5. Connor #2
She throws a pen at me. “You don’t do it enough, dick. Where have you been? Don’t say working. I’m sick of you working.”
“I’ve been working.”
“Yep sounds about right.” She snaps her book shut and stretches.
I don’t know when the hell my baby sister turned into a teenager.
I still remember when she was little, a rowdy tomboy that constantly drove Danielle crazy.
No matter how many princess parties and dresses her mom tried to shove her into, Rowan always ended up with dirty knees and bruises.
She was a terror back then, but she’s mellowed these days, and now she’s turning into a young woman.
I study the scar on her face. The jagged line from her temple down to the corner of her mouth.
These days she tries to cover it over with makeup, but I’m always telling her to show it off.
It makes her look badass, but she mostly wants to be left alone, and marks like that invite questions.
She prefers not to talk if given the option.
Seeing that scar makes me think of Angie again, and why she works at my company, and how I’ve been trying like a desperate bastard to ignore her all these years, and I’m spiraling again.
Rowan’s smile fades. “You’re in a hell of a mood, huh?”
“Nah, I’m fine. How was school this week?”
“Boring. Had a math test. Fucking wrecked it.”
“Language.”
“Still English.” She clicks her tongue and winks at me. “You know I learned to curse from you, right?”
“Your mom never lets me forget it.”
She cackles and flips her book open. “By the way, Deck’s waiting for you in Dad’s office.”
I sit up straight, frowning. “Was anyone going to tell me?”
“I just did. And Mom would’ve if you hadn’t run away from her.”
“Good point.” I get up with a groan.
“You sound like an old man.”
“I am an old man.”
“You’re thirty-five.” She squints at me. “Yep, ancient.”
“Later, little sister. I’d better deal with Deck before he burns the house down.”
“Dad’s more likely to do that. Close the door, asshole!”
I leave it open, humming to myself, as Rowan calls a few choice insults after me. The door slams a second later as I’m descending back to the first floor, going as quiet as I can to avoid attention?—
“iPhone, Connor!” Danielle shouts at me as soon as I hit the landing. “Look at this thing. Look at it!” She shakes her old phone at me. The screen is cracked on both sides. “I’m begging you. The glass is cutting my fingers!”
“Scroll TikTok less.”
“I can’t. It’s an addiction and it’s not my fault. Big tech is ruining my life!”
“Then we’d better not reward them by buying another one.”
“Connor!”
I wave her off. “Buy it yourself and I’ll reimburse you. Just get out of here.”
“THANK YOU. You’re my most favorite stepson.”
“I’m your only stepson and you hate me.”
Seeing Rowan always puts me in a better mood, but dealing with Danielle always makes it worse, so the two about balance each other out.
I storm into Dad’s office, kick the door closed behind me, and pour an extra-large bourbon, ignoring the big man lurking on the couch against the far wall with his boots up on my father’s coffee table.
“You kept me waiting.” Deck grunts at me, hunched with his elbows on his knees. He’s my cousin, in his early forties, with a gruff stare. His clothes are pristine and his back stays straight. He turns down my offer of a drink. “You know we had a meeting, right?”
I swallow a curse by downing more bourbon. “I’d never forget about my favorite lieutenant.”
He grunts and lifts a folder he’d kept hidden on the couch next to him. “We need to talk numbers.”
“It’s always numbers with you.”
“Knowing our business is why we’re successful. Sit down, this won’t be long.”
“Better not be. You know, you and my future wife would get along well. You’re almost as organized as she is.”
His eyes settle on me. “You ready to talk?”
“Yeah, Deck, I’m ready, only trying to have some casual banter first.”
“Not interested.” He flips to the front page and turns it to face me. “You got payroll decisions to make.”
What follows lasts approximately one hour, two bourbons, and more than a few targeted curses.
If Marcus is my ideas man, then Deck’s the one who gets it all done.
He’s ruthlessly efficient and keeps the operation ticking over, but he’s also stuck in the old ways and stubborn as hell.
It’s always a struggle keeping him from blowing shit up because it’s not properly formatted.
Still, he’s right to keep me on track. I’ve been distracted lately.
Between Angie and Sinead, I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve been able to zone out thanks to having men like Deck behind the scenes.
I’ll show my appreciation another time, but for now, I’m relieved when he packs up and leaves me sitting behind my father’s desk, exhausted and trying not to think about Angie.
My father slips into the room. He gets himself a drink and lowers himself down in the same spot where Deck had been, but he doesn’t say a word.
My old man’s in a button-down shirt, top two buttons undone, a gold chain around his neck.
He’s heavyset, thick but not fat, face always an unnerving shade of red.
Gray’s streaked in his thick, black hair.
We drink in silence for a few minutes. It’s a rare down moment and I soak it in, but I can’t seem to keep my mind still for more than a few seconds at a time.
“Let me ask you something,” I say and he looks over, his bushy brows lifted. “How’d you do it twice?”
“Be more specific.”
“You met a woman and got married. You did it twice. How’d you pull it off?”
He lets out a low rumble from his throat and takes a long drink. “Still wondering that myself.”
“I was handed over to Sinead. I almost can’t screw it up even if I wanted to, and believe me, I’m sure I’ll have my chances. So how’d you make them both last?”
“Patience.”
“That’s it?”
“Bourbon. Communication. Indulgence. With your mother, it was all about apologizing, and afterward, vigorous lovemaking.”
“Fuck’s sake, Dad.”
“You asked.”
“God damn it, I regret that now.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “Make sure Danielle gets that stupid phone. It’s on me.”
“You’re a good son.”
“Yeah, bullshit. And Rowan needs new shoes. Her old ones are falling the fuck apart.”
“What would that girl do without you?”
I tilt my chin to the ceiling and close my eyes.
Without me? She’d be fine.
But without Angie?
That girl would be dead.