Open Heart One Shots (Choices)

All About Tonight

"Thanks for meeting me, Ethan," said Max when they were both seated in the leather armchairs facing each other. "Can I interest you in a Macallan '50?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow at the expensive single malt whiskey. He took the crystal tumbler Max handed him and appreciatively sniffed the amber-colored liquid with its hint of vanilla, toffee and orange.

"How is Cassie your sister again?" asked Ethan, his lips twisting in amusement as he thought about how she tolerated whiskey but never really enjoyed it.

"Genetics is a funny thing," Max quipped, raising his glass in a silent toast.

They both enjoyed their drink in companionable silence, savoring the smoky aftertaste of the expensive scotch. They were alone in this part of the club, but even if they hadn't been, places like this with their storied halls demanded discretion from all that ventured inside.

"That was really, really good," said Ethan, sinking into the comfortable chair.

He felt some of his tension ease only to return when he saw resolve gather on Max's face. The expression was so familiar, reminding him of Cassie when she prepared herself to have a difficult conversation with a patient or a peer.

"I'm sensing that you didn't come all the way to Boston just to have a drink," said Ethan, taking the initiative when he sensed the younger man's hesitation.

Max shook his head, his green eyes focused as they peered into his. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers as he formulated his response.

"Ever since we were six years old," he began, "my father told me that since I was older it was my job to look after my sister when he couldn't be there. I have always taken that responsibility seriously, and always will, even if Cassie is more than capable of looking after herself."

Ethan waited patiently when Max paused, sensing there was more to come.

"Last week when I contacted you about Operation Cupcake and Cassie spiraling out of control, I realized something," said Max. "In that moment, I trusted you completely and without reservation to look after her too. I would never have gone against my sister otherwise."

Max stared at Ethan; earnestness written across his face as he continued. "So, I guess I invited you here today to see if you and I have a chance of becoming friends, for her sake and ours."

"Before I answer, I need your honest answer to my next question," said Ethan, glancing around the elegant room. "Why did you choose this club for our meeting? The significance of what this place represents, with its membership spanning multi-generations of wealth, isn't lost on me."

"Honestly? It's the only place in Boston that serves the Macallan '50 and it's private," said Max, his tone frank. "I figured you would appreciate both and I didn't have a lot of time to plan things. We can go somewhere else if you prefer."

The silence between them stretched as Ethan took measure of the other man, employing his diagnostic skills to read his body language and the sincerity on his face. And then he rolled the dice.

"It's really good Macallan," he said, smiling to dissipate the tension.

"The best," nodded Max, pouring another round for both of them. "Only a couple of hundred in circulation and we're the lucky bastards who get to finish whatever's left in this bottle."

"To new friendships," said Ethan, raising his glass in a toast.

He clinked his glass against Max's and then settled back to enjoy the rest of his evening in the company of someone who was the next best thing to Cassie.