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Before knowing what I’m doing, I’m lunging for him, flying over the large coffee table separating us and pinning him to the couch. We wrestle and roll onto the floor.
We’re still struggling when the blare of a bugle horn destroys our eardrums.
Shocked by the sound, we pull apart and find Dad towering over us with the red stadium trumpet in his hands. “I thought we got over this in grade school.”
Mom is still shielding her ears with her hands and now drops her arms. My family is rich but not as uptight as Blake imagines.
I stand up, patting away the wrinkles and dust from my suit. Then, being the bigger brother and bigger man, I offer a hand to Thomas. My brother takes it, but instead of letting me pull him up, he pulls me down while simultaneously working with his legs to cut me off balance.
I land on the couch with a surprised, “Oof.”
Before Thomas can get on top of me and resume the fight, Dad, hands on his hips, threatens, “Boys, don’t make me use the horn twice.”
The first horn blow is a free pass. Second one? No one wants to be around for that.
Thomas raises his arms innocently. “Just a friendly brawl, Dad.”
He plonks down next to me, pushing his disheveled hair away from his forehead, and turns to me with the biggest fish-eating grin. “I take it you’re interested in Blake’s number, after all?” He offers me the note again.
I snatch it from him and put it into the inner pocket of my jacket.
“Blake?” Mom asks, unfussed by the fight. “Do we know her?”
“Not unless you’re a fan of her online workouts,” Thomas chirps, making it especially hard for me not to cap him over the head.
Mom’s eyes widen. “You mean Blake Avery? I love her!”
“You—you know her?” I stutter.
“Of course, I’ve been following her forever. Her postural workouts have done miracles for my back.” Mom rolls her shoulders backward as if to demonstrate one of the moves.
Did everyone on the planet know about Blake except for me? Apparently, yes.
Mom frowns. “Isn’t she a little young for you? How did you meet?”
Thomas is loving this. “Should I tell them the story, or would you prefer to?”
“If you don’t shut up right now, you’re dead to me.”
“Oh, honey, don’t talk like that to your brother,” Mom chides. “Anyway, I read somewhere she’s opened a new gym in NOHO. I’ve been meaning to check it out and see if she offers some live classes.”
And if my mother is ready to trudge eighty blocks downtown just for a gym class, that is saying something. Wait a minute. A light bulb pops above my head.
I stand up abruptly and pull my mom up from her armchair to crush her into a bear hug while kissing both her cheeks. “Mom, you’re a genius.”
“Why?” Mom asks dazed. “What did I do?”
“I have to go.” I ignore the questions. “Mom, Dad, thank you for lunch. Thomas, you’re an asshole.”
“I love you too, brother.”
My Porsche is mercifully parked close by, just down the road. I take the keys from the valet and speed away toward NOHO.
11
BLAKE
On Sunday morning, I wake up sweaty in bed from a sexy dream about a man I’ve no place fantasizing about. The vision is still so vivid in my mind that for a second, all I can do is blink, lie back on the pillows, and make sure I’m actually alone in my room.
