The wind was vicious as my car pulled up in front of the poor valet guy. “They didn’t give you the night off, huh?”

“Need the money.” He winced as his longish hair whipped his cheeks. “This is a nice Tesla, man!”

I pulled out a hundred dollar bill from my wallet. “Take care of my girl.”

“You got it! Thanks!” He jumped in like those guys in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off who went joy riding. I tapped the window and shook my head. His face fell and he nodded.

On my way to JCT Kitchen’s entrance a crack of thunder exploded like something out of a horror film. I looked up and shivered. Not because storms scared me. It was the opposite — I loved them. Hell, I was born in Atlanta and the crazy weather patterns were a part of my DNA. But I had this weird feeling I couldn’t shake. Digging my phone from my jacket I called Charlie again. Still no answer.

Didn’t leave a message that time and swore under my breath as I hung up, hurrying my steps until I was inside. Ben was already there, but he was by himself. “She in the bathroom?”

He was leaning on the bar and he pushed off to give me a one-armed hug. “Not here yet.”

“She cool with sitting outside in a hurricane?”

“You kidding? She loves this shit. Turns her on. That’s the problem. I think it’s why she called me today. You have shackles to bind my legs with?”

I laughed, eyebrows cocked. “If she’s that good just go for it.”

“Been there, done that way too much. You want an Orpheus?” I nodded and Ben motioned to the bartender to make it two. We both checked our phones at the same time, caught each other and rolled our eyes. He muttered, “Women,” and waited in silence for our beers.

“Well, if it isn’t the cocky fuckheads!”

Ben and I looked over and saw Brock Tyson sitting at the end of the bar. He was wasted. We exchanged a look and stayed where we were but Brock climbed off his stool, itching for a fight.

“Shit,” Ben muttered. “We going to do this again?”

“Looks like it,” I sighed.

The bartender warily watched Brock before locking eyes with me. I shook my head for him to stay out of it. We could handle this.

Brock’s tie was askew, but the rest of his suit didn’t have a wrinkle. He raked a scathing sneer down our casual wardrobes. My cousin and I were both in jeans and T-shirts, as usual. Only his were faded and his boots were weathered from the farm while mine were more stylish.

“What are you guys doing in a fancy restaurant like this, looking like a couple o’ losers, huh?”

Ben chuckled, “Hey Ethan, you’re the first billionaire who’s ever been called a loser.”

“I’m wounded,” I smirked. “Brock, why don’t you go back to your seat and let sleeping dogs lie.”

He slurred, “My dog’s awake!”

Ben rubbed his face while I exhaled loudly.

Brock started doing this little mocking dance, pointing all over the place as he said, “Oh look at me, I’m Ethan Cocker. I have everything! Woohooo! I’m sooooooooo special!” He took a sloppy swing.

I ducked and flipped him around in a headlock where he was facing Ben. I pushed his head up since Ben was so fucking tall — six-foot-six, the tallest of us cousins. “Now Brock, you’re making Ben here feel left out by making fun of only me. Why don’t you tell him what you think of him, too.”

Brock gurgled something unintelligible.

I loosened my hold and Ben leaned in just a hair. “What was that. We don’t speak Preppy.”

Brock growled, “Fuck you, Ben! You fucking Cocker piece of shit!”

Ben looked at the bartender and said, “We’re just going to take this outside.” He called out to the restaurant that had grown silent behind us. “Sorry everyone. Deepest apologies.”

It was a struggle but Ben grabbed his legs and we managed to carry Brock out kicking and swearing like he needed an exorcism.

Lightning lit up the sky and thunder crackled as the door shut behind us. Ben let go of his legs and I shoved Brock away from me. He stumbled into the rain and pointed to where we stood under the awning. “I hate you guys. I fuckin’ hate all of you!”

Ben dialed Lyft on his app. “Brock, I’m getting you home. You’re welcome.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” He charged me. “Charlie is mine!”

It was too easy, but I had to do it anyway. I reared my fist back and punched him. Blood shot out of his nose and his legs wilted.

From the ground he gurgled, “You broke my nose! I love my nose!”

“Just stop!” I looked at Ben’s phone. “They comin’?”

“Four minutes.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do. You?”

“Nope.”

After he groaned for an annoyingly long time Brock stood up, and I readied myself. He covered his nose, holding up his other hand to stave me off. “No! Don’t hit me!”

“What a fuckin’ pussy,” Ben muttered. To me he asked, “Is Charlie your girl?”

