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I swipe it and take a deep swallow, like it contains the answers to everything or at the very least, some courage.
Danny tosses his phone on the powder black steel table and glares. “You’re still alive.”
“What happened?”
I pull my feet up under my chair right after I sit down, one hand still wrapped about his wine glass.
“I’m done.”
“What? Danny, what happened?”
My brother doesn’t answer for a long time. Then finally he says, “Adam.”
I’ve been so caught up in my own issues, even if they came about to try and help him, that I haven’t checked up on him. And guilt for that suddenly swamps me. He lost almost everything when his partner double crossed him and made it look like it was all Danny. I’d do anything to help. Except, it seems, be there.
“Adam? I thought things were now separated. Oh, Danny, you didn’t leave something hanging, did you?”
He frowns, snatching back his wine. “I’m not a complete idiot. Even if it seems like it. And I’m not eighteen and careless anymore.”
I breathe out and order a drink as the waitress comes by. Just a house red. Danny holds up his glass to her and she’s off. I turn back to my brother.
“What happened?”
He stares at the table a moment, then lays his palms flat against it and looks at me. “We should be talking about you and Hudson Sinclair.”
“No, we shouldn’t,” I say. “It’s just a fill-in job, that’s all.”
He’s stalling and I don’t know why. Whatever it is, it’s bad. When his so-called partner went out on his own, he burned Danny’s reputation down, badmouthing him and laying everything he’d done on Danny’s doorstep. And through it all, Danny’s tried to pick up the pieces and continue on, to rebuild.
But New York is tough when you’re borderline blackballed, and someone with power and reputation isn’t there in your corner.
“What happened?”
“Me first,” he says. “Then you.”
I slide one hand to my lap and cross my fingers. “Okay.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m gonna lose my office.”
“Shit, Danny. I’m sorry. Can you work from home?”
“And how’s that going to look for me?”
He’s right. The waitress returns with our drinks and when she goes, Danny pins me with a look. “Your turn.”
“What?”
“This Sinclair job?”
I hesitate. In the low light and laid-back atmosphere of the bar, I feel like I’m under bright bodega lighting. But I know I owe him something. Just he’s proud and if I tell him the truth, he’ll tell me to go away, but with the threat of losing his office I can’t do that. If he hasn’t lost it already. He said going to, not has. It gives me a dubious smidge of hope.
“It’s just temporary—”
“You were with Hudson Sinclair.”
I swallow and push the toes of my shoes down against the ground beneath my seat, as if that will give me courage. Or strength. Or something. “It’s a temporary job with him. I got it through a friend. To help her out.”
“Not that flighty one you sometimes have drinks with—”
