He’d made the mistake of taking a plus one to Steppie’s first wedding. No matter how reasonable a woman seemed, a wedding had a way of giving women ideas that BJ had no intention of entertaining. Ever. Releasing the doves as Steppie and Smitty had exited the church had put those ideas into her head. He could tell by the way she’d threaded her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh that still haunted his dreams, or rather nightmares, where he found himself waiting for her at the altar. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember her name or what she looked like.
BJ had avoided her by drinking himself into oblivion with his brothers. He’d marinated himself until his mother had poured him into a taxi and sent him home. Alone. That night, the Tobin tradition of hunkering down in a dark corner of the bar during a wedding reception had been born. It had gotten them through more than one uncomfortable evening of celebrating love.
But it wouldn’t happen today.
“Liquor store, nine o’clock.” The pilot in BJ enjoyed confusing his brothers with flying lingo as he pointed toward a building that looked closer to condemnation than functionality.
Quinn snorted. “Yeah, tried that— strictly cash. Riley won all our green, and he’s too stingy to buy.”
BJ couldn’t believe it. “What, you’re only carrying a hunny each? I know the funds don’t disburse until Wednesday, but are you all flat broke? And what about you, baby brother?”
“Asswipe,” Shane snapped. “Who doesn’t take plastic these days?”
True.
“So, you have cash?” Knox asked BJ a little too enthusiastically.
Yeah, no. “I hate to agree with Shane, but who the hell doesn’t take plastic?” He turned to Riley. “Dude, have mercy. I’ll pay you back.” BJ was getting desperate.
Riley wasn’t having it. “Like the last four times? I can wait, but you alkies are going to have to tough it out.”
Riley was right. Something burned under the skins of each of his brothers that didn’t bother Riley. At least not something he soothed with alcohol.
BJ did his best to hide everything under a veneer of charm. Quinn’s weapons were sarcasm and snark, but he brooded over something, and today that something was closer to the surface than usual. Knox didn’t bother masking the sadness he’d worn like a second skin since the love of his life had ghosted him, and Shane had been born that way. Every one of them sought solace in a bottle. Any bottle.
BJ knew Riley had other ways to fight his demons, and his middle brother had probably already scoped out the grounds for a spot then combed the crowd for a likely partner.
BJ had taken an abnormal psychology class in college, more as self-defense from his family than for any real interest. He’d learned that being the middle child made Riley think he had a certain veil of invisibility that made it easier to satisfy his need for taking risks.
Forgotten middle child, indeed. From the looks of it, his brother had admitted defeat. Lots of likely spots, but all of the women seemed either too old or too young. Knowing Riley, he’d call a friend later and indulge somewhere away from his parents.
“Ooh, hello, photographer.” Riley handed BJ his glass of fruit punch and went to help the lady with her equipment.
“Her name is Erin,” BJ called out.
“I don’t care,” Riley shot back.
Yeah, after tonight, it probably wouldn’t matter. BJ watched his brother work his special magic. “I suppose it’s too late to start the pool.”
Quinn grimaced. “He has all our cash.”
Shane groaned. “I think you losers bought that woman dinner.”
Knox grimaced as he took a swig of his fruit punch. “And if I know Riley, probably breakfast.”
Megan came up behind them and joined their group in time to watch Riley follow the photographer into the church. Discretely, of course. Megan pulled the diaper bag off her shoulder and shook it gently. The Tobin boys jerked toward the sound of clinking glass. She pulled out a plain brown paper bag. “I have whiskey, tequila, gin, and vodka.”
Shane growled, pushed his brothers aside, and snatched the tequila.
Whoa, somebody woke up cranky. That makes about nine thousand days in a row.
“Damn, darlin’ I love you.” BJ froze momentarily. Even in jest, that particular phrase had never crossed his lips. He had never taken personal possession of that emotion. Hell, all his mother ever got a quick “love ya”’ never “I love you.” Why now? Another rhetorical question he didn’t want to know the answer to.
