Operation Bailey Birthday: A Bailey Novella (The Baileys Book 1) Read online

  G’Ma D takes the measuring tape from Mr. Carlson and says she doesn’t want the pants to be baggy, showing him how she wants it done. Her hand keeps venturing higher and the room grows quiet until Rohan jumps off the pedestal.

  “G’Ma D!” he shouts, dropping his phone and covering his junk.

  We all laugh. To me, that was payback for all the shit he does—except I didn’t have to dish it out myself. Dad and my uncle clap, rolling back and forth in the leather chairs.

  “You just got felt up by your great-grandma!” Uncle Rome says. “Classic.”

  It takes Great-Grandma a few seconds before she can straighten up, but when she does, she says, “Stop laughing, you two. I used to change both your diapers, so I’ve seen both your penises before.”

  The entire room “ewws,” all the boys in our family probably thinking the same thing. It’s a disgusting thought that we were naked in front of her at one point in our lives, whether we remember it or not.

  “You all need to grow up,” she says, gesturing to the pedestal for Rohan to step back up. Thankfully for Rohan, she hands the measuring tape back to Mr. Carlson. “Remember, snug fit, not baggy.”

  “I’m not showing my junk,” Rohan says.

  G’Ma D ignores him and turns her attention to my dad and uncle. “And you two? Why are you not trying something on?”

  “I have a suit,” Dad says.

  Uncle Rome nods. “Me too.”

  “Not one that looks like this.” She thumbs behind her.

  They both lean over to look at Rohan as though they don’t remember what the suit looks like. The one with the gold button-down shirt and black tie.

  “Yeah. No.” Dad leans back and rests his ankle on his knee.

  “Yeah. Go.” She points toward the dressing rooms.

  “Why are we all buying suits ‘just in case’?” Uncle Rome puts up air quotes.

  G’Ma D looks at Ethel as though she’s losing her patience.

  “Stop asking questions and go,” Ethel says with the authority of a well-trained sidekick.

  All of us Bailey boys watch as our dads head down the hall to the change rooms. She really does have us all wrapped around her finger.

  I still don’t understand why we all have to match for her birthday. What kind of party is she pretending not to be planning?

  9

  Lance Whitmore

  (Fifteen and a half years old)

  Brooklyn and Wyatt’s Son

  I walk out of my bedroom as my dad steps out of his and Mom’s. We freeze, our gazes soaking in what the other is wearing. We yell in unison.

  “Brook!”

  “Mom!”

  She walks out of the bedroom, holding a necklace and handing it to my dad. He takes it, and she holds her hair up at the back. The two of them mastered this drill long before I was ever born.

  She laughs. “Sorry, but Grandma Dori wants you guys to match.”

  “One night,” Dad murmurs to me but rolls his eyes behind my mom’s back.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you just did.” Mom lets her hair fall.

  Dad presses a kiss to Mom’s shoulder. It’s sick seeing my parents show affection all of the time.

  “I just have to do one thing before we leave.” Mom lifts the hem of her dress and walks down the stairs to her office. She works more than my dad lately because her business took off once she got a deal with some well-known fragrance company.

  “I’m giving you five minutes,” Dad calls.

  Mom giggles, disappearing into her office.

  I feel like an idiot, looking like a mini-me of my dad’s, as I walk in front of him down the stairs. Gizmo lies in his bed in the family room, and I ignore the pang in my chest. He’s barely out of that bed lately. We all act as though he’s normal and we’re not surprised every morning that he’s still alive.

  Dad opens a bottle of water and sits on the couch, pulling out his phone. “So, how is school?”

  “Fine.”

  He peeks up at me. “And FYI, I talked to your grandma about the car.”

  Dread takes over me. My dad doesn’t let my grandparents from New York get me luxury items very often. My grandma said if I go to college in New York, she’ll buy me a condo. They bought me a new computer for my fifteenth birthday.

  “And?” I ask.

