“Yes,” James cuts in, consonants clipped. “Why did you come?”
Will’s back straightens a little. “I don’t know why you’re surprised when the idea for the new range of beers was mine. And now you’re taking all the credit and the profit from it, too. And swanning around with your crackpot wife as if nothing has happened!”
James bristles, his first words a violent hiss. “Watch your fucking volume. Or did we not pay you for your bloody discretion? And you were piss-ass drunk and high for the last couple of months you were ‘at work.’ ” He makes a point of making air quotes with his fingers around those last words. “What could you possibly remember? I was working on this idea long before we even had a conversation on it, and I bought you out of the business fair and square.”
“No, you pushed me out. And the idea for the flavored IPAs only exists because I was talking to you in the pub about how much of a brilliant invention I thought flavored cider was.”
“Is this what this is?” That tight anger is pulling the muscles in James’s jaw taut. “Are you here to shake me down?”
Will thumps a fist on the table. “I’m not shaking you down; I just want what’s mine. I’ve cut back the drinking. I’ve stopped the gambling. I want back in. You know what I know.” He glances over at me, daring me to speak.
I’m uneasy. I’m uneasy and James is apoplectic. Will can’t quite see it, that he’s pushing James to his limit, but I can. Only I don’t know what that means. I’ve never seen him there before.
“You promised,” James says again.
Will softens, both physically and in tone. He slouches against the backrest of the booth bench and his hands fall to his lap. He takes a moment to gaze at his thumbs, then looks back at his brother. “Please, James. I need this. I’m trying at home with Vanessa, with the kids, but…My life is…This is all I have left.”
James looks to me, and his eyes seem to be begging me to help somehow. But I need to watch Will more, understand him more, first. James seems to see that I have no Hail Mary and slumps back against his own bench, shoulders drooping, defeated.
“I need you to stay clean for a year. No more drinking. A year, and then we’ll talk.”
“Four months,” Will fires back, eyes eager. “I can’t sit around like I am for a whole year, James. I need purpose. I need this.”
James looks at me, a clear question in his eyes. I give him anI trust youshrug and he turns back to Will.
“Six months. Six months, but you can’t put a toe out of line. And absolutely no showing up at work or company events before then.”
Will’s jaw jostles in thought before he eventually says, “Six months. And everything you said.”
“Six months.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
The grin on Will’s face is so earnest that for a moment, he almost looks sweet. Almost. There’s a greedy glimmer in his eye, and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s the kind of person to always want and never be satisfied. Takes one to know one. And I know that want is an addiction; the more it’s fed, the hungrier it gets. I don’t have room in my life for another junkie.
“So?” James asks.
“So what?” Will replies.
“So, no showing up at work, no company events…”
Will looks taken aback for a moment, but then nods, smiles. “Yes, of course. Right. Right you are.” He slides out of the booth and smooths his suit. “I really appreciate you hearing me out. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“Sure,” James says. “Just don’t let me down again.”
Will nods, says an awkward goodbye, and leaves. I watch quietly as he retreats, and when he’s safely out of earshot, I turn to James.
“Are you sure letting a man like that back into your business is a good idea?”
“No, but I’m sure I’ve just bought us six months of time while we figure out what to do about it.”
I can only hope that the house of cards we’re stacking stands that long.
18
Now
Dimple
