"Mikey!" my brother's voice booms through the speaker, slightly slurred. "The miracle worker! The man with all the answers!"
I wince at both the childhood nickname and the obvious signs that he's been drinking. "Are you drunk?"
"Maybe a little," he admits with a laugh that sounds forced. "Or a lot. What's it matter? Not like I have anywhere to be tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next."
I sigh, glancing apologetically at Elena, who's trying to look like she's not listening. "Is your knee bothering you again?"
"Bothering me?" David's voice turns bitter. "Bothering me doesn't begin to cover it, brother. Doctor says I need another surgery. More months of rehab, minimum. Season's officially over before it started."
My heart sinks. David's identity has always been wrapped up in football. This injury has been devastating enough already; another setback might push him over the edge. "I'm sorry. That's tough news."
"Tough news," he repeats mockingly. "Always the king of understatement, aren't you, Michael? My career is probably over, and it's 'tough news.'"
"What do you want me to say, David?" I keep my voice level with effort. "That it's unfair? That it sucks? Of course it does. But getting drunk isn't going to fix your knee."
"No, but it makes me care a little less that I'm in my thirties with no college degree and only one marketable skill that I can't use anymore." The raw pain in his voice cuts through the alcohol. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"
I run a hand through my hair. "First, you're going to drink some water and sleep this off. Tomorrow, when you're sober, we'll talk about options."
"Options," he scoffs. "Like what? Joining your corporate empire? Becoming another suit-wearing drone? No thanks."
"That's not what I was going to suggest," I say, though truthfully, I had considered offering him a position. "Look, you're not thinking clearly right now. Let's talk tomorrow."
"I called Ethan first," David says abruptly. "He didn't answer. Probably elbow-deep in molten metal or whatever the hell he does up in those mountains."
"Have you called Jack?" I ask, referring to our youngest brother.
"Rodeo boy? No. He's got his own problems." There's a pause, then David's voice softens. "I shouldn't have called you either. You're always so busy. Running the world and all that."
"I'm actually on vacation," I tell him. "Doctor's orders."
This produces a burst of genuine laughter. "You? On vacation? Since when do you listen to doctors?"
"Since my assistant made it her personal mission to ensure I follow medical advice," I say, glancing at Elena with a small smile.
"Wait, is she there with you?" David sounds suddenly more alert. "The famous Elena who actually makes you behave like a human being?"
I feel heat creep up my neck. "You're on speaker, David."
"Hello, Elena!" David calls out cheerfully. "Thank you for keeping my workaholic brother alive! The family appreciates it!"
Elena laughs, her eyes meeting mine across the table. "You're welcome, David. It's a full-time job."
"I bet it is," David agrees. "He's been impossible since he was ten. Always with the schedules and the plans and the rules."
"David," I warn, but he ignores me.
"Did he tell you about the time he created a neighborhood business selling our mom's cookies and then expanded to three blocks before she found out? He was fifteen. Had kids working delivery routes and everything."
Elena's eyes widen with delight. "He most certainly did not tell me that story."
"Mom was equal parts furious and impressed," David continues. "Said he was either going to end up running a Fortune 500 company or in federal prison for securities fraud."
"That's enough childhood stories," I interrupt, though I can't help smiling at the memory. Mom had been mad, but also proud. She'd helped me set up a legitimate business afterward, teaching me about permits and taxes.
"Fine, fine," David concedes. "I should let you get back to your vacation anyway. Sorry for the drunk dial. Just having a moment, you know?"
His voice has sobered slightly. "It's okay," I tell him. "But David? The drinking isn't helping. You know that, right?"
