8
Stephen’s Sister Danielle

     Stephen remained at the table after Tommy left to go to the bathroom and wash his face. Stephen couldn’t help but think that he now looked healthier. Endorphins can do that, I read. And I’m sure my plan certainly got Tommy’s endorphins pumping. Stephen took a sip of water and looked around the room. He reminded himself of who he wanted to see next and, just as he was about to get up, two hands from behind covered his eyes, blinding him.
     He reflexively grabbed the hands but did not remove them from his eyes. Instead, he gently ran his fingers over them. Smooth. A diamond ring and wedding band. Long nails.
     “Okay, I give,” he said. The hands vanished and Stephen turned around to see his sister Danielle beaming down at him.
     She tweaked his nose and said, “Don’t you even think of saying, ‘My favorite sister’ to me, oh brother of mine.”
     “And why not?”
     “A brother does not ignore his quote unquote favorite sister for five years.”
     Stephen shrugged and hung his head in mock shame. “That is true, my fav ... er, my sister. That is true.”
     Danielle sat down and moved her chair closer to Stephen. Stephen saw that she was smiling, but it was a mirthless grin, devoid of any real good humor. “So where the hell have you been, bigshot? And how could you not even call Mommy? Do you have any idea what that did to her?” Danielle leaned back and grabbed an olive from the antipasto tray. “I love family style buffets.” She popped the olive in her mouth and, as she chewed, she stared at Stephen in that affectionate, critical, condemning, proud, amused way only an older sister can stare at a brother. She finished chewing, swallowed, and said, “Asshole.”
     “I know.”
     “You know?”
     “Yes.”
     “So?”
     “So what?”
     “So what have you got to say for yourself?”
     “I’m here, aren’t I?”
     “Are you? Are you really here, Stephen? Is your heart here? Your soul? The spirit that connects you to your family? Is that here? Or are you here in body only? Why would you even bother showing up if you could survive five years without any contact with any of us? Why now? You’ve obviously gotten along fine without any of us.”
     “Because I knew it was time.”
     “Time for what?”
     “To make amends for being ... away so long.”
     “Away? Is that where you were?”
     Stephen felt himself getting agitated, and he could feel a sheen of sweat break out on his forehead. Danielle was one of the few people who could do this to him.
     “Yeah, Dan. I was away. In Oregon. Okay? But I’m here now. So don’t break my balls, all right?”
     Danielle snickered and popped another olive. This time, she spoke while she chewed. “You’re not here. And you know it. I can see right through you.”
     Stephen stood up and angrily said, “Five years, Dan, and the first thing you do is pick a fight. Why? Why couldn’t you just say, ‘I’m so happy to see you, Stephen. We all missed you’? Huh? No. Not Danielle. Did you ever think that you might have been part of the reason I stayed away from Connecticut? You were obnoxious five years ago, and you’re still obnoxious. I didn’t know why you were that way then, and I don’t know why you are that way now.”
     Danielle sat silently through Stephen’s tirade, looking down at the table and tapping her foot nervously. When Stephen was finished, she looked up and said softly, “You’re right. And I’m sorry.” And then she exploded into tears and lowered her head to the table and began sobbing.
     Stephen sat down and started to rub Danielle’s back. “I’m sorry, Dan. I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
     Danielle turned her head to look at Stephen. Her tears had made her mascara run. Don’t they make run-proof mascara these days? “You’re sorry?”
     “Yes. I’m sorry. And I mean it.” He then gave her a small grin and said, “That might have been a record, Dan. From ‘Hello, how are you?’ to tears in, what, two minutes flat?”
     Danielle giggled, wiped her eyes gently with two fingers, and said, “Yeah. We’re pretty good, huh?”
     “Pros.”
     Danielle sat up and pulled a small compact out of her purse. Stephen noticed it was black cloisonné with a peacock on it. It was very pretty. The second Danielle looked in the mirror she let out a gasp and said, “How could you let me remain in public looking like this?”
     Stephen laughed and said, “Sorry, Dan. We were busy with other things.”
     “Yeah. We were.” Danielle stood up, leaned over, kissed Stephen on the cheek, and said, “Ladies room.”
     “Hang on a minute, Dan.”
     Danielle sat back down with an expectant look on her face. “I’m the one who told dad about you getting a tattoo, Dan.”
     Danielle’s eyes flew wide and her nostrils flared and she said, “It was you?” Stephen nodded sheepishly.