He quickly regained his composure. “I’m Irish, hit me with the whiskey.”
Megan handed him a pint of Jim Beam. “I knew there wouldn’t be appropriate liquid refreshment here, so we stopped along the way and sent the driver into a liquor store.”
BJ popped the seal and took a sip. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“My tightwad brother is going to have a fit when he gets the bill, but ask me if I care.”
BJ took another sip. “What are you drinking?”
Megan shook her head and handed the remaining bottles off to Quinn and Knox, who looked as if they would die of sobriety, and soon, if they didn’t get their hands on those magical mixtures. “I’m still nursing, so I’m sticking with the fruit punch.”
BJ took a quick, sharp breath. Nursing. Now there’s a drink he wouldn’t mind accepting from her. His eyes wandered to her breasts. Round and barely more than a handful. Yeah, without a doubt, those babies were real. They’d fit nicely in his palm, leaving his thumbs free...
“Junior, my eyes are up here!” Megan put a finger under BJ’s chin and forced him to look into her eyes. His skin burned where she’d touched his chin. Damn, she has great eyes. Complex and intriguing. Like the woman herself.
“Please call me BJ. Only two people have earned the privilege of calling me Junior, and you aren’t either one of them.” BJ fairly growled. He raised his bottle of whiskey. “But since you’ve been so generous, I won’t kill you. This time.”
A sudden breeze sent cooking aromas wafting in their direction, BJ took another deep breath. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and roasting meat. Servers had started loading table after table with salads, side dishes, and desserts. Off to the side stood one of the biggest wedding cakes he’d ever seen. His stomach voiced its approval— loudly. “Whiskey on an empty stomach, not a good idea. I need some food. Everything smells great, and there sure is enough of it. It looks like you can feed twice the number of people.”
Megan took a whiff. “Four times. Everyone will get some to take home. It’ll help stretch their SNAP benefits.”
BJ grunted in disgust. “I should’ve figured there’d be a bunch of lazy welfare queens in this neighborhood. Every one of them with their hands out to take whatever freebies they can get.”
BJ took another sip of whiskey to ward off the sudden chill rolling off Megan as she stared at him. “Excuse me? I...I’m not sure I heard you right.”
“Oh, come on, look around you.” BJ swept his free hand in a semi-circle. “There must be nearly a hundred people here and most of the males are either under sixteen or with the wedding party. I’ll bet the women couldn’t pick out the baby-daddy from a group of two headshots. And where are the men? I’ll tell you where they are, they’re in jail.”
“So, you’re a virgin?”
Oh, man, that wasn’t a chill, that was an arctic blast. Megan’s icy tone froze him.
“No, I mean what does that have to do with anything?” BJ sensed a minefield stretched out before him, but he didn’t care. The challenge of navigating it without being blown to bits offered an intellectual challenge the likes of which he hadn’t enjoyed in months. He didn’t have high hopes for Megan, but it was better than nothing.
“You’re condemning these women for being sexually active and acting as if getting pregnant was their punishment for daring to enjoy themselves. But to hear Stephanie tell it, you’ve been promiscuous. Could you pick out all of your former lovers from
a photo lineup?” She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his response.
He didn’t have one. He glared at her as he took another sip of whiskey.
She grunted in disgust. “I didn’t think so. Gee, I wonder what the difference could be, oh, yeah, you’re a man. You plant the seed and let someone else tend the flower that grows while you flit off to pollinate other fields.”
“I take care to make sure that doesn’t happen,” BJ defended himself, then took another sip of the best whiskey he could ever remember drinking.
“And I’ll bet you learned that from your father. What did he do, roll a condom over a cucumber, then make you practice until you got it right? Then I suppose he handed you your own box of condoms, patted you on the back and said, ‘Go get ’em, tiger.’ Or something like that.”
BJ smiled and shook his head. “That was an awkward, but necessary, part of my education. It was a zucchini. He winked and said, ‘I put six boxes on the top shelf of the linen closet. Let me know when you take the last box.’ I couldn’t look at Dad when Mom served zucchini bread for snacks later. They could barely hold back the laughter over their little private joke. The thought of her grating...never mind.
