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ADAM
The morning after Liam ambushed my client dinner, I meet my sister for coffee at a Starbucks near her apartment. She’s intently studying something on her laptop when I sit across from her at a table near the front door.
“Hey, sis.”
She keeps staring at the screen.
“Gillian?” I tap the table near her computer. “You doing okay?”
Her eyes rotate slowly to meet mine. “Oh, Adam!” she says. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m a little drowsy from lack of sleep. I went to a concert last night with a few of my girlfriends and my ears are still adjusting.”
I imagine a group of fortysomething women piled into the back of a stretch SUV with bottles of wine and a stash of weed that they stole from their kids.
“Who’d you see?”
She shrugs. “Some British band. The lead singer reminded me of Freddie Mercury.”
“Was it a good time?”
“We had a blast!” she answers with a voluminous smile. “Lucy’s husband bought the tickets and we ate at Belinda’s restaurant in Soho before the concert.”
“Nice to have friends who are generous with the perks.” I tap my finger on her cup. “You need a refill? I’m going to place my order.”
She shakes her head, so I get up, wait on line for a cappuccino and then head back to the table. When I arrive, Gillian is propped against the window and she’s fighting to stay awake. I sit down again and sample the coffee.
“Why don’t you go home?” I say when her eyes blink open. “We can meet for a chat next week.”
“Not a chance.” Her groggy voice matches the bleary glaze in her eyes. “I dragged my ass down here to see you. What’s going on? Your message about Liam sounded pretty urgent.”
I sample the cappuccino while she drinks some of her coffee. Then I describe the awkward encounter at the restaurant the previous evening. When I finish, Gillian offers a sad sigh.
“What are we going to do with that boy?”
“We?” I smile.
“I’d hoped that he would straighten out when he moved in with you,” she continues. “I thought the stable environment and good job would make him realize that he was worthy of a better life.”
“I think everyone hoped for that,” I say, feeling a spike of regret that I couldn’t soothe Liam’s anger and bitterness. “But he’s making the bad choices, sis, not you or me.”
Gillian exhales loudly as she swirls the last few sips of coffee in her cup.
“Everybody in the family is aware of that fact,” she says finally. “There was a general sense that moving in with his uncle would help Liam get on a better path. If he saw how successful you are and how smoothly life can run, then maybe he’d step up and be a man. Instead, he kept hanging out with those despicable friends. And I thought it might actually be a good idea since you were no longer sleeping with that college student.”
“Brent isn’t a college student,” I say trying not to sound too defensive. “He graduated four years ago. Besides, Liam’s despicable friends are all from the private schools and two Ivy League colleges that you sent him to.”
Gillian tapers her eyes, glaring at me with the cold fury that I’ve known since childhood. She’s four years older, so I learned at an early age how to put up with her dictatorial approach to being the more senior sibling.
“What are you trying to say, Adam?” Her voice shudders with emotion. “That I’m a bad mother? That it’s my fault your nephew can’t cope with being gay?”
In the years since Liam came out to my sister and the rest of our family, Gillian has struggled to accept that her brother and son are so much alike yet so different.
It took me a couple of years to become comfortable in my own skin, but I’m now unapologetic about who I am and who I love. Unfortunately, Liam uses drugs and alcohol to numb the pain and shame that he feels after being bullied and rejected throughout his younger years.
“Maybe if you dated men your age, Liam wouldn’t have the fairy tale in his head that a rich daddy is going to rescue him from all of his mistakes.”
And maybe if his mother wasn’t such a judgmental bitch, his self-esteem wouldn’t be less than zero.
“What are you thinking about?” Gillian asks.
I dismiss the voice in my head and force a smile. “Are you back on that rant again?”
She sneers. “What rant?”
“That an age difference greater than six months is somehow a deal breaker for love and romance.”
“Love and romance?” Her voice blazes with contempt. “Hooking up with boys that are barely legal is not love and—”
“I’m not here for your lectures, sis. If you want to discuss Liam, I’m happy to help. Otherwise, I’ll take off and leave you alone with your hypercritical hysteria.”
She heaves a sigh.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I add. “Not to mention a little melodramatic.”
“Well, what are we going to do?” The familiar strain of panic threads through her voice. “Living with you didn’t work out. His father doesn’t want anything to do with him. And I can’t handle the roller coaster of dodgy guys that he brings home.”