     “I’m sorry.”
     “I was grounded for a month.”
     “I know.”
     “And he took away my TV and my phone.”
     “I know.”
     “And he made me have it removed.”
     “I know. I’m sorry.”
     Danielle’s eyes blazed, but then a small smirk started forming on her lips. “You bastard.”
     “Yeah.”
     “Do you know how much it hurts to have a tattoo removed?”
     “No. Does it hurt?” Stephen asked with a half-smile on his face.
     “It’s like being snapped with rubber bands. Hard. Over and over and over. Yeah, it hurts.”
     “It was on your inner thigh, wasn’t it?”
     Danielle nodded.
     “I’m sorry, Dan. I really am. I was young, and a snot-nosed little creep.”
     Danielle laughed and said, “Yes, you were. But all’s well that ends well.”
     Puzzled, Stephen said, “What do you mean?”
     Danielle looked around the room, and then said, “Look.” She pulled her dress up to just below her waist and spread her legs slightly. Stephen burst out laughing and immediately covered his mouth. “Oh, my God! Does dad know?”
     Danielle nodded. “And he’s still pissed about it. But once I turned twenty-one, he didn’t have a whole lot to say about it.”
     Stephen leaned in closer to get a better look. He looked up at his sister, who he always thought bore an amazing resemblance to Teri Hatcher, and said, “Is it exact?”
     Danielle nodded and pulled her skirt down. “I had it redrawn from the original illustration. And it’s exactly where the first one was.”
     Stephen chuckled and said, “I think I’m proud of you, Dan. I’m not sure why, but I think I’m proud that you had the determination to have a removed tattoo re-tattooed.”
     Danielle stood up and said, “Thanks. And now I have to get to the Ladies Room.”
     Stephen nodded and said, “We’ll catch up later. I’ve got rounds to make.”
     Danielle nodded, gave him another little smirk, and then said, “Yeah, I think you do, little brother.”

9
Stephen’s Cousin Jordan

     “Hi, Stephen.”
     Stephen turned at the sound of the voice behind him and found himself face-to-face with one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. My God, I’ve got a good-looking family. She had long, straight, dark brown hair, green eyes, and a body that rivaled that of any model, super or otherwise, in any magazine published.
     “Jordan?”
     Jordan nodded and Stephen wrapped his arms around her. “My God, I can’t believe you came,” she whispered into his ear.
     Stephen stepped back and held his cousin at arm’s length. “You are beautiful, Jordan. Just breathtaking.”
     Jordan’s face turned the loveliest shade of pink as she gave him an ‘aw shucks’ expression that Stephen thought might have been the most endearing thing he had ever seen a woman do.
     “So, tell me. How are you doing?”
     “Good,” Jordan replied. “I went back to school.”
     “Back to school? I didn’t even know you had started college. What happened?”
     “It’s a long story.”
     “It’s a long afternoon. Why don’t we go out on the veranda and you can tell me about it?”
     Jordan nodded and Stephen led the way out to the restaurant’s huge wraparound porch that overlooked the water. A passing waiter provided the champagne; a redolent sea breeze provided the atmosphere.
     Jordan spoke first. “Your mother didn’t tell you? About me, I mean?”
     Now it was Stephen’s turn to blush. “I haven’t spoken to anyone in the family in quite a long time, Jordan. Didn’t you know?”
     Jordan shook her head. “My mother never really talked about you except once in a while when you were mentioned in the paper.”
     “Really?”
     “I think it upset her to talk about you.”
     “I didn’t know.”
     “Yeah, it’s understandable ... considering how close our two families were when we were growing up. She always thought of you as a son, Stephen. So when you dropped out of sight, I guess it was easier for her just to not talk about you.”
     Stephen nodded. “I understand. And I’m sorry. Why don’t you fill me in on what went on? What I missed?”
     Jordan took a sip of her champagne, gave Stephen a mischievous look, downed the rest of it, and then tossed the glass over the railing to shatter on the rocks below. To Stephen’s surprised look she said, “It’s good luck.” She then inhaled deeply of the sea air and said, “Okay. Here we go.”
     Stephen gave her a little nod and said, “I’m ready. Hit me with your best shot.”
     “I went to Yale after high school.”
     Stephen gave a low whistle. “Yale? Really? Wow.”
     “Yeah. My SATs were sky-high, I had all kinds of extracurriculars, and I kicked ass with the essay. So I got in.”
