By the time Marky was old enough to have those thoughts, Alicia had got herself knocked up by Jimmy Farley and closed up her little schoolyard enterprise, Dec explained.
A comfortable silence descended over the boathouse. The Friday-night ritual between Marcus and Ian and Declan had begun. Usually theyd meet for a few beers, sometimes at a pub, sometimes at Ians place in town and sometimes in the old boathouse at their fathers boatyard. Theyd catch up with the weeks events, the talk centering on work or sports. But occasionally they talked about women.
Marcus grabbed the bucket of varnish and climbed the ladder hed propped up against his newest project, a twenty-one-foot wooden-hulled sloop that had been commissioned by a Newport billionaire for his sons sixteenth birthday. Hed been designing and building boats for three years now, working out of the old boathouse and living upstairs in a loft that was half studio and half apartment.
Considering the number of women weve collectively been with, I wouldnt be surprised if wed shared a few others, Declan murmured.
Theres a code among brothers, Ian countered. You just dont mess with your brothers girls, current or ex.
Youre right, Dec said. He crossed the room and held out his hand to Ian. Sorry, bro. Wont happen again. Youve got my word.
Marcus smiled to himself. The three Quinn brothers had formed an unshakable bond at an early age. After their mothers illness had been diagnosed and theyd been shipped off to Ireland to live with their grandmother, theyd learned to depend upon each other. From the moment theyd arrived in Dublin, theyd been outsiders, wary Americans forced to live in a culture whose rules they didnt understand.
And after theyd returned from Ireland, theyd become known as those Quinn boys, with their odd Irish accents and their independent ways, young men who could string curse words together like seasoned sailors and beat the stuffing out of men twice their size in a fistfight.
Ian had been eighteen when theyd returned and had immediately enrolled in college, anxious to get a start on his adult life. When he was accepted into the Providence Police Academy, hed continued his education at night, graduating with a degree in criminal justice. Two years ago, hed left the Providence PD and taken the job as police chief of their hometown, Bonnett Harbor, a picturesque Rhode Island village on the western shore of Narragansett Bay.
A year younger than Ian, Declan returned in time for his senior year in high school, bringing his grades up so he could apply to MIT. Four years of college, a knack for electronics and a stint with naval intelligence had paved the way for a job in corporate security. Declans security consulting firm was the favorite among corporate bigwigs and multimillionaires along the East Coast.
Marcus had made the most difficult transition. Hed spent the majority of his childhood on Irish soil, away from his parents from age five to fourteen. Hed come back to a country that was as foreign to him as Ireland had been nine years before. School had been hell, and hed avoided it whenever possible, retreating into solitude and avoiding close friendships. His brothers had been his only friends.
But his talent in art, especially carving and sculpture, had set him on an odd career pathfirst art school and then a few years working as a wood-carver with a boat-design firm in Boston. Hed been recruited as an instructor at a small school for boat restoration in Massachusetts. Now he ran his own show, doing commissioned wood carvings and building pretty wooden sloops based on vintage designs.
Maybe we should take a break, Dec suggested, flopping down next to Ian on the sofa and kicking his heels up on the battered crate that served as a coffee table.
Marcus glanced up from the cockpit combing hed been varnishing. Im the only one doing any work here, unless you call drinking my beer and eating my food work.
Dec grabbed the can of peanuts from Ian. I was talking about women. We should take a break from women. You know, step back and try to gain a little perspective. We cant see the feckin forest for the trees.
What are you saying? Ian asked.
Hes saying, in order to understand women, we should give up women, Marcus translated.
Giving up women would be impossible for Ian. He lived on his charm, able to navigate the most difficult situations with ease. While Marcus had few friends, Ian knew everyone and they loved him. Dec, on the other hand, was more focused. He was the thinker in the family, the one guy who was driven by the need to succeed. Any challenge, whether it was in his professional or personal life, was met with unrelenting resolve.
We should study them, Declan suggested. Were three relatively clever guys. If we put our heads together, we should be able to figure women out. But you cant figure them out while youre sleeping with them, I know that. Ive been sleeping with them for years and Im no better off than I was the night I first did it.
Ian nodded. The more women I know, the less I understand them.
