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CHAPTER1
Ben
I pulledmy jacket tight around my chest. From the driveway, Delbert Jenkins waved, shifting the giant behemoth of a car into drive and easing his way down the oak-lined street into the darkness. The car lights grew smeared and bleary as it traveled away. I rubbed my eyes, unsure if the effect was because of exhaustion or drinking.
“Damn it,” Thea swore under her breath, voice slurring.
We stood in front of her door. She’d forgotten to turn the porch light on and a distant street lamp kept us from being enveloped in complete darkness. Her body swayed as she fumbled with her keys.
“You want me to get that?” I asked, craning around her fur-lined jacket to check her progress.
“No.” She swatted me impatiently, the keys falling out of her hand. They jangled as they bounced off the porch and into the bushes below. “Damn it.”
She dove after them, and nearly toppled off the porch, her too-high heels and celebratory drinks throwing her off balance. I wound an arm around her waist, preventing her from falling headfirst into the bushes below.
“Put me down, Benny. I wasn’t going to fall.” She punched my calf before I pulled her up to standing.
“You were,” I countered. “At least let me get my phone out so you have some light while you launch off the porch.”
“I had no intention of launching off the porch.” She sighed dramatically, running her fingers over the pleats of the sapphire blue dress she’d worn for our early birthday celebration. “And, as I recall, you’ve had a couple of drinks yourself, so I’d prefer it if you didn’t manhandle me.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled my keys out of my pocket, slotting the familiar worn brass key into the lock and twisting it open. “Manhandle you? Fine, next time I’ll let you fall into the bushes. And leave you there.”
Thea pushed open the door, pulling my key out of the lock and handing it back as she flipped on the lights. I pulled the door shut behind us, too tipsy to care about her keys in the bushes. I’d grab them tomorrow.
Thea perched on the edge of a bench by the door, taking off each shoe and placing them lovingly in the rack I built for her years earlier. She unfurled the shawl covering her dark chocolate brown hair, which fell into perfectly placed ringlets. The hair style made us nearly an hour late to our own party. Then she removed her coat, still glaring at me.
“What?” I asked, taking off my jacket.
She wrinkled her nose. “I think we drank too much.”
“We?” I hung my jacket on the coat rack, shaking my head. “I could have driven us.”
“I saw you doing shots with Cal. Don’t give me that ‘I’m totally sober’ routine.”
“Fine, not totally sober, but I didn’t go nearly as hard as you. We should drink some water before bed.”
“Water,” she echoed, pursing her lips together. “Before another drink or after?”
I groaned, not sure either of us was fit for another drink.
“We have to, Benny. It’s tradition,” she said, heading down the wallpapered hallway and gliding into the kitchen.
“I don’t think our dads bought us that wine to get hammered every birthday!” I called after her.
She didn’t reply. The hollow thump of a door in the back of the house signaled her descent into the basement to dig out a bottle from the two crates purchased shortly after we were born. I followed her path into the kitchen, keeping my ears perked in case she fell down the stairs.
Nothing except the sound of clinking bottles.
I turned on the kitchen lights and pulled open the cabinet over the microwave, the one where she kept the nice glassware for special occasions. I set two glasses on the granite countertop and rifled through the drawers until I found a wine opener.
“Well, bad news!” Thea said, emerging from the tiny door leading down to the basement. “We’re officially halfway through the first crate. How much do you think a crate of twenty-seven-year-old wine goes for these days?”
“I think it depends on the wine.”
“I’m going to look it up.”
I winced as she smacked the bottle onto the counter in front of me, surprised when the bottle didn’t crack.