     “Did you pick a major?”
     “Yeah. Pre-med.”
     “Wow again. Beauty and brains.”
     “Yeah, well, it was the ‘beauty’ part that cost me over two years and put me where I am now—back in college at the age of twenty-five—as a sophomore.”
     “Why’s that?”
     Jordan gazed out at the sea. In the distance, a hull-down tanker moved ponderously across Long Island Sound. “You didn’t see it ... obviously.”
     “See what, Jord?”
     “May, 2005.”
     “What about May, 2005?”
     “That was the issue I was in.”
     It suddenly dawned on Stephen what Jordan was talking about.
     “Playboy.”
     Jordan nodded. “I made a hundred grand and ended up with a good two years of modeling and spokesmodeling work from my appearance.”
     “Jesus,” Stephen said. “Your parents must have freaked. Were you naked?”
     “Uh, yeah. You have seen an issue or two of Playboy, haven’t you, Stephen?”
     Stephen chuckled. “One or two. But I only read the political essays and the book reviews.”
     Jordan giggled and said, “Good one.”
     “Hope you don’t mind my asking, Jord, but how naked is naked?”
     Jordan smiled and said, “Let me put it this way. Naked enough for my uncles to know that the carpet matches the drapes, and that my left butt cheek has a red-and-white yin-yang tattoo on it.” Jordan paused a moment and then laughed and said, “My mother told me that Uncle Arnie had to look up what yin-yang meant.”
     Stephen shrugged and said, “So you took two years off from school to work. So what? That’s smart in my book.”
     Jordan nodded. “Mine, too. And I’m so glad to hear you say that. Coming from a businessman as successful as you, it means a lot. And I will be sure to make my mother and certain others aware of what you said.”
     “You still in pre-med?”
     “Yeah,” Jordan replied with a sardonic tone in her voice.
     “What does that tone mean?”
     “I’m Dr. Playmate to my classmates is what it means. Not all of them. But some of them. The ones I might kill one day.” Jordan smirked and picked up Stephen’s glass and downed the remaining champagne.
     Stephen smiled and said, “Ignore them. And if they get heavy, just remind them that Dr. Playmate is going to be the only one of them that doesn’t have enormous student loans to pay back after graduation.”
     Jordan’s expression told Stephen he was right.
     “That’s true. How did you know that?”
     “I know what ex-Playmates make on the modeling circuit. You probably saved enough to pay your way through college and med school, right?”
     “Right.”
     “Then good for you. Let them call you whatever they want.”
     Jordan suddenly turned to face Stephen and said, “Change of subject?”
     “Sure.”
     Jordan hesitated, but only for a second or so, and then blurted out, “Didn’t you miss me, Stephen?”
     “I ...”
     “We were so close when we were young. Even though you were older than me, we always got along and had so much fun. And then you moved out west, and after a while, the monthly calls stopped coming, and the e-mails got kicked back, and the letters weren’t answered and you ...”
     “Disappeared.”
     “Yes. Disappeared.”
     “What happened, Stephen? And didn’t you miss me?”
     Tears started sliding down Jordan’s cheeks and Stephen took her in his arms. “Why are you crying, Jord?”
     Jordan pulled away from Stephen, reached into her pocket, pulled out a linen handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes. When she was relatively composed, she said, “I knew you were busy, Stephen. Shit. The whole world knew you were busy. Not a week would go by without some story about you in the paper or on the Web—you and that Zephyr of yours. I knew that. But you never called me about Finn. I e-mailed the customer service address on your site, and I even called the 800 number and left a message. But you never called.”
     Finn. Finn. Oh, Jesus Christ. Finn is her dog. That black-and-white terrier she had forever.
     Now Jordan was crying openly. “He got sick. And I tried to take care of him at home, but he just kept getting worse, and finally the vet said there was no hope, and my mother convinced me it was the humane thing to do, and that if I loved him, I’d let him go and give him a peaceful end.”
     Jordan’s words were interspersed with deep, heart wrenching sobs that tore through Stephen like a scalpel through flesh.
