Page 19 of Eye Candy

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I guess not. But it was similar.”

Whether because he looked different or because, even as a kid, no one could tell him what to do, Joe had largely escaped Dad’s attention. I was the one Austin had tried to mold in his image, to groom as his heir. I’d thought Joe was grateful Dad didn’t think of him as a project in need of constant improvement. But gratitude wasn’t the impression I was getting from my brother now.

“I need to move,” Joe said too loudly, getting up off the bench and tapping the screen on his wrist a few times. “I’m seeingJemima after this, and she likes it when I’m sweaty. She says I smell better. Isn’t that weird?”

I thought of the woman defrauding my brother and how her eyes had fluttered as she’d inhaled me at Sonya’s gallery.

Would she like me sweaty, maybe as I climb on top of her? Would she?—

“Chase? You with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Everything OK?”

“Everything is fine.”

A corner of Joe’s mouth curled. “I don’t think it is, my man. I think you’re experiencing emotions you can’t rationalize for the first time in your life. But I’ll leave you to thrash through that mental jungle on your own.” He grabbed his bag. “Let’s walk. I’ll tell you about Jemima.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I met her last week. It’s getting serious. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

“What?”

Joe paused with his runner’s backpack half over his shoulder. Defensiveness covered his face, and I should have shut up. I should have remembered he was skittish, like the sparrow that had also fled at my outburst, and our relationship was fragile.

But I didn’t.

“Joe, that’s the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard. I’m still cleaning up the mess from the last time you proposed to a woman you hardly knew.”

Like clapping and turning off a light, all expression cleared from my brother’s face. “Never mind. Forget I told you. I should have known better.”

“Joe—”

“See you around, Fixy. Try not to find anyone in a moral dilemma between here and your apartment. God knows, you might have to deal with your own shit for once.”

Like that, he was gone.

To borrow terminology from the teenagers that played Dungeons and Dragons at my games shop: that had been a critical hit. I didn’t know what to do now. Joe had been clear he didn’t give a shit about the Teddy impersonator, and after the chess situation—not to mention what I’d done thinking about the chess situation—my integrity was compromised. Still, my mind raced.

Because of her, people would be talking about Joe and I, and watching us at events in the hope our drama would play out in front of them. It was how they used to watch my dad, eternally eager to revel in the drama that usually surrounded him.

Deep in my chest burned a need for people to know that neither Joe nor I had anything in common with our father.

No matter how much I looked like him, I wasn’t him. I was a good man.

Later that night, I sent Joe a text.

Just come to Greta’s. Show people what happened at Sonya’s gallery didn’t bother you. That you’ve changed.

He didn’t reply.

But he’d probably attend. He liked Greta. And at her party, he’d see all the incongruities about ‘Teddy’ with his own eyes, and eventually thank me for looking out for his reputation, like brothers always should.

I jerkedoff thinking about her again the next night.

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