“Through the years, it was fun to watch my younger brothers squirm, one by one, until we could barely hold it together when it was finally Shane’s turn. We were so disappointed when he wolfed down half a loaf. He acted as if eating metaphorical shredded dick was the most natural thing in the world.”
His smile faded. “But you’re right, my old man was giving me permission, encouraging me. It was a rite of passage, in a way. Some of my friends’ dads treated them to a hooker on their sixteenth birthday, but by the time I was sixteen, I didn’t need professional help.”
Megan grinned. “You’re proving my point. Most of these boys don’t have a father-figure to teach them things like that,” Megan reminded him, “so they never learn. It’s ignorance, not stupidity. You can’t condemn a young man for not knowing what he hasn’t been taught.”
BJ took another sip of whiskey. “Now you’re proving my point about all of the men being in jail. You know I’m right about that.”
“You’re probably right; they probably got busted with an ounce of weed, now they’re doing time while the Wall Street bankers who bilked people out of millions of dollars in the mortgage fiasco a few years back got fat government bailouts and are back to their old tricks. Not a one of them will ever see the inside of a prison.”
BJ nearly choked mid-swallow. “I don’t believe you’re comparing the two! A street thug and a banker?”
“They’re exactly the same except the banker has an MBA and wears an expensive suit. A thief is a thief.”
“Oh, give me a break. You’re talking about my friends and people I went to school with.”
“And you’re talking about my friends and the people I grew up with. Do you know any of these so-called takers? They’re children, elderly, disabled, single mothers, active-duty military.”
“For your information, a very good friend of the family is currently serving five to ten for securities fraud.” Damn, he never thought he’d be desperate enough to admit that to an outsider like Megan.
“Well, hallelujah! Justice has been served. Oh, wait, let me guess, he bilked a bunch of rich folks, didn’t he?”
BJ looked away and took another sip of whiskey.
“Uh-huh, thought so. If he’d cheated regular people, he’d still be at it. You stand there all healthy and perfect, a winner in the sperm lottery, acting like the world owes you. Talk about a taker.”
Shit, this was getting deep. Time to break the tension with the famous Tobin wit. “What the hell’s a sperm lottery? It sounds like it could be fun.” He waggled his eyebrows.
BJ checked the ground for snow because, damn, it sure was cold all of a sudden.
“Oh, dream on. You have some ugly ideas floating around behind that gorgeous face of yours, so here’s another little awkward piece of your necessary education; it means you benefitted from being your father’s son who benefitted from being his father’s son. You did nothing to deserve your place in life, and these kids did nothing to deserve where they were born. You’ve never gone hungry a day in your life. You’ve never had to sleep under three blankets because the heat got turned off. You’ve never had to fill a bucket with snow and wait for it to melt to flush the toilet because the water got turned off. You’ve never had to walk past a crack house to get to school. Hell, did you have to walk to school at all? I’ve lived those things. The people here are still living those things. The reality is you were damned lucky, and you have no business judging those of us who weren’t as fortunate!”
CHAPTER 14
Quinn pointed to the couple. “What the hell’s gotten into Mr. Mellow? I’d say he’s hitting blush on the red scale. Barely there but climbing. I haven’t seen him this mad since, well, since never.”
Shane, still slightly groggy from his abbreviated nap, agreed. “He didn’t get mad when I used his porn stash for my fifth-grade art project. He got even, but he didn’t get mad. I don’t think Brother Simon knew what he was looking at.”
The brothers laughed at the memory. “I liked the way you used nipples for eyes. Brilliant.” Knox wiped a tear of mirth from his own eye.
Shane bowed to his brothers. “But he didn’t have to shave my head and draw dicks all over my face and scalp with a Sharpie!”
“BJ shaved your head, but the artwork...” Knox couldn’t finish his sentence because of Quinn’s hand over his mouth.
