The Bennett Brothers

THOMAS

“Where’s Rose?” Tom asks, trying to appear casual.

As promised, he checked in on her on Tuesday and Wednesday, but his new job got the better of him today. Having missed his opportunity to see her, he found himself itching for a fix.

That is why he invited Eric for drinks, assuming he would bring Rose along.

“Working.” Eric scoffs. “Like what she does is actually work. Standing around in an art gallery all day.” Tom doesn’t miss the snooty mockery in his tone, nor the slight slur in his words.

How many drinks has he had? Tom wonders before asking, “Are art galleries normally open this late?”

“I don’t know. That’s where she said she was.” Eric’s gaze drops to his glass before he takes a large swig. “Something about making sure everything is right for the Bennett account.” He lets out a sigh.

Tom senses a rant is about to happen, so he keeps quiet.

“All week long I’ve had to hear about this,” Eric says, spewing the words as Tom expected. “Bennett account this, Bennett account that. She’s had no time for me, and when she does get home, she’s too tired to give me what I want. It’s like she’s forgotten her place.”

Ignoring Eric’s disparaging use of his family name, Tom focuses on the last sentence. “Her place?” He keeps his tone light, careful not to disrupt Eric’s flow, but his grip tightens around his beer bottle as he stares at his cousin.

I want to slap this guy. Does he not realize how amazing Rose is?

Eric finishes the rest of his drink. “Yeah, on my arm. By my side. And at home.” He looks around the bar before continuing, “You see, Rose is an art dealer. It’s fruity but useful in a social sense, you know? She’s the type of partner who gets me what I need.”

Tom’s blood boils, but he dare not interrupt.

“At social events, I whip her out. Her knowledge impresses the snobby wives, while I convince their husbands I’m worth the investment. Then I put her away again, at home where she belongs.” Eric leans forward. “And her killer body doesn’t hurt either.” Eric laughs.

Everything about what Eric just said revolts Tom, and his time for silence is over. “Rose is more than that. She’s no Stepford wife.”

Eric scoffs. “Not yet, but I’ll get her there.” Eric eyes the bar and then stands. “Besides, what would you know? You just met her.” Tom opens his mouth to speak, but Eric says, “I need another drink,” and leaves.

“Wow. He is a dick.” Tom’s older brother, Harry, short for Harrison, slides into the booth opposite him. “Are we actually related to that guy? First-class asshole.” Harry shakes his head. “So, who is this Rose, and why has she got your panties in a twist?”

“She’s the girl.”

“The girl?”

“The girl!” Tom can hardly contain his excitement at the opportunity to finally talk to someone about her.

“You’re kidding?” Harry mirrors his demeanor, leaning forward across the table. “Your fucking mystery woman? You found her?” His expression breaks as he puts the situation together. “And she’s Eric’s girlfriend?”

As if on cue, Eric slides into the booth next to Harry. Tom takes a drink to stop himself from laughing at how small Eric looks next to the professional NFL quarterback that is Harrison Bennett.

“Harry!” Eric claps him on the shoulder. “So glad you could join us.”

“Eric.” Harry tips his beer in greeting before taking a mouthful.

“Since you’re both here, where’s my invite to the Bennett party? Am I not part of the family? What’s with this rift between us?”

Tom’s heart flutters from the implication of Eric’s question. Rose isn’t going to bring him? She also doesn’t seem to have told him about their daily meetings.

Meetings, Tom recalls, that have allowed him to learn more about her, get closer to her, touch her arm that one time and the small of her back that other time, and smell the vanilla that wafts when she moves.

“Of course you can come,” Harry says before Tom can say no. “I can’t believe you actually want to go.” Harrison laughs, but he catches Tom’s glower and stops.

“I would have thought Rose was going to bring you?” Tom says.

Eric scoffs. “She said she couldn’t, needed permission or some shit. Something about it being a work thing.” He looks down at the swirling ice cubes in his drink, then finishes it in one gulp.

Is that true? Does she really only see it as a work event? Or did she just say that?

Abruptly, Eric pushes out of the booth and stumbles back to the bar.

“I can’t believe any woman would be with him,” Harry says.

“I don’t think they’ve been dating long.”

“That doesn’t really matter, bro.” Harry blows out a breath, sighs, and glances at something behind Tom. “Actually,” he says, cocking his head, “that may work out for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry smiles and motions with his head for Tom to follow his gaze. Tom does, and he sees Eric lip-locked with a blonde at the bar.

“That bastard.” Tom slams his drink down and slides from the seat, but Harry grabs his arm.

“Don’t, bro. It’s none of our business.”

“The hell it isn’t! Rose is my dream girl, and Eric supposedly represents our family. I need to do something.” Tom tries to free himself, but Harry grips him tighter.

“If you go over there and start a fight, Alex will fire you. The last thing he wants is unnecessary media attention.”

“Fine.” Tom rips his arm away and stands. “I’ll do the next best thing.”