Marcus rested his arms across the top of the ladder. Maybe theyre not the problem. Maybe we are.
Speak for yourself, Dec said. I know what the hell Im doing in the sack. No ones ever complained.
Marcus shook his head. I mean withrelationships. Isnt that what youre talking about?
And what the hell would I do with a relationship? Dec asked. I dont have time for that.
Marcus chuckled. I rest my case.
Hes right, Ian said. We want what everyone else wants. To get married. Start a life. Have a family. Look at our cousins, Uncle Seamuss boys. There are six of them and theyre all married now.
So weve got issues, Dec said defensively.
Ian straightened, as if offended by the comment. What issues? If I had issues, Id know about it.
Not necessarily, Dec continued. I once dated this psychology grad student, and after she heard about our childhood, she said it wasnt any surprise that I had an attachment disorder. She was right, because after I listened to a few more hours of her psychobabble, I detached her from my life.
You have this disorder? Ian said.
Marcus climbed down the ladder as he spoke. We all probably do. You gotta admit, after we were separated from the family, the only people we really trusted were each other.
What about our cousins? Ian asked. They had the same start in life as we did, their da off working the Mighty Quinn and their ma disappearing on them. Did they have this disorder?
Marcus shrugged. Maybe. But they obviously overcame it since theyre all married now.
Where did you hear about this disorder? Ian asked Marcus.
Marcus set the bucket of varnish on the workbench and searched for the turpentine to clean the brush. He shrugged. Sometimes I watch Dr. Phil while Im eating lunch.
He dropped the brush into a can of paint thinner then fetched a beer for himself. After sprawling himself in a ragged easy chair across from the sofa, he took a long drink of the cold beer.
The way I see it, women are like peanuts, Ian declared, breaking the silence.
Dec laughed. All right, ya daft wanker, Ill bite. How are women like peanuts?
He held up the jar, then tipped some peanuts into his hand and popped them into his mouth. The first handful is great, he said as he chewed. The best thing you ever tasted. But then you keep eating them and eating them and they dont taste that special. After all, they are just peanuts, right? But then, you dont have them for a week or two and theyre good again.
And by not having them, you understand the nuts? You gain insight into their behavior? Declan asked.
Its not the best metaphor, Marcus said, jumping into his role as peacemaker between his two older brothers.
How did we even get on the subject of women? Ian asked.
Dec grabbed the peanuts and poured a measure into his hand. Women spend most of their time together talking about men. If we spent more time talking about them, even objectively observing them, wed be better off. And in order to do that, we need to stop sleeping with them. And stop socializing with them. Everything, full stop.
No women? For how long? The scowl on Ians face was enough to tell that he wasnt in favor of the plan.
As long as it takes, Dec said.
My social life is crap anyway, Ian finally replied. Since I moved back to Bonnett Harbor, I cant sneeze without half the town knitting me a bleedin afghan. If I started dating, thered be all sorts of gossip.
Dec looked over at Marcus. What about you?
He barely dates as it is, Ian said. This shouldnt be any problem for Marky.
I date, Marcus said. I just dont talk about it with you tossers.
It shouldnt be a problem for him, Dec said. Hes stuck out in Newport on a boat for the rest of the summer.
Just you and your tools? Ian asked.
Marcus nodded. Dec got me a job with Trevor Ross.
Dec held up his hands. I got you in the door. You got the job.
Dec had provided security at a number of Rosss corporate events and parties and also advised his corporate office on a variety of matters. A passing conversation about Rosss sailing yacht and Marcuss talents had landed Marcus a new commission and a potential business partner with limitless capital.
After I showed him my work, we got to talking, and hes interested in bankrolling the expansion of my business. Ive got to find a bigger place, where I can build bigger boats. Maybe hire some new workers. Ross could throw a lot of business my way.
Whats his boat like? Ian asked.
A grin curled the corners of Marcuss mouth. You should see her. Shes a beauty. Built in 1923. Eighty-foot wood ketch. Its all set up so you can sail it with a crew of two. He had the cabin completely refurbished but he wants more detailing, so Im adding some vintage carvings and Im replicating the original figurehead. I plan to live on the boat while I work. Hes got it anchored off his place on Prices Neck. I start the day after I put this one in the water, Marcus said, nodding toward the wooden sloop sitting in the timber cradle.
