all worked there—Gabe and Sean to bartend, and Daniel to do the books.
After their uncle, the previous owner died, Gabe had paid up the back taxes on the place, against Daniel’s advice. A bar in Manhattan was a shaky financial investment, but Gabe wasn’t guided by business sense, but more by the desire to see the family legacy restored to its old grandeur. Against his own better judgment, Daniel had set up a desk and computer in the storeroom downstairs, so he could help with the accounting. The tiny storeroom was barely designed to accommodate one person. When you put three full-grown men in there—like now—the tiny quarters were stifling.
“It’d be good for you to get out of the city, meet some people,” said Gabe, leaning back against a tall stack of cases of rum. Gabe, the youngest of the three, was a great bartender—a people person who never quite got the concept of being alone.
“And you could get laid,” contributed Sean, in his own special way. Every man had one gear—sex—but wise men learned at an early age that you had to keep that fact hidden if you wanted to avoid complications in life and love.
Sean had the exact opposite approach to Daniel. With women, he was honest and up front about his sexual needs, and didn’t try to apologize for it. Illogically, women never seemed to mind, which Daniel had never understood. Maybe it was Sean’s law school diploma, maybe the planets had been aligned at his brother’s birth. Daniel didn’t know, didn’t lose sleep over it, but there were times—like now—when Sean’s “I know everything” attitude could be a complete pain in the ass.
“You haven’t had sex since Michelle died, have you?” asked Sean, highlighting the mix of his lawyerlike interrogation skills and his general knack for the truth, tact be damned.
Gabe glared at him, so Daniel didn’t have to. “You said you’d handle this with sensitivity.”
“That was sensitivity,” defended Sean. “I could have gotten a lot more graphic and reminded him about what he’s been missing out on, but I took pity.”
“Get the hell out of here,” ordered Daniel, but neither of his younger brothers moved. At one time, they’d listened to him, obeyed him and respected him. One more thing that changed after 9/11.
How soon they all forgot. When Gabe joined Little League, it was Daniel who taught him how to pitch a fastball. And when Sean went off to college, it was Daniel who had explained all the knobs and buttons on the stove and dishwasher, respectively, without once making fun. And this was the thanks he got for keeping a straight face the whole time?
Daniel turned back to the computer. At least it didn’t nag him.
Sean reached around his brother and turned off the monitor. “I think you need to rethink this monk strategy, Daniel. It’s not working. You’re tense. You’re somber. Think back to the old days when you were—”
“Tense and somber,” Gabe pointed out.
“It’s none of your business,” snapped Daniel, not looking up from the blackened screen. Usually teasing didn’t bother him, but whenever the calendar moved closer to September, something hot, humid and hell-like rose up inside Daniel.
“You can’t spend your whole life locked away,” said Gabe quietly. “Besides, it’s only one weekend.”
The “weekend,” as Gabe so politely phrased it, was a summer share in the Hamptons that Sean had rented, along with ten other lawyer types with too much cash and too much free time on their hands. There would be tanned, curvy women spilling out of bikinis, and eye-crossing amounts of alcohol. It was a more adult, socially acceptable version of Spring Break.
Only in New York.
Daniel shook his head, powered back on the monitor and then went back to work. Freezing them out usually worked, and he assumed that was the end of it, until Daniel heard light footsteps on the stairs.
Then, Gabe’s girlfriend, Tessa, appeared.
His brothers had brought out the big guns.
Daniel silently swore as Tessa squeezed in next to Gabe, blocking his last escape route.
“You have to go, Daniel. I need you to check out a place about a mile down the beach.”
Tessa talked with a soothing voice, her eyes so innocent and guileless, compared to his two more Machiavellian brothers. “I think it’d be perfect for one of my clients, but to get a feel for the place, you really need to be there and see it during the day and night. It’d be a great favor if you could do this for me, Daniel. Please.”
Tessa’s business was real estate and she lived and breathed it like other people inhaled oxygen.
Ah, jeez. The walls were closing in, and Daniel rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, trying to act as if there weren’t ten thousand needles sticking under his skin. It was one thing to turn down his brothers; it was another matter entirely to disappoint a woman. Out of the three O’Sullivans, Daniel was the polite one, the courteous one, the chivalrous one. Right now, he was the frustrated one.
“Getting your woman to fight your battles now, Gabe?”
Gabe pulled Tessa into the crook of his arm. “I’m not proud. It’s one weekend, Daniel, not a lifestyle change.”
“Why aren’t you going, Sean?” asked Daniel suspiciously.
Sean still stuck by his story. “I decided it would be better if we shoved you out of the airplane, so to speak. A free-range opportunity to cut loose for a few days. You could use it, dude.”
Daniel eyeballed his brother. If it’d been Gabe talking, he would have bought it, hook, line and sinker. But this was Sean. “What’s the real reason?”
Sean slugged easily, knowing he was busted. “Ashley invited me to go to Miami. Meanwhile, the time-share group needs a guy to even things out. If not, I’ll get blacklisted for skipping. There’re statutes in place for summer shares and anyone who violates them gets kicked off the island. Since Gabe’s off the market you’re the only brother left.”
Now that sounded like Sean. “I don’t want to bail you out.”
“I’m only thinking of you,” his brother said, wide-eyed with innocence. A man who was exposed to perjury on a daily basis could end up with his moral compass adjusted.
Gabe coughed. “Don’t lay it on too thick, Sean.”
Sean’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to sit back and let him rot down here? I don’t know about you, but I want my brother back. Three years passed, and I kept my mouth shut. Five years passed, I kept my mouth shut. Now, seven years have passed, and I’m done keeping my mouth shut.”
“And aren’t we all grateful for that?” drawled Daniel, clearly surprised that Sean was getting this worked up.
Sean pointed a finger at him. “Shut up.”
Even more surprised, Daniel did just that. He stared at his two squabbling brothers, rubbed his eyes and discovered a new and improved guilt—with extra ulcer-inducing power. He’d done this to his family. Three brothers. As such, they’d always stood together, supported each other, and yes, they fought, because they were normal, but not like this and not because of him. Daniel was the role model, the responsible
