“How’s itfeel to finally be out of Dad’s shadow?” My brother Sawyer stands on the opposite side of the reclaimed wooden bar, pouring shots of Macallan for Becket, Hudson, and me, while our youngest brother, Jace, leans back on his chair with a petulant look firmly planted on his face. He’s still a few years away from seeing twenty-one, and the fact that Sawyer owns Kingdom doesn’t mean he gets a pass just yet.
I ignore the back-handed compliment on today’s acquisition.
At least I try to.
When I don’t answer him, Sawyer raises his glass high in the air. “To you, Maximus. May this be the first step in allowing yourself to stop living Dad’s life and start living your own.”
Sawyer swallows the amber liquid in one swig while he watches me carefully.
Knowing he hit a nerve with that toast.
But that’s what he does.
Sawyer is smack-dab in the middle of five brothers.
He pushes boundaries.
He observes reactions.
He calculates his next moves.
He refuses to bend to the wants and expectations of other people.
That’s why he owns one of the most successful bars in the city. None of us thought this was what he was going to do with his life. Dad pushed him to work for King Corp., the same way he pushed the rest of his sons. I even tried when we decided to buy the Revolution. Sawyer’s got an innate ability to understand exactly what a business needs to turn a profit, and it would have been nice to have another Kingston representing the company. But Sawyer never wavered. He’d built and sold three successful businesses by the time he was twenty-five when he went all in with Kingdom, his baby, which he offered up for the celebration tonight.
The bar is crowded for a Monday night, but Kingdom always is, weeknight or not.
The former warehouse may have a new life, but the old, industrial feel is carried throughout with a high open ceiling, showcasing matte black pipes, a large dancefloor off to the right, and a big old, refurbished bar to the left. Tonight, we’re at the top of the long metal staircase, enjoying the VIP area overlooking the dance floor below. When we all get together, it’s easier if we’re up here.
A round of cheers bounces between the five of us, and I savor the velvety smooth whiskey before flipping my glass over and slamming it down on the bar next to my bottle of beer. “Thanks, asshole.”
They can’t really be this oblivious, can they?
My family loves to make snide remarks about me following in Dad’s footsteps. But what fucking choice did I have? Poor little rich boy, groomed to take over a family and an empire. I’ve got zero fucks to complain about in life. I’ve got everything I need, more money than God, and a family who loves me. I may have been raised to protect them, but I think I’d want to do that either way. “Tell me you realize I live Dad’s life so none of you have to.”
Becks shrugs and flips his glass over next to mine. “Don’t look at me, man. I work in the office one floor down from yours. I’m part of the Kingston machine too.”
Sawyer grabs the rag tucked into his jeans and wipes down the bar. “You work for the family, Becks, but it’s different. Max lives in Dad’s house. He works in Dad’s office, doing Dad’s job. He runs Dad’s company—”
Jace snaps a bottle cap between his thumb and forefinger, then turns his attention back to me. “Let’s not forget you also stepped up as my legal guardian after Dad died.”
There are nine of us siblings. Dad had four wives and a mistress.
His final wife, Ashlyn, was pregnant with our youngest sister, Madeline, when Dad died.
My little brother Jace was the only one of us who wasn’t eighteen when it happened. His and Lenny’s mom had passed away a few years before Dad married Ashlyn. Somebody had to step up and take care of him.
“I’m the oldest. It’s my job to make sure you’re all good. Christ, Lenny was starting her degree.” I turn toward Hudson. “You were busy fucking your way through Philly.” I point my bottle at Becks. “And you were still finishing your damn law degree. We barely even saw you that year.”
Sawyer flips our glasses back over and pours another round. “Nobody is saying you did anything wrong, brother. We’re saying you did it all for all the right reasons. Now it’s your turn to do it however you want, for whatever reasons you want. And we’re gonna give you the kick in the ass you need to start doing it on your own damn terms. We know what you’ve sacrificed for us.” Sawyer looks behind me, his eyes locking on something. When I turn, I see Scarlet and her boyfriend, Cade, wrapped up in each other on the dance floor. She’s glowing, and he has his hand wrapped possessively around her. “We know what you gave up for her. You’re the best of us, Max. Now, stop taking care of Dad’s shit and start taking care of your own.”
Those words play hell with my thoughts for the rest of the night.
I take care of my own shit.
They act like I’m Mother friggin’ Theresa.
It’s not the first time one of my brothers has pointed out that I stepped into Dad’s shoes after he died. When you’re the oldest of nine, it’s what you do. Somebody had to, and because I did it, none of them would ever have to be crushed by the burden.