“It’s where you sit at your desk and read after school,” she says happily. Something sounds off about that explanation. It’s not as fishy as the time Smokey had a tail full of Tinkerbell nail polish and she somehow had “no clue” how that happened. Hope’s a spirited kid, and I never know what to expect from her. I’m just glad I’m her uncle and can send her home when I’m tired.
“Lose something?” I ask loudly. Looking around the crowded kitchen, I see I’m the last to arrive. Mom and Rae, Bailey’s girlfriend, are at the oven checking on dinner. Dad’s at the head of the table with a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s the only thing he drinks, but he rotates the brands every few months. Bailey sits to Dad’s left, an empty chair on her other side. On the other side of the chair is Royal and then Hennessey, with Mom’s at the other end of the table. Another empty chair sits on Dad’s other side, for Hope, and next to that is Jack.
I set Hope down in the empty spot between Dad and Jack and take the seat between Jack and where Mom will sit. The table is already set, with salad and garlic bread set out. Mom brings over the lasagna while Rae grabs a carton of milk and a carton of orange juice from the fridge, and they both take their seats.
“You’re late,” Hennessey says with a flat stare. His brown hair is pushed up into a gelled fauxhawk, and he’s wearing a dark red button-up. Royal leans over and elbows him with a shake of her head. She, too, is dressed up more than normal for Sunday dinner with her hair down and straightened, and she’s got on makeup and some kind of sexy top that my baby sister should definitely not be wearing.
“Am I keeping you from something?” I try to keep my tone in check, but it’s fucking hard. Every time I look at him, I see Mel asking me to give her a reason not to go out with him. The conversation was interrupted, or I would have given her a million fucking reasons not to date him. But I had to go, and by the time we got back to the house that night, she was already off duty. The next day I tried to talk to her, but every time I’d start on a topic that wasn’t work-related, she’d cut me off by either changing the subject or straight-up walking away.
“They’re going dancing,” Hope says loudly with exasperation in her tone. “And I can’t go because I have a bed time. Daddy’s mean like that.”
“Buzz kill,” Rae says and grins at Hope, then shoots Jack a wink. He just laughs it off.
“What is horizontal dancing?” Hope asks. The table gets silent for a moment before Royal and Bailey start laughing and gasping for breath. “What’s funny? Uncle H is going horizontal dancing, and I want to go, too.”
“You’re too young for that kind of dancing,” Bailey says through her laughter. Mom and Jack give H a dirty look, who pretends he didn’t do anything to deserve it. Dad just shakes his head.
“Oh really, and who is Uncle H going horizontal dancing with?” I ask. Not even the amazing-smelling lasagna could salvage this dinner. If Hennessey thinks he’s going to be horizontal dancing with Mel, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.
“Auntie Royal, duh,” Hope says and rolls her eyes.
“This chick Joy,” Royal says and levels me with the least-amused glare I’ve ever seen. “I get all dressed up because this jerk tells me he wants to hang out and go dancing, have a few drinks and some brother-sister bonding time, and the next thing I know he’s telling me Joy’s going to meet us at the club.”
“That’s interesting,” I say through gritted teeth. I warned him not to fuck Mel over. I fucking told him she’s not a girl he can just toss aside because a new hot blonde comes along.
“Something bothering you, brother?” Hennessey asks. He’s got his elbows on the edge of the table with his arms crossed, and he’s leaning toward me with an indignant expression.
“Not a thing, brother. Why would I be bothered?”
“What the hell is going on here?” Dad demands in his most parental tone. When we were kids, he made it clear that when he asked a question, he expected an answer. Silence wasn’t permissible unless it was an order he doled out.
“Just a little game Jay and I were playing. He’s just upset he lost.”
Of course Hennessey sees this as a game. Why wouldn’t he? I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I’m so blind sometimes that it’s embarrassing. Growing up, H and I were always really close. We’re barely sixteen months apart, which means we’ve shared just about everything since he was born. We shared the same room up until we moved out together when I was twenty-two and he was twenty-one. We lived in that apartment for a little over a year before I met Lydia—and it worked for us. But it worked for us. We understood each other’s schedule and didn’t have a problem sharing the tiny space. When we were kids, he’d get a toy at Christmas and I’d steal it and play with it for the rest of the afternoon. I’d get a new bike for my birthday and he’d take it around the block before I had a chance to. Sharing is just one of those things you deal with when you have a brother as close in age as H and I are. Mel’s not a stupid toy or a fucking bike, though. I thought I could be cool with this. I told myself H could be better for her than I could have been at the time.