Page 67 of Her Three Tech Bros

“I’m not your son, old man,” Ryan snaps back.

“Old man?” Logan’s dad is taken aback. “You will show me some respect!”

“I’ll show you it,” Ryan responds. “When you deserve it.”

Ryan and Logan’s dad stand face to face. Logan’s dad is fuming with rage. But Ryan has a cheeky smile on his face that tells me he’s only just getting started. Insulting Jade seems to have set him off.

Through all of this, Logan just stands there stiff as a board. He doesn’t look at anyone.

It’s shocking to see how much of an effect his parents have on him. Though, I can’t say for certain how I’d react if my parents stormed in screaming about all of this.

“End it, Logan,” his dad says, still staring Ryan down.

Logan weakly nods his head.

“Your mom and I will be in town for another few days. We pray you come to your senses before then.”

The two of them storm out of the apartment without another word. Logan's mom’s sobs can be heard from down the hall until the elevator doors close.

“Fuck those two…” Ryan says. “If the price of keeping Jade is losing them, sounds like a win-win to me.”

“Ryan, enough,” I say. I then turn my attention to Logan who’s still shaken up. “Logan”

“He spotted us in the lobby when we first arrived. I was worried he’d call my parents and tell them,” Logan says, still stiff.

“Is that why you were so off for the whole trip?” Ryan asks.

Logan simply nods. All three of us stand in his apartment, unsure of what we’re supposed to do now.

30

LOGAN

"Dude," Ryan says, staring at me and rubbing his hands in his blonde hair. "Man." For once, his smile and quick comebacks are gone.

I collapse back onto my couch and close my eyes.

"You know things are bad when Ryan can only spout monosyllables," Ethan says.

I have nothing to say. I feel sick. The desperation in my mother's voice, the anger of my father, it all makes me feel hopeless. And then powerless.

Everything I've worked to build, all the struggle I've gone through to create something for myself, it feels like it's being jerked out from under my feet.

I hear the clinking of glasses and low murmuring from my friends, and then the couch shifts next to me. "Hey, man, drink this," Ethan says.

I open my eyes and see the scotch on the rocks he has poured me. He's holding one for himself, too, but without the spherical ice cube.

"You get into my Yamazaki 55 without asking?" I ask, sitting up and taking the glass.

"Hell, no," Ethan says, taking a sip. "We take a lot of liberties here, but I'd never open a bottle worth a hundred thousand dollars without asking if you want ice first. This is the Hibiki I saw next to it."

I nod. Ryan sits across from me, slowly rolling his glass between his palms and staring down into the liquid.

I feel like I might puke. Whiskey, rare Japanese stuff or not, is probably the last thing I need.

I lean my nose toward it and inhale the sweet, thick aroma with a hint of floral underneath. Actually, maybe it's exactly what I need.

I take a small sip, letting the warm liquid radiate out and down into my torso. I take a deep breath and sit back again.

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