Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Oh! Red wine. This is a nice vintage as well,” my mother said.
I watched her tip the wine glass all the way up before I grabbed the stem gently and pulled it away from her.
“Slow down,” I said.
“We’re celebrating,” she said.
“For all you know, my announcement is that I’m dying.”
“Wait, are you sick?” my father asked.
“Oh my gosh, Tyler. What’s happened?” my mother asked.
“I’m not sick. But if you want my announcement, no more drinking,” I said.
“That was a terrible thing to do, scaring us like that,” my mother said.
I shot my father a look as her cheek fell to my shoulder.
“I’ve opened up an office here to start my own business,” I said.
“Wait, so you’re moving back?” my father asked.
“I am.”
“Oh, I’m so happy to have my son back,” my mother said.
She was crying her makeup off onto my shoulder as the smell of booze wafted from her lips to my nose. I signaled the waiter over so we could get some food ordered, and I made sure to put in a starchy appetizer order to help with Mom’s appetite for alcohol.
Dinner was tense, but it was nice to catch up with them. I wasn’t happy that my mother’s drinking was apparently still an issue. Nor was I happy about my father’s apathy toward it. Still, it was nice to sit and eat with them—no matter how much their relationship struck me as unhealthy.
After dinner, I helped my mother to the car and practically poured her into the back seat. I shot my father one last look before he ducked behind the wheel, and I thought I saw something akin to shame wash over his face. Good. He needed to be ashamed. Mom needed help and he was her primary enabler.
Maybe now that I was back in town I could help her myself.
My phone buzzed against my hip as I watched them pull away. My eyes followed them all the way to the road before I pulled it from my pocket. I grinned down at the name as I picked up the phone, ready to talk with my best friend.
“Hey hey, Brandon.”
“Please tell me you’re done ‘settling in.’ You’ve been settling in for a fucking week already.”
“I’m done settling in,” I said.
“Good, because the dynamic duo is back. You up for a drink or two?”
“After the dinner I just had with my parents? God yes.”
“Oh, shit. You had dinner with them? How’s your mom?”
“Worse off than she was when I left.”
“Oh, fuck. Okay then. Drinks, right now. Our usual spot?”
“We don’t have a usual spot.”
“Precisely why we need to make one. Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“What about the Varnish?”
“Speakeasy atmosphere, huh? I like it. They always have soft live music going on. See you in fifteen?”
“See you there.”
I hopped into my car and punched it into my GPS. I’d never been there, but anyone who was from L.A. had heard of Varnish at one time or another. It was one of the most expensive bars in town, complete with a strict dress code. It tailored itself to the professional environment, and I liked that. Bars with dance floors, strobe lights, and rooftops parties didn’t interest me. Never had. Mostly because I didn’t enjoy that kind of atmosphere, and mostly because the women there were always looking for men like myself in tailored suits, assuming we had money.
But there was only one woman on my mind.
Brandon wrapped his arms around me the second he saw me. I smiled and clapped his back, enjoying being back in his presence. I’d missed the hell out of him. The memories we had created in high school and the friendship we had maintained over the years had kept me afloat during the hardest times at law school.
Well, those and the memories of Ana.
“I’m so glad you’re back. I know I came to see you a few times in Massachusetts, but I can’t say I enjoyed the women out that way. The women in California are more our speed, and I can’t wait to be your wingman.”
“Wingman?” I asked.
“Yeah! You went to school on the other side of the world and I had to survive eight entire years in L.A. without my wingman. Aspiring singers and actresses and models all going to bed cold and lonely at night because we weren’t there to hold them close. Think of the disservice we’ve done them.”
“You think they went to bed alone because we weren't there?” I asked, grinning.
“Only the best look for the best, and you can't tell me we’re not the best.”
I chuckled and shook my head before we placed our drink orders. I knew Brandon was excited to have me back for a variety of reasons, but the idea of scoring women together didn’t feel right. I wasn’t feeling that type of lifestyle for myself. I never had. I didn’t enjoy picking up random girls. I didn't enjoy making out with a woman whose last name I didn’t know. I wanted that personal connection with someone. I wanted the kisses and the lingering glances and the caresses to mean something.