Taming the Storm
Page 98
Tom’s French…kind of…
Holy wow.
He just went even higher on the hotness scale.
“Jean-Pierre settled in Danville, Kentucky where he met my great-great grandmother, Sarah Thomas.”
Kentucky. I remember how on edge Tom was while we were at that festival in Kentucky.
“Sarah’s father, John Carter Thomas, had died that previous year and left her the farm she grew up on. She and Jean-Pierre married, and he took over running the farm. They farmed corn, and he decided to start producing a whiskey from it called bourbon that had become popular. Some farmers were making good money off it, and my grandfather needed to make money as Sarah was pregnant with my great-grandfather. He was born a week before they successfully distilled the first batch of Segal whiskey. They decided to name my great-grandfather, Thomas, after Sarah’s family name, and, Carter, for his middle like her fathers. Jean-Pierre named the whiskey after his son. And that’s how Thomas Segal whiskey was born.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t even know why I told you all that. It’s not really relevant to the details of my shitty life.”
Leaning close, I press my forehead to his. “Everything about you is relevant. It all matters. I want to know everything about you.”
His fingers skim my cheeks. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“Not lately.” I smile.
He traces his finger over my lips. “Well, you are amazing. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”
I settle back, resting my shoulder against the sofa, ready to hear the rest of his story.
“So, you know my dad was Thomas, the Third.” He’s referring to his tattoo. “Dad took over running the company when my grandpa no longer could. My dad was the head of the company, the exec chairman, and his younger brother, my Uncle Joe, was CEO. I was primed for taking over one day. My whole life was spent in Danville, Kentucky”—I hear the Southern in his accent at that moment—“being groomed for the day I would take over the company. I was to graduate high school, go to an Ivy League school, and then take on a job at Segal’s and learn the business. My life was mapped out. Then, everything changed when I was thirteen.”
I’m just about to ask about his Southern accent, what happened to it, when his eyes meet mine. The pain I see in them feels like it’s my own. It’s that strong.
“When I was thirteen, my dad discovered that my mom was having an affair. She had been for quite some time with…my Uncle Joe. My dad caught them together.”
Seeing the direction this story is going, I move closer, sensing that Tom needs me near right now.
“Everything fell apart. Mom moved out of our home and in with Joe. She wanted to take us with her, but I wouldn’t leave my dad. Heather, my younger sister by five years, didn’t really grasp what was happening, and she wanted to be with Mom. So, Heather went with Mom, and I stayed with Dad. I was always closer to him.” He sighs. “It hit him bad. He’d not only lost his wife, but he lost his brother, and he was being forced to continue running a company with him. He was drinking more and more. Everything was a fucking mess. I was a kid, trying to hold everything together. At that point, I thought that things couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong.
“I was out at a friend’s house, and I called Dad to check in, but he wasn’t answering. I don’t know, but something just felt off. I had this weird feeling in my gut, so I left my friend’s house and rode my bike home. When I got near the house, I saw Uncle Joe’s car in the driveway. I knew him being here wasn’t good, so I dropped my bike and ran into the house. I called out for Dad, but I didn’t get a response. There was music playing—‘Ordinary World’—so I figured he couldn’t hear me over that.”
The pain in his expression is crippling. And I remember him telling me that is his dad’s song, how he hasn’t listened to it for sixteen years.
My stomach tightens into knots.
He scrubs his hands over his face. “Christ, this is hard.” He gets to his feet. “I need a fucking drink. You want a drink?”
I shake my head.
“Gimme a minute.” He leaves the room and comes back minutes later with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“Jack.” He lifts the glass, tipping it from side to side, as he lets out a weak laugh.
Taking the seat beside me, Tom sits for a moment, just swirling the whiskey around the glass. Then, he throws the contents back and dumps the glass on the floor beside the sofa.
“The music was coming from our living room, so I went in there. The TV was on, and the music video was playing on it. I turned the TV off, and that was when I heard voices coming from my dad’s office. I knew that he was in there with Joe, so I started to run for his office. I don’t know what I intended to do. I just knew I had to be there. I just made it to the hall when I heard Joe yell out. He sounded panicked. Not even a second passed when I heard it. The gunshot.
“Stupid as it was, I ran in the direction of the gunshot, not away like most normal people would. I burst through the door to the office. That was when I saw Joe on the floor, bleeding out from the chest, and my dad was standing there with his gun in his hand. I ran to Joe and pressed my hand to his chest to try to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much fucking blood. It was all over my hands, my clothes…everywhere.”
He holds his hands out in front of him, like he can still see Joe’s blood on them.
