Something's Gotta Give - Original Verison

Jade's Point of View

“Okay, please explain to me why it is that you get the master bedroom,” Jack complained as I led him around our new house. We’d checked out the beach house together before he’d left for this last tour and decided we’d loved it – it was big, secluded, and Jack was ape-shit over the slightly curved stairway, plus it didn't get any better than having the ocean in your backyard. Since he’d been gone on tour, I’d had to take care of all the paperwork that came with buying the house and move us in, which had been no easy feat.

“Because,” I explained to him, crossing my arms. “You’re gone like at least half the year. Why should you get the master bedroom when it’s only going to be used like fifty percent of the time?” He was still frowning, so I continued. “Okay, this is more than fair, you asshole. I have more clothes than you, so I need a big closet. I shower more often and I have more products, so I should have the bigger bathroom. I need a space to work and it’s more convenient to do it from here. Besides, you still have a huge room at the end of the hall and I let you have the big spare room downstairs for a music room even though I could be using it as an office.”

“Sheesh,” Jack teased, finally grinning. “Being a hotshot writer sure has changed you.”

I rolled my eyes at him. About a year and a half ago, I’d written a book – a satire on the musician’s lifestyle, which I’d only started on a whim. I worked on it during my free time between classes and the summer between my junior and senior year of college. I’d gotten it done pretty quickly since I slaved over it when classes weren’t in session and I’d sent the pages to Jack. I’d only decided to try to get it published at his urging and after a few rejection letters someone finally agreed to take a chance on me and pushed my book through. It had finally been published about seven months ago and made its way onto a few best-seller lists almost immediately. Soon the royalty checks started rolling in and I had more money than I was really sure what to do with. The success was a complete accident, and I certainly didn’t mean for it to launch a career, but that’s exactly what it had done. The problem was, I had written Lines just for the fun of it. Now I had an agent and publishers breathing down my neck for another book, preferably a sequel. I wasn’t sure I even had another book in me.

“Whatever,” I waved him off. “So are you seriously mad about the master bedroom?”

“Nah,” Jack laughed and pushed my shoulder. “I was just fucking with you. I’ve got plenty of space over on my side of the hall. What’d you decide to do with the other spare room.”

“I figured we could just use it as a guest room in case Mom or somebody stays over,” I replied.

“In case somebody stays over…” Jack trailed off. All of a sudden his eyes lit up. This meant one of two things – he’d had what I was sure was a horrifying idea or he had to poop. He cleared it up for me seconds later. “We need to christen the house.”

“By doing what?” I asked him with a scoff. I shook my finger in his face. “And don’t you dare say ‘By cracking a champagne bottle against the side of the house’ because I will literally kill you if you do that. I mean it. There’s plenty of empty space out here. I’ll make it so that no one will find you.”

“Take it easy there, American Psycho.” Jack laughed. “No, no, I mean a party. Like we can get the whole gang over here. Skye, Alex, Rian, Zack, everyone from the tour. High school friends. Everyone. It’s going to be mega awesome.”

I mulled this over for a second. “I mean, that’s fine, but if anyone breaks anything, it’s on you.”

“Fine, fine.” He shrugged like he hadn’t even heard me. “I’m off to go call people for tomorrow night.”

I stalked after him as he raced down the hall towards his room. “Jack, I can’t pull together a huge party like that in twenty-four hours. I need at least three days, you fat fuck. There’s food to get, I need a keg and shit, other booze…”

He patted me on the shoulder. “Well, if anyone can pull off the impossible, it’s you.” He nodded solemnly. “Godspeed.” Before I could respond, he slammed the door in my face.

“Asstown,” I grumbled and headed downstairs to keep cooking dinner. I stirred my spaghetti sauce and taste-tested it for probably the fifth time, basking in the glory of flavoring it perfectly. As I started the water to boil the noodles, I sat down and started making a list of things to try to get done before tomorrow night. Why Jack felt the need to have the party so soon, I wasn’t sure. Classic Jack.

About an hour later, my list was finished and the food was ready. I set the table and called upstairs to Jack to let him know the food was done. He came sliding down the banister and I half expected him to fall, but he somehow managed this smoothly. His face fell a little when he walked into the kitchen and noticed only two plates at the dining table. “Oh, Jay’s not eating with us?”

