“Nate, what’s your problem? Are you mad because I’ve been away? I come home every time you call. Is it because I blew off the foundation? I’m sorry I left you in the lurch, but it’s been over a year, and you have to let it go.”
A cab pulls up, and we slide into the back. Nate directs the driver to Mercer Street, and then says, “Cassie, this may come as a shock, but not everything is about you. I don’t give a shit that you went to grad school. Your life is your life. Be free and prosper. Nor do I care about the foundation. I’m aware this project is more pie-in-the-sky bullshit from my father. At the moment, Billy is my primary concern. Mom and Dad are headed for mutually assured destruction. We need to figure something out.”
The city is quiet. The cabdriver navigates the empty streets, and we make it down to Tribeca in record time. “Thanks, man.” Nate hands him a fifty. “Keep it.”
He leads me inside a sports bar, where we’re hit with a blast of cool air and loud music. The interior is upscale and clubby, with polished wood floors and leather stools. Large-screen TVs hang on the walls, each showing a different sport—baseball, soccer, golf.
“Hey, Tess.” Nate introduces me to the bartender. She’s a slender brunette with short, spiky hair and muscular arms. “Two Absolut and tonics. Double limes for my sister, please.”
“You remembered the limes.” This makes me so irrationally happy I almost tear up.
“It’s a lime, Cassie, not a kidney. Why are you always such a drama queen?”
“I don’t know, Nate.” I shake my head. “Why can’t you just let me have it?”
Our drinks arrive. We clink glasses then sit. It’s not uncomfortable.
“Dad says you start classes next week. Excited?”
“Yeah. Looks like it’s really happening.”
“I’m glad, Cass. It was a smart idea. I mean, what else were you gonna do? Live with Mom and Dad forever?” He glances at me sideways. “Or maybe you had a different plan?”
“Like what? Killing Eleanor in her sleep and stealing her fortune? I don’t have that kind of strength. Nor do I need her money, thank God.”
Nate holds up his glass. “Well, here’s to your great escape. May it last longer than mine.” He finishes his drink in one swallow. “Another Absolut and tonic, Tessie. Actually”—he checks my glass—“two more, please.”
The drinks arrive and we clink again. Then Nate says, “DeFiore is giving up.”
“Maybe not. Maybe he’s trying to do what’s best for Billy.”
“Shoving a plea down his throat is not what’s best. You have to convince DeFiore to stay the course. Promise me you’ll talk to him.”
“And say what?”
“Do your fucking job, you sloppy fuck; don’t pussy out.”
“I can’t imagine that will go over well, Nate.”
“Aw, Cass. Don’t be modest. DeFiore is your biggest fan. You know you have the magic touch with middle-aged men.”
“Has it occurred to you that DeFiore may be right? We don’t know what really happened with Diana. I tried talking to Billy . . .” I trail off because Nate’s jaw has tightened.
“Leave him alone.” He bites off the words.
“But if we can get him to tell us—”
“Did you not hear me?” Nate’s voice is acid. “Billy does not want to talk to you. If you keep trying, you’ll be sorry.”
Tess sets down our drinks.
“Thanks, Tessie. You’re the best.” Nate pushes a glass my way. “Two limes for the girl with the big mouth who needs to shut the fuck up.”
I try to defuse his anger. Don’t be mad at me. Please, Nate. “Tess has awesome arms.”
“You should see her ass.” It’s not just you. I’m mad at everyone. He gives me a goofy grin. “Shots? Hey Tessie, two shots of Jager, please.”
I screw up my nose. “Repulsive.” They’re so repulsive.
“You’re repulsive,” Nate says. We watch Tess as she pours two green shots and slides them over. Nate holds one up. “L’chaim.” He downs the liquor and smacks his glass on the bar. “Awesome.”
An hour later, my brother and I are many drinks deep. While Nate is engrossed in a conversation with Tess, I excuse myself and go to the ladies’ room. Sitting down to pee, I lose my balance and hold out my hands to steady myself. I’m drunk, but not so drunk that Nate’s crack about older men doesn’t bother me. I never told him about Marcus, but Joey may have. Although if he did, wouldn’t Nate have said something to me? I splash water on my face and return to my seat.
In the short time I’ve been gone, a girl who’s not Tess has donned Nate’s baseball cap and is perched on his lap. She’s stunning, with straight white-blond hair. Her silk dress is barely a slip, and the skinny straps slide off her shoulders, exposing the curve of her breasts. Nate has one of the straps between his teeth.
“This is Leslie,” he says, batting his eyes like a cartoon character. Bent over her phone and texting, texting, texting, Leslie doesn’t acknowledge me.
I feel someone come up behind me and place his hands on my shoulders. “Cassie, long time.” Powell Porter’s voice makes my body recoil. I don’t want to turn around, but when I do, my smile is dazzling. “Powell,” I say. He’s with his brother Deacon, whom I nod hello to. Still smiling. Always smiling.
Spotting his buddies, Nate jostles Leslie off his lap so he can greet Powell. Soon, they’re clapping each other’s backs and shouting while Leslie wanders off, wearing Nate’s cap, fingers still flying over her phone.
Waving a hundred-dollar bill, Powell beckons to Tess. “Heineken, please!” He turns to his brother who asks for an Amstel. “Make that two Heineken, Tessie.”
“Powell,” Deacon asks. “Why are you such a dick?”
“Sorry, Tess,” Powell calls out. “Just one.”
He and Nate laugh like this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.
Deacon looks at me and rolls his eyes. “Fucking asshole, right?”
“He’s your brother, so it would be rude to comment. But yeah, he’s a big fucking asshole. When your dad runs for mayor, he’ll have to hide Powell in a closet. Otherwise, he can kiss Gracie Mansion goodbye.”
Deacon cracks a smile. He’s a leaner, thinner version of his brother. They both have the same blond curls, but Powell’s hair is cropped close to his skull and Deacon has a long, lion-like mane. His round, wire-rimmed glasses make him look like a bohemian musician, but he’s actually a computer genius. Like Billy, Deacon goes to Princeton, although he’s in their famed math department. According to Nate, he’s already fielding job offers from Google and Facebook.
“Cassie, you look great,” Deacon says. “When was the last time I saw you?”
“Two summers at least. You and Billy were headed to the airport for—what? Three weeks in Southeast Asia?”
“Oh yeah! It was a month. Great trip, but your mom was mad as fuck. Billy hadn’t told her about the extra seven days, and she was anxious to have him home.” His face sobers. “How is he?”