by Lori L. Otto
“Non-addictive,” I scoff.
“Look it up and stop judging, princess,” he says with a scowl. “And to clear his good image, Callen really doesn’t do anything often at all. You caught him in a rare moment. I twisted his arm.”
“Why aren’t you at work today?” I ask his partner.
“I’m working from home.”
“You’re working stoned from home,” I clarify. “Yeah, your dad would kill you. The CFO of his company getting high while he’s making big business deals.”
“I don’t have anything on my schedule today,” he says. “I’m just answering a couple emails. My assistant at the office is handling most of my stuff.”
“Must be nice,” I mutter.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, a little defensive.
“So, I just need to know, Max,” I start, directing my attention back to him, “when are you going to tell your brother?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“It’s time you start.”
“Will knew about it a while back,” he says. “I can bring him up to speed. He thinks I quit… you know… sometime.”
“I’m not talking about Will.”
“I can’t tell Jon,” he argues.
“Well, I can’t keep this from him,” I state. “You know the rules we live by in our marriage–no secrets from one another.”
“No way, Livvy. You can’t do this to me. He won’t understand.”
“Exactly. So, you better start thinking of ways to make him… or else quit this nonsense. What if you get caught? Do you want to go down the path of your father?”
“This is nothing like what my dad was in to, Liv.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Jon doesn’t need to know.”
“Max,” Matty intervenes. “Don’t put her in this situation. Do you see that this is stressful to her?” My brother-in-law doesn’t answer. “Stress isn’t good for the baby–for your first nephew.”
“I thought you didn’t have that… clampsy–thing,” he says.
“I don’t, but my blood pressure is still too high most days, and this?” I say, looking around me. “This is not helping matters. I certainly don’t mean to make you guys feel bad, because you’re right, I invited myself over unannounced, but never in a million years did I expect this. You’re smart guys. There are people constantly watching every move you both make! Wise up! You don’t want to bring some sort of scandal upon yourselves. You don’t want to make shit worse, do you? For you? For all of us?”
“I’m being careful,” Max says.
“Right. And who’s your dealer? Who could sell that story for a cool grand? Bring down a national hero and a business darling? And why haven’t they yet? Huh? Or are they waiting to blackmail you for something? You guys could lose so much. You’re not looking at the bigger picture here.”
“He’s cool,” he answers, blowing me off. Max is still is that spoiled kid, and we’re all guilty of fostering this behavior in him. I really just thought he was smarter than this. He’s had moments of great maturity in his life, but Max has always done what Max wants to do. It’s a blessing and a curse in him.
“Callen, what would your father say?”
He swallows hard and looks at the floor, possibly his first sobering moment of the day. “I’d lose this position. At least be suspended for a few years. It’s actually in a contract,” he tells me. “He was nervous about giving me the title at my age. Worried about me not having enough time to sow my wild oats yet or something.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I mean,” he begins again, “you’re not going to say anything to him, are you?”
“It’s not my business–your dealings with your father. Your influence on Max is what I’m worried about.”
“And he’s not influencing me. It’s the other way around–I told you that,” Max insists. I don’t feel like I’m going to get anywhere with him today.
“Callen, can you come into the hall with me? Just for a few minutes?” He nods, following me out the door. I walk as far away from the loft as I can and lean against the wall. “When you knew your relationship with Max was in jeopardy when you cheated on him all those years ago, you went to rehab to make sure alcohol would never be a problem for you. Remember that?”
“Sure.”
“We were all so pissed at you for cheating but impressed at the steps you were willing to take to make things right. And as far as I know, you’ve never slipped up.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Now, I don’t know if alcoholism is a thing in your family; if addiction is something the McNares need to worry about. But I know it is in the Scott family. And I know when Will was about Max’s age, he came to terms with his own demons. Faced his own battles with addiction. He doesn’t drink a drop of alcohol. He won’t take a step near a casino. Did you know anytime he gets a prescription pain killer, he has Shea give him his doses? To this day, he doesn’t trust himself to make the right choices with things that have the potential to give him a rush–a high.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“He’s very aware. And I’ve always wondered if Max can handle his alcohol. Trey lived with him long enough to tell me he rarely got drunk and knew how to cut himself off after two drinks, but I don’t know if that was because he always had someone watching him who would report back to Jon, or if that was just how aware he was. I tend to think it was because of the former and not the latter.”
Callen nods his head. “He’s had a few too many a couple times since we moved in here,” he admits to me. “I’ve always been around, though. He’s never been alone. But he’s a happy drunk. He’s cool.”
I didn’t expect his revelation. I feel the tears form in my eyes.
“Does Matty know?” He shakes his head. “Does anyone else? Trey?”
“No.”
“Callen, you need to stop this. All of this. I don’t think it’s good for him, and I don’t know if he has the skills to do it himself. He may be the influencer, but are you funding him? Don’t tell me he’s using his donation money for this…”
“He’s never asked me for money for it.”
“Then… if this is coming from the money people gave him for what he did–or even worse, the money his mom left him–I can’t… Cal, I can’t bear to hear that, and Jon will die before he lets that continue.”