“Ignore him. He lies, and you know it. At least you got to stay home from school that day,” Quinn blustered.
“I should’ve known it was you.” Shane glowered at Quinn. “The artwork was beautiful, and BJ can’t draw worth shit. Let me guess, you made Knox the lookout, and Riley’s the one who took those damned pictures. I spent the whole next day at mom’s salon getting exfoliated and bleached, hearing how cute I was. At least Mom took me to Stillman’s for a pig trough after.”
“Wussy pink ice cream, I’ll bet,” Quinn grunted. “Strawberry ice cream, strawberry syrup, whipped cream, and a dozen cherries. You should have been a girl.”
“My dick’s bigger than yours,” Shane growled. “You should have been the girl.”
Quinn flipped Shane off. “Wussy pink, wussy pink.”
Shane shot Quinn a double bird. With this family, it was a wonder everyone’s middle finger muscle hadn’t doubled in size from overuse. “So, I like strawberry, it’s better than that turd-colored crap the rest of you eat!”
“Remember the night of the art fair? When Mom and Dad saw your project hanging on the wall with a first-place ribbon, they about melted into the floor,” Knox reminded him.
Shane’s smile died. “Even when I do something good, it’s somehow wrong.” He straightened himself. “Should we go rescue him?”
Quinn shook his head. “Oh, hell no, this is fun. It’s good to see big brother get his arrogant ass handed to him, and by a woman no less. Gentlemen, and Shane, this is a once in a lifetime event.”
Shane raised his ring finger. “When you don’t care enough to send the very best.” Shane’s eyebrows shot up. “We should video this and put it on the web to embarrass him.”
“Excellent!” Knox and Quinn chimed in unison. They fanned out to get different angles. After all, what good was a pile of rich boys’ toys if you couldn’t use them to edit your big brother’s very public meltdown into something larger than life?
Yeah, they pretty much lived to embarrass each other, and this was going to be epic.
CHAPTER 15
Their argument quickly took on a life of its own as it rolled from subject to subject. It didn’t matter if they were discussing foreign affairs, economics, or the value of bitcoins, the woman was practically a living, breathing Wikipedia. Every time he tried to call her on a claim, she’d pull out her phone, navigate to one damned website or another to prove him wrong. And she was enjoying every
bit of his intellectual failures.
“That’s left-wing fake news!” he accused.
“Is that your answer for everything? Some liberal conspiracy to bring down the conservative establishment? For your information, a librarian taught me about this website years ago. It’s considered the gold-standard of dispelling rumors and confirming the truth. And before you accuse her of being a progressive wacko, I should tell you she’s currently serving in the General Assembly as a Republican. And yes, I voted for her. I’m not stupid enough to blindly pledge my allegiance to one party or the other. I think about what I’m doing when I cast my vote.”
Wait, did she call him stupid? For a brief moment, he considered she might be right because he couldn’t score the points that usually came so easily. After all of those high school and college debate awards, had he lost his touch? Or had he finally met his match?
As their words grew more heated, so did they. For every argument he made, she had a coherent, informed response.
Beautiful and intelligent, she was so unlike his other women. Women who had never raised their voices unless he’d forgotten their birthday or failed to compliment their new outfit. Women who hadn’t seemed to have had an opinion. Any opinion. About anything. Women who had cared nothing about politics or world events and had known even less. But ask them about the Kardashians, and they could pontificate for mind-numbing hours.
Verbal sparring with Megan was a turn-on of a whole different kind, and man, was it sexy. The harder he pushed, the harder she pushed back. Stumbling onto a live mine was inevitable. “These bastards are sucking up resources that could be better used somewhere else.”
A single tear cascaded down her cheek before she had a chance to squeeze her eyes shut. Her bottom lip quivered. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, her words strained through gritted teeth. “I’m a bastard. So is Ethan. I’m sorry I wasn’t smart enough to choose parents who were married to each other. What could I have been thinking?”
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 6