Professional Courtesy

Impulse Control

“I keep thinking about the syrup, Simon.”

Jake Bellian pulled his bowtie through his collar and tossed it on the hotel room dresser.

“Dad rationing the syrup? You just won a goddamn Emmy, and you’re thinking about the syrup?” 

Simon Bellian drank from a bottle of champagne he had never heard of and couldn’t pronounce.

He belched.

“We had a rough childhood. Who cares, Jake? You just won an Emmy.”

Jake let himself fall back on the bed, statuette in hand.

“Just listen, okay? I shoulda got you your own hotel room.”

Simon shrugged “If I’m bugging you I can go down to the bar.”

Jake shook his head.

“You remember how dad’s hand would shake in the morning because Ma wouldn’t let him drink after the ballgame was over?”

Simon whistled, annoyed.

“Yeah, of course. I remember all that shit. And the syrup would drip down the edge of the bottle, and I would dare you to lick it off.”