Page 5 of Good as Gold
Lies. I take plenty of time off. I just don’t take it here.
I gulp down a breath of Vermont nighttime air. It smells like melting snow and pine trees. I wonder what life would have been like if I’d stayed here in Vermont. Would I co-own a bar with Alec? Or run a taxi service with my brother Damien?
The weird thing is that if you’d asked me four months ago who the most successful Rossi sibling was, I would have said me. I wouldn’t even have hesitated. And on paper, it’s probably true.
But Sean’s death was a harsh dose of reality. Financial success feels pretty meaningless now. The truth is, I’ve missed my family.
I guess it’s time to find out if they’ve missed me, too.
Walking toward the door, I hear music and laughter. I raise my eyes to the darkened upstairs windows. Alec shares one of those apartments with his fiancé, May. And my youngest brother, Benito, just moved out of the other apartment and into a house he bought with the love of his life.
My family is killing it in all the ways that count, while I’m a goddamn wreck. But here goes nothing. I yank open the door, the way you pull off a Band-Aid.
After stepping inside, it only takes a couple moments to understand why the Gin Mill is a success. It’s a big, friendly space. A sleek bar stretches along the lefthand wall, with a line three deep to reach the hardworking bartenders. To the right is a sea of high-top tables and a few booths. There’s a jukebox against the far wall and a dartboard, too. Everywhere, people are talking and laughing, heads bent close, drinks in hand.
I left Vermont at eighteen, haven’t been back to visit since I was twenty-two, but I’ve never felt like an outsider until right this second.
This ugly thought is broken when I spot my brother Damien. As soon as he catches me watching him, his eyes widen comically. I read “holy shit” on his lips as he passes through the crowd to greet me. “Matteoooo! I almost didn’t recognize you. What’s with the Jesus hair?” He waves a hand toward my head.
I run a self-conscious hand through my shoulder-length hair. “The women like it, and it saves money on haircuts.”
He snorts. “Doesn’t look like the money is a problem. Designer jeans, huh? You look like a tourist from Connecticut!”
My first thought is:I am a tourist.
My second thought is to slug him in the arm. “So the tourists from Connecticut have gotten better looking since I left?”
He laughs. “Let’s get you a beer. Or is it champagne these days? What do expensive dudes with long hair drink?”
“Anything.” I have never needed a drink more than I do right now.
“Hey, bartender!” Damien calls out, while I take in his buzz cut and the flannel shirt that is basically a uniform in Vermont. Damien is about fifteen months younger than I am. We’re the eldest of the five Rossi kids. And I haven’t been in the same room with him since he was a scrawny twenty-one-year-old.
“This stranger needs a beer,” he says.
The bartender in question looks up. And, wow, it’s my youngest brother, Benito. He was only eighteen last time I saw him. Now he’s a strapping giant. Benito doesn’t work here—he’s the cop. But I guess he’s filling in tonight so that my brother Alec can enjoy his own bachelor party.
Ben looks at me and lets out a hoot of laughter. “Who is this asshole crashing the party? Do we even know this guy?”
“Yeah, yeah. Very funny.” I knew I’d take a beating. Hell, I deserve it.
Benito puts two fingers into his mouth and whistles. “Hey, Alec! I’ve got a new joke for you! Jesus walked into a bar…”
From the center of the crowd, my brother Alec—the guest of honor—whirls around to spot me. His eyes narrow. “I’m too young to meet Jesus!”
Everyone howls, and then I receive a series of back slaps and hugs while they talk over each other.
“Holy shit.”
“I know, right?”
“Can’t believe he made it.”
Enough already. “But I said I’d try.”
“Yeah, but we’ve heard that before,” Alec says darkly. “At this point, we literally expect nothing.”
“Ouch.” I guess Alec is still angry. “Can I come to the wedding, though?”
