as
much as you do.”
He lifted his empty can high and aimed for the trash can
across the room, let it fly, and grinned when it dropped in.
She glared until he sobered. Then he ambled over to the
table, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Sis, I know
you want to help, but please let me handle this. I promise
everything’s going to work out.”
Staring up at him, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu
washed over her. Ten years ago she had been sitting at
this table, eavesdropping on her parents’ conversation in
the next room.
“Let me handle this, Valerie. I promise everything’s going
to work out for us.”
For us, her father had said, as in for him and her mother.
Not for her and Wesley. They’d been left to fend for
themselves.
She studied her brother’s sharp, precise features, so like
her father’s, and the familiar sense of love tinged with
helplessness crowded her chest. When had he grown up?
It seemed like only yesterday she was putting Band-Aids
on his knees and helping him with science experiments.
And now suddenly he was an adult, with adult problems
that she couldn’t fix, and might even have contributed to…
“Sis?”
She blinked. “Yeah?”
“I said let me take care of this. Don’t worry, okay?” He
leaned down and dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead
on his way toward the door, but the rare display of
affection was enough to distract her from her troublesome
thoughts. She so wanted to believe him. “Do you want me
to drop you at her office on my way to work?”
“Nope. I’l take the train.”
“Call me and let me know what happened.”
“Yup.”
The front door banged closed, and she sighed, her
shoulders drooping. A headache pressed behind eyes that
were gritty and dry from lack of sleep. Despite Wesley’s
assurances, worry leaked back into her mind, and she
suddenly longed for something to numb her senses for a
while. Her gaze drifted to the liquor cabinet, which, out of
deference to Wesley’s age, held exactly two bottles of
wine—a cheap chardonnay that she’d gotten at a gift swap
at the Christmas office party, and a decent pinot noir that
she had bought on impulse two years ago, thinking it
would be nice to have on hand in case someone special
stopped by unexpectedly for a romantic evening.
A dry laugh escaped her. What had she been smoking that
night? She’d had about a half-dozen dates since then,
none of them interesting enough to inspire an encore,
much less the label “special.” Her friend Hannah claimed
that she had been without a man for so long, she was
official y a re-virgin.
Thinking of her friend who was in Chicago on a field trip
with her culinary class, she sighed, missing Hannah,
missing being able to share her recent drama with the only
person she knew whose life was more tragic than her own.
Carlotta glanced at her watch. It was an hour earlier in
Chicago. Hannah was a notoriously late sleeper, but if she
called now, she could be sure to catch Hannah before she
was out and about for the day.
She dialed her friend’s cel -phone number. On the sixth
ring, Hannah’s sleep-muffled voice came on the line.
“Who the fuck is cal ing me at seven-thirty in the goddamn
morning?”
“Good morning, sunshine. And it’s eight-thirty in Atlanta.”
“Christ, Carlotta, this had better be important. Did you get
laid?”
“No. I called because I miss you, you hag.”
“Yeah, right. What’s up?”
Carlotta sighed. “It’s Wesley. He’s in trouble…again.”
“What’s the little shit done this time?”
Hannah was the only person who could get away with
calling Wesley names, because Carlotta knew that beneath
her crusty veneer, Hannah was protective of him. “He got
arrested for hacking into the courthouse database.”
“I knew he was a smart little dude, but…damn. Why would
he do something like that?”
“To delete his traffic violations.”
“Wow, can he do that? I’ve got
much as you do.”
He lifted his empty can high and aimed for the trash can
across the room, let it fly, and grinned when it dropped in.
She glared until he sobered. Then he ambled over to the
table, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Sis, I know
you want to help, but please let me handle this. I promise
everything’s going to work out.”
Staring up at him, an overwhelming sense of déjà vu
washed over her. Ten years ago she had been sitting at
this table, eavesdropping on her parents’ conversation in
the next room.
“Let me handle this, Valerie. I promise everything’s going
to work out for us.”
For us, her father had said, as in for him and her mother.
Not for her and Wesley. They’d been left to fend for
themselves.
She studied her brother’s sharp, precise features, so like
her father’s, and the familiar sense of love tinged with
helplessness crowded her chest. When had he grown up?
It seemed like only yesterday she was putting Band-Aids
on his knees and helping him with science experiments.
And now suddenly he was an adult, with adult problems
that she couldn’t fix, and might even have contributed to…
“Sis?”
She blinked. “Yeah?”
“I said let me take care of this. Don’t worry, okay?” He
leaned down and dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead
on his way toward the door, but the rare display of
affection was enough to distract her from her troublesome
thoughts. She so wanted to believe him. “Do you want me
to drop you at her office on my way to work?”
“Nope. I’l take the train.”
“Call me and let me know what happened.”
“Yup.”
The front door banged closed, and she sighed, her
shoulders drooping. A headache pressed behind eyes that
were gritty and dry from lack of sleep. Despite Wesley’s
assurances, worry leaked back into her mind, and she
suddenly longed for something to numb her senses for a
while. Her gaze drifted to the liquor cabinet, which, out of
deference to Wesley’s age, held exactly two bottles of
wine—a cheap chardonnay that she’d gotten at a gift swap
at the Christmas office party, and a decent pinot noir that
she had bought on impulse two years ago, thinking it
would be nice to have on hand in case someone special
stopped by unexpectedly for a romantic evening.
A dry laugh escaped her. What had she been smoking that
night? She’d had about a half-dozen dates since then,
none of them interesting enough to inspire an encore,
much less the label “special.” Her friend Hannah claimed
that she had been without a man for so long, she was
official y a re-virgin.
Thinking of her friend who was in Chicago on a field trip
with her culinary class, she sighed, missing Hannah,
missing being able to share her recent drama with the only
person she knew whose life was more tragic than her own.
Carlotta glanced at her watch. It was an hour earlier in
Chicago. Hannah was a notoriously late sleeper, but if she
called now, she could be sure to catch Hannah before she
was out and about for the day.
She dialed her friend’s cel -phone number. On the sixth
ring, Hannah’s sleep-muffled voice came on the line.
“Who the fuck is cal ing me at seven-thirty in the goddamn
morning?”
“Good morning, sunshine. And it’s eight-thirty in Atlanta.”
“Christ, Carlotta, this had better be important. Did you get
laid?”
“No. I called because I miss you, you hag.”
“Yeah, right. What’s up?”
Carlotta sighed. “It’s Wesley. He’s in trouble…again.”
“What’s the little shit done this time?”
Hannah was the only person who could get away with
calling Wesley names, because Carlotta knew that beneath
her crusty veneer, Hannah was protective of him. “He got
arrested for hacking into the courthouse database.”
“I knew he was a smart little dude, but…damn. Why would
he do something like that?”
“To delete his traffic violations.”
“Wow, can he do that? I’ve got
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