Brady, Chris, and Lucas were already outside at the pool, decked out in swim trunks and drinking beer, when Clay finally made it to the house. He’d dropped his stuff off in his room and changed into a pair of Carolina blue swim trunks before entering the pool deck.
“The party has arrived,” he said, walking out to them and grabbing a beer off of Lucas.
“Hey, man,” Lucas said. He extended his hand, and Clay shook it.
Brady and Chris nodded their heads at him and said, “Hey,” at the same time.
“Had to drop Savi off with the girls,” Clay said. He sank into a chair and took a long swig of his beer.
“How was the drive down?” Brady asked.
“Yeah, I can’t believe that you actually drove,” Chris said. He had his ever-present smile plastered onto his face.
The dude was as tall or taller than Brady but lacked all the seriousness of his brother. Brady finally relaxed when he was around Chris. He was actually able to kick back and have a good time rather than always acting so uptight.
“Well, I wanted to visit home first. Then, Savi forced me to drive her.” He shrugged. “It was all right even though she’s a fucking handful.”
Lucas snorted beside him. “That’s the truth.”
Clay wondered what the fuck was up with Lucas and Savannah. Andrea had mentioned that they had been a thing at one point, but it couldn’t be the case if she was attached at the hip with Easton.
“How’s Vanderbilt treating you?” Clay asked instead.
Lucas had just finished his junior year, like Savannah, and played on the Vanderbilt basketball team.
Lucas swiped his shaggy hair out of his eyes and grinned. “Pretty epic. We made it to the Final Four this past year. I can’t believe I only have one more year.”
Brady raised his beer to him. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Nothing else like it.”
“That’s right, man. I’m
definitely
enjoying it.”
Clay had a feeling he knew
just
what Lucas meant by that.
“What about you?” Clay asked Chris. “How is New York treating you?”
Chris worked at some marketing firm in New York City. Clay wasn’t exactly certain what he did, but he must be making bank because he had a nice apartment in Manhattan even if he couldn’t seem to hold down a girl to save his life.
“Didn’t you hear?” Brady asked.
“What?”
“I got a promotion,” Chris said with a slightly delirious laugh. “I got a job in D.C.”
“Fuck, tell me you’re not working with this dipshit,” he said, pointing at his brother.
“Nah, the company is expanding. They want me to head the new office in D.C. Offered it to me, knowing I had connections on the Hill, of course.” Chris shrugged. “It’s a great opportunity, and I get to be near you two assholes more. Plus, higher pay in a city with lower cost of living.”
“Who are you trying to convince?” Lucas joked.
“Hey, hey!” Chris said, holding his hands up. “We’re here to celebrate Brady getting hitched, not ragging on me!”
“The old ball and chain,” Clay said.
Brady leaned back in his chair with a smile that Clay could only call dreamy. Normally, Brady was so reserved that there was nothing to see beyond the politician’s mask he always wore, but this weekend, it was gone. He was ecstatic.
“Hottest ball and chain I’ve ever seen,” Brady said.
“I’ll toast to that,” Chris said, holding his beer up.
The guys spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around the pool and drinking. When dusk hit, they changed into more suitable clothes, had dinner at a local restaurant, and then retired relatively early, for all of them were worn out from traveling.
The next day convened like the last. Innocent jabs, lots of poolside beer, and a whole lot of brotherly camaraderie that Clay found he’d actually missed. He didn’t know the last time he and Brady had just hung out like this without him always being wary of the political arena. For once, the politics were off his back, and he was just a man about to marry the woman of his dreams.
At one point, Clay pulled Chris and Lucas aside while Brady had disappeared upstairs, presumably to talk to Liz.
“I know we agreed to take it easy,” Clay said, holding his hands up, “and we’re doing that. But I gave up Vegas for this. The least we can do is get him shitfaced in his last hurrah.”
Lucas just nodded. “I’m down. I’d love to see Brady get turnt.”
“Oh God, the slang just keeps getting worse and worse,” Chris groaned.
Lucas clapped his brother on the back. “Come on! Don’t you remember what it was like in college? I know it was a long time ago for you, but you have to remember—the booze, the women, basketball. Let’s bring that back for him.”
