Cherreads

Chapter 32 - Three-Letter Word for Regret

[Next Morning – Charlie's House – Kitchen – 9:10 AM]

The clatter of plates had died down. Lisa had left for work in a blur of lip gloss, coffee breath, and a reminder to get those songs copyrighted. Charlie had nodded, kissed her goodbye, then watched her drive off.

He turned around and found Alan.

Still. Here.

At the table. In his pajamas. Reading the newspaper like it was 1953.

Charlie frowned. "Why are you still here?"

Alan flipped a page, sipped his tea, and shrugged. "I'm taking a break from work."

Charlie squinted. "Since when do chiropractors get to call in sad?"

Alan sighed. "It's not sad. It's strategic. I experienced loss. Emotional, professional, and gastrointestinal. That man died, Charlie. On a bench. After I adjusted him. What if I'm cursed?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Cursed? He was eighty-seven and eating unwrapped chocolate in the sun. That's not a curse. That's Darwin."

"I'm emotionally decompressing," Alan muttered, going back to the crossword. "What's a three-letter word for 'deep regret'?"

"Rue," Charlie said, walking out.

...

Charlie flopped onto the couch with a dramatic grunt and cracked open Lisa's laptop like it was a sacred relic.

"Alright, baby. Let's make some legal magic."

He opened the copyright registration site, uploaded all the new songs: Where the Ocean Knows Her Name, Left like that, and Everybody's Favorite Stranger. He filled in the details, hit submit, and leaned back.

He expected a delay. Maybe a couple of hours or a day. A rejection. A captcha that made him question his eyesight and literacy.

Instead, 26 minutes later...

Ding.

Charlie opened the email.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "That was faster than Alan when he hears the word 'discount massage.'"

Alan yelled from the kitchen, "That was one time, and she was certified!"

"By who? Groupon?" Charlie yelled back.

He clicked through the confirmation email, double-checked the registration numbers, and let out a long, proud exhale. Then opened another tab, attached the finalized lyrics and audio files, wrote a brief cover email that included the words "raw passion" and "musical integrity," and hit send to Firelight Records.

Then he closed the laptop with a snap, looked out the balcony window, and shouted toward the heavens.

"I am officially a working artist!"

Alan shuffled in, holding a banana and still wearing socks that didn't match.

"Did you just yell at the sky again?"

Charlie grinned. "I just copyrighted my songs and sent them to Firelight."

Alan took a bite of his banana and walked to Charlie.

"You know," he said, chewing way too loudly, "it's actually kind of nice seeing you work again. Like real work. Not cereal jingles or that horrifying hemorrhoid ad you once wrote. This is music. Real music. You've moved up. You've evolved. You're like a Pokémon."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Please don't compare my career to a cartoon creature that shouts its own name."

"I'm being serious," Alan insisted, waving the banana for emphasis like it was a baton in a motivational TED Talk. "I remember when you used to sleep till 2 PM, stumble into the studio, bang out a song about adult diapers, and call it art."

"That song paid for this couch," Charlie said.

"And now you're writing stuff that actually means something! You're not just rhyming 'rash' with 'splash' or 'poop' with 'soup.' This is mainstream, Charlie. You're building a brand. You're creating emotional resonance. You're..."

Charlie stood up and held up a hand. "Okay, okay, before you get carried away and nominate me for a Grammy and a Nobel Peace Prize, I'm gonna go shower."

Alan opened his mouth again, possibly to begin another heartfelt yet unnecessary speech about legacy and 'sonic branding'.

Then the doorbell rang.

Charlie blinked. "That's either God answering my prayer or karma with bad timing."

Charlie walked to the door and opened it. Judith stood there, wearing a gray blazer and sunglasses. Beside her was Jake. "Hi, Charlie," she said smoothly, as if she hadn't tried to financially gut his brother last week.

Charlie took a step back. "Well. That's a jump scare. Come in, I guess?"

She walked in. Jake followed.

"Hey, Uncle Charlie," Jake said with a smile.

"Hey, Jake," Charlie greeted him with a smile. "You look big."

Alan narrowed his eyes. "Judith?"

Judith turned to him. "You're taking a break from work."

Alan straightened up. "How did you...?"

"I called your clinic," Judith said, matter-of-fact. "No one picked up. You have two known locations: here and there. You're not there, so... here."

Charlie looked at Alan. "She solved that like a cop in a procedural drama."

Judith continued. "You still haven't paid my lawyer's fees."

Alan blinked. "I said I'd handle it."

"You said that last week."

"I had a patient die on me, Judith. It's been a rough couple of days."

Charlie walked past them, grabbed a banana from the bowl, and peeled it. "Do you make flashcards for these conversations, or does it just come naturally?"

Judith gave him a dry glance, then looked back at Alan. "You have until tomorrow. I'd like to resolve this like adults."

Alan raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'll take care of it. I swear."

"Good," Judith said. She turned to Jake, who was looking out the balcony door. "Let's go."

Jake walked back to his mother. He gave Charlie a quick nod. "See you later, Uncle Charlie."

"Later, bud."

They left.

The moment the door clicked shut, Alan let out a long, dramatic sigh.

Charlie gave him a look.

Alan grinned.

Charlie grinned right back.

And in perfect unison, they said, "She's gonna lose her mind tomorrow."

Alan flopped down onto the couch, eyes practically glowing. "I can't wait for her face when our lawyer drops the surprise settlement terms."

