Page 41 of Bad Enough

Looking at the men on her deck, she could tell that Waters was worried about something. Demon didn’t look much happier, but he didn’t appear to be arguing against whatever Waters was saying to him.

Demon looked over his shoulder at Sylvan and Kai, then turned back to Waters, clearly asking a question, and Waters shrugged his shoulders as he replied.

I hate knowing I’m being talked about.

“What’s going on, Kai?” Sylvan asked. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know what I can tell you, Syl. It’s… complicated. All I can tell you is that I’m involved with Waters, but no one can know.”

Sylvan’s frown went deeper. “No one can know? Jeepers, Kai, what is he? An assassin or something?”

Kai mumbled, “Or something,” and then shut up as the sliding door opened, and the two men returned to the living room.

Demon began packing up medical supplies into a backpack while Waters looked long at Kai, then at her. “Sylvan, I know you don’t know us from anyone, but based on just what little I’ve seen, you have a serious problem. Add to that how you reacted to receiving this, and it’s probably even more serious than you think it is. I’m guessing you haven’t gone to the police?”

“I tried, but the police can’t help me because he hasn’t actually done anything toward me except send messages. What am I supposed to do?”

Demon glanced long at Waters, then took his backpack and himself out the front door. Waters then looked back at Sylvan. He sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m in that movie about the high school kids you made me watch?”

Kai frowned. “What movie?”

“With the singing and the dancing.”

“Oh! You mean Grease.”

“Yeah. My spidey senses are telling me I’m about to live out the bonfire scene.” He shook his head. “Fuck my life.”

13

JUNE 15TH

TB

W

Kubrick needs a favor. Conference room stat.

“Already? You two have barely been back together for two weeks,” he mumbled to himself.

TB hated favors. They made his skin feel like it was sliding over his bones through oil. He could already sense this was going to be messy.

Unfolding himself from his Humvee, he sauntered through the underground parking garage to the elevator that would take him up to Tribe’s offices. As he pressed the up button, a Bronco came careening around the corner and slid across two parking spaces. Rolling out of it from the passenger seat came Nemo, and his fraternal twin, Midas, came bursting out of the driver’s side. Arguing, as usual.

“All I said was one of these days, you’re going to get caught. Fuck in a bed like the rest of the world,” Midas yelled.

“Why?” Nemo corrected him, “That’s boring.” Both were booking it toward the elevator where TB stood. “Morning, Godzilla! How’s it hangin’?”

The elevator doors opened, and TB walked in, completely ignoring the blond twin who threw himself in the door, trying to escape his brother’s tripping foot. TB looked at the dark twin. “You know, assknockers, there’s a reason for those yellow lines in the garage.”

“Dude,” Nemo interjected, “eight of us work here. Even if Kubrick showed up with her ‘vette, that’s nine cars maximum. There’s gotta be thirty spots easy.”

“What he said,” Midas greeted as he spun through the door and punched the button for the lobby. “Morning, TB.”

“It’s after two o’clock,” TB corrected.

“Well, I just rolled out of bed”—Nemo shrugged—“so it’s morning for me.”

“Try ‘car lot,’ not ‘bed,’” Midas groused. “Remind me why I left here and went to pick you up? I’m not an Uber.”

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