Kathleen O'Reilly - New York Nights

They showered, changed, and Sean bought a drink for Gabe at the juice bar. Gabe ducked his head low in case anybody recognized him. He had a reputation to uphold, and sipping soy juice at some Nancy-boy health bar wasn’t part of it.

Only for Tessa—and she would never know the depths he had sunk to in order to keep this Twilight Zone of a relationship alive.

When the bartender shoved the glass of OJ in Gabe’s direction, Gabe sniffed and then raised his glass. “To my brother, who has fallen far, far from the esteemed ideals that the O’Sullivan name has stood for through four generations. Juice? Juice? What is this?”

“I think it’s important to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Alcohol can be dangerous,” Sean said, pushing back the hair from his eyes, trying to weasel his way into respectability.

“Sean, our family’s fortune was made on the ill-gotten gains of illegal alcohol. O’Sullivan’s started as a speakeasy. You can run to a career in the law, but you can’t hide.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t go straight.”

Gabe downed the juice in one gulp. “Are you sure we’re related? You’re the brown-eyed kid. Why brown? Did you ever think about that, Sean?”

“Why are you here?” asked Sean, sipping demurely at his carrot juice.

Carrot juice? Gabe sighed, wanting to avoid this, but he couldn’t. This was important. And if he had to humiliate himself in front of his lesser-respected brother, then so be it. “I need to talk to you about a woman. You are still interested in women, aren’t you?”

Sean laughed and appeared relieved by the change of subject, the flicker of humanity coming back into his eyes. “Desperate, aren’t you? Coming to the master.”

“Don’t rub it in, this is hard enough. I can’t talk to Daniel, because I can’t handle talking to Daniel about sex. That’d be cruel. I’m not cruel.”

Sean tugged at the cuffs of his Brooks Brothers shirt and studied Gabe like a scientist. “So we’re actually having sex with this female? Are you sure this isn’t a case of lusting from afar?”

At that moment Gabe wished he had a tie. Something silky, probably with a designer label. Preferably long enough that he could loop it around his brother’s neck and then pull. Tightly. He smiled at the thought.

“No, it’s not lusting from afar. But it would be a lot easier.”

“That’s just sad, Gabe.”

“Yes, yes, it is.” He took a deep breath and pitched his voice low, finally admitting the unsavory truth. “She likes to pretend, Sean.”

“Pretend what?”

“Pretend that I’m not me.”

Sean stroked his chin. “I see. So she’s so revolted by you that she has to pretend you’re someone else.”

“That’s not it,” Gabe snapped and saw heads turn with curiosity. He scowled back.

“It looks like it. Why else would she need to pretend? Unless you can’t satisfy her, of course.”

“Of course I can satisfy her,” answered Gabe through gritted teeth.

“On the basis of the facts as presented before me, I’m thinking that answer is a big no.”

“Screw you, Sean.”

Sean lifted his hands. “Okay, okay. All joking aside, I can see you’re in need of guidance. Did you ever think about ditching her?”

The bartender came over, clearing the glasses. “Another round of juice?”

“Not in this lifetime,” said Gabe. He glared at his brother, feeling uncomfortable. “Hell, a man needs a BlackBerry and a cellphone in order to fit in here. Next time, we’re playing wall ball the old-fashioned way—out in the alley.”

“Sure, if it makes you feel better. But I’ll still whip your ass. Now, getting back to the sex girl—which is much more interesting than how I can wipe the floor with you—why don’t you ditch her? You’re not the obsessive-compulsive type.”

“I can’t ditch her,” answered Gabe, sounding obsessively compulsive.

“Why? Every woman can be ditched for the right reasons.”

“I like her. I’m not going to stop seeing her.”

A big guy in sweats plopped down next to Sean and started talking, completely butting into a personal conversation. Gabe sat for a few minutes while Sean chatted legal gibberish with the other dude until Gabe cleared his throat.

“Do you mind?” he asked Sean.

Sean turned to the other guy. “My little brother. He needs help. Sorry.”

The man held out his hand. “You’re Daniel? I’m Frankie Ryder. How you doing?”

“No, I’m Gabe,” he responded, shaking the meaty paw but shooting meaningful “hurry-up” glances to Sean.

Frankie turned to Sean. “I didn’t know you had two brothers.”

“I’m the brother he keeps hidden up in the attic.”

“Gabe, you don’t have to be rude.” Sean looked at Frankie. “He’s a little edgy. It’s a sex thing.”

“Excuse me?” Gabe coughed.

Frankie blushed around the gills and then sat up. “I’ll see you back at the office, Sean.”

“Sure thing,” said Sean with a happy wave.

“Did you need to drag this out in the open?”

“No, but it seemed like the fun thing to do. And stop acting like you’re the only man in the world who’s ever suffered from blue balls. Do you know that ninety-nine-point-seven-three percent of men’s frustrations come from sex issues? If I didn’t tell Frankie, he’d figure it out. One of the best estate lawyers this side of hell. Great guy.”

“I’m sure Frankie’s great, but can we get back to my problems?”

“Ah, so now you do want to admit you have a problem? Which is an important step because, yes, you do—a giant one. Why do you think she has to pretend?” asked Sean, using his courtroom cross-examination voice, but Gabe was too wound up to care.

Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? Gabe had thought long and hard about why, but he couldn’t come up with anything. “I don’t know why. There doesn’t have to be a why . Why why? I don’t want to think about why.”

“Why goes to motive, Gabe.”

“This isn’t a court case. I’m talking sex. Just sex.”

“But don’t you want to know her why?”

“No, I only want to fix it.”

“What if you can’t?”

“Can’t? What does that mean?”

“What if she can never accept you for who you are or for what you are? Maybe she has issues with dating a bartender? Maybe, for instance, she’s always wanted a more cerebral man. Like me.”

“It’s not that.”

“So you do know the why.”

“I don’t care about the why.”

“Then there’s your problem. She has a why , you don’t care about the why and she wants you to care about the why . Elementary, Gabe, elementary. You just have to understand the female psyche.”

Gabe looked around the club, seeing it through the red haze of his rage. “This is pointless. I shouldn’t have talked to you.”

“Why don’t you talk to Tessa?”

Gabe pretended he wasn’t affected, but, okay, his heart stopped for a second. “What? What do you mean?”

Sean looked completely casual. “Tessa. A female point of view, who conveniently happens to be your roommate, as well. Maybe she can explain the why.”

Gabe hid his sigh of relief. “I’m not sure that Tessa is the right person to talk to.”

“Why?” asked Sean, his eyes narrowed—and suspicious.

Quickly Gabe backed off. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Tessa. I bet she’ll know exactly what to do.”

Sean grinned. “See? Look how smart your older brother is.”

People didn’t realize how difficult it was being the youngest of three brothers. People didn’t give Gabe enough credit for putting up with bullshit like this.