1

Dash

November 2005

I wonder if my family will ever forgive me for what I’m about to do.

The puzzle creeps into my mind as I walk down South Charles Street, hands tucked in the pockets of my black and orange Baltimore Ravens hoodie to keep them warm. It’s a chilly afternoon, and I would rather be back in my apartment with a bottle of gin or a woman under the sheets– the only two things that can keep a man warm. Instead, I’m meeting my brother, Billy, about to tell him what is probably the biggest decision I’ve ever made in my life.

Is it the right one? Time will tell. Will my folks approve? Fuck no. But my mind is already made up. All that’s left is to tell Billy. And I’ll learn his reaction soon enough.

I enter the Metropolitan, our designated meeting place, my gaze sweeping across the tables where customers are busy eating their sandwiches or leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee. No sign of Billy. Of course, he’s upstairs.

“You’re late, Dash,” he greets me sourly even before I reach the top of the stairs.

As usual, he always acts like the older brother even though he’s three years younger than I am.

“I missed you, too, bro.”

I pat him on the shoulder before sliding into the empty stool next to him. Actually, apart from the stool on the far end, which is occupied by a man in a shabby, leather jacket drowning his worries in a mug of beer, all the stools at the bar are empty. To be fair, it’s probably because it’s not even five yet.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” I tell the balding, fifty-some- thing bartender.

He stops in the middle of polishing a mug, filling a glistening one with beer from a tap behind him and setting it in front of me.

“Thanks.”

I grab the thick handle and lift the mug to my lips. Good.

Not as strong as I’d like, but it’s okay. “How’s school?” I ask Billy.

“Good,” he answers, resting his arms on the table. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“What school?” I take another sip.

He frowns. “Mom and Dad are worried about you, you know.”

“I know.”

“And they were pissed when they didn’t see you at dinner the other day.”

“I was busy.” I set my mug down. “You could have called.”

“Too busy.”

“Doing what? Fucking?” He grabs his own mug to drink from it.

I swivel the stool so that I can lean on the bar and face him. “You should try it sometime.”

He says nothing. So serious.

I reach for my mug again but pause when I see someone in the mirror in front of me – a redhead wearing a green turtleneck, a brown suede skirt, and black boots. As I turn my head to look at her, she crosses her slim legs under the table, her fingers twirling her pen as she stares at the screen of her laptop with eyebrows furrowed.

Another serious customer. But this one is seriously hot.

Billy clears his throat. “So what did you want to talk about?”

I turn my attention back to him. “The future.” He laughs softly. “It’s about time.”

“I’m quitting school.”

“And which school are you going to transfer to this time?

Out of state maybe?”

“I’m not going to any other school,” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “I’m joining the Marines.”

Something clatters to the floor. I turn my head, realizing it’s that redhead’s pen. Mumbling an apology, she hastily picks it up. As she straightens up, tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear, our eyes meet briefly.

“You’re joking, right?” Billy asks, drawing my attention back.

I shake my head. “I’m serious about this one.”

And I know he knows it, which is why he’s fallen silent.

I grab my beer, eyes back at the mirror where I catch a glimpse of the redhead stroking her hair, lips pursed as she continues to stare at her laptop. Why can’t I stop looking at her?

“Do Mom and Dad know?” Billy asks. “No. You’re the first to know.”

He puts his mug down. “Why?”

“Why am I joining the Marines?” I raise an eyebrow. “Or why am I telling you first?”

“Both.”

I scratch my cheek. “Well, I’m joining the Marines because I think it’s a better use of my time, and I’m telling you because, well, you’re my brother.”

Because in spite of all our differences, he’s the closest thing I have to a best friend.

He gives me a bitter look. “Are you sure it’s not because you want me to tell Mom and Dad so that they can’t get mad at you?”

My eyebrows furrow. “When did I ever ask you to do that?”

“Never, but I’ve always done it anyway because I care more about our family than anyone else.”

I’ve never thought about that, but I guess it’s true. Billy was always the one who made everyone laugh, the one who made suggestions and arrangements for the family to spend time together, and, of course, he was always the one to stop the arguments.

Why didn’t I notice before? “Billy…”

“This time, you tell them,” he says as he looks away, cutting me off.

“I was going to. But no matter what they say, I’m signing up. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Of course. You’ve always done what you wanted. What else is new?”

The growing bitterness in his voice takes me by surprise.

Where is all this coming from?

“You don’t want me to go.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Of course I don’t want you to go.” His hands roll into fists on the counter as he takes a deep breath. “Do you remember when we were kids and Mom and Dad threw a party at our house?”

“They threw several.”

“There was one where you were supposed to recite some speech.”

I touch my chin. “I remember that.”

“But you disappeared. And guess who had to give the speech? Me.”

I blink. I didn’t know that. I snuck off and hid in the kennels, not wanting to spout words I didn’t even under- stand in front of a bunch of strangers. I was hoping they would just forget about the whole speech thing and just stick to drinking and dancing.

“I had to take your place.” Billy points to his chest. “And guess what? If you leave, that’s exactly what will happen again. I’ll have to quit medical school and study business so that I can run the company. I need to forget about all of my own plans and fill in your shoes.”

I shake my head. “You don’t have to do any of that, Billy.”

“Well, who the fuck will, huh?” He bangs a fist on the table.

