“I’m here to take you home.” He stood.
“Paul?” Jimmy pushed himself upright and scrubbed his palms over his face. “What are you doing here?”
Irritation pulsed in his temples, but Paul kept his voice quiet. “You asked Vince to call me because you knew you shouldn’t drive home.”
“Oh yeah. Vince took my car keys away.” His words were indistinct around the edges. “I guess you’re pissed at me.”
Paul sighed and sat down again. “I thought you were going to your AA meetings.”
“I was. I am.” Jimmy’s shrug sent him listing sideways, and he had to grab the arm of the sofa to right himself. “It was just a bad night.”
“Why didn’t you call your sponsor? Adam would have helped you.”
Another shrug. “He’s busy at the Aerie on Saturdays.”
“He’s made it clear he’s available whenever you need him. He wouldn’t be your AA sponsor otherwise.” Paul knew his words fell on deaf ears, because Jimmy wouldn’t have called his sponsor if it had been noon on a Monday. His brother had done this to send a message to Paul: Jimmy needed him to stay here in Sanctuary. Any thoughts he had of leaving should be banished.
Tears slid down his brother’s cheeks. “I thought I’d have Eric this weekend, so I didn’t plan anything to keep my mind off it.” He swiped at his face. “I hear you’re dating that famous artist who came to see Claire Arbuckle.”
Surprised by his brother’s change in topic, Paul nodded.
“You always were a son of a gun with the ladies. So was I.” Jimmy shook his head sadly. “You were with her tonight, weren’t you?”
Knowing how many people had seen them at the 1827 House, Paul told the truth. “Yes.”
Jimmy slammed a fist on the couch. “First your job and now your love life. I’m screwing up everything for you. I’m a worthless son of a bitch.”
“Let’s go home.”
“You must hate me.”
This was familiar territory when Jimmy was drunk. “You’re my brother. I love you. Now let’s get out of here.”
Jimmy nodded and tried to push himself off the couch. Paul caught him as he staggered and hooked his brother’s arm around his neck to hold him up. Jimmy smelled like stale smoke, sweat, and booze. Paul thought of how Julia had smelled when he had held her earlier. He tried to summon the memory of her fragrance of fresh air and flowers into his nostrils, but it was too delicate to survive the contrast.
He walked Jimmy down the hall and out the back door. Before rounding the corner of the building to get to his car, he propped his brother against the wall and did a quick survey to make sure no one was there to see them. Jimmy had been doing so much better, and Paul really didn’t want Terri to get wind of this backslide.
Nothing moved except the flashing red-and-blue neon of the Budweiser sign, so he hustled Jimmy into the ’Vette and quickly got on the road.
“Oh God,” his brother moaned as they rounded a curve. “I’m going to puke.”
Paul hit the button to put down the window. “Do you want me to pull over?”
“No, the fresh air’s good. If I’m going to vomit, I’ll lean out. Don’t want to mess up your fancy car.”
Jimmy had progressed to his nasty phase.
“I can take it to the car wash tomorrow, but you might be more comfortable if you got the alcohol out of your stomach.”
“Nah, I like it there. Makes me feel good, even though I’m a drunken loser. That’s what Terri used to call me, you know. Bitch. Not you. Her.”
Paul found himself hoping yet again that his brother didn’t call his ex-wife a bitch in front of Eric. He’d never heard Jimmy do it, and he’d never seen him drunk in his son’s company. Jimmy swore he never touched a drop when he had Eric with him, and Paul was inclined to believe him. His brother loved his son too much to jeopardize his safety or the amount of time he got to spend with him. They made it home without the car needing a wash, and Paul half carried his brother up the front steps. Inside the house he saw the evidence of Jimmy’s binge: three beer bottles and a liter of vodka stood empty on the coffee table. A fourth beer was lying on its side, its contents puddled on the table and creating a dark stain on the carpeting. That meant there were at least two more beers hidden somewhere. He would have to hunt for the stash after he put Jimmy to bed.
He got his brother onto his bed, pulling his boots off and tucking a plaid comforter around him. As he leaned down to adjust the pillow under Jimmy’s head, his brother’s eyes opened and he grabbed Paul’s hand. “Swear you won’t leave! If I lose Eric, I’ll kill myself.”