Kevin Moynihan sipped his orange juice and kept his bloodshot eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The longstanding tradition of a monthly Saturday brunch with the family could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. He’d much rather be home in bed, sleeping off the late night. Instead, he’d have to endure crap from his mother and siblings.
At least the food would be good. Mrs. Bernal, who’d worked for the family since he was a boy, placed an omelet-filled plate in front of him. “That looks fantastic, Mrs. Bernal. Gracias.”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want food or my special hangover remedy,” she said, not unkindly.
He grinned. “No hangover today. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
She patted his hair with affection. “I don’t want to know why you weren’t sleeping.” She laughed. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Kevin. I’ll see you next time.”
“You leaving already?”
Mrs. Bernal nodded. “My granddaughter’s visiting so I’m taking a few days off. But I’ll have my phone if your mother needs me.” She may have started out a maid years ago but now she ran the household and was indispensable to Dorothy Moynihan. Serving brunch had long ago ceased to be one of her duties but she did it anyway to check up on the kids she loved as much as her own.
Kevin stood and kissed her cheek. “Next time, then. Have a good visit.”
Mrs. Bernal left. Kevin dropped into his chair and attacked his omelet. While he ate he thought about the previous night, and the night ahead of him. It didn’t take long for those thoughts to curb his appetite.
The French doors opened. Sean, his older brother, walked out onto the veranda and took a seat at the table. “Where’s Mother?”
Kevin shrugged and pushed his plate away. “Still upstairs, I guess.”
Sean propped his tablet where he could read it then poured himself a glass of orange juice. “Olivia won’t be here today. She’s at the clinic this weekend.” Middle child Olivia was a pediatrician who had her own practice and volunteered at a free clinic one weekend every month.
“How about Grace and the kids?”
“Spending the weekend with her parents.” Sean finally deigned to glance at Kevin. “Have you slept?”
And like magic, the omelet congealed into a cold, unpleasant lump. Kevin pushed his plate away. “Some. Not enough.”
One corner of Sean’s mouth turned down. “You went out partying? Please tell me you at least showed up for your community service before hitting the clubs like some zombie frat boy.”
Anger burned through Kevin. He covered it with a smile. “I did my four hours. Don’t worry, you won’t be getting any bad phone calls from my probation officer or the lawyer or whoever it is you’ve got reporting on me.”
“Your first four hours,” Sean said. “Only thirty-six more to go. For crying out loud, Kevin, don’t treat this like a joke.”
Kevin broadened his smile and raised his hands in the air. “Hey, who’s laughing?”
“The tabloids. Not your family.” Sean closed the cover on his tablet, a sign that he was warming up to a real barnburner of a lecture. “You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t keep living like this. Don’t you want to do something more meaningful with your life than date models and go to parties?”
Kevin opened his mouth to speak but Sean steamrollered right over him. “At some point you’re going to have to grow up. If you still don’t want to work at Moynihan Consolidated, that’s fine. Olivia’s made a very fulfilling life for herself as a doctor. Find something that speaks to you. Something you’re good at, and passionate about. Something productive. You don’t even have to give up the women and the nightclubs completely. Just do something useful with yourself.”
Kevin kept his smile pasted in place, glad he was wearing sunglasses. Not to hide the red in his eyes from lack of sleep, but to hide his frustration. “I happen to be good at, and very passionate about, dating models and going to parties. Shouldn’t I play to my strengths just like you and Liv do?”
“Surely you want more out of life than to just be Point Sable’s most notorious playboy?”
“Notorious?” This time Kevin’s grin was real. “I like that. Great-grandpa Paddy was the city’s most notorious bootlegger, you know. Kind of makes me feel a connection.”
Sean shook his head, amusement briefly lightening his normally stern features. “I can just see you drinking bathtub gin and dancing with flappers.”
Kevin wagged a finger. “Now see, that speaks to me.”
“You want to party on the weekends, fine. I’m not saying you have to completely change who you are. God knows no one in this family would be able to do that. You forget I know you, Kevin. You’re smarter than you let on. I’d like to see you use that brain for something other than calculating tips.”
“Oh please.” Kevin downed a quick swallow of orange juice. “I don’t calculate tips, I just pass out twenties and hundreds like confetti.”
Sean sighed as he reopened his tablet. “That’s a great use of your trust fund.”
The spring air had just enough bite of winter left to make a jacket necessary but this morning the sun was bright and crisp. The faint whir of equipment reached the second-story veranda as several dark-skinned men from the lawn service company were busy at various tasks with the yard and the landscaping. The scent of fresh blooms from the flower garden below drifted up, gradually covering the smells of food.
Kevin fiddled with the silver utensils next to his plate. Last night he’d loaded old, tarnished forks and spoons into the big industrial dishwasher at the homeless shelter where he was doing his court-mandated community service for yet another drunk and disorderly charge. Four hours of washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen. He’d ruined a perfectly good pair of loafers when he’d clumsily dumped a bucket of dirty mop water down a drain he hadn’t known was clogged. As many shoes as he had in his closet, he wouldn’t miss that pair.
One of the kids who’d come to the shelter for a meal wore ratty sneakers held together with duct tape.
Kevin opened his mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. That a mere four hours of community service in a homeless shelter had opened his eyes in a way that watching the news never could. Just the drive to the shelter had been an education in and of itself. He’d lived in Point Sable his entire life and last night was the first time he’d ventured below 110th Street. That knowledge made him feel like the worst sort of dilettante, but he couldn’t talk about that with Sean.
So he closed his mouth and let the emotions drift away, to be resurrected later via paint and canvas. For now, he drank the gourmet coffee brought by a servant and listened to his older brother drone on about the family’s business dealings.
He was scheduled to work another four hours tonight. Hopefully it would be easier than the first, both on his wardrobe and his conscience.