“Well, it’s f**king bullshit! And then, the night of her birthday, I went over there because I wanted to talk. Just to talk. But she didn’t want to listen. And I just . . . I . . . I’m not proud of how I handled it.”
I look at him more closely now, wanting to ask, Well what the f**k did you do? Instead, I give another disapproving shake of my head. “There are much better ways to handle a situation than doing what you did.”
“It’s not like I was going to rape her,” he says. “She didn’t have to kick me in the nutsack the way she did. I couldn’t walk right for three days.”
I bite my lip. “So your side of the story is you tried to sexually assault her but she kicked you in the balls?”
“It’s not a sexual assault if you’re not hurting the person. If it’s someone you’ve already been with. We were together!”
“Listen, bro. I’m not that much older than you, but I think I can impart a little wisdom, if you’re open to it.”
He rubs his hand across the lower part of his face and then finally nods. “Okay,” he says.
“Don’t fall in love with potential. Potential doesn’t actually exist yet. So you’re basically falling in love with an idea that may or may not actually happen. It’s easy to do, but if your idea of how you think someone is and then the reality of who they actually are don’t align, well, then, you’re screwed. So when I hear you say that you knew the second you saw Jill that she was the one for you, that tells me you fell in love with the potential of what you guys could have had. You fell in love with what type of person she could be.”
His brow furrows, and for a second, I think he’s about to cry.
“Try taking a few deep breaths,” I say. I pat his shoulder. “Dude, you’re young, you’re a good-looking man, I’m sure there are a million girls out there who would love to hop in the sack with you.”
This seems to lift his spirits. “There are,” he says.
“So instead of wasting all this time and energy—and not to mention, orchids—on someone who doesn’t want to be with you, go find someone who does. It might surprise you how happy you can be.”
He nods slowly. “You might be right,” he says. “What was that you said? ‘Don’t fall in love with potential?’”
“Yes.”
“That’s real, man. That’s some deep, true shit right there.”
“True shit. Exactly.” I bite down harder on my lip to keep from laughing.
“Well, thanks,” he says. “Tell Jill I stopped by, okay? And tell her I’m sorry, and I won’t bother her anymore.”
“Sure.”
He starts to walk back to his car but stops and comes over and actually gives me one of those big, back-slapping frat boy hugs. And just as he is doing that, Cam pulls into the driveway and that is the first sight my brother has of me, embracing my girlfriend’s meathead ex-boyfriend.
Cam takes me out to lunch to this small little café, just south of San Francisco. We’re just after the lunch rush, and the place is pretty empty, but he still requests the back corner table, and when the waitress comes over to ask us if we want a refill on our drinks, he gives her a harsh look that sends her scurrying away.
He looks good, my bro, although older than I remember. I guess that happens. And he keeps tapping the tabletop with his forefinger and looking toward the entrance of the restaurant like he’s expecting someone else to come through the door.
“So how’s life?” I ask.
“Life is fine,” he says. I’m about halfway done with my burger, but he hasn’t touched his shrimp salad. “But I’ve got to admit, Griffin, I’m a little perplexed about this whole kidnapping situation.”
“I know you are. And I was too, for a little bit, but Dad’s not going to tell me anything. Hell, Dad wouldn’t give two shits if it happened again and the guys actually did kill me this time.”
“Are you worried about that? About it happening again?”
“Should I be?”
He stares at me. “No,” he says finally. “No, I don’t think you should be.”
“That’s good. ‘Cause, you know, I wouldn’t want to have to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering when I’m going to be abducted next.”
“So did these guys say anything else to you? What did they look like? Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“Uh . . . no, I don’t really remember them saying anything of great importance. They seemed surprised Dad wasn’t cooperating, but all that told me was they had no idea who they were actually dealing with.”
“No, they didn’t.”
“And would I recognize them if I saw them again? Yeah, probably. But really, Cam, I doubt that’s ever gonna happen. They probably went down with the boat. Maybe they washed up in San Francisco Bay or something. Maybe I’ll get the call to come identify the bodies.”
“You’re fairly certain they’re both dead?”
“Fairly.”
He gives a brisk nod. “Okay. Excellent. Great.” He signals the waitress for the check and then we leave, even though I haven’t finished eating and he hasn’t touched his meal at all.
He drives me back to the ranch. I ask him if he wants to come meet Jill.
“Who?” he says, giving me a blank look.
“My girlfriend.”
He looks at the clock on the dashboard, then at his watch. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I’ve got to get going. This was primarily a business trip, after all. And I wanted to make sure everything with you was okay,” he adds quickly.
We sit there for a minute, the car idling. “Okay then,” I say. “It was good to see you. We’ll be coming back to New York at some point, if you’re around. Maybe you could meet her then.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
He looks at me, neither of us saying anything. Then he holds out his hand. “I’ll see you,” he says.
I shake his hand, then get out of the car, and try not to feel like I’ve just been interrogated and then dumped on the side of the road.
I’m walking down to the beach when I hear Jill call my name.
“Hey,” she says. She’s wearing a white tank top and cutoffs, flip-flops on her feet. Her toenails, I notice, are painted pink. “Where’s your brother?”