Page 1 of Spark
Chapter One
Finlay
“Comedancewithus.”Cameron, my slightly inebriated brother, bumps my shoulder with his and chugs the last of his beer. “We’re celebrating.”
“No.” I take a swig of the lukewarm beer I’ve been nursing for the last hour and wonder how the hell I let my siblings talk me into going out to a club for which I am entirely too old. With Cam’s rugby team.
“Aileene, tell Fin to get on the dance floor.” Cameron’s whining drills into my temple worse than the bass of whatever song is playing. Five years my junior and the baby, my brother is charismatic and adept at getting what he wants. So, when he doesn’t get his way, he reverts back to throwing tiny tantrums.
The day is unseasonably warm for early May, and the air is pungent with sweat and alcohol. Bodies on the dance floor sway and grind. Men with men. Men with women. Women with women. There are couples and thrupples, groups, and some guy who appears to be dancing by himself. Eyes closed, his head lulls from side to side as his hips keep time with the music.
I squint and look closer. He could be asleep and being bounced around by the other dancers. It’s a tough call. The floor is dense with people, it’s hard to separate one group from the next.
I tip my bottle toward the chaos. “That has to be a fire code violation.”
“Ai-leeeeeeene…” Cam falls to his knees and grabs hold of her hand.
Our sister rolls her eyes and shoves Cam off of her. “If Finlay wants to celebrate his birthday sitting and sulking—”
“I’m not sulk—”
Aileene lasers me with a look, and I shut my mouth. Somehow her crystal blue eyes look both icy and amused. I’m not sure how she manages it, but being the only girl and wedged between Cameron and me, she learned early on how to put both of us in our places. Her eyes remain glued to mine even as she speaks to Cam, and we all know I’m the target for her jabs. “If Finlay wants to sulk, there’s nothing we can do to stop him from acting like a big baby.”
“Cam’s the one who’s acting like a baby,” I shoot back, sounding very much like the infant I claim not to be.
“If I’m a baby, then you’re an old geezer.” Cam stabs his finger into my chest and then whirls around to face our friend Hercules, who is the only person I know from Cam’s team. “Who chooses to celebrate their fortieth birthday ordering take-out and re-grouting their bathroom? You didn’t even have acake.”
“Why do you care how I choose to spend my birthday? Maybe I wanted a quiet night. Work has been hectic—”
“Because you don’t delegate.” My obnoxious brother is riling himself up, poking me in the chest. At the moment, he looks so much like my adorable five-year-old niece, Olive, that all annoyance dissipates. At six-three, my younger brother is built like a water buffalo. How he managed to sire a petite, cherub-like little girl like my niece is mind-boggling.
Rather than engaging—and feeling the need for something more potent—I push back in my chair and stand. “I’m getting another drink. Anyone want anything?”
“I want you to dance.” Cam crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. I swear you’d never know he was part owner of a thriving company, a marketing and creative genius, and the best father I’ve ever seen.
Thankfully, Aileene gets up, tugging one of his arms free. “Let’s go. I’ll dance with you.” Cam’s pout morphs into excitement. “But if a cute guy presents himself, I’m cutting you loose.” Our sister pushes Cam toward the dance floor.
“I’ll wrestle you and put you in a headlock for far less than a cute guy.” Pinning her to him, Cam locks an arm around Aileene’s shoulders and noogies her.
With her graceful, dancer-like body, our much smaller sister, scream-laughs as she elbows Cam in the stomach. “Get off me, you over-sized child.”
Cam releases Aileene and points his attention to the only other member of our group who isn’t dancing. “You okay while we dance, Herc?”
Sitting with his leg propped up on a chair and crutches tucked out of the way, Hercules, who was injured during a rugby game two months ago, lifts his bottle. “If Fin gets me another beer, I’ll be good.”
“Will do.” I turn and head to the bar before Cam can start with any more of his nagging. I love the guy, but when he sets his mind on something, he’s relentless, and I just don’t have it in me to argue with him tonight. Which is the reason I ended up here with a bunch of Cam’s friends who I’ve never met before.
The place is packed, and jostling my way through the crowded bar to order drinks takes an eternity. Finally able to push my way to the front, I’m accosted by how out of place I am when the perky bartender yells over the din of voices and the thumping music, “What can I get you, sir?”
Sir? She called me, sir? Grant it, she doesn’t look like she can be much older than twenty, if that. But sir? I definitely need something stronger than a beer if I’m going to make it another minute in this place. “Two beers and… You know what, give me a bottle of tequila and a bunch of shot glasses.”
“Lemons and salt?” The bartender pops the caps from two bottles.
“Sure.”
Tequila tucked under my arm, the beers in one hand and half a dozen shot glasses in the other, I begin the trek back to our table on the opposite end of the club. "Excuse me. Pardon me.” It doesn’t matter how loud I say the words, the Saturday night crowd of twenty-somethings is oblivious.
I am too old for this.