Ian chuckled, shaking his head. Now the man has something to say. Sometimes, Marky, I think you prefer boats to women.
Back to the deal, then, Dec said.
This has become a deal? Ian asked.
Dec nodded. We stay away from women. No flirting, no fondling, no nothing. Every week we get together to discuss our observations. After three months, we see where we are.
No sex for three months, Ian stated.
No women for three months, Declan said. Complete celibacy.
What aboutyou know? Ian raised his eyebrow and shook his closed fist up and down.
Masturbation? Dec asked. Are you askin about self-gratification, Ian Quinn? Well, you know what the church says about that. Its a sin. And besides that, itll give you warts, pimples and, if you do it too much, your willy will dry up and fall off and youll be turned into a wee girl.
Im not going completely cold turkey, Ian said.
Dec glanced over at Marcus, then back to Ian. Well, I suppose we can make one exception to the rule.
Ian gave his brothers a satisfied nod. And if Im going to do this, there better be something worthwhile at the end.
A naked woman in your bed isnt enough? Dec asked.
Im talking money. Lets put a bet down. We all toss in a thousand bucks. The person who lasts longest after the three months takes the pot.
And if you dont last three months? Marcus asked.
Then you throw another thousand in before youre allowed to break the pact, Ian said.
Marcus weighed the odds. Hell, he had the best chance of the three of them. And he could use the money. Hed gotten only a small advance from Ross to tide him over until the job was done. And hed already spent the money hed gotten for the sloop. Im in, he said. I cant afford to lose, so thats incentive enough.
Im in, Ian said. And I intend on winning this bet. I can easily do without women for three months.
Games on, Declan said.
He glanced at Marcus, and Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out his key chain. Dangling from it was the old medallion theyd found in the stable on their grandmothers estate. It had become like a sacred relic to the three of them. Whenever one of the brothers needed good luck or a charm to swear upon, Marcus brought out the medallion.
The minute one of us breaks the pact, we call the other two and confess, Dec said. The money goes in the pot and the game continues until theres just one guy left.
Marcus spit in his hand, then clutched the medallion tight. Ian did the same, then clasped his brothers hand. Dec followed suit and slapped his hand on top of theirs.
We meet once a week and we discuss what weve learned from our observations, Ian suggested. Heres topic number one just to get us started. Why do women like shoes so much? And given the choice, would a woman prefer a new pair of shoes over a night in bed with either one of you?
Marcus pondered the question for a long moment. Ian was righthe hadnt a clue. But hed have plenty of time to think about his answer once he got on board Trevor Rosss yacht. Hed also have time to figure out just how hed spend his brothers money.
A SHAFT OF SUNLIGHT filtered through the porthole and warmed Marcus Quinns face. He slowly opened his eyes, and for a few seconds he was transported back to his childhood, to those days spent playing in the stable at Porter Hall.
He rolled over in the narrow berth and grabbed his wristwatch from the small shelf above his head. Wiping at his bleary eyes, Marcus tried to focus on the time, ignoring the dull ache in his head. Eight-thirty, he murmured, sinking back into the pillows.
Hed been out with Ian and Dec last night, playing darts and pool at their favorite pub. For some strange reason, the pub had been filled with beautiful girls, an odd occurrence for a Sunday night and a place that usually didnt attract much of a female crowd. Unable to handle temptation, theyd ended up back at Ians place, playing poker until well past two and discussing their observations on women.
The ketch rocked gently in the water as the waves slapped against the hull. Stretching his naked body beneath the sheets, Marcus closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift, the movement of the boat lulling him back toward sleep. Hed been living on board for over a week now and the boat was beginning to feel like home.
He raked his hands through his rumpled hair. But it wasnt home, it was work. And there was plenty to do today. Marcus swung his legs over the edge of the berth and glanced down at his morning erection, just another reminder that proper relief would be limited to his own devices. He had thought the bet would be easy for him. Marcus had never been a Casanova. But now that he wasnt allowed to have sex, thats all he could think about.