Page 58 of Concerted Chaos

seventeen

Whitney’sbackisto us when Tanner and I arrive at the restaurant she picked. It’s one of those trendy places visited by young professionals after work, so the men in the crowd are wearing expensive ties with their shirt sleeves rolled up—the uniform of the casual businessman on the prowl. The women all have high class haircuts and designer dresses with heels. I fit in. Tanner is slightly out of place, in his ‘nice’ T-shirt and jeans. At least his shirt doesn’t proclaim his favorite bar and his jeans are miraculously hole-free.

“Whitney!” I call out as we approach, and she turns. I’m watching her face carefully, and I see it: surprise and dismay. Just as I suspected, she thought I’d bring Powell. While I do enjoy being right, I wish I weren’t. Just once, I’d like to find someone who doesn’t want to use me.

She recovers well. “Tanner, right?” She extends a hand to greet him. “It’s nice to see you outside of the gym.”

Tanner shakes her hand and we sit down. Whitney and her brother—he introduces himself as Silas—have taken alternating chairs at the four-top, so I find myself facing Tanner. He does clean up well. He’s unquestionably better looking than my date. Not to say Silas is unattractive though. His face is symmetric, at least, beneath his military-style buzz cut. But there’s a coldness to his eyes that makes me wary. I’ve already decided any progression to intimate contact is off the table. Not that I was considering it anyway. This is just supposed to be a fun night out, not a potential hookup or anything.

Because this is a trendy bar, the drinks all have fancy long names that I’m not going to bother with, so I order a craft beer, as does Tanner. So does Silas, though he requests it by grunting “same” instead of actually ordering. Whitney ignores the ridiculously complex drink names and orders by pointing to a picture on the menu. When it arrives, it’s a frothy pink beverage in a big glass with two straws.

“Interesting choice,” Silas comments, and Whitney shrugs.

“I like froofy drinks. Bottoms up,” she lifts her glass to toast Tanner, then drinks deeply. Her brother rolls his eyes at her. He gives off every indication of being annoyed and wishing he were elsewhere. If I had any interest in him, my feelings would be hurt. As it is, I’m going to be polite and try to have a good time and leave immediately after we eat.

Despite Silas’ constant glowering, and Whitney’s now-confirmed desire to date my brother, it is sort of pleasant to be here, out with ordinary people. We don’t have to avoid camera flashes or maintain I’m-having-fun expressions on our faces even when we’re not. This is quite different from when I’m out with Powell and other celebrities and we have to keep an eye out for ... well, for people like Tanner. Funny how sometimes Tanner doesn’t seem like the enemy. He’s not nearly as bad as most of his brethren.

Right now, he’s being downright enjoyable. He’s chatty, friendly to everyone and seems to be in a good mood. And he can sense Silas’ reticence, so he tries to help draw him out. But he uses an odd conversation starter: he asks Silas and Whitney how they met.

“My dad took me to the hospital and pointed her out,” Silas says, laughing. So I guess it is possible for him to show some emotion other than irritation.

“I don’t remember any of that, but then I was only a few hours old,” Whitney adds. I can see the calculations going on in Tanner’s brain.

“Oh!” he exclaims when he catches on. “You’re brother and sister! Huh. I get it now.”

“Don’t worry,” Silas reassures him. “I’m not one of those overprotective older brothers. You’re safe. For the moment.”

Tanner gives me the strangest look, a mixture of confusion and disappointment. What’s his problem? I told him the date was with Whitney, and he enthusiastically agreed. So why does he care if the guy I’ve been set up with is related to his date?

The rest of the meal, Tanner focuses all his attention on Whitney. He barely looks in my direction, even though I’m seated right across the table from him and it probably hurts his neck to keep his head permanently twisted away. I don’t know why he’s acting like that all of the sudden. Yeah, she’s his date and all, but we’re out as a foursome and, selfishly I’m annoyed because his sudden exclusion of me means I have to continue trying to make small talk with Silas.

Silas doesn’t want to discusshis work, he doesn’t want to talk about his family or his friends, or the latest book he read. Why is he even here? Why on earth would Whitney want to hook me up with him when it’s clear he has no interest? When she invited me out, she acted like she thought we’d hit it off.

“I heard you’re related to a famous singer,” he finally says.

“Yes, Powell Corbitt is my brother,” I respond. I assume he knew that already, and my suspicion is confirmed when he nods. Is he going to ask for an autograph? Is this the point he pulls out his demo and asks me to pass it along? I’ve been through this before, more times than I can count. No wonder he hasn’t wanted to learn anything about me. He had ulterior motives. But if he wanted a favor, he should have been a lot friendlier.

“I know who he is. I remember reading stories about the two of you. You certainly have a ... close relationship.” His cold eyes are locked on my face and his stare is making me uncomfortable.

“Powell is my best friend and my housemate,” I say. “So yes, we’re pretty close.”

“It must be convenient to live together. Do you share a bed?”

I want to think Silas is socially inept and doesn’t understand what he’s asking, but the sneer on his face shows that he knows exactly what he’s implying.

“Excuse me?” I can keep my voice calm, but my tone has turned frosty.

“Didn’t he brag about taking your virginity?” Silas continues. “I swear I read something about that. Were you into it? Brotherly love? My sister and I would never do that sort of thing, but since you and Powell aren’t technically related, you can do whatever you want.”

The floor drops out from under me and my ears start ringing. I cannot believe he would bring up that ancient lie. What kind of guy brings up disgusting old rumors like that on a date?

“The tabloid story was a complete fabrication.” My hands clench into fists and I hide them under the table. I can’t let him see that he’s getting to me. That’s probably what he wants.

“Or so you claim. I heard there were witnesses, but you managed to bury them under legal threats. Kind of shady if you ask me. But money buys silence, doesn’t it?”

“The only thing money bought was an apology, from the magazine to us. The supposed journalist who cracked the story was a fraud. He made the whole thing up. People only believe it because they like hearing sleazy underhanded things about celebrities, regardless of truth. It was ten years ago, it was a lie, and it was resolved in court.” I wish I hadn’t already finished my beer so I could throw it in his face.

Silas smirks. “Seems like you’re protesting a little much. Whatever. You may have denied it back then too, but I’ve always had my suspicions.”

What’s his obsession with such ancient rumors? Has he been fixated on me for some reason?

Tanner and Whitney have finally stopped flirting long enough to notice the brewing animosity. Tanner has the slightest little frown and is looking at me with concern. Whitney is busy trying to shush her brother, and they are having an intense silent conversation, eyebrows furrowing, heads tilting, jaws jutting out. Whatever they’re communicating to each other, it makes Silas bow his head for a moment. When he raises it back up, he’s plastered on an ingratiating smile.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up old gossip. The story was something I remembered from years back, and when Whitney told me about you, I was reminded of it.”

His apology isn’t enough for me. I will not pretend to forgive, and I will not tolerate being in his presence any longer. I stand up and toss my napkin on the table. “I think it’s time for me to go. Tanner, do you need a ride?”

He looks to Whitney instead of me. She smiles flirtatiously, and he has the gall to smile back. “I’ll catch one with Whitney, thanks anyway.”

Fine, that’s his choice. He can stay with them and seduce Whitney in front of her awful brother. I’m going to go home, hang out with my non-awful brother, and relax. And I’m not going to tell Powell that someone is bringing up those old rumors. He’s under enough stress with concert prep and all the bombings. No need to pile on additional aggravations.

---