King's Passion

“That is a fact,” Quentin boasted confidently. “What any man or woman wears is for show. It’s to proclaim a certain lifestyle or status, whether it’s real or not is irrelevant. It has nothing to do with what’s on the inside. But a drink is a little more intimate. I should know. I have drowned my sorrows in more than a few bottles.”

Amen.

“So what’s your drink?” Eamon asked.

“Whiskey sour.” Quentin winked. “I let you figure that one out on your own.”

Eamon laughed. He had to hand it to his cousin. He was definitely a charming guy.

“Here you go,” Quentin announced. “One Kamikaze.” He set the drink on the bar.

“Thank you.”

Quentin corked up a brow. “What? No tip?”

Eamon twisted his face. “Add it to my tab.”

“I’ll tell you. No one ever appreciates a good bartender.”

They shared a laugh while Quentin made himself a whiskey sour.

“So how long are you planning to hide out here?”

“Hide out? That’s an interesting choice of words,” Quentin said. “Is that what Xavier told you? He thinks I’m hiding?”

Briefly Eamon wondered if he said something that he shouldn’t have, but he went ahead down this rocky road since his brothers had left him with very little to go on. “How would you describe it?”

“I would say that I was celebrating.” His smile stretched a little wider.

“Celebrating?”

Quentin nodded as he turned up his drink. Once the contents were gone he immediately started to pour himself another. “I’m celebrating life, women and a hell of a lot of money that my father gave me.”

“It must be nice,” Eamon mumbled.

Quentin frowned. “The last time I checked you’re not exactly destitute, cuz.”

“No. But I’m not exactly a trust-fund baby, either. Some people actually have to work for a living.” That only seemed to amuse Quentin more.

“Is that the thorn in your paw between me and you? You don’t like my carefree lifestyle?”

“I have a problem with a man who doesn’t make his own way in the world.” Their eyes locked, but Eamon continued. “You’re a spoiled little rich kid who has never taken anything in life too seriously.”

“And why would I want to do that?” Quentin challenged. “Who in their right mind would want to jump on some hamster wheel chasing after some vague definition of success? Is success money? I have money. Is success happiness? Five days out of seven I’m pretty happy. Maybe with love and family?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Believe it or not, I have those, too.”

“What about starting your own family?” Eamon asked.

“Said one bachelor to the other.” Q smiled. “Unless you’re going to tell me that you have some little woman clubbed and cooking in your kitchen at home that you forgot to tell anyone about.”