     “I had to put him to sleep!” Jordan cried. “And I was with him when they put him on the table and he kept his eyes on me the whole time. And he wanted to wag his tail, but he was too weak. And he kept looking at me like he was asking me why I was letting these people do this to him. But he never growled or snapped at anyone. I just kept my hand on his head and he let the doctor do whatever he wanted. And he kept looking at me, and whenever I rubbed his neck he would make this little whimpering sound like he used to make when he was excited or happy to see me. And I saw his eyes change when the vet stuck the needle in him, and then he began to cry, and I thought my heart was going to explode, and then his eyes started to close. But he didn’t want to stop looking at me, but then the poison did its job, and his eyes closed for the last time, and the vet said, ‘He’s gone’. And I collapsed on top of him and started screaming. And it took three people to get me out of the room, and just as they were pulling me through the door I turned and looked at him for the last time ... and when I saw his body lying there on the table, with his legs stretched out, I fainted.”
     Jordan leaned both elbows on the deck railing and hung her head over the side. She sobbed in great heaves of air, and Stephen actually saw her tears falling off her face into the water below.
     Jordan raised her head and turned to look at Stephen.
     “And you didn’t even call. You knew how much I loved Finn ... he was my best friend ... you knew what he meant to me ... and you didn’t even call. You loved playing with him, too, didn’t you, Stephen?”
     Stephen nodded but didn’t say anything.
     “And I needed you, Stephen. I needed you bad. And you weren’t there.” Jordan sniffed and wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I had to go through it all alone.”

10
Stephen’s Brother Andy
​
     Stephen turned off the sink faucet in the Men’s Room and grabbed a handful of paper towels from the wall dispenser. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe everyone would’ve been better off if I had just stayed in Oregon and never came back. Stephen stared at himself in the mirror. Self-pitying much, asshole? It’s your own fault everybody’s emotions are in overdrive. You’re the one who vanished into the Oregon air ... like an icon grabbed with Zephyr and tossed into the trash. Stephen tossed the damp paper towels into the trash bin. Be a man. These people are your blood. Make things right.
     Stephen took a deep breath and turned toward the door when it suddenly opened and his brother Andy walked in. Andy stopped in his tracks as the door swung closed behind him and just stared at Stephen for a moment before saying, “Everybody said you were here. But I didn’t believe it.”
     Stephen didn’t move. “Are we going to have a problem, Andy?”
     Andy Santamaria shook his head slowly and then spit into a sink. “Why am I not surprised those would be the first words out of your mouth after five years?”
     “Why? You expected something different? After what you did?”
     Andy walked to a urinal, unzipped and, still facing Stephen, removed his penis, and only then turned to face the porcelain wall fixture.
     “What’s that, an insult? Showing yourself to me like that?”
     Andy finished his business and walked to the sink without flushing the urinal. He spoke with his back to Stephen as he washed his hands. “And what exactly did I do, brother of mine? I took some money. I wrote a few checks. I charged some stuff. So what?”
     Stephen looked at his younger brother with disgust. “It was our mother’s money, our mother’s checks, and our mother’s charge cards.”
     Andy dried his hands and snickered. “Yeah. Kind of a nice tidiness to it, don’t you think?”
     “You’re pathetic,” Stephen hissed. “I’m ashamed to admit you’re my brother. Do me a favor, willya? Change your last name so the question of whether we’re related will never even come up.”
     Andy tossed crumpled paper towels into the large white trash barrel and said, “Why, Stevie? You don’t want your bigshot, muckety-muck friends to know you’ve got a convicted felon in your family? In your immediate family, in fact?”
     Stephen moved closer to his brother and said softly, “That’s not it at all, Andy. I don’t want any of my friends to know we’re related. Not just the rich ones.”
     Andy broke eye contact first, but didn’t say anything, and then made his way toward the door. With his hand on the door handle, he turned to Stephen and said, “You didn’t disappoint, brother. You just automatically assumed I was the Andy you knew from a million years ago. I guess people can’t change in your eyes. Sure, Stephen Santamaria can change from a poor, boring, Italian kid into a business tycoon, but no one else can turn their life around. Only Stephen. How long’s it been? Five, six years, right? You oughta ask around about me, Stevie boy. You might be surprised by what you hear.”
     Andy then started to pull open the door, but Stephen rushed over and slammed it shut. “What’s that supposed to mean, Andy? Huh? What don’t I know about you? Why don’t you tell me instead of me ‘asking around’?”
     Andy chuckled and said, “Same old Stevie. A Type A power freak who can’t stand not to be in the know, right?” Stephen didn’t reply, but just stared at his brother.
