New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred. Kathleen O'Reilly
old guy down. He deserved better. “I don’t think so.”
Charlie stared into his mug until Lloyd tapped his glass to Charlie’s. “To lost loves, lost nights and lost chances. But may you never lose your beer.”
ON SUNDAY NIGHT GABE took out Marisa, just as Tessa wanted. He took her to 11 Madison for dinner and then some play that he didn’t really understand, but she’d been all fired up to go, and, fine, Gabe wasn’t up to disagreeing.
Marisa was nice enough, pretty enough, but man, the woman knew exactly what she wanted. When it came time to kiss her good-night or—God help him—something more serious, Gabe found himself dreading the whole ordeal.
This was one of the main reasons that he didn’t date. Trying to understand what women expected, what they didn’t expect, what they were saying, what they weren’t saying. Did they expect to have sex on the first date? Would they think he was a creep if he wanted to have sex with them after one date? These were questions that could boggle and confuse a man’s mind.
Still, he was going to do this. He was going to do this. Marisa looked up at him, smiled coyly, and he laid into her mouth.
Immediately she pulled back. “Okay, that was not good.”
Under other circumstances, Gabe would have been insulted, but he liked Marisa’s uncomfortable face because it proved that he’d been right and Tessa was wrong. And next time he saw her he was going to tell her that she shouldn’t be fixing him up with other women—even if they were nice.
“Sorry,” he said, noticing her confused expression. “My mind’s elsewhere.”
“Mine, too,” she admitted. “You want to come up?” she asked.
“I should go home,” he said, trying to figure out if “come up” was code for sex or not. And after that kiss there was no freaking way he was going near her for sex.
“I don’t mean to come up,” she said, adding suggestive emphasis. “I just thought you might want to talk for a few minutes.”
Gabe checked his watch. It was too early to show up at the apartment with his pride still intact. A man didn’t take getting dumped lightly, and who knew what Tessa’s reasons were, but the fact was Tessa had dumped him.
Gabe nodded because a man needed his pride. “Sure.”
They killed two hours discussing movies and arguing about whether chick flicks were a good thing or a bad thing. Marisa liked the Hamptons. Gabe liked the Jersey shore. Both agreed that subway fares were crazy expensive and the smoking ban in bars turned out to be all right after all.
They passed the time without incident when Gabe’s cell rang, and he looked down to see his brother’s cell number. He clicked the button. “Daniel?”
“Hello? Who’s this?” asked a voice that wasn’t Daniel’s.
“This is Gabe. Who is this?” Gabe asked.
“This is Vincent, the bartender at Champs. Listen, I think your brother needs some help getting home. I tried to call a cab for him, but he wouldn’t listen, and I’m not sure he knows where he’s going.”
“Daniel?” asked Gabe and then checked his watch. May twenty-fifth.
Damn.
While he’d been busy walking that tightwire that was Tessa, he’d forgotten about Daniel and Michelle’s anniversary.
“Where’s he at?” Gabe asked.
“We’re in Westchester.”
“Westchester? How’d he get up there?”
“Beats me. But he’s been knocking back double scotches for the last three hours.”
“He’s alone?”
“Deep in his cups.”
“I’m on my way.”
Gabe hung up and looked at Marisa. “Sorry. I’ve got a brother to rescue.”
“He’s in Westchester?”
“Yeah. He’s pretty smashed.”
“You need a ride?” she asked, and he gave her high marks for seeing the problem right off.
“You have a car?”
“Of course,” Marisa answered as if it was completely normal to keep a car in the city.
True, he didn’t want to have sex with her, but she was thoughtful and capable. Tessa had good taste in friends. “Are you sure you don’t mind? This won’t be pretty.”
“That’s all right, I don’t mind.”
And they ended up on the FDR, cruising out onto the Deegan, until she wheeled onto the exit for Scarsdale.
Marisa had a sweet little convertible and a heavy accelerator foot, but Gabe was happy for the rush. Daniel didn’t do this often, but when he did, Gabe was always there to bail him out.
The sports bar was on the main street in Scarsdale, a place with six TVs, flashing neon beer signs and bartenders dressed in striped referee uniforms that no man in his right mind would ever wear in a drinking establishment.
Hunched over said bar, blindingly drunk, was the O’Sullivan brother formerly known as “the sensible one.”
Gabe rushed forward. “Daniel?”
The bartender looked up in relief. “It was either you or the cops.”
“Does he come in here often?” asked Gabe.
“Never seen him before, but I’ve only been working here for a few weeks.”
Gabe paid the tab and gave the bartender a substantial tip. “Sorry.”
“He’s your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“Kept talking about some woman.”
“Michelle?”
“No, he kept talking about Anastasia.”
Anastasia? Gabe shook his head, deciding the bartender was confused. “Doesn’t matter.”
He looked over at Marisa, who was watching the scene with interest. “You sure you want to do this?”
“It’s the most excitement I’ve had since a famous Grammy winner walked into the office, and I got to show him a SoHo loft that would have paid my rent for a year.”
With a quick smile, she took a shoulder, Gabe took the other one, and they carried Daniel toward the door.
“He doesn’t usually do this,” Gabe said, needing to defend Daniel.
“I’m not one to judge.”
“He lost his wife on 9/11,” he told her, not wanting to say too much, but he didn’t want Marisa thinking his brother was a lush, but Daniel kept things bottled inside, and when they came out, it was never pretty—and usually incoherent.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are we headed?”
“He’s got a place down in Battery Park.” He searched Daniel’s pocket for keys and found them—thank God—because he wasn’t up to explaining this to Tessa. Trying to explain it to the absolute stranger that was Marisa was bad enough.
It took some work, but they got him in the backseat, and Gabe climbed in next to him.
“He’s kind of sad.”
“Not sad,” muttered Daniel.
The car shot forward, and soon Gabe was sitting there in a strange woman’s car with a drunk brother who looked as if was going to wake up tomorrow and hopefully forget all of this. Gabe wasn’t up to reminding him, or correcting him, but he could feel Marisa’s curiosity