What You Need(24)

Yeah, I’d be up for anything and everything anywhere with her.

Pervert. She works for you.

Technically, she didn’t work for me specifically.

That’s the beer talking, man. She’s exactly the type of woman you don’t need to get involved with. A beautiful, by-the-book, buttoned-up blonde.

Nolan snapped his fingers in my face. “Focus.”

“Christ. All right.”

Ash tapped his pen on the paper. “Here’s the deal. You have to list two things to change in your life immediately. One thing to stop doing, one thing to start doing.”

That wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

Nolan ordered two rounds of shots.

I didn’t pay much attention to what he’d ordered—I was too busy mentally compiling my list, because god forbid I failed at this.

Nolan slid a shot toward me. “We drink this first.”

“What is it?”

“Vanilla vodka.”

I made a face. “Why?”

“As a reminder that you’re done living a vanilla life,” Ash said.

Of all the stupid—Okay, maybe it wasn’t stupid. Maybe it made sense. I raised my glass. “Bring on the rainbow of flavors.” I knocked back the booze. Shuddered. That was some nasty stuff.

My cousins and brother all wore the same look of distaste after their empty shot glasses hit the table.

“All right, man. Now you can start the list. Tell us one thing you aren’t gonna do anymore.”

First one was easy. “No more eighty- or ninety-hour workweeks.”

They looked at each other and nodded. Then Ash jotted it down.

“Next thing?” Nolan prompted.

This one was trickier. I studied my empty shot glass. “I’ll do something new, daring and out of the norm every week.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment, because I should not have had to make a fucking pact with them about changing my life and then announce it to the free world.

Nolan shook his head. “Specifics, man. With something that vague, you could claim that ordering orange sesame chicken instead of orange sesame beef qualifies as daring.”

Walker and Ash nodded agreement. My brother said, “This is us, B. you know we’ve got your back unless you decide your ‘new’ thing is torturing small animals.”

“Or if your ‘daring’ thing is taking up professional ice dancing,” Ash said.

“Or if your ‘out of the norm’ thing is donning fetish wear on casual Fridays,” Nolan tossed in.

Bunch of freakin’ comedians. But I knew they were trying to find that balance point between sappy and helpful. So in turn I tried to find the halfway point between the full truth and a partial lie. “It won’t come as a surprise to any of you that I fear failure”—no way was I confessing why I feared failure—“but I’m tired of using that as an excuse. From here on out, I’ll take steps to actually have a personal life outside of work and family. I’ll really put myself out there. And any failure just means I actually tried to make a change.”

Ash wrote that down on the second piece of paper.

And I felt good about what I’d said—even if I’d spoken somewhat disingenuously. I puffed on the cigar. “Now what?”

“Now it’s time for the ritual.”

“I thought that was the ritual.”

Walker shook his head.

Great.

I got a little worried when Walker put his palms together in prayer position, his unlit stogie dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today—”

“What the fuck does a Prince song have to do with the damn ritual?” I snapped.

“Nothing. We’re just fucking with you to see if we could get you to dance on the bar singing ‘Let’s Go Crazy.’”

“Bunch of jackasses,” I muttered.

Nolan passed out the next shot. He raised his shot glass and paused while we all did the same.

“To having the balls to admit your life needs a change and taking that first step. Skål.”

We repeated, “Skål,” touched glasses and knocked back the drink.

Somehow I managed not to choke on the cinnamon-flavored whiskey.

Nolan grinned. “From vanilla to fire. Variety is the spice of life.”

Ash held up the two pieces of paper. He slid the one in his right hand across the table. “This is the one you look at every day as a reminder.”

“And the other one?”

“This one you never want to see again. Crumple it up and torch it.”

Moving my cigar to my left hand, I crushed the paper in my fist. Then I dropped it in the big metal ashtray and held the smoldering end of the cigar to the corner of the list. It caught fire immediately.