King (Rogue Rebels MC 2)

My roommate, Julia, wasn’t as traditional. After we’d finished college, she tried several desk jobs, but couldn’t just sit in one place. So, she waited tables for a while, then worked the bar, and after a few more promotions she became a PR manager for a company that owned clubs and restaurants all over Chicago. It might have been a more exciting job, but she didn’t like the hours. That night, as was often the case, Julia was out in the city, promoting one event or another.

I climbed the two flights of stairs that led to my apartment, and was finally home.

I got out of my work clothes and changed into PJs, washing my face in the small bathroom next to my room. It wasn’t a huge apartment, but both Julia and I had our own bathrooms, and I loved mine. It made me feel at home.

As I was making my way to the fridge, my cell phone began ringing. I had to turn around, mid chewing and swallowing, ever so hungry, and go back into the bedroom to answer it.

“Hey, Syd,” the voice on the other end said. “Is this a good time?”

“Hey Declan! Yeah, I just got home. How are you?”

There was a short pause, as if he was hesitant. Classic Declan. “I was just in the area, and I got some Chinese, so…”

“Oh, yes, please!” I said, looking inside the fridge and seeing a lot of ingredients, but no food. “And hurry up!”

Declan hung up, and I got out a cold bottle of wine and some snacks to go with it. Once I settled comfortably on the couch, I poured the wine and waited for Declan, flicking through the TV Shows category on my TV. After a few minutes, I settled on a random episode of Friends, which was my go-to remedy.

The door was unlocked, and halfway into the episode (and a glass of wine), I heard Declan let himself in.

With the glass still in hand, I went to greet him, landing a big hug and grabbing the plastic bags of Chinese he brought.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, Syd?” he asked, looking at me with a smile.

“First of all, it was more like twenty. Second of all, you look good, Declan. Put on some weight?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he said with a thin smile.

“I’m glad to see you.”

The truth was, Declan didn’t look good. In fact, he looked worse. He was even paler, if that was even possible, and leaner, his clothes now seemingly oversized and baggy. He looked older.

Declan stepped out of his shoes and crashed on the couch. There was something odd about him, a look or embarrassment I knew all too well. I didn’t say anything at first, simply got the food out of the plastic bags and joined him in front of the TV, salivating.

“Is this for me?” he asked, meaning the wine.

I nodded. “Only half a glass, okay?”

Declan didn’t have to ask my permission, but he was being nice. Back before the treatments began, he would have had no problem downing the whole bottle on his own, but now we had to be cautious. Even half a glass was worthy of a celebratory amount, and there was nothing to celebrate. He dropped a white envelope on the table.

I said, “Another bill?”

“Yup. Due next month.”

“Right.”

There was an awkward pause. I hated the awkwardness. I hated that my brother was sick, and how miserable it made him feel. Made both of us feel. And then there was yet another bill to pay. I could only guess how much longer we could keep it up. It was one of those times I really wished our mother was here to give some advice – she had always been the practical one. Our dad had been more into religion, but prayers weren’t working anymore.

I, on the other hand, was doing my best. Declan had burned through his college savings over the past year, and I had been working overtime for the past few months. It was consuming our lives.

I sipped the wine. It was cold and bittersweet on my lips. Rachel and Ross in the background pulled me out of my thoughts.

“I got it, Declan, don’t worry,” I said.

“I’m sorry Syd,” he replied, looking at the TV screen.

“Hey, don’t turn this into a pity party. You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” I paused but he didn’t respond. “Let’s eat dinner.”

We watched the show and talked about nothing in particular, just having a family night, like in the good old days.