One day at a time. That is how I’m living my life. Drink just happens to be part of that day.

A few others contribute, and I take in everything they have to say. I don’t have the courage or the inclination to say anything. Suds hasn’t let go of my hand this whole meeting—if anything, I’ve held on tighter. There’s a whole lot of mixing of palm sweat going on. Suds doesn’t even seem to care that her hands are banged up and I’m gripping them so tightly.

When the meeting wraps up, I tug on Suds’s hand and make a grunting noise that’s code for ‘let’s get out of here’. She’s mid-wave with a guy in a suit. Did she used to come to this place with her nan? From the look of another smile in her direction, I get the feeling she did. Suds doesn’t put up with shit from anyone, so I’m guessing if she chose to bring me here, the people are half decent.

Time to go? she mouths.

“Yup.”

We walk in silence to her car, hand in hand. Am I a pussy ’cause I don’t wanna let go? When we walk into the light cast by a streetlight beside her car, I’m forced to take a step back when Suds throws her arms around my shoulders and hugs me.

She relaxes her hold and stares at my face. “I’m really proud of you,” she says in a quiet voice, blinking those emerald green eyes. I wanna kiss the fuck out of her, I should, but I can’t. I have a problem. I’m a drunk. Whoa. I’m a drunk. Yup. Just like Dad. I can’t publicly admit it, but I don’t deserve to be with anyone until I have my shit under control.

I wrap my arms around her waist and bury my head in the crook of her neck. Of their own will, my arms tighten around her. I can’t even look at her for fear of choking up. Since when does shit get to me?

Suds unfolds her arms from me and leans back, flattening her palms over my pecs. I still don’t let go.

“I’ll come to as many meetings as you want me to. This stays between us.”

I nod. I don’t know if I can come back. It wasn’t a bad experience, but I don’t see how it can help. How could I stand up in front of a room full of people and lay my shitty life on the table if I can’t even talk to a single soul about it? Maybe I need to try. Maybe that’s the first step.

Suds wants to be a part of this. She’s prepared to stand by me and get me through it. Man. What the hell did I do to deserve this woman in my life? I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch.

“You like Thai food?” I ask, my voice gruff.

“Yup. The hotter the better.”

“Good.”

****

The unmistakable smell of basil, chilli and spices fills the apartment as I open the takeaway containers, and place them in the middle of the dining table. We load up our plates and don’t waste any time digging in.

“This is delicious,” Suds murmurs around a mouthful of what I reckon is the Beef Massaman curry.

“My brother is in jail,” I announce without warning.

Suds takes her time finishing her mouthful. There’s no choking on her food or gasping in shock or horror. There’s no judgment in the eyes that haven’t strayed from mine. There’s only an acceptance of what I’ve just told her.

“So I’m staying in his room, yeah?”

My shoulders drop. I’ve chosen the right person to speak to about this. About me and how fucked up my life is. “Yeah. It’s the room I have for him when he gets out.”

“In how long?”

“About three months.”

She nods and spoons a chunk of beef dripping in the rich sauce onto her plate.

“It’s my fault he’s in there.”

She tilts her head to the side and blinks several times. “Why do you think that?”

“He got involved in a motorcycle club, thanks to my dad, but I didn’t find out until he was sworn in as a full member. If I wasn’t so busy travelling around Australia with work, I would’ve done something about it.”

“What put him behind bars?”

“Drugs.”

She nods. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Then he’s old enough to be responsible for his decisions. Don’t take it on yourself.”

“When Mamma was dying she made me promise to look out for him.” One day she was going in for a routine operation on her leg, and the next she was fighting the worst case of staph infection the doctors had seen in years. I fucking failed her by not looking out for V.

Suds wraps her mouth around another forkful of rice and slowly chews. “And when he’s out, you’ll look out for him.”

“Yeah. I have no idea how it’s gonna work.”

“You’ll work it out.”

Suds puts down her fork on the edge of her plate and stares at me. I wipe at the side of my mouth in case I have food stuck there. What’s she looking at?

“So tell me, what’s he like? Argumentative? Bossy? Anything at all like his older brother?”

I give her a smart-arse smile, showing my amusement. It’s nice to talk about him as the person I know, not my brother, the inmate. “He’s impressionable, fiercely loyal, which I both love and hate, and he’s a bit more put together than I am when it comes to emotions and shit. Definitely not as hot-headed.”

“I’d love to meet him.”

Hang on a minute. “You would?” I don’t think I could take her with me to the jail. How would V react? Would I just be rubbing shit in his face? Would Suds feel differently about my family and me afterwards?

“Of course. How else am I gonna find out all the nitty-gritty shit about you?”

She wants to know more?

“Not sure what else there is to know,” I say with a shrug.

“Oh, I bet there’s loads of shit to know. You’re not exactly an open book.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to have words with him first. I can’t have him spilling shit.” Whilst he’s loyal, I have no doubt he would throw me under a bus with embarrassing shit for the sake of a good laugh. Like how I busted my wrist when I flung it against the wall when Mamma caught me wanking that time. He laughed his fucking head off for weeks after that, and just to be an arse, he likes to bring it up every so often.

“Don’t be worried, De Luca. I promise that I’ll only use the juicy information against you. I’m not one to gossip.”

I give her a smarmy smile in return. I bet she’ll use anything she can. It’s not much of a threat though, because I’d like to see what she does with it. I’m intrigued by what goes on inside that head of hers.

I finish my mouthful and take in a long breath. There’s serious shit I need to focus on here for a minute.

“Did you really mean what you said? About coming to meetings?” I ask quietly.

“Yes,” she says with certainty. I close my eyes for a second, grateful to have Suds in my corner.

“After dinner, we get rid of the grog. I can’t have it here.”

“No worries.”

With a nod, I think over what I’m gonna say next. I have no idea how I’m going to deal with what’s ahead of me.

“How the fuck am I gonna handle Vegas?” I blurt out.

“Once day at a time. I’ll be there too, so if you need to talk or anything, I’m around.”

“But what about Jones? Some fuckin’ best man I am if I won’t even drink. I might as well not fuckin’ go.” Jesus, I sound like a bloody child.

“I think you should tell Jones the truth.” Is she crazy?

“What! No. I’ll get crucified for this shit.”

“Do you really think a good friend would do that to you? He values you enough to have in his wedding party. Doesn’t that tell you something about him, and what he thinks of you? You need to take a chance and tell him. I think you’ll be surprised how he reacts.”

“I guess,” I grumble.

“Just do it, and then it’s done,” she orders.

“Such a bossy bitch,” I say, and shake my head.

“You love it,” she teases.

Hmm. She’s right. It does get my dick hard.

After we clean up, Suds practically has to hold my hand as I tip every last drop of alcohol down the sink. I need to convince myself that pouring a few hundred bucks of grog down the drain is a good thing.