“Minus the women,” Chris clarified.
Clay shrugged. “There are some very hot women right down the beach.”
“It’s a bachelor party. We’re not bringing Liz over here. If we get him sloppy, it’s on us. No one else has to know.”
Clay and Lucas exchanged a glance that said they would both be taking videos of this shit later and then nodded. “Deal,” they said at the same time.
That was how Clay and Lucas piled into his hybrid and rolling to the liquor store later that day. They’d given Brady some bullshit excuse about going to pick up lunch. Guess they’d have to do that now, too.
He and Lucas grabbed some more beer, a handle or two of tequila, a few bottles of whiskey, and some mixers. They hauled it all back out to his car and deposited it into the trunk.
“So,” Clay said as they walked to the sandwich place next door, “are you and Savannah a thing?”
Lucas grunted and shrugged.
“What does that mean?”
“Dunno. Where’d you hear that?”
“Someone mentioned it once. That the case?”
“Look, man, it’s not a big deal. We were kind of an on-and-off-again thing. But, now, Savi and I are ancient history.” Lucas looked up at him and seemed really unconvincing. “She has a boyfriend, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I know that don’t mean shit though if you really like her. Or if she really likes you. Didn’t matter for Brady and Liz.”
“Hey, I tried with her. If she really likes me, then she has a funny way of showing it.” He rubbed his jaw, like he was remembering a particularly painful memory.
“Well, that’s good for your health.”
Lucas cocked an eyebrow. “That so?”
“Yeah, because, as her brother, I have to let you know…I’d kick your ass.”
“Cool, man,” Lucas said with a stiff laugh.
They returned to the beach house after picking up enough sandwiches that it looked like they could feed a small third world country rather than four guys all over six feet tall.
Brady took one look at their liquor loot and shook his head. “What’s all this?”
“The party!” Lucas cried, pulling out the tequila and pouring it into the small shot glasses they’d picked up.
“Drink up, big brother.” Clay patted him on the back.
Lucas passed Brady a shot.
“I promised Liz no strippers, but if we don’t finish all this booze, I can’t guarantee I’ll hold to that promise.”
Brady laughed, raised his shot of tequila into the air, and said, “Bring it on.”
Chapter 20
BOOZE & CIGARS
Several hours and a shit-ton of alcohol later, Brady Maxwell was hammered. It was easily the drunkest Clay had ever seen his brother. Not that he had seen Brady get drunk all that often, but Chris had seen him drink all through college, and even
he
swore, he had never seen Brady like this. Claimed he’d never gotten this wasted at school. Clay thought that just meant Brady had been way too uptight in college.
They’d lit cigars at some point, and the air was still perfumed with the scent. Brady’s was half-discarded in an ashtray they’d found in their father’s office. Clay had felt like a proper gentleman, smoking his cigar with the guys, but the very idea of it made him laugh.
“I just…I just love her,” Brady slurred. He smiled dopily before taking another shot on the table.
“I’d hope so. You’re marrying her,” Clay told him.
He rolled his eyes at Brady, who just smiled back at him. He was so wasted. It was hilarious to see him try to hold on to the vestiges of his political self even now.
“You’re going to find this…this one day,” Brady began. He swung his beer around, trying to aim at all three of them. “All of you.”
“That’s right, man,” Chris said, trying to hide his laughter.
“Giving speeches, even when he’s drunk,” Clay said. He shook his head.
“It’s who he is.” Chris just shrugged one shoulder and waited for whatever Brady was saying to make sense.
“You’re going to find…it. And when you do…” he said, taking a sip of the beer. “When you do, I’m going to be…there.”
“What are we finding?” Lucas prompted. He was beyond wasted all on his own, kicked back in the lounge chair. His eyes were glassy.
Clay was pretty sure, at some point, he’d gone down to the beach to smoke a blunt because he’d come back smelling like it. No one else had seemed to notice or care.
“Her. The one,” Brady told them.
Clay and Chris cracked up at him spouting his unconditional love. Neither of them had gotten as drunk as Brady. Chris had had more than Clay though, as he was under orders from Liz to take care of Brady.
“And I’m getting y’all this drunk when it happens!” Brady yelled.