Holy wow.
He just went even higher on the hotness scale.
“Jean-Pierre settled in Danville, Kentucky where he met my great-great grandmother, Sarah Thomas.”
Kentucky. I remember how on edge Tom was while we were at that festival in Kentucky.
“Sarah’s father, John Carter Thomas, had died that previous year and left her the farm she grew up on. She and Jean-Pierre married, and he took over running the farm. They farmed corn, and he decided to start producing a whiskey from it called bourbon that had become popular. Some farmers were making good money off it, and my grandfather needed to make money as Sarah was pregnant with my great-grandfather. He was born a week before they successfully distilled the first batch of Segal whiskey. They decided to name my great-grandfather, Thomas, after Sarah’s family name, and, Carter, for his middle like her fathers. Jean-Pierre named the whiskey after his son. And that’s how Thomas Segal whiskey was born.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t even know why I told you all that. It’s not really relevant to the details of my shitty life.”
Leaning close, I press my forehead to his. “Everything about you is relevant. It all matters. I want to know everything about you.”
His fingers skim my cheeks. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”
“Not lately.” I smile.
He traces his finger over my lips. “Well, you are amazing. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”
I settle back, resting my shoulder against the sofa, ready to hear the rest of his story.
“So, you know my dad was Thomas, the Third.” He’s referring to his tattoo. “Dad took over running the company when my grandpa no longer could. My dad was the head of the company, the exec chairman, and his younger brother, my Uncle Joe, was CEO. I was primed for taking over one day. My whole life was spent in Danville, Kentucky”—I hear the Southern in his accent at that moment—“being groomed for the day I would take over the company. I was to graduate high school, go to an Ivy League school, and then take on a job at Segal’s and learn the business. My life was mapped out. Then, everything changed when I was thirteen.”
I’m just about to ask about his Southern accent, what happened to it, when his eyes meet mine. The pain I see in them feels like it’s my own. It’s that strong.
“When I was thirteen, my dad discovered that my mom was having an affair. She had been for quite some time with…my Uncle Joe. My dad caught them together.”
Seeing the direction this story is going, I move closer, sensing that Tom needs me near right now.
“Everything fell apart. Mom moved out of our home and in with Joe. She wanted to take us with her, but I wouldn’t leave my dad. Heather, my younger sister by five years, didn’t really grasp what was happening, and she wanted to be with Mom. So, Heather went with Mom, and I stayed with Dad. I was always closer to him.” He sighs. “It hit him bad. He’d not only lost his wife, but he lost his brother, and he was being forced to continue running a company with him. He was drinking more and more. Everything was a fucking mess. I was a kid, trying to hold everything together. At that point, I thought that things couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong.
“I was out at a friend’s house, and I called Dad to check in, but he wasn’t answering. I don’t know, but something just felt off. I had this weird feeling in my gut, so I left my friend’s house and rode my bike home. When I got near the house, I saw Uncle Joe’s car in the driveway. I knew him being here wasn’t good, so I dropped my bike and ran into the house. I called out for Dad, but I didn’t get a response. There was music playing—‘Ordinary World’—so I figured he couldn’t hear me over that.”
The pain in his expression is crippling. And I remember him telling me that is his dad’s song, how he hasn’t listened to it for sixteen years.
My stomach tightens into knots.
He scrubs his hands over his face. “Christ, this is hard.” He gets to his feet. “I need a fucking drink. You want a drink?”
I shake my head.
“Gimme a minute.” He leaves the room and comes back minutes later with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“Jack.” He lifts the glass, tipping it from side to side, as he lets out a weak laugh.
Taking the seat beside me, Tom sits for a moment, just swirling the whiskey around the glass. Then, he throws the contents back and dumps the glass on the floor beside the sofa.
“The music was coming from our living room, so I went in there. The TV was on, and the music video was playing on it. I turned the TV off, and that was when I heard voices coming from my dad’s office. I knew that he was in there with Joe, so I started to run for his office. I don’t know what I intended to do. I just knew I had to be there. I just made it to the hall when I heard Joe yell out. He sounded panicked. Not even a second passed when I heard it. The gunshot.
“Stupid as it was, I ran in the direction of the gunshot, not away like most normal people would. I burst through the door to the office. That was when I saw Joe on the floor, bleeding out from the chest, and my dad was standing there with his gun in his hand. I ran to Joe and pressed my hand to his chest to try to stop the bleeding, but there was just so much fucking blood. It was all over my hands, my clothes…everywhere.”
He holds his hands out in front of him, like he can still see Joe’s blood on them.