He thinks for a second. “I know,” he says softly.
“I need one of you to be the responsible adult here. And if you can’t handle it, Callen, then we’ll have to take more drastic measures.”
“But he’s not an addict.”
“He is an addict,” I tell him. “It’s in his genes. Maybe he’s just not addicted to anything yet. Do you really want to wait until that happens? And deal with the aftermath? Your relationship is in jeopardy now. It may not happen for months or years, but it’s in jeopardy now. Do what you do, Callen. Take the steps to make things right now. You did it when you were eighteen years old. And we were so impressed. Do it again now. For me. And more importantly for Max. Okay?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I need you to do more than that.”
“Just give me some time to deal with this, Livvy. Shit. I’m fucking high right now and this is coming at me really fast, okay?”
I sigh in frustration. “All right, Callen.” I pull him into a hug before he walks away. “I love you. I just want what’s best for you both. You know that, right?”
“I know. Love you, too.”
“Please don’t make me worry.” He looks me in the eyes before turning to walk away from me. I feel like we’re on the same page in the look we exchanged, but I won’t be sure until I hear him say it out loud. “Tell Matty I’ll be at his place!” I yell after him before he goes back into the loft.
The girls and I have been trying to stump Nolan with songs to play on the piano, but he seems to know every damn tune ever written. We have to be careful about show tunes and Disney songs, too, because once he starts those, he
doesn’t stop. A few spontaneous singalongs have happened while Matty has stayed across the hall.
When he returns, he’s holding a cigar box and something else behind his back. After walking in an ultra-secretive fashion to his pantry, I can only imagine it’s the weed and possibly the bong.
He glances at me, nodding once, answering my question. I have a million more, but I can’t very well talk to him about them in front of the girls.
“I took all the asparagus they had,” he says, joining us on the couch. “Max didn’t say he wouldn’t buy more. But he didn’t say he would, either.”
“Thank you,” I tell him. “And you’ll do what with it?”
“Asparagus doesn’t agree with Nolan anymore, so I’ll throw it out tonight. Along with the large, turquoise asparagus, uh… fork.”
“Why don’t we have asparagus forks, Mama?” Edie asks me.
“You can only get them in, like, South Korea.” It’s the best I can come up with off the top of my head. “Callen got it on a business trip.”
“Can I have it?”
“No, honey,” I tell her.
“They’re not reusable,” Matty adds.
“Okay,” my daughter responds simply, leaning her head on Nolan’s shoulder. “Shiny!” she yells to him.
“The Decemberists or Moana?”
“What?” Edie asks. “What’s The Decemberists?”
“Moana it is,” Matty’s husband says, and yet another Disney singalong begins.
I’m ready for peace and quiet by the time our driver drops us off. Jon wrangles the girls together in the lobby and accompanies us up the elevator to our floor. “Did you little ladies have fun today?” he asks them.
“So much fun!” they both say at the same time, sending them into yet another burst of giggles.
“They’ve been like this since they went for smoothies with Matty,” I tell him.
“So, no juice with dinner, huh?” he asks.
“Daddy, I want juice!”
“Me, too!”
“Please!? Apple juice!”
“We’ll see. It won’t be ready for another hour or so. Is that okay?” he asks me.
“Yeah, perfect.”
“I’m making homemade tortilla soup. You said you were craving it, so I got your dad’s recipe.”
“Sounds perfect. Can I help?”
“Everything’s done. It’s just simmering on the stove.”
While the girls go upstairs to their rooms, I pull Jon to the sitting area just off the kitchen. We cuddle close together on the plush couch and kiss a few times. “Listen,” I say, interrupting his next move.
“Yeah?” he whispers right into my ear before taking my lobe into his mouth. “I missed you.”
“Aww, well, I missed you, too, but your baby brother’s smoking pot.”
“What?” If I ever need to kill the mood quickly, I know exactly what to say. “What? How do you know?”
“I caught him and Callen in the act today. I went over unannounced and… there they were, bong and all.”
“I don’t believe it,” he says, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth. “Max? My little brother, Max?”
“That one, yes,” I say.
“He barely drinks.”
“Yeah, about that… he’s apparently been drinking more, too, according to Callen.”
“What?” Now it’s like I’ve kicked the air out of him and forced him back into the seat next to me. “What do you mean, he’s drinking more?”
“That’s what Callen says.” I tell him how the entire day went down, start to finish. He’s got his head in his hands–or more accurately, his hair–by the time I get to the end. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You his dealer?” he says, pinching my knee. We smile sympathetically at one another. “You think Trey knows?”
“Max said he thinks he’s stopped. That he knew he was using before.”
“Trey would knock his lights out.”
“Well,” I say, “in a non-violent way.” My brother doesn’t fight.
“I mean, with his aspirations to hold political office? He’s got to manage everyone around him, and that’s not the kind of environment he can be in, you know?”
“Hence why they don’t do it around him, I’m sure, Jon.”
“I’m telling him. He’s the best one to handle it.”
