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“You shouldn’t have. He can take care of himself.”
In the midst of a personal crisis? “Boy, you’re a real treat, aren’t you?”
“I don’t like being lied to.”
“Lying is what you do for a living.”
He frowns. “Not anymore.”
I reach for another napkin, a tickle in my nose warning of impending disaster. When the sneeze is past, I say, “I don’t get you, Tripp. You’re loyal to a fault. Is Marco really that bad?”
His stare drifts to a suncatcher in the window.
“Is he a closet lush, a druggie? Is he abusive? I’m asking a serious question. What makes him so awful that I can’t even be around him without you flipping out?”
His gaze drops to the tablet, at which point I realize he’s been reading the Bible. I know a passage or two he should reread.
“Is it that you think he’s not good enough for—”
“He’s not good enough for you, alright!”
His vehemence drops me back. “After everything…you still think that?” I’ve explained that I’m not who he thought I was.
“People make mistakes. Kyle was—”
“Not the only one.”
His eyes grow.
“I mean, technically, yes, he was the only one, but—”
“See. That’s what I’m saying.”
His cluelessness is about to meet a fiery end. “I didn’t meet Marco at the house, Tripp. We met at Jake’s.”
“Who’s Jake?”
I roll my eyes. “On the beach? Jake’s?”
His mouth makes ano,but I can tell he doesn’t quite know what to make of this new info just yet.
“What I’m saying is, I stopped at Jake’s on my way into town for a to-go order. Marco was at the bar, and we started talking. One thing led to another, and…” I trail my words off meaningfully.
He gapes, mouth working like a fish on the sand. “Wait, you’re telling me he picked you up—”
“Or I picked him up…”
Tripp blinks, rapid-fire. “Let me get this straight—”
“I’ll clarify for you. I walked into Jake’s that night stressed, and depressed, and…lonely. Marco and I started talking while I waited for my order, but it’s not like he said, ‘hey, I’m your brother’s partner, by the way’, and I sure never thought to say, ‘hey, I have a big brother named Tripp. You know him?’”.
“I—I’m sorry. I don’t think I follow.”
“Oh, you’re following alright. You just don’t like where it’s leading.” I lean in. “I left the bar with a stranger, Tripp. Neither one of us had a clue who the other was…we simply…we didn’t want to be alone.”
The screech of chair across tile rattles my eardrums. I suppress inappropriate laughter, but his face…if this weren’t so serious…
I let a sliver of it loose. I’m sorry, but I am a little sister, after all. And he kind of deserves his comeuppance, the judgmental slug.
