Page 58 of The Older Brother
My mom shakes her head, her eyes heavy, and her mouth turned down at the sides.
“Mom, you don’t really think Rowan’s some criminal, do you?”
She looks down again, knotting her hands together. She’s honestly worried about this stuff, about me. But it’s not so much me as it is her reputation. I’m too tired to throw that back at her now, though. We’ll call this round one.
“I’m not getting a rental. And my car will be ready soon. Just . . . drop me off at Cami’s.” I open the door and slide inside, buckling up and fixing my gaze to the sidewalk outside. After a few quiet seconds, my mom shifts into drive and makes a U-turn toward Cami’s house. She doesn’t try to sell me on her opinions for the rest of the drive, and I don’t pummel her with all the reasons she’s wrong.
I let myself into Cami’s backyard through the gate, and I kick off my shoes and dip my feet into her pool, kicking around the top step to keep cool. Cami won’t be home for two more hours, and I think my mom knew nobody was here when she dropped me off. We’re both done with each other for now.
Cami’s answer to all of life’s problems is girls’ night.
Maybe she’s right this time. My face stings a little less under the dim lights of the Velvet Room. I like clubs like this, where it’s less about the dancing and more about the vibe. Plus, they take our fake IDs.
I hit Cami with a dose of word vomit the moment she rolled into her driveway. I figured it would be hard to hide the bruise on my cheekbone. Cami says it doesn’t look as bad as it feels, but I don’t know. Every time I check it in my phone camera or in the Velvet Room bathroom, it looks like I striped my cheeks with blush the way they did in the eighties in those posters my mom still has in the garage.
“Ladies, two Appletinis,” the server says, sliding two bright green drinks onto our tabletop. Cami and I meet eyes, then both jet our gazes to the server. She points to a table across the bar, where a familiar guy raises a hand.
“Brady fucking Campbell,” I mutter.
“Brady who?” Cami slides her drink closer, then leans forward to take a sip before picking it up. They really topped these off for us.
I sigh and shift in my seat as Brady and his friend, who looks like he could be his older, beefier brother, walk toward us.
“He shoots hoops with Rowan. He loses a lot,” I say, leaving out the part where Brady then owes Rowan a bunch of cash. My mom’s words are still rattling around my head, and I don’t want to put things out in the open that make Rowan sound like the degenerate she thinks he is.
“Where’s big brother?” I’m fairly certain Brady’s talking about Rowan.
I shrug and glance up at the ceiling, then to the left toward my friend.
“He’s around,” I say, taking stock of Rowan’s words of caution when it comes to this guy. He didn’t say he was unsafe, but he didn’t exactly brand him with a ringing endorsement.
“And who are you?” His friend looks less like him now that they’re both close. He’s definitely older, though. My guess is thirty. The guy’s wearing all black, from his jeans to the long-sleeved fitted shirt tucked into his too-tight pants. The goldchain with a skull pendant dangling from it is the real kicker to his look, and I wince in anticipation of my friend’s incoming evisceration of his fashion sense.
“You get this out of one of those candy machines they keep in the front of Denny’s?” She taps the metal bobble with her long fingernail, and Brady’s friend sneers.
“Pfff, fuck this. I’m out, man. I’ll get us a table.” He wanders toward the back room where a few guys are shooting pool, and Cami waves with her fingers before cradling her drink and smiling through her sip.
“Wow, are all your friends teases like this one?” Brady thinks he’s clever. I think he’s lucky Cami’s not that drunk tonight, otherwise she’d spear his shin with the sharp toe of her Louboutin.
“Hmmm, Cami’s special. I’m pretty sure your friend is just a loser. No offense.” My gaze drifts to the side and Brady follows my sightline to his friend, trying impress another table of girls with his Halloween biker costume look.
“Fair enough,” Brady admits. I laugh at his humility, but when he joins in on the laughter, it suddenly feels wrong, like I’m giving secrets to the opposing team.
“Hey, Brady?” I set my drink down and push it toward the center of the table. I’m not drinking more of that tonight. It feels like a bribe. I’m sure Cami will make it disappear for me.
“Yes, Saylor?” I hate that he remembers my name.
“You know Rowan isn’t really my brother, right?” I fold my arms over one another and lean back in my seat, my glossed lips pulled into a tight smile.
Brady’s low chuckle fades as the seconds pass, and my eyes remain steadfast on his. Finally, he chugs the last of his beer and plops his mug down next to my drink.
“Yeah, I know that. He’s a lucky guy, though. Fuckin’ . . . luckiest guy I’ve ever met.” He shakes his head and smiles softly,tapping the table twice before taking a step back. “You two enjoy your night. And hey, those drinks are my way of telling Row he’s lucky, so enjoy them.”
“Will do, buddy,” Cami says, tipping the rest of hers back and moving on to mine.
Brady snickers as he turns and heads to the back room where he has a far better chance of looking like the prize while standing next to his friend. I roll my neck and give my friend a warning look. She guzzled that sucker pretty fast. It’s a weeknight, and I’m not really in the mood to hold her hair back tonight while she tosses her cookies.
“I’ll nurse this one,” she says, still taking a much bigger sip than I’d like.
