“Nothing,” Adrien says with a shake of his head. “You are nothing if not predictable.”
“Predictably foul,” chimes in Holden Haring, Sergio and Adrien’s childhood best friend. His arrival breaks the tension between the two brothers, who turn towards him. He is all smiles as he walks up to them, his hands holding onto the sturdy calves of his five-year-old son, Henry, who is sitting on his shoulders.
“Sergio!” the boy calls. Henry is the spitting image of his father: bronze skin and warm brown hair with sun-created golden streaks. The only difference between the two is the eyes—Holden’s are a deep friendly brown, while Henry has the striking ice blue eyes of his mother, Rose.
“What is this? Pick-on-Sergio day?” Sergio asks as he wraps Holden in a brotherly hug. He thumps him twice on his back before lifting Henry off his shoulders, squeezing the kid, and then placing him to sit on his shoulders instead.
Henry laughs gleefully the entire way and is quick to curl his chubby fingers into Sergio’s hair, messing it up as he kicks his heels into Sergio’s chest. And for all of Sergio’s faults, as vapid and self-centered as he can be, something about Henry gets through to him.
“Telling the truth is hardly picking on you.” Adrien laughs.
“If not the truth from us, then who?” Holden asks, then nudges Adrien’s shoulder with his own. “Lemme guess, he joined the mile-high club somewhere over Albany?”
“He wishes.” Adrien snickers.
“Pfft, amateurs,” Sergio says and begins walking away from them. “I’m already a member.” He picks up his speed, going as fast as he can with a child and a duffel bag strapped to his back. Henry squeals the whole time as Sergio makes his way to Holden’s parked Range Rover.
Sergio opts to sit in the back seat with Henry. Once everyone is buckled up, they head toward Holden’s mountainside home.
“So, where’s Red?” Sergio asks, referring to Holden’s wife, Rose, known for her bright red ponytail. It made her a standout on the ice during her years as an Olympic figure skater. No one could miss her even if they wanted to. And everyone wanted to, as during her time as a competitor, she was near impossible to beat.
“Red,” Holden laughs, “is at the barn, working with her skater.”
“She cute?” Sergio asks.
“Oh, yes. Very,” Holden says. “Rose is as beautiful as ever.” He winks at Sergio through the rearview mirror.
“I meant the skater,” Sergio says, while reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a toy race car that he hands to Henry with a “shh.” The child beams at him and plays at zooming the car across his legs, strapped into his safety seat.
“Sergio, could you give it a rest?” Adrien asks.
“He can’t,” Holden answers before Sergio can. “It’s like he has a strange form of horny Tourette’s.”
“It’s called a healthy sex drive.” Sergio smirks.
“And this is called a conversation we shouldn’t be having in front of a five-year-old,” Adrien says. “Let’s save this talk until later.”
“You hear that, Henry? I think you got me in trouble.”
“You got yourself in trouble,” Holden points out.
“Nah. It’s gotta be the kid,” Sergio says and pokes at Henry’s side, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from him.
“Uncle Sergio! No tickles,” Henry shouts and continues to giggle, happy as can be.
Sergio puts his hands up.
“No, keep going!” Henry demands. Sergio dives back in again, grinning at Henry’s unbridled joy.
“How about you, Adrien. How’s the book coming?”
“Backburnered until I have more time.” Adrien sighs.
Holden nods his head. “Too busy keeping your brother’s career afloat, huh?”
“Exactly.” Adrien laughs in agreement.
“Hey!” Sergio exclaims.
