.” Though I don’t know why. It’s Emily’s fault that Olivia is upset. I wish Emily had remained the illegitimate daughter that disappeared and never returned.

Emily

THE OFFICE OF a funeral director resembles those of normal people: file cabinets, a desk, a rolly chair, paperwork, a computer, pictures of kids and families. No jars of blood, no dead people or dead people parts. Small consolation.

I’m ticked. Extremely ticked. Like a-tick-interrupted-from-a-meal ticked.

She’s alive. My freaking non-grandmother is still alive, and she scared the hell out of me.

Completely spent, I sit in the chair, hold my phone and wait impatiently for it to vibrate. I left Mom a message, and someone went to find Dad. I want to go home.

My legs have the strength of mashed potatoes. I’m cold and clammy, and my stomach churns like I vomited. That’s because I did, in the viewing room, and I discovered that yellow bile does not blend well with red velvet industrial carpeting. My crowning achievement in overreaction.

Through the large window facing the hallway, I can see the crowd hasn’t dispersed. Instead, the mass of bodies has increased since my moment of glory. Almost everyone gawks at me—laughing. My mom said Eli’s family was psychotic, but this...this is...

The door squeaks open and the guy who caught me and kept me from falling to the floor enters the room with a can of Sprite. He’s rocked out in those loose jeans, a studded black belt and a black T-shirt. “Olivia says it’s not officially a party until somebody pukes.”

“Glad I added to the fun.”

He perches on the edge of the folding chair across from me and offers the Sprite. “Eli told me to get you this.”

I keep my hands planted in my lap. Nothing today has gone right and I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m done puking.

“It’s Sprite, not crack,” he says.

“Thank you.” I accept the soda and set it on the desk. “Are you my cousin?”

He doesn’t resemble me or Eli with his blue eyes and grown-out black hair. The type of hair that’s not overly long, but long enough that girls would be drawn to him because it’s the correct length for seductive rebellion. The ends lick the collar of his shirt and hide his ears. He has the type of hair Blake Harris was suspended from school over. But that’s not where my eyes linger. What captivates me is the way the sleeves of his T-shirt cling to his muscles. He’s ripped in a very awesome way.

“No blood relation,” he answers.

Good, because he has that alternative-music-band hotness and thinking someone I’m related to is sexy could send me into another meltdown.

“Will you do all of us a favor?” he asks.

I shrug, not exactly in the mood for conversation.

“Play nice with Olivia, then leave.”

“Excuse me? Play nice? With her? She freaked me out.”

He leans back in the chair and sprawls his legs out in a way that makes him appear larger than life and leaves me feeling claustrophobic. “Look, I know you’re going all prodigal daughter, but this ain’t the time or place. This is Olivia’s party and you’re ruining it.”

“Prodigal what?”

“Daughter. Bible. The long-lost son returning home.”

I stare at him, not sure what to say.

He gives a short laugh. “I heard that about your mom. Gave up God and family.”

No one speaks badly about my mom. “I heard you’re all crazy. And guess what? It’s true.”

“Why? Because Olivia’s enjoying her life?”

“Because she plays make-believe in a coffin and all of you are okay with it.”

“Better than screaming like a two-year-old and puking our guts out.”

I was wrong—he’s not hot. He’s evil. Very, very evil. “It’s sick. This whole thing is sick. You people are absolutely insane!”

The guy stands. “You need to leave. You want to see Eli? Wait for him to spend all his money so he can visit you this summer. This party is for Olivia and the people who care for her. You don’t belong here.”

The door opens and Eli and Olivia walk in. Eli had been smiling, but one flickering glance between me and Sprite guy and Eli’s mouth firms into a hard line. “Is there a problem, Oz?”

His crazy name suits this insane day. Oz flashes an easygoing grin and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to slap him. “Nope.”

Eli surveys me and his jaw relaxes. “Are you okay?”

Embarrassed—yes. Mortified—definitely. Okay—not at all. “Yeah.”

“I need to speak to my granddaughter.” Olivia pats Oz’s arm.

He envelops her in a bear of a hug, looks at me over her shoulder and mouths “leave.” He walks out and I’ve never been so happy to see someone go in my life. Hot or otherwise.

Olivia eases into the chair across from me, pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her jeans and lights one up. “I have cancer and the doctors aren’t hopeful.”

I steal a peek at Eli, who rests his back against the wall. He’s watching me, and I suddenly feel like a fish in a glass bowl. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Olivia says. “I’ve fought a good fight and lived a great life. God calls us all home at some point.” She blows out the smoke and I swallow the cough that tickles my throat.

“Funerals are expensive,” she states. It’s a pause and an uncomfortable one. She props her elbow on the desk, and I’m strangely fascinated by the way she holds her forearm up and dangles the cigarette from her bent hand.

“Okay,” I prompt, hoping this will continue the conversation.

She nails Eli’s smile and I notice her dark eyes—my eyes. Olivia is pretty and doesn’t seem old enough to have a granddaughter my age. A part of me wonders if I’ll resemble her when I grow older.

“And if I’m going to waste that much money on a party, I prefer to be part of the action.”

“So you planned your own funeral and attended it.” Weird. Very, very weird.

“Yes. Sorry about earlier. Bad timing. I thought I’d test-drive the bed in a box. See what these bones could be spending eternity in. It’s either that or the furnace.”

I shift in my chair. That’s not weird. It’s nuts.

“Eli fucked up the e-mail to your family. Put in the obituary instead of the party announcement. I wrote the two at the same time. Figured I’d be the best person to write what I want people to read after I bite.” Olivia takes another drag off her cigarette and flicks the ashes into a coffee mug.

“Muck.” I’ve heard people say fuck before. Guys say it at school constantly, but...

Her forehead wrinkles. “What?”

“You should use muck instead. You’re a...grandmother...” and the words fall off because they sound stupid.

She cackles. Like a witch. Head thrown back and everything. I shrink farther into the chair and will my phone to ring or my dad to show. Why is it taking so long for him to find me?

“Muck. I’ll remember it. Back to the conversation. I don’t regret what Eli sent.” She sucks in one more draw before dropping the cigarette into the mug. It sizzles in the liquid. “I’m meeting you.”

Simultaneous buzzing. My phone vibrates against the palm of my hand. Eli yanks his phone out of his back pocket. Too bad he didn’t answer it last night. He could have saved us from this terrible torment.

We both accept the calls. “Hi, Mom.”

“Are you okay, baby?” She sounds close to hysterics. I regret leaving the message while sobbing like a lunatic.

“Yes. I’m fine. Just freaked.” Nothing a lifetime of therapy won’t fix.

Mom rattles on and I tune her out while listening for key words that indicate I should speak. I’m more interested in Eli’s conversation.

“I know.” Eli rubs his forehead. “Jeff...” It’s my dad. “Hear me out.”

From the silence on Eli’s end, it’s obvious Dad’s in no mood to listen, and I wonder why he’s not in here talking to Eli face-to-face. Mom pauses. “Em?”

Crap, caught not listening. “I’m here.”

“I said you need to leave. Right now. Walk out the door, do you understand?”