“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” I call after them, pulling up the lobby cameras on my phone to ensure they exit without incident.
Caleb appears at the top of the stairs as I watch the girls enter the elevator and leave our lives. My twin rarely fucks the same girl twice, so I’m pretty sure that’s the last we’ve seen of those three.
My brother saunters down the stairs in his boxers, yawning as he attempts to tame the bird’s nest on his head.
“Really, Caleb? A foursome at two fucking p.m.?”
“We were still partying from last night.” He waggles his brows and grins as he bypasses me, heading straight for the refrigerator.
“You look like shit. Mom will throw a hissy fit if you show up like this.”
“Relax, bro. I’ll shower, drink a bottle of mouthwash, and smother myself in cologne, and she’ll be none the wiser.” Caleb throws me a bottle of ice-cold water before popping the cap on his own bottle.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the office today?” I ask before taking a drink.
He shakes his head and leans back against the refrigerator. “I booked the day off weeks ago when Mom said she was throwing a small party for Leo’s fiftieth.”
As much as I bust my brother’s balls, he doesn’t shirk his responsibilities. To family or the business. He’s the only man I know who survives on four hours sleep a night and still functions effectively. I need a solid eight, or I’m a grumpy motherfucker making mistakes left and right.
“Okay. I’m going home to get showered and changed. I’ll drive. Meet me in the lobby at three.”
Chapter Eleven
Joshua
“Should I be worried about your drug use?” I ask, glancing at Caleb as I drive us out of the city.
“Nah.” He moves his seat back, stretching his legs in front of him. “I’ve got it under control.”
“You’d tell me if you didn’t, right?”
He levels me with a sober expression, and tension bleeds into the air for a few beats. “I wouldn’t keep it from you.”
“Is that the truth? You were pissed that time I told Mom and the others what was going on.”
“That was years ago, and we were kids. I was pissed at you for a long time. It felt like a betrayal, but I see it now for what it was. You were protecting me. I might have died in Mott Haven that night if you hadn’t intervened.”
Caleb got in with a bad crowd when we were teens. It coincided with shit going down at home. He went off the rails, and I had to rescue him from a drug house. I’d given Mom scant details, but she knew where I was going, and she’d called in the cavalry. I’d never been happier to see Ben, Leo, and Alesso when they showed up. “You were completely out of it when I found you, and I was terrified. I decided in that moment to tell themeverything. I couldn’t say nothing and let you die. I did it to save you because I couldn’t see you stopping.”
“I don’t think I would have. You did the right thing, brother.”
“I worry when I see you doing cocaine.” Cocaine and ketamine were his drug of choice at fourteen.
“It’s only recreational, and I’m not addicted. I learned my lesson young.” He clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not going down that path again.”
“Do you ever think about him?” I ask as I continue onto Pelham Parkway South. I can’t think about that night without thinking about our father because it was his secret partnership with Don Maximo Greco that led Caleb down that path. He was deliberately targeted by the drug dealers, on Greco’s command, making it too hard for him to resist.
A muscle pops in his jaw. “Not if I can help it.”
“I still have nightmares sometimes,” I admit. “I see the moment the bullet entered his skull. I remember the light dying in his eyes, and I wake up in a cold sweat.” Our father was gunned down in front of us not too long after that night in Mott Haven.
“I should have shot him when I had the chance and saved you the pain.” Caleb’s voice holds no warmth, like usual when he talks about Dad.
“I’m glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t want that on your conscience.” I keep left to stay on Bronx and Pelham Parkway.
“He doesn’t deserve to occupy any of your headspace, J,” Caleb says, popping a piece of gum. “Awake or sleeping.”
“He was still our father.”