     Andy thought a moment and then said, “I’ll tell you what, big brother. You’ll learn everything you want to know about me completely on your own if you just wait until tomorrow. You staying a couple of days? Or are you scurrying off back to the castle in Oregon?”
     “I’m leaving tonight. I don’t have the time to stay longer.”
     Andy smiled and said, “Of course you don’t. Too bad. I was going to invite you.”
     Stephen shook his head and Andy could almost see the disdain dripping from his words as he spoke. “I can imagine what you’d invite me to, Andy. Want me to paint the picture? Some sleazy $29 motel room with one of those signs where one of the neon letters is always dead. Three or four naked girls lounging around or having sex with each other. A mound of blow on the bureau. Enough booze to float a battleship. How’m I doing? You and maybe a couple of other guys walking around naked, getting a weird homoerotic vibe going. The more the merrier, right? Can you see it in your mind’s eye, Andy? It shouldn’t be too hard to summon up the imagery, right? Am I missing anything? Syringes, maybe? Some H? Or maybe a few tabs of ecstasy? I’m pretty close, aren’t I? And, of course, the piéce de resistance. A video camera. This is your life, Andy Santamaria. Now admit it. I nailed it, right?”
     Andy, still smiling, looked at his brother, and said, “You’ve got a hell of an imagination there, little brother. A hell of an imagination. Where did that scenario come from? Cinemax? Some porn novel you’ve been reading? Literotica.com? Firsthand experience? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Stephen, but, no, that’s not what I was going to invite you to.”
     Stephen sneered and said, “Yeah, right.”
     Andy, with a puzzled tone in his voice, said, “Do you still hate me that much, Stephen? Do you still hate me so much that you would imagine all that stuff about me, even though you haven’t seen me or spoken to me in years? Good thing I’m not sensitive. You might have hurt my feelings.”
     “I don’t hate you, Andy,” Stephen replied. “I don’t trust you, and I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you.”
     “Well, I can assure, Stephen, the scenario you just salaciously described is nowhere near what I would invite you to ... if you were staying, of course. But I’ll bet you told your driver you’d be leaving tonight, right? One day with your family was more than enough for the incredibly significant and successful Stephen Santamaria, right? Have you even bothered to see Mom and Dad yet? Of course not. You probably want them to come to you, right? You’re too important to seek out your own parents at a family reunion. But it’s all right. You’re invited anyway. If you want to stay over, of course.”
      “Invite me to what?” Stephen said angrily. “And what the hell are you talking about?”
     “St. Vincent’s, Steve. In East Haven. I’m celebrating a special family reunion Mass there tomorrow noon.”
     Stephen’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Celebrating a ...”
     “That’s right, Mr. Zephyr. I’m a priest now. I was ordained last year. Nobody told you? They probably tried. Well, too bad you’ll miss it. Anyway, it was good seeing you, Steve. You’ll be in my prayers.”
     Andy then opened the Men’s Room door and walked out, leaving Stephen standing there, all alone, and completely and utterly dumbstruck.

11
Stephen’s Cousin James

     After Stephen left the Men’s Room and was still trying to digest the new information he had received that his younger brother was a priest, he walked past the bar and saw a man leaning on it. He looks familiar. Stephen slowed his pace and half-turned at the moment he knew he’d be able to catch a glimpse of who it was. Cousin James. Jimmy. Uncle Nick’s kid.
     Stephen walked to the bar and stood next to James. His cousin ignored him, however, and continued to stare into his drink as though it were a Magic 8 Ball and he was awaiting an answer from its depths.
     “Jimmy?”
     James turned his head slowly to the left without straightening up and Stephen saw rheumy eyes, a five o’clock shadow, and a garish jagged scar running across his forehead. Stephen’s facial expression betrayed his shock at his cousin’s appearance.
     A thin, rather ugly smile transformed James’s mouth and he said, “Not a pretty picture, eh?” He took a gulp of his drink and turned to face Stephen. “Mr. Wealthy Computer Genius Starlet-Dating Cousin of Mine?”
     Stephen raised his hand, caught the bartender’s eye, and pointed at James’s glass. The bartender immediately moved to refresh the drink.
     “What happened, James?” Stephen asked, pointing to his own forehead.
     James ran his finger slowly across the scar and said, “This? James Murong happened. Chinese kid. Punk. Had the same first name as me. Imagine? He mugged me. With a knife. And I wasn’t an asshole, Stephen. I turned over my wallet, but I asked him if he would just take the cash so he wouldn’t turn my life inside out. He laughed as he pulled out the money, and then gave me a look that to this day I still don’t understand. Doesn’t really matter, though, because of what he did next.”
