Influence

Chapter 13

Jasper leaned against the railing on his parents' balcony. If he'd had the will to turn himself around, he'd see Goldie's adjacent balcony from here. Instead, he stared down towards the narrow alley. Black tar and garbage bins. Pigeons on concrete window frames. An unbroken stretch of asphalt where a body had been.

It might be time to mix himself a drink from Becca's sideboard. Alcohol beckoned but his body remained motionless, as it had in the wee hours of the morning, a sentinel to despair and loss and growing anger about the fact that he was helpless to undo this. If he couldn't move, he could at least shut off the visuals.

Behind closed lids, memory did what reality could not. Years peeled back to a time when Jasper was a teenager, soon after his sixteenth birthday. A house at the end of a cul-de-sac in Redonda Beach. His father had recently moved in and wanted Jasper to see it, but Jasper wanted Paul to practice driving with him so he could get his license. This house was another excuse to keep Paul from doing the only thing Jasper required of him. He entered it with regret and a sizeable attitude.

The house had a vaulted ceiling, an open floor plan, and a seventies vibe, like a smaller, less idyllic version of the Brady Bunch home, if the Brady family had failed to make any renovations in the last forty years. It appeared lived in already, which was when Jasper realized his father wasn't newly moved in but had only now gotten around to telling him about it. And this place was no bachelor pad. An attractive woman in her early forties rose from the couch and walked over with arms outstretched. By the time Jasper realized what was happening, it was too late. She had wrapped her arms around him, telling him how happy she was to finally get to meet him.

Finally. His dad really had been holding out on him.

Jasper's body went stiff at her touch. She didn't seem to acknowledge or care that he was uncomfortable. When he finally broke free of her grip, his father had more fabulous news for him.

"This is Becca," Paul told him as he placed an arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled her close. Her platinum hair jostled in time with the rest of her. "Your new stepmom."

Jasper's body remained ridged. "What the fuck, you're married again?"

Becca's plump lips broke from a smile to a rounded O of surprise. "Did you not tell him?"

"Sure, I did," Paul patted her arm. "You just heard me."

"That is obviously not what I meant." Becca stayed under Paul's arms but her own arms crossed in front of her. She huffed, an audible signifier that the honeymoon was officially over.

Jasper contemplated how much swearing he could get away with. In truth, this wasn't a complete surprise. This new woman was bride number four, if he was counting correctly. But Becca was the first to marry Paul before Jasper even knew she existed, much less met her.

A tension formed between the two adults. Like watching feral cats gear up for a fight. Becca didn't seem to appreciate surprises any more than Jasper did. The best thing he could do now would be to ice Paul out for a bit. "Do I, like, have a room here or something?"

Paul's eyes danced. "Of course!" He pointed to a wooden staircase separating the living room from a hall leading to the back of the house. "there are two room on the left. One is yours."

"Which one?"

Paul had already stopped paying attention to him in favor of mitigating Becca's irritation. "You'll see. Go on up. I'll join you shortly."

"Don't bother." Jasper glared at them for what he hoped was a long, punishing moment, and then ascended the stairs. He opened the first door to his left and slammed it closed again.