“Done!” Clay agreed.
“I just want you to all be as happy as I am. She’s a fucking incredible woman.” Brady started wandering around, teetering and nearly falling over.
“Oh, there. Hold on. Don’t fall over,” Clay said. He put his hand out to steady Brady.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Brady said, shaking him off.
“I don’t think so.”
Brady patted him on the cheek and laughed. “Look at you.”
Clay shook his head in despair.
What the fuck?
Brady stumbled and fell into the chair next to Lucas.
“Fuck, is this what it’s like, dealing with me?” Clay asked as he helped Chris haul Brady back to his feet.
“Worse,” Chris told him.
“Ass. That was rhetorical.”
“Call ’em like I see ’em.”
“No wonder I don’t have any friends,” Clay said.
“I need to take a piss,” Brady announced to the room before pushing past them, making his way toward the bathroom.
“Oh, Jesus. He’s going to drown, and we’ll never deliver him whole to Liz,” Clay groaned.
“Don’t worry. I got him,” Chris said, fending him off. “He’s probably about to pass out, and then I’m following him.”
“You know,” Clay called to Brady down the hall, “if you practiced drinking more, this wouldn’t happen!”
Brady flipped him off and Clay just laughed.
God, his brother was a fucking wreck. And it was awesome. He hadn’t known what to expect, coming to this bachelor party, but it was better than anything he could have anticipated.
Lucas staggered out of his chair and nodded his head toward the stairs leading to the beach. Clay followed him right out to the beach. He’d been right. Lucas pulled a joint out of his pocket, rolled it between his fingers, and then lit it. He took a drag between his thumb and forefinger and gradually released the smoke.
“You in?” He passed it to Clay, who shrugged and took a hit off of it.
“Fuck,” Clay said. “I haven’t done this shit since college.”
“Haven’t had one since basketball season started,” Lucas admitted.
Clay passed it back to him. “You smoke regularly otherwise?”
“Nah. Just at parties and shit.” He took another hit and then offered it to Clay again.
“I’m good. I think I’m going to go for a walk.”
Lucas’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah? You going to see the girls?”
Clay shrugged. “Might just do that.”
Lucas smirked at him. “Let’s do it.”
“Don’t forget what I said about how I’d beat your ass,” Clay told him.
But there was mischief in Lucas’s eyes that Clay recognized, that reminded him a bit of himself.
So, they walked down the beach in silence.
It was better not to know.
The night air was cool, a total contrast from the oppressive heat that hit them during the day. The stars were just visible on the horizon, and the moon was nearly full to bursting.
If not for the nearly full moon, Clay would never have noticed the blonde girl seated on a blanket on the beach. Lucas bumped him in the shoulder and then disappeared into the night. Whatever he planned to do, Clay no longer cared.
He was just drunk enough to actually go through with this. Andrea was sitting there, just like the lost twelve-year-old girl she had been that day he’d found her crying on the beach because her parents were arguing. The same day they’d shared their first kiss.
He hadn’t walked away then.
He couldn’t walk away now.
“Hey,” he said softly as he approached.
When she heard his voice, she jumped and glanced up at him. He could see tears brimming in her eyes. She looked as if she had been sitting here, crying, for a while. He hated that.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She hastily wiped at her cheeks.
“Thought I’d walk on the beach. Want to walk with me?”
She shook her head. “I’m just going to sit here. You go ahead.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“If you must.”
Clay sank down onto her blanket and stared out at the ocean. The waves were nearly black in the dark. Watching them crash evenly was melodic and comforting.
“Going to tell me why you’re crying?”
“No,” she whispered. The wind carried it away, and he barely heard her.
“All right.”
They sat there like that listening to the waves crash against the sand. Clay didn’t know how much time had passed. But he just sat there with her. She needed someone, no matter if she would admit it or not, tell him what the issue was or not, allow herself to be comforted or not. She clearly needed someone.
And he was her someone.
He was her person.
“Tell me about the gallery,” he finally said into the stillness.
She stirred next to him. He could feel her eyes on him. He turned to face her and saw that she seemed startled.
“What about the gallery?”
“Everything. How did it start? Where have you been getting the paintings? How much do you love it?”