     “What did he do?”
     “He handed me my wallet, with my license and credit cards intact, and said, ‘Tutte le cose vengono con un prezzo, il mio amico.’ I memorized it. ‘All things come with a price, my friend ...’ ”
     “Wait a minute. He spoke Italian?”
     James chuckled and took another sip. “Yeah. Ain’t that a bitch? Cops said his mother was probably Italian. Either that or he learned it on the street. In the neighborhood. Anyway, the price was he suddenly lashed out with his knife and cut open my forehead.”
     “But he got caught?”
     “Yeah. Somebody watching from an upstairs window called the cops and the kid ran right into a squad car as it was turning the corner.”
     “Did he go to trial?”
     “Oh, yeah. He’s doing five years at Riker’s.”
     “Five years for a mugging?”
     “Well, they added armed assault because of the knife wound, plus he was also wanted for an another armed robbery. Convenience store. So the DA pushed for ten years, but the Judge gave him five years definite sentence.”
     “No time off for good behavior.”
     “No.” James took another sip of his drink. Stephen caught the bartender’s eye and said “Ginger ale.”
     “So. Enough about me. How you doing?”
     Stephen smiled and said, “Come on, Jimmy. You know how I’m doing. Everybody here seems to know how I’m doing.”
     “Zephyr, right?”
     “Yeah.”
     “It was kind of successful, wasn’t it?”
     Stephen chuckled and said, “You haven’t lost your gift of sarcasm, have you?”
     James laughed and put a “Who me?” expression on his face. “Seriously, though, Stephen, did you ever expect ... well, everything? Did you ever expect you’d be where you are right now when we were kids screwing around in my father’s garage?”
     “You know the answer to that, Jimmy. Of course not.”
     James leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do me a favor, Stephen?”
     “What?”
     “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you for money.”
     “That’s not what I was thinking.”
     “Whatever. What I would like is for you to tell me what it’s like.”
     “What what’s like?”
     “Having all that money and being the powerful CEO you are. Shit, everybody in the world knows who you are, Stephen. And I’ll bet one out of every six or seven computers has Zephyr now, right?”
     “It’s actually one in two. But we’re hoping for three out of four in the next two years. We figure if Windows can be on nine out of ten computers worldwide, we can easily get a 75 percent market penetration with the Mouse.”
     “My God. That’s incredible.”
     “I know.”
     “So what’s it like?”
     Stephen drank down half his ginger ale. My mouth is dry. “It’s good, Jimmy. You don’t need the gory details.”
     James stared at Stephen, but said nothing. “Okay,” Stephen finally said. “It’s good. I get up every morning and I know I’ll never have to worry about paying a bill again for the rest of my life. Even if the company goes belly up, my personal wealth right now is enough for ten people to live like high-flying millionaires, let alone one.”
     “Do you have maids and cooks and butlers?”
     Stephen laughed. “No butlers. I do have a cleaning staff, and a staffed kitchen. And a driver, of course.”
     “Come on, man. You’re making it sound like you’re no better than some two-bit basketball player or movie star with an eight-figure deal. Get to the good stuff. The amount of wealth you have must change things. It has to.”
     “I’m not going to brag for you, cousin. I just won’t do it.”
     “Fair enough. But can I ask questions?”
     “Sure. Go nuts.”
     “Do you have a helicopter?”
     “The company leases one for me.”
     “A plane?”
     “Yes. I own two personally. But I’m not a pilot.”
     “Is it true you bought an African country?”
     Again with the buying an African country. “No. I made a donation to an impoverished nation that happened to be larger than its Gross National Product.”
     “Did you bang Kirsten Daggett?”
     “Next question.”
     “Come on, Stephen. Look at me. I’ve got nothing but a shit job, a pain-in-the-ass wife, and an autistic kid. And a Zorro scar on my forehead that is the first thing anyone who meets me asks about. Can’t you give me a cheap thrill?”
     “It’s not gentlemanly.”
     “Well, I’m not a gentleman.”
     “Yeah, but I am, James. Next question.”
     “Did you bang Kirsten Daggett?”
     Stephen chuckled and looked at his cousin. “This stays between us?”
     “Of course.”
     “The answer is ... we knew each other. Biblically.”
