by Cherrie Lynn
Carcinogenic smut! Stop it, dammit!
“Are you okay?” Kelsey asked.
“No,” he snapped, giving up and shoving the sleeves up his forearms. “It’s too fucking hot for this shit.”
Kelsey covered Alex’s ear and drew his head to her shoulder. “Don’t cuss around the baby!”
“Jesus Christ. He doesn’t understand what the hell I’m saying.”
“You have a date later or something?” Evan asked.
“No, man. I just thought, since it’s almost your birthday and all, that for one night I would appear to be everything you ever wanted me to be.”
The indifferent expression Evan had been wearing turned icy cold in an instant. “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”
Brian stopped fidgeting long enough to bat his eyes. “Because I only ever wanted to be like you.”
Kelsey muttered something about needing to change Alex and scurried out, knowing full well what was coming. Brian didn’t know why it always came to this…well, yes he did, and it didn’t have anything to do with nicotine withdrawals, though he supposed that could exacerbate any heated situation.
The fact was, no matter what he did, being in his brother’s presence lately never failed to make him feel like something that had crawled out from under a rock in a scum swamp, and the “normal” comment had only driven the dagger deeper.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was the black mark on the family, the monkey wrench in Evan’s political endeavors…and he had them, whether he admitted to it or not. The guy’s dream since high school had been to be a U.S. Supreme Court justice. Yet he was stuck deep in the heart of fucking Texas pretending to be content slaving away as an assistant DA.
Maybe it was Brian’s own fault for taking so long to get his shit together. But he had it as together now as it was ever going to get. Everyone might as well face that fact.
“You said I looked almost normal? Dude, it’s relative. To me, you’re the freak. Keep that in mind and get off my ass.” Brian swigged his energy drink, wishing it were a beer. Or hard liquor.
“I never called you a freak. What’s your deal? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”
“The difference? Is that I’m joking around, and you’re not.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Why are you always so pissed at me, Brian?”
“Whatever. Happy fucking birthday.” He slid off his stool. Evan crossed his arms and blocked his way.
“You’re not leaving.”
“You think you’re stopping me?”
“I am. If I have to throw you in the pool like last year.”
“I seem to remember you making that trip with me.”
“Guys.” Kelsey reentered the kitchen without Alex and insinuated herself between them. She put her hands on Evan’s chest. “Come on. For one night, let’s not do this, okay?”
Brian held his brother’s cold stare, and it was Evan who finally blinked and looked down, focusing on his wife’s face. “All right, but only because you put so much work into this.” His green eyes flickered up to Brian again. “Not because he doesn’t deserve a beat down.”
“Try it, you motherfu—”
“Brian!” Kelsey turned to him. “Please stop. You’re both acting like kids. Call a truce for tonight.”
“I’m hearing enough from him right now, and that shit is about to be magnified fucking tenfold when the others get here. I’m done listening to it.”
Kelsey looked practically on the verge of tears. “Look, I’m sorry. If I knew some way to get you to get along, I would do it. I just—”
“Stop worrying about it, baby. It’s been like this since he was twelve years old. It’s not going to change now.” Evan put his arm around her shoulders and glared at Brian over her head, as if to say See what you’ve done now, you asshole?
His fault, again. As if he needed to feel crappier. Lack of nicotine was short-circuiting his brain. He was never a paragon of virtue, but lately he felt he was teetering on the knife’s edge of sanity, about to fall off on the wrong side. “I’m sorry, K. I’ll be good. Seriously, you’d probably have to beat me away from shrimp manicotti with a stick, anyway.”
“Thank you.” She reached up to give him a quick hug, and there was a knock at the door.
What followed was a blur of relatives oohing and ahhing over Alex. Then they all did the same over Kelsey and how great she looked and how no one would ever think she’d had a baby only three months ago.
Brian maintained his safe perch on the kitchen barstool and knew it was only a matter of time before he would be forced to interact, but put it off as long as he could all the same.
His older sister, Gabriella, came in to give him the obligatory hug, still wearing her SpongeBob scrubs and her brown hair pinned up from her shift at the pediatric ward in a Dallas hospital. Then she went straight back to dishing out baby advice Kelsey hadn’t asked for.
His dad naturally questioned him about how the business was faring. Then dished out advice he hadn’t asked for.
His mom looked him up and down and beamed, making him bristle to the point that he began considering that Mohawk again.
Evan generally ignored him.
All in all it was a typical Ross family get-together.
And they wondered why he never brought any girlfriends around? Jesus. His earlier thought about inviting Candace had been ridiculous, he’d known that, but it would hold true with anyone he was ever interested in. What would the poor creature have witnessed so far? Him being an asshole and almost coming to blows with his brother over nothing. Damn near making his sister-in-law—who championed him way more than any of the rest of them—cry. The look of relief from his mom to see nary an inch of anything inked or pierced. His sister treating him like a casual acquaintance rather than someone she’d grown up with.
He told himself it didn’t matter. Until something his mother was saying in the living room drifted through the other various conversations and perked his ears up.