I stare at him, mouth agape. “My brother?” He doesn’t waver. “My baby brother? Their younger friend? I don’t follow you.”
“He’s diplomatic. He’s always been their moral compass. They’ll do what he asks.”
“Max will do what you ask!”
“No, no, because see–I don’t know what to ask him.”
“How about not to smoke weed, dude?” I say to him in my best stoner voice.
“Baby, I already have two kids and another on the way. Max is grown. I’m not his father.”
“Jon! Will was this age when you had a talk with him about the way he was living his life!”
“And you see where that got me?”
“I see he ended up with his beautiful wife.”
“I can’t take credit for that. Do you not remember that Will and I didn’t speak for months? That he decked me for intervening? Surely your pregnant brain hasn’t wiped out those memories.”
“No, I remember, Jon, but Will’s a lot more hard-headed than Max is. Max will listen.”
He shakes his head at me. “I’m not risking it, Liv. Maybe Will can handle this one, but I honestly think Trey’s the best man for the job.”
“They’re best friends,” I plead. “What if it ruins their friendship?”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Max wouldn’t choose pot over Trey. He knows the value of a good friend.”
When he says it like that, I start to think he may be right. I’ve never seen a friendship as impermeable as Trey and Max’s. They’ve been there for one another in the best and worst of times, and they’re good friends to the people around them, too. When Callen cheated on Max, Trey stood by Max and helped him through the lowest point in his life, but he also kept in touch with Callen, who was still in love with Max every day they were apart. Trey could easily segregate the friendships and make sure both were nurtured. And Max did the same when Trey and his high school sweetheart broke up after four and a half years of dating. Max stayed friends with Zaina for quite some time, making sure she was okay after a significant heartbreak, but he was always loyal to my brother.
They were meant to be brothers as much as Jon and I were destined to be married.
“You know who isn’t going to deal with this?” he asks me.
“You. You already said it.”
“You,” he corrects me. “I’ll talk to Trey. He and I will map out a game plan. If he doesn’t want to do it, then Will and I will tackle it. Okay? I just want you to know it will be okay and that you don’t need to think about it another second.”
“You know I’m not trying to be some meddling prude, right? I just know how your family works and I don’t want to see Max in trouble.”
“Liv, I get what you’re doing. I appreciate it fully. And even if the little shit didn’t show it today, I’m sure he does, too.” He leans in to kiss me again. “Want me to go see Trey tonight?”
“No,” I tell him. “I want you to help me with the girls. Or… rather… I want you to watch them while I take a really long bath and read a book for a little bit after dinner.”
He nods. “I’ll call him after you’re all asleep. He and Coley stay up late.”
“Okay.”
Chapter 6
The next morning, the musical chime of the doorbell wakes me way too early on a Saturday. I look over, but Jon’s already out of bed–not that I’m surprised. Either Edie got him up, or he set an alarm to go for a run with Will.
“Jon?” I call out, unsure if I need to answer the callbox.
“I’ve got it! Go back to sleep
,” he says from just down the hall. He runs down the stairs, and I strain to hear who’s come over at this time of day.
“Send him up” is all I can make out. I decide to get up, put on a robe and run my fingers through my hair, waiting at the top of the staircase to see who it is. When the door opens, my brother appears with a bouquet of pink tulips. I start to descend the stairs.
“Nope, stay there,” Trey says. “I’m coming up.”
“Oh, okay.” I smile and go back to my bedroom, taking a seat on the recliner by the window where I do most of my reading. Trey sits in the chair opposite me. It’s Jon’s, where he often reads his own nerdy books. My brother hands me the beautiful flowers, and I get up to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. “What are these for?”
“When’s the last time you got flowers?” he asks.
I laugh lightly. “Not that long ago. Mother’s Day, I guess.”
“That’s too long.”
“Damn it, Trey,” Jon says, walking in the room. “Why do you have to make me look like an ass?”
“You’re the one who doesn’t buy my sister flowers as often as she deserves them. How did I make you look like an ass?”
“Jon does plenty of other things, but these are gorgeous, Trey. Jon can go get a vase for them, and all will be right with the world.”
“I’ll do that,” he says, taking the bouquet with him.
“So… I know you didn’t come here just to bring me flowers,” I tell him. “What’s up?”
“I’m actually here to pick up your husband. We’re going to go play ball. Three-on-three.”
“With?” I ask.
“Max, Callen, Will and Joel.”
“I forgot Joel was in town this weekend.” Coley’s twin brother is a personal chef who splits his time between Boston and Manhattan. Very often, he’s helping Shea with catering events, too. “Is he with you?”
“He ran across the street to get bagels for everyone,” he tells me. “He went to culinary school with the guy who runs the place.”
“Has he had any leads on jobs here?” I ask him. His dream is to work full-time in a Manhattan restaurant, but he hasn’t been able to find steady work with his disability. He went deaf at the age of eleven in a diving accident, and all the chefs that have hired him have found it too difficult to work with him in the chaos of a busy kitchen. He makes good money working with a few different families, but it’s not what he wants to do for the rest of his life.