“Blake’s not that dodgy,” I say. “After all, he was Devon’s boyfriend for a while.”
She laughs. “How long did that last? Like, thirty seconds or something?”
“No, but it was a short one. Not that Devon has a great track record for longevity in the relationship department.”
Gillian picks up her cup, drains the last of the coffee and then hits me with a question that I’ve been thinking about myself since the previous night.
“Do you think Liam could be dangerous?” she asks. “To himself or anyone else?”
“How do you mean?”
“Is there more than one way to take the word dangerous?” she says sharply. “I’m asking if you think Liam would try to physically harm someone.”
I smile. “Someone?” I say. “Or me?”
“Well, you are someone, so that’s a silly question. We need to assess the situation based on what you know about the boy.”
“The boy?” I shake my head. “The boy is your son. He’s also a young man. I mean, Liam’s twenty-five, Gillian. He’s not a schoolyard punk throwing stones at the other kids. He’s simply trying to manipulate the situation with whatever pitiful leverage he thinks he controls.”
“Pitiful leverage?” She frowns. “What do you mean?”
I tap my chest with one hand. “This thing,” I say. “My so-called broken heart. He thinks that I’m more vulnerable to his bullshit because my relationship ended.”
She shakes her head, frowning faintly. “I don’t follow. What are you talking about?”
“Guilt,” I say. “He wants to borrow money. Or use my place at the beach. And when I refuse to give in, he drags out the old horse and pony act that used to work. The one that always made me give in to his demands.”
“I know that one,” she says quietly.
We’ve had the same conversation so often that we eventually loop back to the beginning, but I don’t have time this morning. I had a teary call from a client who hates the new marble countertops in her kitchen, so I need to get to work and figure out a solution that can be implemented quickly.
“I should head to the office,” I tell my sister. “There are a couple of fires that I need to put out before noon.”
Gillian holds up one finger. “Slow down there, cowboy,” she says with a smile. “Tell me about the guy that you met last week. I heard you had a very nice time with someone new.”
The question comes out of left field, leaving me momentarily speechless.
Gillian adds an exaggerated wink to the silly grin. “Don’t be coy, Adam. Liam’s friend Blake told him all about your little dalliance in the elevator.”
It takes me a couple of seconds to connect the dots. But as soon as I realize what she’s talking about, my pulse shoots skyward.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “Liam actually told you about that?”
She makes a face. “Like I haven’t heard it all before, sweetie. I’m probably just a little jealous at how much action you get at your age.”
I wince at the jab. “At my age? You’re fucking older than me, sis.”
“I know that,” she says. “And I still like a nice roll in the hay every now and then, but I’m not humping everything that moves.”
“Is that what you think I do? Hump everything that moves?”
She shakes her head. “That’s the way Liam always makes it sound, but my concern isn’t with how much sex you have. I just want you to be happy, baby brother.”
“I’m happy,” I say. “And I certainly don’t need a lecture about my sex life.”
“But don’t you see?” Gillian asks. “My only concern is that you don’t have balance in that part of your life.”
“Sorry?”
“Between sex and love,” she says. “I know that you can get laid every minute of every day, okay? You’re a handsome, well-built guy with those sexy tattoo things on your arms and that smoldering glint in your eye. But it’s not all about sex. Sometimes you need a little love and snuggling, maybe a quiet night at home with popcorn and a movie.”
“Who’s to say that I don’t have all of those things?” I smile. “I might be snuggling a lot more than I’m shagging.”
She leers at me. “Bullshit. Liam told me about the sex toys and endless supply of condoms in your bedside tables.”
“Holy shit!” I feel my face going red. “Did that little shit snoop in my bedroom?”
“He still has a key,” she says. “That’s another reason I was asking if you thought he could be dangerous. I don’t trust that Blake guy.”
I mutter under my breath and pull out my phone. Then I send a quick text to Charlotte: Need to change locks on Barrow Street ASAP.
“What was that?” asks my sister.
I shake my head, get up and give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Nothing,” I say. “You just reminded me of something that I need to take care of sooner rather than later.”
“Well, I hope it’ll be okay,” she says.
“It will be,” I reply. “One way or another, it’s going to be fine.”