Page 12 of Daring Destiny
So I work. All the fucking time.
Last night I returned home from my eighth trip in four weeks to Silicon Valley. I’ve barely slept all month because I’m constantly fighting fires. This week’s crisis is our Chief Technology Officer is threatening to quit if she doesn’t get a massive raise and additional equity. I don’t blame her, next to me she’s taking the brunt of the investor bullshit.
Ah, fuck. I’m rat-holing.Again.
Tonight, I’m out with my brother, Cillian at my favorite place, the Metropolitan Grill. I’m nursing the same beer I ordered three hours ago. He’s drinking heavily—more than I’ve ever seen him—and it worries me. I can’t watch another family member fuck up his life with alcohol.
When I’m in town, I try to keep a close eye on him, but I’ve not been here much this year. It sucks, he’s my best friend and he’s been through a terrible breakup and started a lucrative but complicated job. The personal toll is obvious, even if he refuses to acknowledge it.
Jesus. We’re two brothers with successful, booming companies who are so stressed out we’re barely able to exchange two words.
Cillian downs another whiskey, his words slurring as he turns to me. “Y’ever think we’re all chasin’ our tails, Brennan? We put s’much into this life, into thesepeople, and…it all blows up in our faces.”
“Yeah.” I nod, swirling the warm beer I have no intention of finishing.
The noise of the bar fades as I, once again, get lost in my thoughts without really responding. I’m snapped back to the present when my phone buzzes. Like a trained monkey, I check my messages. It’s from my brother Connor.
Connor:Ran into Astrid. She mentioned she hasn’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?
Suppressing a groan, I add another task to my list. Astrid and I were supposed to get together a couple weeks after our lunch—apparently, she forgot to return this mysterious item of mine she’s had since high school. For me, I can’t imagine what it could be.
Time fucking flies. It’s been six months since I sat across from her in this very restaurant. Despite my initial misgivings—considering my old fixation on her, part of me wanted to keep my fantasy girl a fantasy—she was easy to talk to, which was unexpected. I don’t always connect well one-on-one. The idea of working on this stupid reunion project kind of blew my mind.
It also reminded me of when I started CognifyAI. The brainstorming. Strategizing. Solving problems. God, I’ve missed it.
“Wassup?” Cillian watches me study my screen.
“It’s Connor.” I pocket my phone. “He ran into a girl from my class. She was asking about me.”
Cillian stares at me, his cynical expression on full display. “So, wait. Are you tellin’ me you haven’t pulled the trigger with her? Y’should definitely go after her. She’d be a hot fuck.”
“Nah, it’s not like that.” I stab my fork into the table in frustration because—let’s be honest—while there’s no hope of any sort of romance with her, it’s not like I haven’t jacked off to her a dozen times since the time in my office.
Cillian laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “Notlikethat? I’m telling youse to go have some fun. Get your dick wet. Fuck her but don’t fuckin’loveher.”
I’m taken aback by his tone, but I know it’s the hurt talking. He fell hard for a woman who wasn’t who she seemed. It broke something inside him. Now he’s channeling his bitterness into warnings he’d never have given me before. And whiskey. Lots of fucking whiskey.
“I get it, Kill. You’re going through hell. Remember, though, unlike you I’m not cool with casual sex. You know I get too attached.” I lean back in the booth. I love my brother, but he’s not the nicest to be around when he’s drunk.
His head lolls a bit. “Ah, fuck it. The minute y’start thinkin’ somethin’s real, it goes to shite. ’Tis true. Yer not cut out for no-strings pussy, ma wee brother.”
His words sting but I can’t entirely dismiss them. Besides, I’ve seen what he’s gone through when he fell hard. The toll it’s taken on him. I’ve never gottencloseto someone loving me before I do something to fuck it up.
We fall into a heavy silence, Cillian finishes off yet another whiskey while I give up all pretense of finishing my beer. I watch him get drunker. Worry about how far he’s sinking. Unsure of how to pull him back, though.
It’s troubling because during the workday, he’s functional. His business is booming but the nighttime boozing is fucking with his attitude. Cillian’s bitterness is cracking the carefree façade he’s built and it seems like he’s heading for disaster.
Maybe I’ll talk to my other brothers about what we can do to support him. I’ll see everyone tomorrow at my da’s sixtieth birthday party. For now, though, it’s close to ten and I’m itching to get home.
“Cillian.” I tap him on the shoulder cautiously as we wait for our Ubers. “Maybe you should take a step back from the drinking for a bit. Focus on your work. Take care of yourself.”
He belches loudly, causing the couple waiting next to us to stare in disgust. “What’s there to take care of? Work’s fine. The company’s better than ever. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Yeah, okay.” I sigh as I try to help him stay upright. Memories of my da stumbling home wasted throughout my teenage years fill me with low-level terror. Cillian is not, in fact, okay. Until he realizes it, though, there’s nothing I’ll be able to do. “I don’t want to see you burn out.”
“Don’t worry ’bout me. Focus on yerself. Fuck Astrid, if y’want.” He shrugs, stumbling a bit.
Our Ubers arrive at the same time and I help him inside, making sure he’s settled. “See you tomorrow at the party?”