I sighed and shook my head. “Actually, we have to talk about that.” Jay had been my boyfriend for a little over two years now. He’d been the first guy I’d really dated after my messy breakup with Alex (for the second time) and we’d been perfect together. He was incredibly sweet and we hardly fought, save for the occasional disagreement about chores around the apartment and small things like that. There had never been any in your face, “Fuck you” fights like I’d had with Alex. Our relationship was easy and I’d loved that. And then all of a sudden, that was over.

“Why, what happened?” Jack asked, now frowning deeply. Over the years, Jack had gotten pretty close with Jay (probably a little too close for Jay’s liking. To say that Jack had boundary issues was an understatement) and considered him a close friend. I’d been dreading breaking the news to Jack for that very reason.

I took in a sharp breath. “He dumped me.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “He what?”

“He broke up with me,” I said again. “I don’t know why. He didn’t even really give me a reason. Just like a month ago, he suddenly told me he wasn’t feeling it anymore and said he didn’t want to be together. He even gave me the whole ‘We can still be friends’ line.”

“Oh.” Jack looked down and frowned. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged at him. “I’m fine. And I don’t know, I kept myself busy with getting the house unpacked and organized. I didn’t really have a lot of time to think about it. I’ve been busy.” That was only partially true. I’d done all of those things, and yes, I’d definitely been busy. But that hadn’t stopped me from turning the situation over and over in my mind, wondering what went wrong. How did you just wake up one morning and decide you didn’t love someone anymore?

“As long as you’re okay.” His mouth was still downturned. This was incredibly un-Jack like. “I might’ve just made thing super awkward then.”

“Why, what did you do?” I asked him, a little on edge. I closed my eyes and shook my head. “If you texted him that ‘I was born to love you’ song, I’m disowning you as my brother, I swear to God.”

“No, but thank you for reminding me of that song.” He half-smiled, finally looking more normal. “Uh, I kind of texted him and invited him to the party. He didn’t answer yet, but I can’t like, un-invite him or anything. That’d be rude.”

“Kind of like dumping a huge party on your sister with shitty notice?” I deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“…Maybe sort of like that,” he admitted. “I’ll help, I swear. Just tell me what I need to do.”

I beckoned him over to the table and we sat down. “Sit down and eat your Goddamn dinner. I have not been cooking that sauce for three and a half hours to have it go cold.” I sprinkled some parmesan on top of my spaghetti and passed the container to Jack, who was already loading his plate up with crushed peppers. “I just need you to pick up the keg. I already called about it and you can pick it up in the morning. Other than that, just get some more booze and let everyone know to bring their own shit.”

“That works,” Jack shrugged and started shoveling food into his mouth. “God, I haven’t had a home cooked meal in forever. This is amazing.”

I smiled and he talked about the tour while we ate, relaying to me hilarious stories about his antics with Alex and Rian trying to keep them out of trouble. Jack helped me put the leftovers away and joined in on washing the dishes. After dinner, Jack informed me that he was going over to our mother’s house for dessert and invited me to go, though I’d declined, saying I had too much to do. After I got him out the door, I headed up to my room and stared at a blank document on my laptop for approximately an hour, hoping and praying that some kind of idea would come to me so I could at least start outlining, but it proved useless.

I took a break from my non-writing and checked my phone. I had a text, figuring it would be from Jack but when I swiped my phone’s screen, I had a text from Jay.

Hey, it said. I just got Jack’s text about that party. I know we said we’d be friends and I’m all for it, but it might be a little too soon for that, ya know?

I bit the inside of my mouth as I replied, Yeah, agreed. He didn’t know when he texted you. Sorry about that.

He responded about a minute later. It’s cool. Just wasn’t sure. Didn’t want it to be awkward.

A little too late for that thanks to Jack, but I let the conversation die after that.

Jack came back another hour later and we hung out in the family room and marathoned a few episodes of Ink Master before he declared he was tired and headed upstairs to go to bed. I headed up to do the same and as I was washing my face, Jack busted into my bathroom and handed me q-tips. “Now we’re really christening the house.”

“I hate you so much,” I told him as I laughed and cleaned my ears out with him. Years later, and I still had no idea why that was Jack’s idea of bonding, but then again, Jack’s mind was an enigma.

I slept pretty peacefully for the first time in weeks, happy to have Jack home and to not be alone in the house. When I woke up and checked my phone, I saw I had a text from Skye.

Call me as soon as you get up. It’s important.