Page 79 of One Last Rainy Day
Tobias pushes the check back toward him. “We’re going to have dessert.”
“Which one, sir?”
“Every selection on the menu. We’re celebrating,” he boasts proudly. “My brother is going to attend MIT.”
“Ah,” the man barely spares me a glance. “Excellent, sir, congratulations.” The waiter takes off as we eye each other over the table.
“I don’t think he gave a fuck,” I muse.
“He doesn’t,” Tobias retorts jovially, “he’s probably sweating about how much of a tip we’re going to leave. Even a shrink shows up for money. Now look around.”
I do. My last stop is the table of women currently lookingour way. Making it a point to, I catch the come-fuck-me-eyes of one of them as Tobias speaks. “They’re no better than you are, Dom. Not fucking one of them. You’re the biggest threat in this room. That’s a fact, so believe it.”
The woman’s eyes dart away before I turn back to see him lifting his glass to toast. “To the long game.”
“To the long game,” I parrot as we clink glasses, the buzz intensifying.
“Let’s play hard, brother.” He winks before we drink.
Glass still tilted, Tobias’s eyes light over the rim as he catches sight of someone over my shoulder. Tabling his wine, he abruptly stands. “Ah, finally, I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
“Sorry about that,” the man replies, approaching our table with a mischievous gleam in his eyes as they shake hands. My own eyes trail over the man in recognition as he shifts his focus on me. Exuding confidence, he extends a hand in offering. “Finally, the prodigal brother. Nice to meet you, Dominic.”
Tobias beams with pride. “Dom, this is—”
“Congressman Monroe,” I say, already standing, extending my hand and shooting Tobias a confused look as we shake. In response, he gives me a conspiratorial wink.
Four hours and countless glasses later, Tobias turns just after exiting and slams me into closing the door of the town car he called after our vision blurred and doubled.
Releasing me, Tobias stumbles further back into the yard, drawing from his hip in declaration. “En garde!”
Gripping his nonexistent sword, foot stretched in front of him in a lunge pose, he arches his opposite arm over his head, fingers dangling above his crown. When I just stare at him,his shoulders drop as his expression goes limp. “It means draw your sword.”
“I know what it means, but drawing my sword will only embarrass you in front of the handmaidens,” I snort.
“All I’m hearing is that you’re too impotent to draw your steel,” he taunts.
“Don’t project, brother, I hear it happens to all men with age, and I’m more of a hand-to-hand man,” I declare, charging toward him. Feigning a successful dodge of the thrust of his invisible sword, I tackle him into the grass.
“Oof,” he goes down, roaring with laughter until I gain the advantage and deliver an over-playful bitch slap.
His eyes flare in warning as he knocks me off. “Poor form, Dom. This is a gentlemen’s fight.”
We both stumble back to our feet, and I raise my sword and mimic his posture. “Never going to be a gentleman, but touché, or whatever the fuck,” I slur. We drunkenly shuffle back and forth across the yard and up the porch stairs, clashing invisible swords while knocking over two of Delphine’s clay-potted plants. As Tobias reaches for the screen door, I lurch forward, delivering the death blow, burying my sword until my knuckles hit his chest.
He grips his wound, eyes widening in mock surprise. “So ruthless, brother. A street fighter to your core, right through the fucking heart,” he sniggers with pride.
“Gutter-rattith-forith-thou-killith,” I smirk.
Opening the screen door, Tobias shakes his head, smile disappearing, eyes narrowing when he sees the state of me. “You ruined my two-hundred-dollar shirt.”
“I consider it an improvement and deserved punishment for spending that much on a fucking shirt.”
“You’re a teenage millionaire, Dom. Spring for a new pack of V-necks and BVDs.” Eyes glazed by drink, he pats himself down. “Do you have your key? I left mine with the valet.”
“Nope.”
“Fuck.” He drops his head before rapping on the door. Not a second later, the porch light comes on, and it opens, Delphine’s narrowing eyes darting between us.
