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“Well, aren’t you going to give your big brother a proper welcome?” He asks, as he holds his arms out to the side, expecting a warm embrace.
I look up at him, no doubt a mix of boredom and irritation on my face, “Not likely.”
“Hmmmm,” he grumbles, deep in his chest.
And then he’s griping the sides of the solid oak table, lifting it. I hear the table groan in protest, but he easily dislodges the bolts that anchor the table into the fucking concrete as if it was held down by nothing more than cheap glue.
I sigh and shake my head as he removes the table from between us, setting it off to the side, and then comes into my space, grabs my arms, and yanks me up and into a hug.
No oneyanksme.
No one even fuckinglooksat me with defiance much less fuckingyanksme. Like I’m a goddamn child or, even worse, a fucking child’s doll.
It's not the fact that he’s the only person bigger than I am, both in height and muscle, that allows him toyankme. No, I allow him to do so because he’s the only one who’s ever given a shit about me. He’s the only one who truly loves me. And since he’s the only person in the entire fucking universe that I love in return, I allow him toyankme, and I begrudgingly return his bear hug.
Seemingly satisfied with my effort, he returns the table to its rightful place, bolts be damned, and slides in next to me. “Tink,” he yells across the bar, his voice trained to cut through the harshest stormy sea conditions cutting through the noise of the bar effortlessly, getting her attention, “a bottle of rum!”
Tink rolls her eyes and flips him off to which he throws his head back and laughs. “She’ll come around to me one of these days, I’m sure of it.” He smiles with ease and looks at me with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe if you gave her what she wanted and fucked her brains out she’d chill out. You know, it’s hard enough dealing with one miserable jackass that doesn’t ever smile or have fun,” he bumps
me in the shoulder with his, “much lesstwomiserable bastards. Especially in the same place.”
“What do you want, Hook?” I ask, impatiently.
Even though I love my brother, he’s always nagging me for this or that. Always scolding me or taunting me. Always trying to tell me what to do. I know he does it with good intentions, but you would think after a lifetime of trying, and failing miserably, he’d give up. Maybe he’s the one who’s lost his sanity?
“Oh, come on Peter, can’t I just stop by to see how you’re doing? To spend time with my little bro? Life isn’t as serious as you make it. Ah,” he turns his attention to the waitress setting his bottle of rum on the table along with a glass and a small bucket of ice. “Thank you miss…?” He leaves off, allowing the waitress to provide her name.
She glances nervously my way before dropping her eyes to the table again. “Milly,” she says, sweetly.
“Milly,” my brother repeats, as he takes her hand in his and brings it to his mouth, pressing his lips to her knuckles, “a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He smiles easily at her, and she blushes the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen. “I’m Henry Hook, but please, call me Hook.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you come here to spend time with your brother or to flirt and get laid?”
He keeps his teasing eyes on the waitress. “Why both, of course. I’ll find you later, yeah?” He asks, but it’s never a question. No one has ever turned down my brother’s blatant offer of sex and his streak won’t end with Milly as she nods her head, bites her lip, and blushes again.
He winks at her and finally lets her hand go. Poor little Milly struggles to walk away on shaky legs and all he did was kiss the back of her hand. The effect both my brother and I have on women is comical. Although, lately, women tend to be more cautious around me, a bit more terrified of what I might do if I set them in my sights than hopeful. Still, I haven’t had a woman tell me no, no matter how scared she may be. After all, you know what they say about curiosity
and the kitty.
Then again,shedoesn’t seem to be afraid of me, but she also doesn’t know me. Give it time and I’m sure that’ll change. But do I want her to be scared of me? She seems to be taunting me, challenging me in a way I’ve never been challenged before, and I’m honestly not sure what the fuck to do or how to act.
“So, Brother, what’s new?” Hook asks, as he pours himself a drink and settles into the booth.
I raise my arms, gesturing to the crowded bar. “Just another day in paradise,” I lie.She’snew.
He grunts, “Now I know you’re lying. I know you’ve been a little…murderous, since you lost your, well…I don’t need to say it. But something has gotten you even more riled up. You’re sending more and more people to H2 than normal. Peter, you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep playing one side.”
The immediate anger at what his words stir up threatens to spill out and I clench my jaw, hard, against the rising beast. No one can see my struggle though. Beyond the clenched jaw and tightness in my body, no one knows what I’m feeling or thinking. My eyes always remain cold and distant to what stirs directly behind them.
After a beat, when I’ve managed to gain my composure again, I roll my neck and give my brother my best bored face. “Can’t I? Please, tell me, Hook, who’s going to stop me, hmmm? You?”
“You know I only want what’s best for you,” he says,
seriously, all joking and playfulness aside.
“Getting back into Dad’s good graces is what’s best for YOU, Hook, not me,” I say, definitively.
“Come on, Peter, I know you’re not happy here, not now. Don’t you at least want to try to earn your…,” he trails off, no doubt looking for the right words thatwon’tset me off, “your old job back?”