     James leaned back and said, “Wow.” His mind was already churning with images and scenarios. “Thanks, cousin. You have just given me enough fantasy material for a lifetime.”
     Stephen laughed and said, “Please tell me I won’t be anywhere even close to your fantasies, Jimmy. Or else I may have to go throw up.”
     “Hell, no. I’m the star of my fantasies. Always have been and always will be.”
     “I appreciate that. Now can I ask you a question?”
     “Shoot.”
     “What’s your ‘shit’ job? And what’s this about an autistic kid?”
     James finished his drink and Stephen again pointed at the glass to the bartender. “My shit job is being a department manager at Appliance Universe. Refrigerators, if it matters. Goddamned refrigerators. And my autistic kid is named Timmy and he was diagnosed when he was three. He’s five now. My wife stays home and takes care of him while I go sell refrigerators. He’ll probably have to be home-schooled, although I don’t know what the hell for, to tell you the truth. My wife hates it when I say that. He’ll never hold a job, he’ll never get married, he’ll never have kids. But I guess it’s what you do.”
     “I’m sorry.”
     James downed half his drink. “What are you gonna do? Into each life some rain must fall, right?”
     “Is there anything I can do to help?”
     James chuckled and said sarcastically, “Yeah, give me the next forty years of my salary as a gift and find some experts to help my kid.” Stephen saw James’s eyes suddenly fill with tears. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Stephen. I was only kidding. I must be drunker than I thought. That was a total shit thing to say. I am so, so sorry.”
     Stephen ignored his apology and said, “What do you make at Appliance World, James?”
     James looked at Stephen and then wiped his eyes with his knuckles. “Why?”
     “Just tell me.”
     “Thirty-one five and one percent of my sales. Last year I grossed about thirty-five all told.”
     “You want to work for me?”
     “I don’t know computers, Stephen.”
     “East Coast sales rep for the Zephyr software. You can help us hit that 75 percent market penetration we’re shooting for. We’re putting together a marketing plan targeting grammar schools, high schools, and universities. We’re coming up with a rock-bottom price for the Mouse and offering financing. And we’re donating one free for every five purchased. We’d like to see the product in every school from Maine to Florida. And you can help make that happen. If you want to, of course.”
     James eyes lit up and his face suddenly seemed years younger. “Are you serious?”
     “Of course. I don’t play games when it comes to business. How about seventy-five grand a year guaranteed draw for the first two years, plus 10 percent commission. The third year you’ll go to a hundred grand and we’ll bump the commission to 15 percent.”
     “I ... I ... I ...”
     Stephen laughed. “I didn’t know you stuttered, Jimmy. Full health package, of course. Medical, dental, life insurance. 401(k). Company car. Expense account. Let’s see ... what else? Oh, yeah. I’ll have Dr. Jennifer Forrest give you a call. She’s the VP of the medical division of my Human Resources department. She’ll set you up with a team of autism experts here. And send me your bank info. We’ll pick up your mortgage payments, too.”
     Tears were now pouring out of James’s eyes. He stood up and faced Stephen. “You’re saving my life, Stephen. I want you to know that.”
     Stephen smiled and allowed himself to be hugged by his cousin.
     “Don’t mention it, cuz,” Stephen said when they broke apart. “You’re my cousin. It’s the least I can do.”
     “I’m really working for Orchid?”
     “If you want the job, it’s yours.”
     “Are you kidding? Of course I want the job! This is the greatest day of my life!” James pulled out his cellphone, downed his drink, and said, “If you’ll please excuse me now, my favorite cousin. I have two phone calls to make. The first will be to my wife. She had to stay home with Timmy.” With a smirk, James then said, “And the second will be to my boss. At home. To tell him I won’t be in tomorrow. Or ever again.”
     Stephen placed his hand on James’s shoulder, smiled, and said, “Knock ‘em dead. But give the guy a couple of weeks notice, willya?”
     James nodded and said softly, “Yeah, you’re right. And thanks.”
     “You’re welcome. You go make your calls. I still have aunts to see.”
     James nodded and headed toward the front of the restaurant, dialing his cellphone as he walked. Stephen sat quietly as he finished his ginger ale. An autistic kid. I had no idea.

                                                   In the next installment...
Stephen’s Cousin Amelia • Stephen’s Cousin Ashley • Stephen’s Uncle Dave • Stephen’s Mother Cecilia