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T H I R T Y S I X
- Finn -
I blinked, hoping the man in my periphery was a mirage. But he kept coming towards me, smiling sheepishly like a dog that’s just eaten your favorite slippers.
“Hey guys,” he said, stretching his arms wide.
I glanced at Brian whose stunned expression confirmed my fears. Then I looked back at my brother. “Max.” I probably should’ve gotten off my stool, but all I could manage in my surprised state was an unenthusiastic swivel in his direction. “What are you doing here?”
He put his arms around me, and I raised my hands to pat his back, stopping short of anything that could be construed as a welcoming embrace.
“I wanted to see my big bro,” he said. “It’s been too long.”
I could tell by Brian’s alert stance that he hadn’t helped plan this unexpected reunion. As much as he liked to play devil’s advocate when I spoke ill of my brother, he’d never invite a guy with Max’s track record into his bar on purpose. Far as he was concerned, blood was thick, but business was thicker.
I gave Max a once-over when he stepped back and wondered if he dressed that way because his contract demanded it or if he actually liked wearing studded leather jackets and tight, ripped jeans.
“Good to see you, Brian,” Max said cheerfully.
Was he really aloof enough to think good humor could thaw the ice between us? “What are you doing here?” I asked again, glancing past him to make sure his fancy dress hadn’t attracted too much attention. After all, while I suspected he’d be happy to sign autographs all night, I wanted nothing to do with such nonsense.
“What choice did I have?” he asked. “You wouldn’t take my calls.”
Brian held his ground, neither of us offering Max a drink. It wasn’t like us to be so rude, but when it came to my brother, one drink could turn into twelve pretty quick. Plus, I had to assume he’d had his fill on the plane.
Or maybe he was on something else. There was a sharpness in his eyes that made me suspicious. Then again, everything about him made me suspicious from the product in his dramatically parted coif to the heavy chain on his wallet.
“What do you want?” I asked. “Besides something to drink.” It was a nasty thing to say, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want him here. I was supposed to play a set in fifteen minutes, and I was secretly hoping Maeve might drop in after she went to dinner with her sister.
“Actually, I’d love a Sprite,” he said. “That plane air is so dehydrating.”
I stared at him.
“A Sprite?” Brian asked, like he couldn’t believe his ears either.
“If you’ve got one handy,” Max said.
“You want ice?” Brian asked, as if Sprite was the magic word that turned him into the hostess with the mostess.
“Sure,” Max said, sliding onto the barstool next to me. “That’d be great.”
My eyes scoured his body for a concealed bottle, my mind finding it impossible to believe he wasn’t holding back some vital information. That’s when I noticed he had a small duffel bag at his feet. “Are you here on your own?”
“I’ve been on my own since September,” he said, the fake smile falling from his face. “Janie left me and took the girls.”
Shit.
“I haven’t told Mom and Dad,” he said. “So I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t either.”
“Where did they go?” I asked, suddenly seeing the frown lines in his face.
“Her mom’s place in Florida.”
“I’m sorry, man. I had no idea.”
“You would if you’d pick up your fucking phone.”
“If you think I feel guilty for not taking your calls, your memory is worse than I thought.”
