Full Package

My brother’s laughter booms across all of Battery Park as he greases the chain on his bike. A streetlamp illuminates his work. Morning hints at the horizon, but the sky is still the dark blue before the dawn. It’s five-thirty on a Friday, and we’re getting ready to ride.

I adjust the tire pressure on my bike as I jerk my head to look at Max. “What’s so funny?”

He wipes down the chain with a rag, making sure it’s well-oiled. “What you just said. That’s what is funny.”

“That I’m moving in with Josie?”

He nods several times. “Yup. That one. And I thought you were the genius in the family. But you must have forgotten to take a dose of common sense the other day,” he says as he spins the chain.

Max builds custom cars for a living, so this kind of pre-ride prep is part of his rule book. Besides, today’s training calls for thirty miles, and we want to make sure the two-wheelers can handle that. With this century ride coming up soon, we need to be ready. Hence the early morning start. We’re on a team that’s raising money for better medical care for veterans.

I stand, resting a palm on the seat of my road bike. “This choice is one hundred percent common sense. We’ve been friends forever, and we both need a place to live. Besides, you kicked me out.”

Max stands, too, rising to his full height. I’m a tall guy, but he’s taller than my six feet, and broader. He’s basically the definition of intimidating, especially when you add in the big muscles and the dark eyes. But he’s a total teddy bear to me and always has been, so the big hulking look doesn’t work.

He points at my chest. “I did not kick you out. I told you that you were welcome to stay in the lap of older brother luxury as long as you wanted,” he says, gesturing behind him to the sweet-as-sin high-rise building he lives in. I already rode a few miles downtown to meet him here.

“Nah. Too far from Mercy. Josie’s closer. Only takes me ten minutes to get to work from her place, instead of thirty from here.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder. “I hardly think the extra twenty minutes each way is worth you shacking up with a girl you’re hot for, man. That’s crazy.”

I scoff. “I’m not hot for Josie. I’ve been friends with her forever.”

He fixes me with a steely stare. Fine, he’s not all teddy bear. Sometimes he’s a hard ass, like when he tries to give me his serious eyes. “Do you or do you not think she’s hot?”

I raise my chin. I can hold my own under his inquisition. Besides, the answer is as easy as pie. A delicious cherry pie, like the one Josie made for me a few weeks ago. “I do think she’s hot.” He smirks, but I hold up a finger to correct him. “On a purely scientific, empirical basis.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me.

“Let the record reflect I have never done a damn thing about it. And that’s because I’m highly evolved. I can admire a woman’s appearance without wanting to get in her pants.”

Max claps me on the back. “Then I hope you and your purely scientific appreciation of Josie’s physical attributes have no problem being in such close proximity to all those empirical assets of hers,” he says, grabbing the helmet from the handlebars and snapping it on with one hand. He straddles his bike.

I mount mine, too. “Why do you think I can’t handle living with her? I like her. She’s awesome.”

His laughter answers me again. “Because you flirt with her incessantly.”

We pedal away from the park, heading toward the Hudson River Greenway with a handful of other early-morning cyclists.

“And yet, I have somehow amazingly never come on to her. Don’t you think if I was attracted to her, something would have happened at least once in all the years I’ve known her?”

He shakes his head as we pick up speed, riding side by side on the path now. “No. Because now you’re kicking it up a notch, and there’s this thing that happens when you pour gasoline on something and then light a match.”

“Oh yeah?” I adopt a simpleton tone. “What’s that thing that happens? Does it . . . I dunno . . . catch fire?”

He snorts. “I would smack you upside the head if we weren’t on bikes right now.” Our wheels turn faster as we sail over the smooth concrete path, swerving carefully around joggers and power-walkers.

As we pass a pack of runners, I pull ahead. “I bet you would,” I call out. “If you could catch me.”

I spend all of the next thirty miles maintaining a pace that’s a couple of bike lengths ahead of my big brother. When we’re done, my heart beats fast, and sweat slides down my forehead. I dismount where we started, in Battery Park, and he does the same.

I glance at my watch. “Just enough time for a hearty breakfast before work.” I’ve got an hour until I’m due at Mercy for my shift. Fridays tend to be busy days at the ER. The action heats up, especially on a Friday afternoon. This might be my only meal today.