  “Your mom and I have the final decision. It’s not going to be some sports car. We live in Alaska, for Christ’s sake. What is she thinking?”

  I shrug as if I didn’t tell her the exact car I’d love. It’s easy to get my hopes up when my grandparents, as rich as they are, want to give me the world. But the relationship between my dad and my grandfather isn’t great and not nearly as easy as our relationships with my mom’s family. I don’t even really know my cousins in New York because they never come out here and my dad refuses to leave Lake Starlight for holidays. Which I’m grateful for. I love my life here. That’s why I’m not sure I want to go away for college, but I think even Mom would be disappointed to hear that.

  My dad is still eyeing me as though he wants me to say something.

  “Maybe you should have had more kids. She could’ve shared the wealth.”

  He shakes his head. “Spoiled.”

  “It’s your fault.”

  There was a time when I begged my parents for a sibling. Now that I’m older, I don’t mind being an only child. Easton’s like my brother, and maybe we get along so well because I don’t have to live with him, and we don’t have to share the attention of the same set of parents.

  I think my mom was so caught up in starting her business and my dad in turning Glacier Point into “the place” to stay for plush luxury in Alaska, another baby just got pushed to the back burner until they felt like they didn’t want to start all over again. Plus, to this day, my dad talks about how much my mom didn’t enjoy being pregnant. I guess she was pretty mean for most of that nine months.

  He chuckles and tips his water bottle. “Watch yourself.”

  I nod. “Mom!” I don’t want us to be late.

  “Coming,” she says, but we both know she’s not.

  “Any girls coming tonight? Kenzie?”

  I’m not surprised Dad sees the Kenzie thing. I like her, but I’m not blind—she likes Easton. He thinks I don’t know, but when your eyes always fall to the girl you like, you notice who her eyes are following. Hers are always on Easton. And I get it. He’s a jock and I’m class president. In the social hierarchy of high schools, everyone knows where the other stands.

  “I think so. With Brinley.”

  My dad nods. “She’s cute.”

  “Um… no. You can’t say that.”

  “Why not? Brinley’s cute.” He gulps down a sip of his water.

  “Because that’s like the dad and the nanny or something.”

  “Your aunt Phoenix was a nanny for Uncle Griffin.”

  My mouth hangs open. “I don’t want to know that. There are certain things that happened before I was born that I’d like to be blind to.”

  “You youth are so touchy these days.”

  Mom walks in thankfully and breaks up this father-son moment. “Let’s go.” She squats and pets Gizmo. “We’ll be back late, sweetie.”

  He doesn’t really move, and Dad watches with sadness in his eyes. Mom’s going to be a mess when Gizmo walks over the rainbow bridge to the other side.

  She looks at Dad. “What?”

  He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

  We all file out of the house in silence. In my dad’s truck, I buckle myself in the back seat as my phone dings.

  Easton: What are you wearing?

  I laugh because I’m thinking the same thing that happened to my dad and I just happened to Easton and Uncle Austin. And no way am I telling him I’m matching him because Easton’s ballsy enough to change his clothes.

  Me: Just a suit.

  Easton: What color is your shirt?

  My thumbs pause on my screen. Yeah, i
f I’m stuck matching, so is he.

  Me: A blue shirt. Red striped tie.

  Easton: Phew. Mom mentioned that Grandma Dori wants all the boys and men to match. No way!

  Me: You’re in the clear.

  Easton: I’m ditching the tie and jacket the minute I get there, so I don’t look like a damn mini-me to my dad.

  I laugh because I thought the same thing.

  “What’s so funny?” Mom asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Always nothing,” she mumbles to my dad.

  We pull up to the front entrance of the Glacier Point banquet center. My dad added the banquet hall after he bought the place. A valet driver opens my mom’s door, and I step out.

  “Watch out, it’s slippery,” the valet says.

  A slight rain earlier melted the dusting of snow we got during a cold front last week, and I’m guessing the water froze on the pavement.