“…can’t believe I finally have a grandbaby and now you might be taking him away.”
Taking Alex away? Where?
Curiosity piqued, he slid off his stool and wandered into the room where Evan and Kelsey were talking to his parents. His mom held Alex, stroking his hair as he lay against her chest.
“It won’t be anytime soon,” Evan was saying. “And even then it’ll only be temporary.”
“Where are you going?” Brian blurted, garnering surprised looks from everyone.
Evan, standing with his arm loosely around Kelsey’s shoulders, massaged her arm. “Kelsey’s going to start applying to law schools for next year. We’re hoping she’ll get in at UT, or Ole Miss near her parents. We’ll move wherever we have to.”
“We’ll come visit as often as we can,” Kelsey said reassuringly to her visibly distressed mother-in-law.
“Yeah, you think that now.” Evan laughed. “Just wait until you’re reading two hundred pages every night.”
“You’re going to have your hands full,” Gabby agreed, shaking her head. “Taking care of the baby on top of all that. I remember Evan being a zombie whenever he would come home from school.”
“I’ll be there to help her,” Evan said. “With all of it.”
“Yeah, how lucky are you, to be married to someone who’s done it already? I need to hurry up and marry a doctor before I start school.” Gabby laughed and sipped her drink.
His mom snuggled Alex closer and rained kisses on his dark little head. “I hate the thought of you moving, but I’m so proud of all of you…”
And blah, blah, blah. Brian turned around and headed into the kitchen, this time for a beer for sure, digesting what he’d heard.
Well, damn, without Evan around to take the brunt of the back-patting, how in the hell would Brian make it?
Yeah, even his thoughts were turning sarcastic.
He managed to get through dinner without insulting anyone or starting another
fight, so he supposed it could be considered a successful evening. And Kelsey had been wrong; her shrimp manicotti rivaled his mom’s in every way. He told her as much as quietly as he could when she hugged him goodnight, and she practically beamed.
Knowing he’d be the first to leave, he’d parked a bit down the driveway. The gravel crunched under his feet as he hitched up his itchy shirtsleeves and breathed deep the muggy night air with its tinge of floral sweetness from Kelsey’s rose bushes. He felt like a caged animal that had finally been given its freedom. Now to get home, jump into a T-shirt, watch a movie, whatever the fuck he wanted.
Only he’d be by himself, and despite how penned up he’d felt in that houseful of people, he didn’t really care for that idea too much.
It really would be nice to have someone who didn’t drive him nuts. Someone to laugh with over what a miserable ordeal that had been, someone to curl up with and enjoy the hell out of a good slasher flick. His ideal woman, right there.
As he popped open the door of his truck, Candace’s face swam through his mind. He wondered if she liked horror movies. As much as they’d hung out together, he still had no idea.
“Are you all right?”
The delicate features and clear blue eyes dissipated, and Brian turned around from staring blankly into the dark depths of his truck to find his brother standing behind him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Evan shrugged and walked closer. “All that talk about us moving away…I was thinking back. You had a pretty rough time of it when I left for college.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Really?”
“Nope. Don’t flatter yourself. Plus I’m not fourteen anymore, don’t forget.”
Evan didn’t look convinced. “Like it or not, I’m always going to see you as my kid brother.”
“Well. I don’t like it.”
“You know you’re going to miss me.”
“Dude, if you’re trying to get me to squeeze out a tear for you, you can—”
“Have you ever thought about getting out of here?”
“What?”
Evan shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve always thought you’d do well to get away from here, from some of the people you know.”
“What’s wrong with my people?”
“Come on, Brian, I’ve been on the other side of the courtroom from half the guys you associate with. It’s only a matter of time before you’re in their spot.”
“No, man, I don’t run with those guys anymore. I finally got my place off the ground; I work and I go home. That’s my life right now.”
“Really?” Evan asked, one eyebrow raised. The skeptical look on his face pissed Brian off even more.
“I’m not quite the fuck-up I once was. I don’t go out and get trashed anymore. I don’t do drugs and I never have, no matter how hard a time you have believing me.” It was probably the hundredth time he’d gone down the laundry list.
“I’ve always believed you. I’ve seen enough that I would know if you were lying about that.” Evan was silent for a moment, and the only sounds surrounding them were the crickets and some distant chatter. The party must’ve moved around back to the pool. “But if you wanted to come with us, wherever we end up… I mean, you’d be welcome. Kelsey says so too.”
“I appreciate that, but things are finally working out for me. You have a family now, and you don’t need me tagging along. It would be lame.”
“I’ll worry about you.”
“I’ll worry about me too. Without you here, I might finally go commit that armed robbery I’ve been dreaming about.” He grinned to show he was joking, and Evan laughed.
Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about his brother moving away. He could certainly deal with it without going ass-out wild again, but he’d been lying when he said his transgressions as a rebellious fourteen-year-old had had nothing to do with Evan leaving for college. He’d been lost. He’d let himself fall in with the wrong crowd, which resulted in him being brought home by the cops to his father’s wrath more times than he cared to admit. Not to mention a fairly impressive juvy record. He’d damn near been shipped off to boot camp, but instead, his parents had sent him to Italy to live with his grandparents. Change of scenery, removal of bad influences and all that. But after a few months’ worth of running wild in Florence corrupting his cousins, he’d been shipped right back.
All his own fault…there was no one to blame for his bad behavior but himself. And it had been half his lifetime ago, but he still felt the echoes of those actions today, in the way his family dealt with him, in his reactions to that treatment. It was a vicious cycle, and no one made any effort to break it. Certainly not him, even though he knew that as the orchestrator of all that pain and grief, the responsibility should fall on his shoulders.
What they didn’t realize, as they sometimes looked at him in horror, was that the very things they detested about his appearance were the very things that had saved him. If he’d never walked into Marco’s parlor in Dallas for that first tattoo at eighteen, he might be in prison right now. That night he’d found a purpose. He’d found what he wanted to do with his life; he just hadn’t wanted to do it for anyone else. Now that his dream of having his own parlor was finally realized, he’d be damned if he was going to do anything to fuck it up.
Evan talked for a few more minutes and finally headed inside. Brian shut himself in his truck and watched his brother disappear into the bright cheerfulness of the house. Back to a wife he adored, a baby he was crazy about, a family who loved him.
It would be so, so easy to feel resentful for his older brother’s good fortune, but Evan deserved everything he had and then some. He’d worked hard for it, and he still did. Brian might give him a lot of shit, but the truth was…he was damn lucky to have him as his brother. Because there was no way in hell a guy like that would give him the time of day if they didn’t happen to share parents.
As he cranked his truck, he told himself he would do well to remember it.
Sighing, he sifted through the CDs littered across the bench seat and popped in Pantera, something brutal to fit his mood. The growling guitars hammered his eardrums and, as habit dictated, he plunged his hand into his pocket to pull out a desperately needed…stick of gum.
“Fuck me.”
Chapter Four
“It’s been a week. Call him already.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Candace had to laugh. Her two best friends, each currently situated on either side of her, were like a gleeful devil perched on one shoulder and a disapproving, morally outraged angel on the other. There were moments when she wanted to strangle both of them—and vice versa, she was sure—but she loved them dearly.
Samantha, the devil, was investigating Brian’s business card and his scribbled number on the back, turning it over with her graceful French-tipped fingers. “His handwriting is sexy.”
Macy rolled her eyes. Candace swallowed her gulp of iced cappuccino and laughed. “His handwriting?”
“Sure. Look. It’s confident. Decisive. Dark. Strong slant. No timid, flimsy marks from him, oh no. He wants that number ingrained in your memory. Burned into your brain.”
“Since when have you taken up handwriting analysis?” Macy asked.
Sam handed the card to Candace, her brown eyes lit up with amusement. “What can I say? I’ve always had a thing about guys’ handwriting. Michael writes as if he’s trying to murder the page or something. It’s so hot.”
Candace stared at Brian’s number, seeing what the other girl meant. What Sam hadn’t mentioned was that there was also an unexpected elegance to it. Sighing, she pulled her wallet out of her purse to tuck it safely away. She’d already programmed the number into her phone, even though she was sure it would never be used, no matter how much Sam begged.
Macy stirred her shake with a straw, pulled it out and licked off the ice cream. “Forget the writing. I’m more in
terested in their hands.”
“I bet Brian has great hands,” Samantha said enthusiastically. “Artists usually do. So what are his hands like, Daisy?” Sam sometimes called her “Daisy” as a play on the last syllable of her name. She knew Candace hated “Candy” with a passion. It was what her mother called her.
What the hell was up with her nicknames anyway? Sunshine. Daisy. Candy. All bright, sweet things. She should insist on being called Spider or something. Darken her image a bit.
Sam snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Hey, over here. Are they that good?”
“His hands? They’re—” Beautiful. “Heck, I don’t know. They’re hands.”
Sam wiggled her eyebrows. “Big?”
Candace felt a flush beginning to creep up her neck. “Yes.”
“Stop it already,” Macy said. “You’re going to drive the girl crazy, and she needs to forget all about that guy.”
“But why?” Sam asked, sounding like a petulant three-year-old.
“Because he isn’t right for her!”
“For her, or for you?”
“What have I got to do with it?”
“You seem to be the only one who has a problem with him.”
“Her parents would have a hell of a problem with him.”
“Oh, to hell with her parents.”
Candace sighed and sat back as her friends went at it as if she wasn’t even sitting there. “Stop, stop,” she said wearily, making the time out gesture with her hands when it appeared either girl was preparing to draw blood. “I’m afraid Macy wins, Sam. I can’t just call him. I mean… I can’t. He gave me his number in case I had any trouble. I’ll be bugging him.”
“When a guy slips you his cell number, honey, he wants you to call it. Trust me. Do you think he does that to all of his clientele?”
“Probably not, but we know each other already. He did it being friendly.”