“Why don’t you join us for lunch, Colt?” John asks. “Stay as long as you want.”
Remembering what Ethan told me, I say, “Thanks, JT.” He beams at the nickname, and I offer him a fist bump. Someone puts a bottle of water in my hand, and I lean back in my seat. “So, we’re hanging out this week, right? Remember, Bradford is paying, so we’re getting the best stuff."
Ethan laughs, but it’s true. Whatever he gets, it’s always top shelf. From alcohol to food to clothes.
Minutes later, Victoria returns with the boys, who take seats across the table from me. Both have chocolate frosting on their face.
“Did any of the frosting make it on the cupcakes?” I wipe Evan’s mouth with a napkin, then do the same to Vincent.
“Vickie let us eat one before lunch,” Vincent confesses. “She’s nice.”
“She told us not to tell, big mouth,” Evan says, looking up at the heavens as if Vincent exasperates him. I try hard not to laugh. I eat a clean diet, especially during the season, and I make sure Evan eats healthy too. A cupcake before lunch is a very rare treat for him.
“We already ate it. What’s he gonna do?” Vincent shrugs.
After his mother died, I worried Evan’s childhood would be filled with loss and loneliness, until I realized it was up to me not to let that happen. We were older, but Mama was left in the exact same situation after Daddy died suddenly.
The sliding door opens, and the rest of the family comes out, including Elizabeth, Ethan’s sister, who arrived unannounced. Victoria and her stepmother bring out the food, and my stomach growls. The last time I had dinner that wasn’t prepared by my chef was last Christmas when I took Evan to Alabama, and Mama cooked a feast. The food had been the highlight. My brother ruined the holiday, and Evan, Mama, and I went to Florida for a few days after Christmas to get away from the drama. That was the last time I talked to him.
As if she can sense my thoughts, my phone vibrates in my pocket followed by my mother’s ringtone.
“Excuse me, Taylors.” I stand and go through the sliding glass door. I turn around, and Victoria watches me with an expression on her face that I can’t read. I wink at her, and she yanks her sunglasses from the top of her head, shielding her eyes. “Hold on, Mama,” I say into the phone, but I don’t take my eyes off Vickie. She’s in a loose floral skirt that reaches her knees and a light pink tee. She has a wide belt at her waist, giving it a tapered look. Her outfit is complete with a pair of tanned sandals. She’s dressed modestly and that’s what makes it so sexy. When I lick my lips at her, she abruptly turns around and gives me her back.
“Colton?” I hear my mom’s soft voice on the phone.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say. The Yankee accent I’ve tried to perfect disappears whenever I talk to anyone back home.
“I woke up thinkin’ about you this mornin’. Been prayin’ for you hard, Son. The whole congregation and your brother too.” I look up at the ceiling and roll my eyes. She must sense what I’m doing because she says, “It’s true. He’s changed. He’s been busy with the new restaurant.”
“Okay, Mama. How are you?” I know my attempt at changing the subject won’t work. Mary Leigh Chastain has made it her life’s mission to heal the rift between her two sons, but how can you heal a rift that you didn’t cause? We both played high school basketball. He was set to go to the University of Alabama on a sports scholarship until a fractured femur took it away from him.
At the same time, my star was rising, and two years later, I was offered the same scholarship. Unlike my brother, I was able to attend and was drafted into the NBA two years later at the age of twenty.
“Counting the days until I see you. I’m sorry about not coming to any games recently, but I want to stay close to home.” That’s code for I need to stay home and make sure Charlie doesn’t start drinking again. “I promise if you make it to the finals, I’ll be there for all of your home games.” She prattles on and on, and I listen with only half an ear. I look outside and Victoria is sitting across from my son, reaching over and cutting his steak for him. When she’s done, she messes his curly hair. “Charlie wanted me to thank you.”
No, he didn’t.
“Why didn’t he call me himself if he wanted to thank me?” I think one hundred thousand dollars to start his own restaurant is worthy of at least one phone call. I’d even settle for a text. But then again, maybe not. I wouldn’t have taken his call and I wouldn’t have replied to his text.
“And you’re an investor, so that means you own part of the business too.” Of course, Mama would ignore my question. “This will be good for him, Colty. I think he’s going to finally be okay, and if you have any ideas—"
“I hope he’ll be okay, and I don’t have any ideas, Mama. I’m not in the restaurant business.” I almost snap at her, but I rein in my temper. Mama is forever the optimist where my brother is concerned. “And I’m not looking to be part owner. I don’t want anything, but if this fails, I have nothing left to give him. In fact, I didn’t give him the money, I gave it to you. If you want to be part owner, go ahead, but leave me out of it.”
She sighs, and I can see her now. Hands wringing and tears pooling in her eyes while she blinks them away. I bet she’s shaking her head as if that would somehow erase the words I just spoke.
“He has not dealt with us according to our sins—” I stop her before she goes any further.
“Mama, I don’t need you to quote scripture right now. Please, stop.”
“I raised you in the church, and I don’t accept you turning your back on it.”
“I don’t need your permission to turn my back on anythang. That’s just the way it is. I’m a grown man capable of makin’ my own decisions.” I immediately regret my sharp tone, but I don’t apologize.
“You can’t turn your back on your brother. Jesus died for our sins. We all have sinned.”
“I wrote a hundred-thousand-dollar check so he can start a business. I paid for three stints at rehab. He lives in the house I bought for you. He lives a great life and hasn’t had a job in years. Why do you think that is?”
“Colt—”