  Dad gives the keys to the other valet, who parks our car in the nearest spot. I guess that’s how the boss gets treated. When we’re at home, I never think of my dad as anything but my dad, but when we’re at Glacier Point, another part of him emerges. He becomes this broad-shouldered man with tons of confidence and power. He directs and manages his staff without ever making them feel less than. From what I can tell, his staff likes him and us. Sometimes I wonder what he was like when he was my age. But Dad always says he didn’t really find himself until after he met my mom. She loved him for him and not what she expected from him.

  Uncle Liam drives up right behind us, and the valet opens both rear doors of their large SUV. Out walks Aunt Savannah in a dress the same as my mom’s. I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, my mom’s jaw is hanging open. Not so cool of an idea when it’s on the other side, huh?

  “Hey, Lance sweetie.” Aunt Savannah kisses my cheek and heads over to my mom, complaining about the dress and how Grandma Dori took her dress shopping. From what I pick up, Grandma Dori took them all separately and, as usual, swindled her way into getting what she wants.

  Next Brinley steps out.

  “Lance. You look good in a suit, per usual.” Brinley has come with my family to New York a few times because she loves to shop there, and she’s like the daughter my mom chose not to have. When we’re with my grandparents, we go to fancy places, fancy plays, and everything is all-around just fancy. She loves it.

  “You look great, but I’m doing the math on who you’re going to match.”

  She hugs me, a light perfume lingering around us. “I hope it’s no one.”

  She hopes, but I bet she does.

  The valet holds his hand out and Brinley turns around, which means Kenzie came with her. Uncle Liam clasps me on the shoulder, Asher right next to him, on his way over to my parents and Aunt Savannah.

  Kenzie gets out of the SUV with her long dark hair swept into some half updo and her hair curled into spirals. She’s wearing a lot more makeup than normal, and her dress is strapless—meaning her boobs are pushed up with a line of cleavage that’s hard not to look at.

  The valet shuts the door, heading to the next car.

  Kenzie takes two steps, and her feet slip.

  “Kenz!” Brinley screams.

  I rush forward, grabbing Kenzie’s elbow and her arm to steady her. She gasps as she falls back into my arms until I right her and give her my arm until we reach the rubber matting.

  “Mac, we need ice melt out here immediately. Especially with the age of the guests we’re having,” Dad says. “I’m not being sued for twenty hip replacements.”

  Uncle Liam laughs and Mom swats Dad’s arm.

  “Thank you so much,” Kenzie says once she’s secure. She looks at me and I swear we share a moment.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Look at you, saving the day.” Brinley smacks me in the chest. “A modern-day Romeo.”

  I shake my head as heat fills my cheeks. Kenzie doesn’t say anything, and the three of us walk inside the banquet room, the massive chandeliers glistening above us. The usually white room is now decorated with gold, silver, and white, with little treasure boxes in front of each place setting. A large 9-0 display is decorated in black-and-white pictures of Great-Grandma Dori throughout the years, while a slide show plays for guests to enjoy during cocktail hour. It’s as big as a wedding. Great-Grandma Dori is loved in Lake Starlight, so I’m not surprised by how many guests will be here tonight.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mom says, covering her heart.

  “Everything she wanted.” Aunt Savannah leans her weight against my uncle Liam.

  My cousin Rhea walks in with her sister, Calista, and Asher walks over to them. He and Rhea talk about all the matching suits and dresses. As more family members trickle in, it’s clear what Great-Grandma Dori did. She matched every boy and man in the Bailey family with black tuxedos and gold shirts with black ties. Every woman in my mom’s generation is wearing a champagne-colored dress, while Calista and the older girls are in silver. Rhea and the younger girls are in white, which means the three M’s look like triplets instead of just siblings.

  Man, Great-Grandma could give Bobbie Fisher a run for his money because she’s a master chess player.

