“Don’t give up on him when he needs you most. You’re a better man than that. His life is his responsibility, but you being there means something. Hopefully, he will break through. Just…don’t get too worked up. Learn to do what you can and let the rest go. Don’t allow yourself to go on an emotional rollercoaster.”
I tapped the glass on the bar. Since when had Ben turned in to a friggin Zen master? At this point, I had no idea what kind of man I needed to be. Emotional detachment wasn’t exactly my forte. Maybe it should be. I reached into my pocket to find my phone and cursed when I realized I’d left it on the floor in my office. I needed to text Melinda to tell her I was leaving…again.
It wouldn’t go over well if she were upset about the models. Damn, she should know better. Hadn’t the press had a go at her? Was she always going to be so childish and jealous for nothing?
“Ben, I need a favor. Can I borrow your phone?”
“Yeah, here you go,” he tossed it to me, and I caught it with both my hands. Since I had her number memorized, it wasn't difficult to give her a heads up. Plus, I realized, she was in his phonebook. Doh. I let her know I was going to New York and pressed send. Then I slid the phone back to Ben’s side of the bar and continued drinking, wondering what the hell I’d done to deserve this kind of responsibility? Heck, I’d practically had to raise Charlie as our father died when he was still in his teens. Apparently, I’d done a lousy job of it.
I missed the easy times. Was getting involved with Melinda a mistake? Should I just give up on love—at least for now—and have some fun with sexy models who knew the boundaries of our relationship? The ones I didn’t give a shit about. The ones who couldn’t break my heart or complicate my life.
“Oh boy, look who just walked in. Keep your distance,” Ben warned as Bess and her sidekicks walked in the door and set their sights on me. “When you’re in a bad mood, you tend to…get nasty with people you don’t like.”
I laughed, “Cut me a break.” I took another shot as they slithered their way like snakes around the bar, corning me like prey. Bess’s friend… Sam, Pam, Cary, something like that, ran her hands down my chest with the fake talons that were supposed to be nails.
In my drunken stupor, it felt good. Heck, I could do with a massage. Still. Not from that bitch. Because if she knew Bess, then surely, she wouldn’t be good company.
“Hi, Chris,” she purred.
“Chris,” Ben shook his head, trying to wake me up.
I tried to lean away, but when her lips met mine, it reminded me of how easily everything used to be, how I was a different man before Melinda and the shit with my brother. It took the whole of fifteen-seconds before I woke up from my stupor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked and pushed her away from me.
I got up on unstable feet. “Get me an Uber Ben; I’m outta here.” With that, I stumbled toward the door. What the hell was wrong with those women? Hadn’t they learned to check if a guy was interested before they launched themselves at him? Imagine that in reverse. A man she didn’t like throwing himself at her. I’m sure she’d be thrilled. Not. It was sexual harassment for God’s sake! I fumed as I made my way out of the bar.
Four hours later, I was on a flight to New York.
