He whirled, scanning the room with hungry, worried eyes. Then his gaze locked onto Mickey—I was that sure of his identity—and the guy wheeled toward us. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah. How’ve you been?” From the flash in Max’s dark eyes, he thought it was a stupid fucking thing to say, and he was already kicking himself, but it wasn’t like these occasions came with a manual.
Before Mickey could answer, a man shouldered through the crowd toward us. He was maybe an inch shorter than Max with hard eyes and cuts on his jaw that suggested he’d shaved with an unsteady hand. I might be jumping to conclusions, but they looked like the result of sobering up suddenly, after a long bender. I put his age around fifty, so he might be Max’s dad.
“Can’t believe you showed. I bet your uncle Lou ten bucks you wouldn’t have the balls.”
“Enough, Pop.” Mickey confirmed my speculation with two words. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
A blonde woman joined the group then, wearing a worried look. “Is that you, Max?”
“Hey, Aunt Carol. Thanks for the email.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.
She didn’t seem like a horrible person at first glance, so I wondered why she hadn’t protected Max back in the day. I noticed nobody was hugging him, though, or touching him at all. I finally understood why he was so tactile; it was reactionary, like bingeing on chocolate after a strict diet.
Clearing my throat, I offered my hand for her to shake. “I’m Courtney.”
His dad skimmed me up and down, then his lip curled. “She must have money. I guess you’re not a total idiot. Cash lasts way longer than a pretty face, and all cats feel the same in the dark, am I right?”
Wow. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard that verdict, but it was the bluntest anyone had come across with it. Max lunged at his dad, and his aunt caught his shoulder. His jaw clenched as he shook her off. But I squeezed his hand, silently telling him to relax. It’s so not worth it.
Carol smiled at me. “You’re Max’s...”
“Friend,” I supplied.
From her expression, that wasn’t the answer she expected. “Nice to meet you. I was surprised when Max said he’d try to make it. He didn’t tell me he was bringing company.”
“We’re not staying with you,” Max said. “So don’t worry about it.”
“Too good for your family.” His dad snorted.
Max cut him a WTF look and I understood why. From his father’s tone, he made it sound like it was Max’s choice, not involuntary exile. Before the tension could get worse, though, Mickey shook my hand with a friendly smile. This kid had incredible eyes, two or three shades lighter than Max’s, and flecked with gold. He must already be breaking hearts.
“With all this bickering, I don’t see an intro anytime in our future. I’m Michael.”
Ah. So he’s grown out of the nickname. Truthfully, he didn’t look much like a Mickey, though I was definitely Disney-biased. I figured he’d been closer as a kid.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Only a slight exaggeration. But from his expression, he was glad to hear it, so I smiled and pretended I knew some cute childhood stories instead of only having learned of his existence the day before.
Thanks, Max.
“All good, right?” Michael had dimples, too, plus a faint cleft in his chin. I had the urge to ruffle his hair, but he’d probably take it the wrong way.
“Stop flirting,” Max said, folding his arms with a mock-stern look.
“Him or me?” I teased.
“Both of you. It’s disturbing, Kaufman. I told you it’s never happening between us, and I won’t let you seduce my brother for revenge.”
“So much for my nefarious plans.”
Michael glanced between us, a strange expression dawning. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I remember you as...angrier.”
That sparked a tentative smile from Max, like he was expecting a gong to clang and for his brother to melt into a dog-headed demon or something. “You want to see the bike?”
“No way, you still have it?”
“Yeah, I’ve nearly got it done.”
“You promised me a ride, asshole.” Michael didn’t seem to notice the way Max flinched, but I did. His fingers tightened on mine. “Can we check it out now?” He was already wheeling toward the exit, leading the way.
I didn’t know much about motorcycles, but the brothers seemed to be bonding. So I let go of Max. When he followed Michael without looking back, I decided it was the right move. That left me standing awkwardly with his father and Aunt Carol. Offering a tentative smile, I tried to come up with an innocuous topic for small talk.
But Mr. Cooper beat me to the punch. “Whatever promises the kid made to get you here, I guarantee they’re bullshit. You’re better off getting on a bus. Want a ride?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just offering to help you out, girlie.”
Oh, no, you did not.
My fingers balled up into a fist, but before I could make good on my urge to introduce it to his nose, Carol caught my arm. “Let me get you some coffee. I think there are some cookies, too. Cavanaugh and Sons don’t offer much of a spread.”
“Like I’d pay top dollar to put that old bastard in the ground.”
Since that was pretty much exactly what Max thought about the asshole in front of me—the live one—I stared over my shoulder as the older woman led me away. “Sorry. You must think we’re awful.”
A polite response to that failed me, so I took the Styrofoam cup full of bitter-smelling coffee and added powdery packets of fake creamer and yellow envelopes of sweetener until I could pretend it was a milkshake. Most people were surprised that I didn’t just shoot up triple espressos because I exuded that vibe, but in fact, I didn’t like hot drinks—with the exception of Angus’s mulled wine. But normally, even on a cold day I’d rather have a chilled beverage.
Carol wasn’t kidding when she said the pickings were slim. This looked like the employee break room with a few sad round tables, covered in napkins and newspapers, along with scattered cookie crumbs. This reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since noon, and it was nosing toward seven. Silently I nibbled a stale snickerdoodle and pondered the life choices that ended with me in this current situation.
“So how do you know Max?” she asked.