Charlie leaned back, tossing the banana peel into the trash. "You mean the ones that prove she manipulated assets and skipped half of the disclosures and fraud?"

"Exactly."

"Damn," Charlie said, cracking a smile. "Now that I imagine it, this is some high-level revenge fantasy stuff."

Alan leaned back, smug now. "It's not revenge. It's legal recalibration."

Charlie nodded slowly. "Right. With a side of emotional vengeance."

They both sat in silence for a moment.

Then Alan added, "You think she's still using my toothbrush?"

Charlie winced. "Let's not go to that dark place, man." He gave Alan a sideways glance as he slumped deeper into the couch. "You good?"

Alan didn't answer right away. His eyes were still locked on the door Judith had just walked through, his mouth twisting into something between a grimace and a pout.

"Jake greeted you," Alan finally said.

Charlie blinked. "Yeah. I noticed. It was nice. Kid's taller now."

Alan nodded slowly. "Yeah. He said hello. Said goodbye. Smiled at you."

Charlie turned toward him, more serious now. "And?"

Alan looked down at his tea, now cold, hands clasped around the mug like it held emotional clarity. "He didn't say a single word to me. Not one."

Charlie sat back. "Maybe he was nervous. Maybe Judith gave him the 'don't engage' talk."

Alan laughed once, dry and hollow. "Of course she did. That's exactly what it is. It's her plan. Classic Judith. She's trying to separate us. Keep him close to her and away from me. Make me look like the absentee, emotionally unstable, chiropractor version of a deadbeat dad."

Charlie didn't jump in right away. He knew that tone. It wasn't rage. It was fear.

"She's painting a picture," Alan continued, quieter now. "A picture where I'm the weird, sweaty guy who lost his temper in mediation and who shows up to court with lint on his pants and anxiety in his eyebrows. She's setting it up so that even if I win something legally, I lose everything else."

Charlie frowned. "You think she's turning Jake against you?"

Alan nodded. "I know she is. And what scares me is that it's working."

Just then, the front door creaked open again.

Berta walked in, carrying two grocery bags that somehow looked like they'd been in a bar fight.

She paused in the entryway, took one look at the scene. Alan stared at cold tea like it had cheated on him, and Charlie just finished his banana.

"Well damn. One of you just won the lottery, and the other looks like his dog joined a cult. What's going on?"

Charlie leaned back and pointed a thumb at Alan. "He's having a moment. Let him live."

Berta squinted at Alan as she walked to the kitchen and dropped the bags with a thud on the kitchen counter, and walked over. She crossed her arms and stared at him until he looked up. 

"Let me guess. Your wife. My bad, ex-wife."

Alan sighed. "Yeah, Judith came by."

Berta raised a brow. "And you're still alive? Good for you."

"Jake came too," Alan added. "Said hi to Charlie. Said bye to Charlie. Completely ignored me. Not even a grunt. Nothing."

Berta stared at him for a long beat, her lips pressed into a line so tight it looked like she was trying to hold in a sneeze of judgment. Then she said, "So let me ask you something, Alan..."

Alan blinked. "Okay?"

Berta simply dropped the bomb. "When was the last time you did something cool with your kid?"

Alan frowned. "What do you mean by cool?"

Berta gave him a look. "Exactly."

Charlie snorted.

Alan straightened defensively. "Hey, I do plenty of cool things with Jake!"

"Name one," Berta shot back.

Alan opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Berta held up a finger. "And if you say 'organizing his sock drawer alphabetically by brand,' I will personally slap the paperwork out of your hands."

Alan narrowed his eyes. "Okay, fine. Last month, I took him to a science museum."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah. That was the one where you made him watch a 45-minute video on back posture and scoliosis."

Alan pointed. "It was educational."

Berta stared at him. "You took a ten-year-old to a building full of lasers and dinosaur skeletons... and parked him in front of a spine documentary?"

Alan looked down at his tea again. "It was narrated by Jeff Goldblum."

Charlie laughed into his hand. "This is why he likes me."

Alan looked up, offended. "What do you do that's so special?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't try. That's what kids like. No pressure. No 'this is a teachable moment' face. Just order a big pizza, chicken wings, and a six-pack of Mountain Dew."

Berta stepped in again. "You want Jake to stop looking at you like a substitute gym teacher with a foot odor problem? You gotta actually do something he cares about."

Alan looked insulted. "I have hobbies!"

Berta rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Like what?"

Alan paused, counting off on his fingers. "Proper hydration, Sudoku, and..."

Berta chimed in again before he could finish his list,"...yelling at TV commercials when they misrepresent spine alignment."

Charlie looked at her. "That third one's real. I've heard it. He got into a shouting match with a Peloton ad last week."

Alan pointed again. "It was a dangerous curve and irresponsible messaging!"

Berta threw her hands up. "God, help the kid." Without wasting her time talking to Alan, she simply shook her head, looking at Alan as if he were some kind of poor, lost alien, and went to the laundry room.

Charlie's phone rang at the same time. He took his phone out of his pocket. "Oh, it's from the studio." He took the call and walked upstairs to his room. "Yeah, it's Charlie Harper..."

Alan just sat there looking at the laundry room door and then back at Charlie.

"I thought we were having a serious conversation."

---

[POWERSTONES AND REVIEWS PLS]

Support link: www.patr eon.com/UnknownMaster

[8 advance chs] [All chs available for all tiers] [No double billing.]

More Chapters