Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
He touched the screen and a smaller version of Brady appeared. His short red hair was mussed and his cheeks were ruddy with drink as he leaned against the bar and lectured the handsome blond beside him. The memories started coming back while he watched it unfold.
“You wanted my opinion, Owen, so listen up. What you have to do is admit that you’re gay. The family pub is as good a place as any to start. Go on. Out loud so the whole class can hear you.”
Nearby patrons instantly started pounding their tables in agreement with Brady.
“Say it,” someone shouted.
“Loud and proud!” another replied with glee.
Owen looked around the sparsely populated bar before glaring at Brady. “What’s it going to take before everyone stops giving me shit about this? Should I take out an ad in the paper or slap a rainbow sticker on my bumper?”
“Your mother has one,” Brady countered. “But even after the happiest year of your life—your words—you haven’t even considered it. Why?”
“No one has the right to stamp a label on me.”
Brady rolled his eyes. “So you were fine with the man-whore, sex addict and lady killer labels? Good with all the other names women called you after they realized you weren’t staying for breakfast or calling for a second date?”
The women in the pub booed playfully and Owen winced.
“The label isn’t the point, dumbass,” Brady continued. “But if you don’t want it? Stop earning it. Your house has thin walls, and I rarely sleep as it is. I know what happens in your room every night. Everyone in a three-mile radius knows.”
Several men in the bar groaned in protest, but Brady just raised his voice. “I’m not exaggerating. I spent months wondering how either of them could walk without crutches. At least they have good health insurance. Can’t say for sure that it covers their style of sexual acrobatics, but who knows?”
“Jealousy is an ugly emotion, cousin.” A muscle twitched along Owen’s jaw. Brady could see it clearly on the small screen. “Just because you’re living like a monk doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”
“Of course m’jealous,” Brady’s words were slurring, so he took another drink. “Anyone in this bar that says they’re not is lying. Do you think I’m a monk by choice? I’m not. I miss sex. You have no idea how much I miss sex. I’d gladly risk regular trips to the hospital for exhaustion if I could have what you and Jeremy have. But we’re not talking about my relationship issues; we’re talking about yours. And when it comes to that, you, my friend, are spoiled. You hit the boyfriend jackpot and you got used to having all his time and energy. But as soon as he wasn’t focused on you twenty-four hours a day you started acting like a petulant child.”
“I’m not spoiled.”
“Really? Who was the guy frowning in all your brother’s wedding pictures because your boyfriend was Man of Honor and had to help the bride instead of dance with you all night?”
Owen pointed at Brady. “That’s not—”
“Who sat in his pajamas, eating pizza and pouting while I power-washed the dock and fixed the roof when Jeremy went to that convention last month and didn’t invite you?”
Owen was scowling. “You said you didn’t need help, and those comic book conventions are full of signature-starved deviants. I would be stupid not to worry about him going alone.” He looked at the stranger next to him. “It’s more complicated than he’s making it sound. I’m not jealous of—”
“Right. You’re not jealous,” Brady interrupted, on a roll. “Because you’re not gay and you two are just buddies. Buddies who fuck like it’s an Olympic sport you’re training to medal in. Who cuddle on the couch after work to watch a movie or slash your mutual Xbox enemies. Buddies who can’t resist saying, ‘I love you’ and stopping to kiss every five minutes. When you’re not holding hands and romping with your cute little dog by the lake.”
A woman wearing a birthday tiara leaned on her hand and sighed beside them. “That sounds like heaven or a Hallmark movie. If you don’t want your boyfriend, Blondie, I’ll take him off your hands. I love a good romp.”
“I want him.” Owen covered his face with one hand, swearing before he turned back to the bar. “You’re just trying to piss me off now.”
Seamus moved into the camera’s view. “Maybe you should give him a break, Brady.”
“He doesn’t need a break, he needs honesty. I’m actually trying to help.” Brady laid a hand on Owen’s shoulder and the image zoomed in. If he weren’t so humiliated, he would have been impressed with the picture and sound quality on that asshole’s smartphone.
“I get it, believe me,” video-Brady rambled on. “Sure, with the family and at that private club of yours it’s fine. But the same guys who praised you in the locker room for your football skills and lady-killer rep are avoiding you. You had one employee turn in his resignation when he found out. You stop yourself from kissing the man you love in public because you know people will stare. We can toast Ireland and the Supreme Court’s decision all night long—” The pub cheered at that before he continued. “But we’ll still have to wake up in the morning and know that people don’t change as fast as the laws, and someone at the next party you go to will be surprised you don’t act the way their favorite television show told them a gay man would.”