Page 32 of Played
I wrinkle my nose. I can detect a hint of mint, but it mostly smells like grass. “Yeah, but mojitos taste good.”
He sighs and slurps his through a straw. “Chicken.”
I peer into the glass and shake my head. “Nope definitely not chicken, Mad.” That gets me a laugh from my baby brother, and I drop my voice to a stage whisper. “Are you even allowed to say that word in here?”
“Only when referring to asshole big brothers who are scared to eat a vegetable—not when referring to the delightful little feathered creatures some people like to roast on Sundays.”
I laugh now too. “They’re also good in a curry, I hear. You know, like that one you cooked for us last weekend.”
He grins. Maddox might work in a vegan café, but he’s still a carnivore like the rest of us James boys. He just thanks the animals for their service before he cooks and eats them. “Well, I’m glad you agreed to drop by and have lunch with me.”
Maddox and I grab food together a lot, but I prefer eating in places that serve animal products because he’s right—I am a neanderthal. However, as he works here and is proud of his job, I came to him today. Against my stomach’s better judgment.
This definitely isn’t my kind of joint. Far too hipster for me. Full of young people wearing beanies and baggy clothes. I like to imagine the chef is an aging hippie who grows his own lentils and eats mushrooms while he cooks. “You said the coffee here was amazing,” I say, glaring at the green drink accusingly.
“It is. But I figured you could use one of these too. It’s very cleansing.”
“So are the sauna and steam room at my gym.”
He takes another sip. “This stuff cleanses your soul.”
I peer into the glass again and pick out what looks like a piece of eggshell but obviously can’t be. “What’s in it, holy water?”
“No. That shit would burn your insides if you drank it, you heathen.”
True. “What makes you think I need my soul cleansed?” Does he know I’ve been having inappropriate thoughts about someone I shouldn’t? Someone who is technically my employee. That same someone who nearly knocked me on my ass in the street minutes ago, figuratively speaking of course. Seeing him with his “Grampa” was like witnessing an entirely different King. I have seen that side of him before, but it was a long time ago. Besides, that was all an act back then. At least according to the last conversation we had before he left—a mask he wore for whatever sick thrill he got out of messing with me. Today though, that was real. How he tenderly kissed the old man’s head.
It brings a lump to my throat.
“Not your soul, no. But you haven’t seemed yourself lately. Everything okay?”
I stare at Maddox, his soulful brown eyes boring into mine. He and I have a unique relationship. Maybe it’s because he and I are closer in age and our older brothers had all but moved out by the time he was a teenager, but we bicker and squabble more than the others. In a lighthearted way, of course. I guess it’s our love language.
But he was my annoying kid brother for so long, and although I tease him relentlessly about his monk status, it’s easy to forget how deep and soulful he truly is. He sees things other people don’t. While I’d take a literal bullet for any of my brothers and I adore them all equally, Mad and I are closer to each other than we are to the others.
As the oldest and the one who had to become like a second dad once Mom died, Elijah has been out on his own for so long, and Nathan and Drake have been a double act since birth, which was solidified when they started their law firm together.
So it was Mad and me. He had so much shit happen to him, and like I told Arthur, we almost lost him, which was terrifying and shameful—the latter because we couldn’t stop his spiral.
“I think I just have a lot going on at work, you know,” I tell him, which is not exactly a lie.
“You always have a lot going on at work. This feels like more.”
In an attempt to avoid the conversation, I take a gulp of the ridiculous green shake. It tastes like the scum you might find on top of a pond, and I gag.
“Such a fucking drama queen, dude,” Maddox mutters.
I wipe my tongue with a napkin. “How can you call me both a queen and a dude in the same sentence?”
He grins. “Speaking of queens—my friend Yanko tells me you haven’t been to Xylophone in the last couple of weeks.”
I forgot one of his drag friends is a bartender there. “You and your spies, man.”
“I have them everywhere. Little brother is always watching you.” He widens his eyes and tilts his head like a cobra, and it makes me snort-laugh so hard I taste the green stuff again. Fuck, what was in that thing?
“Seriously though, Mase. It’s not like you to not be out partying. Is there something else going on?”
“You mean have I become a paragon of virtue like your good self?” Maddox is sober, which I one hundred percent applaud and admire. I understand that part of him, and I’m grateful he has the strength to remain so because it means I get to keep him in my life. He’s also celibate, which I don’t understand. Objectively, he’s handsome as hell, and he works out so frequently he has barely an ounce of body fat. He’s smart and kind and funnier than anyone I know. Women and guys stare at him with undisguised desire, and he fucking ignores it. It’s not like drugs or alcohol—sex didn’t almost kill him. He abstains because he chooses to, and that’s the kind of sacrifice I don’t understand.
