I roll my eyes and blow smoke at the floor.
“It might be hard to believe, Farrow,” Charlie says, “but I don’t want to hurt him. I need Moffy.”
“As a punching bag?”
He cocks his head. “Well…I can’t blame you for drawing that conclusion, but no. All of our families wouldn’t function without him. And despite how annoying his position in the families is—I need him to fill that position. It’s not one I want.” He takes another breath before saying, “I don’t want to be him.”
I tap ash into the sink. “That’s more of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Charlie adds the pieces startlingly fast. “The move to New York.”
“Yeah. Are you planning on sticking around?” I wonder. “Because that’s what Maximoff and Jane think.”
He un-tucks his wrinkled white button-down from his black slacks. “I never promised that.”
I raise my brows. “You implied it somewhere along the way, Charlie. They believe you’re going to be around. That it’s going to be like the good old high school days.”
“How is it my fault that they have the wrong expectations?”
Oh my God. “Because you set them. You are responsible for that.” I shake my head at him. “Are you planning to stay or aren’t you?”
“I’m not staying.” Charlie slouches on the counter. “I’m just facilitating the inevitable. If my brothers need help, Maximoff will pick up the pieces like he always does, and he’ll do a better job than I can.”
I snuff the cigarette on the sink. “No, see, you have it wrong. Your brothers don’t need Maximoff. They need you.”
“They can’t have me,” Charlie says, voice caged.
“I’m telling you right now, Maximoff is not going to move to New York. Your sister is not moving to New York.”
Charlie wears mock surprise. “You’re forcing them to stay in Philly?” He tilts his head. “Sounds controlling.”
Controlling.
My muscles flex. He’s trying to set me off, but I stare him down. “I’m not going to act like I have you all figured out, because I don’t. But I know Maximoff. And he will make this easy for you. He will take all the weight off your shoulders, so you can go jet-set to wherever for however long, and he won’t mind.”
“I know.”
“But you have it wrong, Charlie,” I repeat again. “Because Maximoff isn’t your replacement. You’re two different people, and you’ll be leaving your brothers. They will notice your absence. You didn’t stick around for them. You didn’t try. Beckett needs you. Eliot needs you. Tom needs you. In another year, Ben might be in New York and need you too. Man, don’t bail on them because you think Maximoff can do it better. Or because he enjoys it more or any other fucking reason you’re telling yourself. Because at the end of the day, you’ll look back and wish it were you.”
Really, I’d like to just grab him, shake him and yell at him to grow the fuck up.
But he’d just get pissed, and I need him to understand that he’s worth more.
Charlie looks me over, but before he can answer, the door swings open, and Tom and Eliot slip inside, laughing about something.
“Whoa, Farrow.” Eliot sees me, then Charlie. “Brother.” He grins. “Communal bathroom chitchat with the groom?” He tries to sling an arm over Charlie, but his older brother skillfully spins out of the embrace.
“You missed it,” Charlie says smoothly.
“I’ll take a play by play then,” Eliot quips. “Was there humor? If not, then I’ll pass.”
Charlie smiles.
I’m going to max-out fast on Cobalt banter, and I’m about to leave but as Tom goes to the urinal, people I’ve never seen before enter the bathroom. Three thirty-something guys use the toilet stalls, two others linger near the urinals, stumbling as they stand.
I’m hawkeyed. These dipshits are one glance away from watching Tom piss.
I block their view. “What are you looking at?”
He snickers. “You know.” He tries to stumble around me, aimed for Tom, and I capture his arm. He tries to fight me.
He’s swatting at my face, and his friend yells at him to stop.
Easily, I wrench his arm behind his back and shove him up against the sink. I touch my mic. “Oscar.” That’s all it takes. He’s right outside, and the bathroom door whips open.
He assesses. “I have him, Redford.” He takes my place and nods to me. “Go find the Groom. I heard he was looking for you.”
26
FARROW KEENE
Leaving the bathroom, I adjust my earpiece and weave between bodies in the packed bar. If Maximoff were in real trouble, Oscar would’ve been more urgent. He won’t admit it to my face, but my best guess is that my groom just wants to be with me.
I’m trying to find him.
I pass a handful of college-aged girls in summer dresses. One with blond ringlets cuts off my path.
“Uh, hi. You’re Farrow Keene.”