“I like where this is going. Does this mean you’re officially jumping ship for the winning side?”
She doesn’t even acknowledge my flirty tone. “You said … you said that everything changed. That you couldn’t do what you wanted anymore. I want to know what changed.”
Damn. Right for the kill shot. I’m saved from trying to figure out how to talk about my dad without ruining the whole night when Lennox asks, “Who’s got number four? Number four?”
I look down at my slip at the same time that she says, “Wilder? Are you fourth?”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
I stand and shoot a quick look to Kalli. Her brows are pinched as she watches me, and I buy myself some time with a smile. I look over the remaining presents. They’re all wrapped in paper, so there’s no chance of peeking inside a gift bag. I pick one of the bigger ones, and return to my seat. Kalli shifts beside me, turning on her hip, and this time it’s her arm across the couch behind us. I run my hands over the outside of the gift, feeling for the shape of the bottle beneath it. It’s heavy, definitely glass not plastic. It’s shaped like an old-fashioned decanter with rectangular cork style top. I smile. “What if I can guess the brand too? Will everyone else have to drink twice?”
Everyone looks wary but Lennox. “Oh come on, people. Have you ever been in a liquor store? Do you know how many different brands there are? He’s not going to get it. And even if he does, it’s two shots. You’ll live.”
“Not all of us can consume alcohol like it’s water,” Avery says.
“I’d like to keep my liver for a few more years at least,” Jack quips. Avery laughs, and I’m way too pleased to not hear Kalli do the same.
“I’ll do two shots if I’m wrong,” I offer.
“Three,” Kalli replies. “If you’re so sure.”
I laugh, and she gives me this challenging look that goes straight to my dick. She could have told me to climb one of the skyscrapers downtown, and I would have tried for that look. “Sure I’ll do three.”
One by one, the rest of the room agrees, and I say, “It’s 1800 tequila.”
One of the girls whose name I can’t keep track of groans, and I’m guessing it was hers. I peel away the paper, and the familiar top of the bottle comes into view. One more tug and the rest of the paper gives way, revealing that I’m right. Someone drops the f-bomb right before Lennox gives a maniacal laugh.
“How did you know?” Kalli asks.
I shrug. “I’ve had a lot of tequila in my life?” Most of that I blame on Rook. “Plus, the cork on this one doubles as a shot glass. It’s come in handy a few times.”
I twist and pull the top until it comes loose. “Who’s ready to do shots of tequila?”
Avery actually looks sick at the thought. “Do we have limes or something?”
“I don’t think we have any,” Lennox answers.
“Chaser break?” Mick offers. “Go raid the fridge if you need something to wash it down.”
I place the bottle down on the coffee table and lean back into the couch. I can feel the pressure of Kalli’s arm behind me, and she’s still sitting on her hip, tilted toward me. For the first time all night, I’m able to resist looking at her as people evacuate to the kitchen, but that’s just because I know what will happen after I look at her. I see Mick walk to the kitchen out the corner of my eye, and Lennox follows close behind. In a matter of moments, it’s just Jack and us in the living room.
Kalli stays close by my side even though the rest of the couch is open. Jack glares at me for a moment before he, too, stands and goes into the kitchen. She slides away just an inch, and for just a moment, I think I feel her touch the collar of my shirt. But it’s gone before I can be certain.
“What changed?” she asks.
I sigh. “This isn’t exactly normal get-to-know you talk.”
“I thought we ruled out normal.”
I look at her, and for a moment I get lost in her face. The high arch of her cheekbones and impossibly long eyelashes and perfectly symmetrical features—she’s stunning. Absolutely stunning, and I keep thinking I’ll get used to it. That it will stop twisting my insides with want eventually, but I kind of hope it doesn’t. I hope she always makes me feel this way. Because it makes me willing to do some crazy shit. Like come to a party full of strangers and put myself on the line and tell her about my dad. And I just don’t talk about that shit. Not with Rook or Owen or Bridget. Not with anyone.
“About a year ago my father was convicted of fraud and embezzlement. He was sentenced to forty-five years in prison, and my mom lost her house, her car, any asset that had my dad’s name on it, which was pretty much everything. We knew it was coming. The evidence against him was pretty damning. It was just a matter of how long and how much he’d owe in restitution. I came home a few months before the conviction. I applied to school, and a family friend helped get me into the business program last minute. I got a normal job in an office and started saving money for the inevitable. So yeah, everything changed. I had to step up. It was time for me to quit messing around and be a real, productive member of society and all that shit.”
When I finish, the living room is silent, filled only with the echoing conversations happening in the kitchen. I rub the palm of my left hand over the knuckles on my right, and glance at the Atlas tattoo that she’d been fascinated with. Rook and I had been about halfway through with my sleeve when I changed my mind and told him I wanted that on my forearm instead of our original idea. He’d reworked the design to fit in the mythic figure.
I’d been regretting it for a while by the time Kalli had pointed it out that night. It was back when I’d first returned home, and I was wrestling with bitterness over what Dad had done and what I’d chosen to do because of it. Then I got more comfortable around Gwen. I saw the toll that it was taking on Mom. I got used to not being in the bars night after night. And I didn’t miss it as much as I thought I would. I missed parts of it sure. My friends. The freedom. The fun. But worse than the thought of losing that was the feeling every time I looked at my arm and remembered that there had been a point when I’d considered my family a burden. A punishment. Gotta love feeling like a selfish bastard every time you catch sight of your own arm.
When Kalli had told me, all matter of fact, that it wasn’t the world that Atlas held up, but the heavens … she’d changed the tattoo for me. When I’d woken up the next morning, the first thing I did after searching the house and coming up empty was to jump on the Internet and see if she was right.