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He ignores me. “He was in Nashville for the better part of a decade!”
“And your point is?” I growl, annoyed. Why is he choosing to do this now in front of everyone? Probably because he can’t help himself. Always the hothead.
The entire table has now come to a complete standstill. Way to go, Gabe.
“My point is you can’t waltz back in here and take over, not when I’ve been training for years to follow in dad’s footsteps.”
“Who’s talking about that?” I fire back. “Did dad actually say I was taking over? He said; ‘his dutiful sons and daughter’. I can only assume he meant me, Beau, Brooklyn, and Georgia.” I have to add that last part, leaving his name out, just to piss him off.
He throws me a filthy look and I know he’s about half a second away from jumping across the table to grab me by the throat. Maybe Trinity sitting next to him is the only thing stopping him. Only Brooklyn seems to find this whole thing funny. My parents sit there shocked at his outburst, as do the rest of the table.
There’s even more white noise from him as he continues to go on about how everything is just the same with me, thinking I can leave the family in the lurch for all this time, and then walk back in where I left off. That’s also hardly the case because I have been involved all along, just not as heavily as him.
I only catch the back end of his next rant. “.... The prodigal son doesn’t just return, he swaggers right back in with the keys of the Kingdom handed to him.”
“Is that what this is about?” I snark, taking a large sip of bourbon, slamming the glass down on the table. “Scared of a little competition?”
“Boys!” Mom chastises. “You can resolve this later, after the family dinner.”
“Why wait?” Gabe says, deciding now’s the time to pick a brawl by throwing his napkin down and pushing out his chair.
I laugh, shaking my head, running a hand through my hair.
My little brother. He could never quite keep his emotions in check. I push out my chair too and stand up. “You know I can still take you, little brother, so don’t throw that threat around, especially ones we all know you can’t live up to.”
“Grayson! Gabriel!” My dad’s voice borders on exasperation. “We can discuss this at a more appropriate time. I want you two to work together, not against each other. Gabe, no one is jumping into your spot. Everyone knows how hard you’ve worked. And Grayson, don’t mess with your brother just because you can.”
“He started it,” I mutter. “Always the hotshot.”
Some homecoming this is, but I half expected it at some time from him.
“You two need to cool it in separate areas, my God.” Mom is clearly embarrassed by the whole debacle.
I feel Beau at my side, grabbing my elbow before either of us can get fisty, and he leads me off in the opposite direction of Gabe, away from the table. Not that we would have come to blows here. It’s only happened a few times here and there over the years. We always make up for it afterwards. This is how we are.
Ah. Memories.
I shake my head because it was only a couple of weeks ago.
Nothing has changed, I’m sure, since then. I’ve barely spoken to Gabe, or my parents for that matter, not that I’m fighting with my folks.
One thing is for sure, I have no interest in becoming the CEO of Bassett Brothers Bourbon. I never have. But I’ll go along letting Gabe believe it for a little while longer. Just to mess with him.
He might feel like an even bigger douchebag than he already is when he realizes he’s been fighting over nothing. It’s not quite the crisis that Gabriel thinks it is.
I’m happy to do whatever is needed at the distillery. Having co-directed my own company for years, I'm glad to step back. Namely, I want to build my house right away and I want to expand the marketing aspect of our company and widen our exports to other countries. Production has always fascinated me, so I will also help Brooklyn there, and anything else that needs doing. I like to consider myself a jack-of-all-trades and contrary to popular beliefs; I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. I’ll even help Gabe where it’s needed.
True as promised, my best friend, Hudson, picks me up at the airport. Both Beau and Brooklyn offered to come and get me, as well as an offer from my parents, and Georgia, but I’d already arranged it with Hudson.
He surprises me at the gates because he’s recently chopped all of his dark hair off into a short crop. He still has his short signature beard that lines up to his sideburns.
“Hey.” He grins, as he clasps my hand in a bro handshake and pats my back as he pulls me towards him for his version of a man hug.
“Hudson, how are you, man?”
“Going well, brother, you?”
I have a stupid fucking cheesy grin because one; I’m actually happy to be home, and two; that note is burning a hole in my jeans pocket. I must have read it a thousand times on the plane. “Better than good.”
