Page 23 of The Law of Attraction

‘Hi, Uncle Drew-willy.’ That’s Timmy. Two years older than Annalise, he’s six going on thirteen with that attitude. But I’m telling you, one flash of his big childish grin, and I’m putty.

‘You know that doesn’t rhyme, kiddo, right? Drew-bew rhymes. Drew-willy is just silly.’ I force my eyes to turn in to look at the tip of my nose and rotate a finger around my temple to tell him he’s crazy. He laughs. He has this huge laugh for a kid, like it comes from his toes. It’s infectious.

I talk half-sense to the kids for a few minutes, then they’re bored of me and running off to terrorize someone else. Maybe their grandad. The thought makes my lips curve up. Watching my dad play with the kids, watching them penetrate the grumpy façade he tries his best to maintain, is a secret indulgence of mine.

I’ve just opened my mouth to pick up conversation with Millie when Skype tells us someone is joining the call. And then Jake, our younger brother, appears on screen, taking up half the shot, with Millie still on the other side. Looking at him next to Millie, I’m reminded how little he looks like us. He’s younger, twenty-five. But his hair is dark brown, almost black, and his eyes are deep brown with gold flecks. He looks more like Dad.

‘Hey, dickhead,’ he says. I know that’s to me, not Mill.

‘Hey, accident,’ I say back.

‘Fuck off.’ Almost immediately after the words leave his mouth, a dish towel moves into view and slaps the side of the screen. ‘You will not curse in my house, young man.’ Mom leans into the camera and points. ‘And you stop calling him an accident.’

In unison, my brother and I apologize.

This is my family. Nuts. All nuts. God love them.

‘Listen, I can’t stay,’ my brother says. ‘It’s like four in the afternoon over here in London, and I didn’t get much sleep last night. I might still be drunk. I just wanted to say hi.’

After a brief lecture from Mom on the topic of alcohol poisoning and liver damage – she ignores the reason he probably didn’t get much sleep – Jake leaves us to it.

‘Are you coming for lunch today?’ I’m back to just Millie.

‘Sorry, Mill, I’m working.’ Guilt churns in my stomach. I haven’t been to Mom and Dad’s for Sunday lunch since… I can’t even remember. The fact that my dad is the only one who didn’t crop up on the laptop screen has something to do with that, I’m sure.

‘You’re always working, Drew. You look tired. You need to take a break.’

‘Did you get the flowers I sent this week?’

‘Yes. And they were beautiful. But I’d rather you brought them in person every week.’

I hear my dad in the background. ‘Now, Millie, leave your brother alone. He has more important things in his life than family.’ His lack of interest only confirms my suspicions.

I chomp down on my gums. Thing is, I’m angry at myself because he’s right. I should make more of an effort. It’s just work can’t wait. When shit hits the fan, I’m the person who’s supposed to fix it. That’s why I’m going to make named partner. It’s how I’m going to repay my parents for everything they ever did for me growing up. My old man will see that soon enough. I hope.

Millie rolls her eyes and leans in to the screen to whisper, ‘I know you don’t think that.’ She leans back and talks at normal volume. ‘You’ll be here next weekend though, won’t you? It’s Aunt Nellie’s sixtieth, and Mom is making Key lime pie on Friday night.’

Mom does make an awesome Key lime pie. In fact, it’s the only dessert I really eat. Or it was before this week.

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Disappointment drops her shoulders an inch, and I feel like the worst brother in the world.

I am.

8

DREW

Scrutinizing my reflection in the mirror that’s usually hidden on the inside of my office wardrobe door, I pull my jacket over my white T-shirt. I drag a hand back through my hair and shake my head at the nervous loser in front of me. When I’ve studied him enough, I bend to adjust my jeans over my boots.

‘What’s this? Has a client requested dress down?’

I stand to face Chewie. Variably known as Chewbacca – owing to the hairs that poke out his shirt collars – wanker from the forty-sixth floor, the partner heading up real estate. Malcolm Eddy. I want to throw out a snide remark. Hell, more than anything in the world right now, I want to throw out a snide remark. But Marty’s words are still rolling around in my head.The vote. Be human.

‘What can I do for you, Malcolm?’

He looks visibly taken aback. His second chin wobbles as he draws his head into his neck like a cock… erel. Cockerel.Be nice.

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