  10

  Rylan Greene

  (Twenty-one years old)

  Outsider to the Bailey family

  Grandma Dori’s BFF, Ethel, grandson

  Walking into Glacier Point banquet center with Grandma Ethel on my arm, I give my head a shake when I see so many Baileys all dressed alike. Having had Jamison Ferguson as my soccer coach for years, I’ve met and talked with the majority of the Baileys at one point or another. But I scan the crowd of townspeople and Baileys, eager to spot one specific.

  She’s standing with a group of her younger cousins, a sea of little girls in white dresses surrounding her as though she’s their queen. She sneaks them each a cake pop from the table displaying a white-and-pink tiered cake with flowers cascading down to the base and a single pink candle on top. I guess Dori opted not to have the big 9-0 on top of her cake.

  “There are my friends.” Grandma pats my hand. “You’re good, right?”

  She’s already sliding her arm out before I answer. It’s sad when your grandma has more friends at a party than you. Then again, it is a party for a ninety-year-old.

  “I’ll be great. Have a good time.”

  Grandma could’ve brought anyone to her best friend’s party. Hell, she could’ve come by herself. Most of them came in the Northern Lights Retirement Center van. She thinks I’m blind to her efforts, but after watching her with all my half-siblings over the years, I’m on to her. No doubt Dori’s a part of this too.

  “Rylan!” Jamison pats me on the back, putting out his hand for a shake. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  His little son, Conor, stands at his side, dressed like a miniature version of him. I’ve known the kid since he was in his mom’s belly. I hold out my fist and Conor bumps it with a smile before sneaking behind his dad’s legs. He’s always been shy.

  “Grandma wanted me to drive her.” I smile.

  Jamison matches my smile with a knowing look of his own. “We’ve all been there.”

  His little girl, Isla, runs over and he sweeps her up, holding her. I fist bump her and she bumps me back, harder than her brother.

  “Hey, Rylan!” Isla yells.

  “Can’t say I’m upset about the way it all turned out though.” Jamison kisses his daughter’s cheek, and she squirms to get free.

  “Come on, Conor!” She grabs her brother’s hand and drags him away.

  Another kid in the same gold shirt and black all the Bailey boys are wearing joins them, and they head to the bar.

  “So how’s Stanford? What are your plans for after graduation?” Jamison asks.

  That’s the question of the fucking year. My dad’s on me, my brothers are asking, even my grandma has inquired. My older brother Xavier has tried to be a guiding force since he’s been down this route with football. Soccer is a
different beast than football though, especially in the States. Since I started playing in college, my body’s never been so beat up. I can’t imagine what going pro would be like, but what else am I gonna do? Sit behind a desk and put my degree in business to use? That sounds like a jail sentence.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer as honestly as I can.

  Jamison has never pushed me. He sat me down my freshman year in high school and talked to me about options and where I wanted to go with the game. As cocky as it sounds, I knew I had the skill. It’s either the fact my parents put me through so many camps and lessons from a young age that I had a grasp on the game, or maybe I was born with the talent. Either way, even as a freshman in high school, I had options some didn’t.

  But as I got older, I found myself more excited to see Calista than to actually play soccer. The times Jamison had us go one-on-one were my favorite days. Especially when I was a teenager and she’d strip off her shirt to practice in her sports bra. Those were my favorite days.

  “Well, don’t rush into anything. That’s all I’ll say.” He pats me on the back. “Want to get a drink? You’re legal now, right?”

  I nod. “Sure.”

  We head to the bar, passing a few Baileys and shaking hands and exchanging hellos. It isn’t until after I’m holding the beer that I remember I shouldn’t be. We’re in the tail end of the season with a bye week right now. I won’t say anything, but I’m shocked Calista missed today’s game for UCLA. She could’ve flown home right after and probably gotten here in time.

  Someone bumps into me and I almost spill my beer all over the front of my suit. I look up.

  Calista is walking by with her cousin, Jamison’s oldest, Palmer. She doesn’t smile, but I see her lips quirk, betraying her. “Oh, sorry.”

  “No problem.”