Page 43 of Single Malt
My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms, and I kept them under the table so he couldn’t see them. He was looking for a reaction, and I doubted anger was what he wanted to see. I kept my face blank and let him keep talking.
“You need to understand two things about me,” he continued. “The first is that I always get what I want. And the second is that I can be your best friend or your worst enemy.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karina walking toward us. He must have seen her too because he said one more thing before his expression changed back to the public face he usually wore.
“Something to think about for the next time we meet.”
Just as Karina reached us, he stood up and held out his hand. She took it, and he lifted it to his lips for one of those asinine gestures of his.
“Regretfully, I must depart,” he said to her. “But I’ll be waiting with bated breath to see you once more.”
I had no idea if he’d called a car or spotted a taxi, but I really didn’t care. He wasn’t gone fast enough for me, but it seemed to be too fast for Karina. She let out a sigh and collapsed into her seat. “Such a beautiful man, is he not?”
I glanced toward the parking lot. “Looks aren’t everything, Karina.”
She was young, but she would learn the lesson sooner or later. We all did.
Twenty-Six
Brody
I’d purposefully decidedto stay in New York a few days after my meeting at Club Privé before leaving from here to go to my next meeting in San Antonio rather than flying home to San Ramon for just a couple days. I’d spent time with Maggie on Sunday and then had gone to a play London was in last night. Today, I planned to spend time with Carson.
He’d had meetings this morning, so I’d done a little exploring on my own. Not living in the city, I could always find something I hadn’t seen before. Googling ‘unique things to see in New York City’ always had interesting results. Today, it was the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Store and the Dead Horse Bay.
On my way from Brooklyn to Carson’s studio, I stopped at The Smith and picked up some food for both Carson and me. We might not have spent much time together since he’d moved out here, but I still knew what he liked to eat. Hell, even though I wasn’t the oldest, I’d done my fair share of babysitting growing up and could probably remember at least one thing each of my siblings craved most.
Middle kids were often overlooked, and Carson and Cory had gotten it worse than most. They’d been a little over four-years-old when our mom died. Old enough to be out of diapers and able to feed themselves regular food. Eoin and Maggie had needed more done for them.
While Da had done his best, there’d been six of us under nine-years-old, and he’d been grieving the love of his life. Alec and I had helped as much as we’d been able, but the twins had needed less than the younger ones. We’d never been neglected or abused. It had just been…difficult. For all of us.
I pushed the past out of my head and put a smile on my face before going inside. I wanted to have a good time with my brother and reminiscing about that time in our lives wouldn’t do it. We could talk about our mother without it being a bad thing, but none of us liked to remember the time right after her death.
As I opened the door, I saw a trio of women a few feet away. I stepped back and held the door open as they passed. If I hadn’t known Carson’s approach to fashion, I might not have realized that all three were likely models because they all had completely different body types. One tall and curvy, one petite, and one of average height with wide hips and broad shoulders.
“Good morning, ladies.” I gave them my best charming smile, less because I wanted a response and more because if they learned I was Carson’s brother, I didn’t want to give them any bit negativity that could poorly reflect on him.
It didn’t matter that my little brother was almost thirty. He was still my little brother, and I protected him however I could. I just happened to do it more through deflection than intensity.
The women smiled back and greeted me but didn’t stop to chat. Another time, I might have considered going after them and getting a number or two, but just as I’d found at Club Privé, I couldn’t muster any interest in any of them.
Dammit, Freedom.
Fortunately, getting her out of my head was easier once I spotted Carson.
“I have lunch,” I announced as I crossed to the least cluttered table and set down my bag. “I went to The Smith.”
“Thanks.” Carson stood up and placed a few things onto the table closer to him. “Sorry about the mess. The place always looks like this after a fitting, and I had three this morning.”
“I figured that’s who those women were,” I said as I pulled food from my bag. “That reminds me, I found out we have a mutual connection. Well, sort of.”
“Who’s that?” He checked out what I had and picked up the grilled chicken sandwich I’d ordered for him.
“Carrie and Gavin Manning.” I settled on the barstool and took a huge bite of the Smith Burger. It wasn’t the healthiest choice on the menu, but it was delicious, and I wasn’t in New York enough to make it a habit.
“Manning?” He frowned for a moment before it clicked. “Bryne Dawkins. I remember now. London referred her after her wedding dress was destroyed in a fire or something like that. The Mannings paid for it.”
“I didn’t know that part of the story,” I said. “But it doesn’t surprise me. They’re clearly doing well financially, and Gavin struck me as a man who’d be just as overprotective of his niece as he would be of daughters.”