Page 21 of Bene

“Don’t treat me like one, then.”

“But am I?”

He stared hard at his brother.

Marcus didn’t even flinch.

“You tell me.”

“No, you tell me,” Marcus bit back, “because between the two of us sitting at this table, only one of us can’t be trusted to even pick up a phone, Bene. Only one of us is drinking his problems away, hoping to find a solution at the bottom of a bottle. There’s only one of us sitting here right now that can’t be trusted to do what he needs to do for this family, and his position. How do you expect someone to vouch for you—to get your button for this family—when you can’t even stay sober? When you can’t handle your shit?”

Bene swallowed hard.

He stayed silent, though.

That was good, right?

“Well?” Marcus demanded.

“I can,” he returned.

“Except you’re not right now.”

“I told you, I’m having—”

“A moment, yeah,” his brother replied, waving away the statement. Like it was an excuse, and nothing more. Bene realized in that moment this was that, too. Because he didn’t want to deal with his issues, so he was excusing them, and the people around him had let him do exactly that. Until, clearly, they couldn’t anymore. “What you’re really doing is distracting yourself with things that either make you feel good or allow you to feel nothing at all. That’s a dangerous game to play, little brother.”

His defensiveness came back in a blink.

Just like that.

“Or you could just leave me alone.”

Marcus shook his head. “Not likely, so here’s the deal … for the next little while, you’re on my call, Bene. And when I do call, you answer. You do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it, no excuses. You want a distraction? Great, I’ve got enough shit for you to do that you won’t even have time to think when you get home at night.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for a response.”

God.

Yeah.

Just like their father.

Marcus stood from the table, taking Bene’s shot glass and the whiskey inside with him. “Don’t look at this like I’m going to control your life, or—”

“That’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Or you could see it like I’m looking out for you. Nothing more.”

Right.

Still pissed him off.

“It’s time to get your shit together, little brother,” Marcus said, tipping that shot up and downing it in one go. He didn’t flinch before setting the empty shot glass to the table with a grin. “You didn’t need the drink, and after this conversation, I certainly did.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re an asshole?”