“Yeah. I mean, maybe. No, she is.”

Brock mumbled, “She was mine.”

“She was never yours. Go find a woman who actually wants you. Jeezus.” To Ben I asked, “How many times does a guy have to learn a lesson before it sinks in?”

“Look at me and Summer,” he sighed, bringing it to my attention that we weren’t immune.

“Right.”

By the time we got Brock heading home to a huge bottle of aspirin, it was pouring pretty good. Ben and I hiked the stairs with a couple pints of Orpheus that the bartender paid for, and took a couple chairs under the overhang where it was dry. We had the best seats in town to watch the hurricane gain speed.

Guys don’t need to talk to be content. Only neither of us was truly comfortable, for separate obvious reasons. Finally I called it out. “I usually love storms. This one feels ominous.”

Ben’s long legs were bent and he scooted the left one closer to him as the rain threatened to reach his boot. Emerald eyes darkened as he looked at his phone. “Summer’s driving in this. That’s why she hasn’t texted.”

“Probably hellish traffic, too.”

“Yeah.” He set it on the table between us and sipped his beer. “Tell me about your girl.”

“She’s our age but acts fifty.”

He eyed me. “What?”

“She’s the C.E.O. of the corporation that hired me to…it doesn’t matter. But she runs the whole thing. Very mature. Classy. I’m crazy about her. Not Brock-crazy, but the good kind of nuts.”

Ben laughed as we both thought of a joke about our sacks. Since we knew what we were thinking we didn’t need to actually voice it aloud. It was funnier unsaid. “I always knew you’d pick a smart woman.”

I muttered from behind my pint glass. “Can you picture me with a twit?”

“No fucking way in hell,” he laughed. “Why isn’t she calling you?”

“Saw a video of me having sex with an intern.”

Ben sat up and cocked his head like someone kicked him. “How the fuck did that happen?”

I groaned, rubbed my face, and launched into the story. By the time I finished he was shaking his head over and over. “That is fucking crazy, Ethan.”

An odd feeling twisted my core and I put the beer down. “I don’t feel good, man. I feel… scared.”

“She’ll call you. If all that stuff happened in Scotland the way you said it did, she’s right where you are and you’re not going to lose her.”

“Then why do I have this feeling?” I punched my gut. “Right here?”

“Nerves?”

“Maybe,” I muttered. “Must be.”

We sat back in our chairs and felt the spray hit us. “Listen to that! That was the loudest crack of thunder I’ve ever heard,” he whispered.

“Amazing.”

But Summer never showed. We got burgers and hung out there for almost two hours waiting for her, just in case. Any other day I would’ve teased the fuck out of my cousin for waiting that long for a woman, but there I was checking my phone every ten minutes, so I had no right. Instead I hung out with him until he’d had enough.

“She’s not coming, Ethan. She set me up.”

“Or changed her mind.”

He exhaled through his nose, watching the storm that was full throttle. “Maybe.”

“You’re going to text her? Because you haven’t yet.”

“You crazy? I’m relieved.”

I chuckled, “Liar.”

He joined me in the ironic laughter. “Alright I’m part relieved part disappointed! Thanks for pointing that out.”

“Anytime. We outta here?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’m going to drive by Charlie’s, see if she’s there so I can clear this up. Does that make me a stalker?”

“It makes you brave.” We got up and hugged, slapping each other’s backs. “If she’s over you, and you go there again, then you’re a stalker. I’ve got the tab.”

“Good,” I muttered, “Because I’m broke.”

He laughed. “You’re such an asshole.”

Heading off I fought nausea and a sense of foreboding. They hadn’t left my gut.

The Valet made a move to get my car but I waved him away. “Just give me the keys, man. Stay under cover.”

I wanted the rain on me. I needed to wash away this feeling.

Charlie’s car wasn’t at her house. I jogged up to the front door and knocked, hair dripping and plastered to my face. Walking the length of her porch I peered in, but it was dark, not a single light on that I could see.

I pulled out my phone and called Wyntech. Felt like a desperate schoolboy but fuck it, what did I care how I looked to those people. Because the truth was I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

A computer voice gave me so many options I wanted to wring her metallic neck. I muttered to myself, thunder shaking the windows behind me, “Corporations need to have an operator answer the damn phone. How many calls have they lost because someone didn’t want to go through their automated system?”

When it offered me a list of alphabetical extensions I hung up and roared into the storm.