“Hey,” the bartender warns.

Billy ignores him, getting on his feet. “Do you think Mom and Dad are going to turn the company over to a stranger? Do you think they’ll let someone who isn’t their own flesh and blood reap the rewards of all their hard work and sacrifices?”

I sigh. “The company will be fine, and so will Mom and Dad.”

“You don’t give a fucking shit, do you, Dash?” His fists clench as he towers over me. “You’re a selfish jerk. You’ve always been and always will be. Well, fuck you.”

I wrap my fingers around my mug of beer and drink, forcing the bitter alcohol down my throat along with Billy’s words. I can feel my temper rising – there’s only so many F- words a man can take, after all – but at the same time, I can feel her staring at my back, watching, waiting, which is why I’m trying to keep my composure.

Calm down, Dash.

“Why can’t you fucking man up for once and stop being a disappointment?”

That’s it. I set my empty mug down on the counter with a thud and get off my stool.

“Boys,” the bartender warns.

I glare at my little brother. “Why don’t you start growing fucking balls and stand up for yourself for once?”

He falls silent, staring at me with his fists and jaw clenched.

Ah, not so bold now, are you, little brother?

For a moment, he just stands there, the veins on his fore- head looking like they’re about to explode. Then his arm swings, his fist aim directly at my jaw. I manage to dodge it, but that doesn’t dissuade him. He swings again. At least, he tries to. This time, the bartender stops him.

“Take your fucking spat outside,” he says as he grabs Billy’s arm. “This place is for men, not boys. And especially not for spoiled brats.” He turns to me. “I’m not going to have you two mess it up just because you’re used to people cleaning up your mess.”

Billy stops moving but keeps glaring at me, nostrils still flaring and veins still popping. Then he wrenches his hand away from the bartender, grabs his jacket, and puts a finger up in the air at me before marching downstairs.

I let out a deep breath as I lean on the counter. Well, that went well.

The bartender clears his throat, his hands on his hips. “You’re paying for that drink.”

“Of course,” I tell him.

“Then you’re leaving. I don’t want your kind here.” I give him a look of surprise. My kind?

“Hey, I’m not the one who started all this trouble.” I put my hands up. “I was just drinking.”

“Drinking and talking,” the bartender points out. “Never a good combination. Now, pay for the fucking beer and get your mouth out of here.”

I can’t believe what this old man is saying. Billy’s already left. Why should I leave too? Besides, I suddenly feel like I need another drink. Or two.

“Hey,” I tell him, my temper rising again. “That’s no way to talk to a customer.”

“That’s no way to act like a customer.”

I straighten up, one fist clenched. “Why, you son of a–” “I think that’s enough.”

The rest of my sentence vanishes, my anger simmering down as I look at the autumn-haired woman next to me. For a moment there, I’d forgotten all about her. Now, I become all too aware of her presence.

She puts her hands in her pockets and takes a deep breath. “Lloyd, I know this guy. Do you think you could let him stay?”

“You know this guy?” The bartender gives me a look of disbelief.

Wait. She knows me?

“Hard to believe we’re on the same planet, I know,” Ms. Redhead says, swinging her shoulders. “But yeah, we are. We even go to the same university.”

“Hah,” Lloyd scoffs. “Didn’t know rich kids studied.” “We do on occasion,” I say.

“Well, so long as he promises to stop acting like he has a finger up his ass.” Lloyd walks away.

She turns to me with a hopeful smile. “Can you do that?” “Yeah.” I nod. “I think I can.”

“Good.” She goes back to her table.

My eyes follow her. Now that Billy’s gone, I can take a good look at her.

Her features are strong and proud: a high forehead and cheekbones, an elegant nose, and a pouty, firm mouth. She reminds me of a tomboy and a princess at the same time. Her hair is fiery copper, thick and wavy and shiny as if she’s just come from the salon. She’s slender, too, though there’s nothing frail about her. She looks firm and soft at the same time in her white turtleneck sweater and brown knee-length skirt. Though barely five feet tall, she wears only black flats; maybe she’s not the kind of girl who wears high heels.

What kind of girl are you? I wonder.

“You said you study at UMD?” I ask her as I pull out the empty chair across from her and sit in it.

“Yes.” She puts her elbows on the table and starts fidgeting with the heart-shaped pendant of her gold neck- lace. “We share a class. Statistics.”

We do?

“I’m sorry.” I lean forward. “But I don’t think I caught your name in class.”

“Well, you would have if you were listening, Dash Siegel.”

Fuck. She knows my name. Now, if only I knew hers. “Are you going to tell me or…?”

“It’s Janine.” She gives me a breathtaking smile. “Janine Davidson.”

“Janine,” I repeat, liking the sound of it. “Nice pendant.” She quickly drops it. “Thanks.”

“Present from your boyfriend?”

“No. From my parents. They bought it after I was born.” “Sweet.”

I stare at it as it hangs around her neck, resting just above the valley between her perky breasts. I find myself staring at the zipper at the top of her turtleneck, too, wanting to pull it all the way down just so I can see what’s underneath.

Behave, Dash.

Right. I’ve already misbehaved enough for one after- noon. Maybe I’ll wait until evening before I do it again.

Or maybe not.

I take off my sweater, toss it on the empty chair beside me, and lean back. “So, can I get you anything?”