Page 11 of The Bad Girl List

“If we just ignore him, he’ll eventually go away,” I tell Tequila as I take a swig from my bottle. Her eyebrows move as she watches me, her tail thumping in response to my voice.

“Trev? Dammit, open up. I know what today is.”

“Fuck,” I growl. Of course Thomas remembered what today is. My brother has always been good with birthdays, anniversaries, and anything else that has a significant date.

“I’m not going to let you be alone tonight.” Thomas’s voice echoes through the heavy wooden door. “You may as well open up or I’m just going to stay out here all night and annoy the shit out of you.”

“What do you think, Tequila? Think he’s bluffing?”

Her ears droop, her eyebrows moving as she watches me anxiously. “It’s a good move, Dad,” I say in my pretend dog voice. “Thomas has a short attention span.”

“I agree. I think we can wait him out on this one.”

She whines as Thomas’s fist continues to reverberate on the front door. I take another drink. What’s wrong with wanting to be left alone tonight? Can’t a man have some privacy to be drunk and depressed?

Thomas’s incessant pounding and shouting is starting to get to Tequila. Her ears are flat and she’s whining again.

“Fuck. I can’t win tonight, can I?” I say to my dog.

Tequila whines again.

“Come on, girl.” I lever myself off the sofa, pausing to down the last of my Zin as my feet hit the hardwood floor. My body is pleasantly buzzed, though I’m not anywhere nearly as drunk as I plan to be by the time tonight is through.

In my bedroom, I open the door to Tequila’s crate, her safe haven when I have company. “In, girl.” She hops over to the crate in that awkward gait of hers, tail tucked as she slinks inside.

“What the fuck, Thomas?” I fling open the front door and glare at my younger brother. “You’re upsetting Tequila.”

“Everything upsets Gimpy. Let me guess, she’s cowering in her crate right now?” Thomas ignores the way I brace my arm against the door to block his way, ducking underneath me to come inside.

“Tequila was fine before you showed up.”

“You need to tell Gimpy your little brother likes dogs almost as much as he likes women.”

“Will you stop calling her that?”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Mom is freaking out about the number of people slated to show up for Passport tomorrow. She made me haul extra cases from the warehouse and stage them in the tasting room, just in case. If not for that, I would have gotten here sooner.”

“I don’t remember inviting you over.”

“Fuck you, dude. No way I’m going to let you drink by yourself tonight.”

I don’t reply, touched despite myself. Thomas might be my punk-ass younger brother, but he’s got my back. And by the way he’s looking at me right now, he knows just how hard today is.

“How many bottles have you had?” Thomas marches past me over to the couch. “Only one so far? Good, at least you’re not too far gone yet. I intend to be here when you pass out so you don’t drown in your own vomit.”

He goes into the kitchen and opens the wine fridge. I don’t miss the way his brow wrinkles as he takes in the state of my house. Dishes piled in the sink and on the counter. Clothes wherever I happened to leave them when I got home from work. Dog food kibbles on the floor. Thomas is a neat-freak of the highest order. Usually he gives me shit for being a slob, but tonight, he doesn’t say a word.

I slump back onto the couch, rubbing at my temples as tears sting the back of my eyes. I’ve been plagued with memories of Elle’s black dress with blue butterflies all day. I need more wine.

“Top shelf, right-hand side,” I say as Thomas rummages around in my wine fridge.

“Are you talking about the blend of Pinot Grigio and Semillon?”

“Yeah. It was one of Elle’s favorites.” I’d been saving that for the grand finale, when I was four or five bottles in and on the verge of passing out, but fuck it. I might as well share it with my brother, since he’s the only one who remembered today’s anniversary.

Thomas comes back with two glasses and the bottle of white wine. It’s a screw cap, as a lot of white wines are, which means he doesn’t need a wine opener. He twists off the cap and pours two glasses.

Raising one in the air, he says, “To Elle. The girl who stole my brother’s heart.”

---