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His twin sat silent, face straight, eyes revealing a hint of fear.
“You heard the doctor, Brian,” Valerie said, forcing herself to speak at a normal level. “Three times in six months, you’ve heard the doctor. You’re borderline anorexic and if you don’t eat you’re going to kill yourself.”
“I’ll eat.”
“Then do it.”
“Okay.”
“Now.”
“Mom…”
“Now! Brian.” Her voice started to rise again. And then, as though she’d used up all her anger, her heart softened. She looked at the young boy who’d needlessly burdened himself with an adult’s concerns—with the responsibilities he believed his father had held.
“You’re going to stunt your growth, Bry,” she said gently. “You and Blake are just entering your biggest growth years. He already weighs ten pounds more than you do. And if this keeps up, he’ll spring right up—but you won’t.”
With pinched cheeks Blake turned to his brother. “Eat a couple of egg rolls, Bry, and then we can go shoot some hoops.”
Giving a troubled nod, Brian did as he was told.
CHAPTER TWO
KIRK HATED Friday nights. They meant a whole weekend ahead with nothing to do but lecture himself.
He particularly hated this Friday night.
Letting himself into his plush Ahwatukee home, in a secluded Phoenix neighborhood set into the base of South Mountain, he tossed his keys on the antique cherry-wood table by the door, caught the alarm before it went off and headed straight for the phone.
He ignored the blinking red dot that signified messages. Saw on the LED screen attached to the blinking machine that there were twelve calls waiting for him and still ignored it. It was the same every day.
He’d push the playback button sometime that evening. And half listen to the messages. It was a form of treatment—to listen and remain calm, unaffected.
Sometimes he needed a drink first.
Tonight, he needed the phone.
Corporate attorney Troy Winston always picked up Kirk’s calls immediately. Even now.
“What’s up, buddy?” Kirk’s righ
t-hand man of ten years greeted him.
“Susan had a baby.” Kirk could barely get the words past the stiffness in his face. He’d run into an acquaintance of theirs at the Corvette dealership when he’d gone in for an oil job that afternoon.
“Okay.”
No surprise there. Kirk felt the stab of disappointment.
“You knew.”
“Yeah. I ran into Bob Morrison a few months back.”
A name from his past. His ex-brother-in-law. Kirk didn’t respond.
“And you didn’t bother to tell me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
