Page 1 of Fifty-Fifty

Chapter One

Noah

“Yeah, I’m checking my mail right now.” I pin my cell between my shoulder and ear while thumbing through the copious amounts of junk mail, in search of a white envelope addressed to me. After three worthless magazines, I find it. “Shane, it’s right here.”

“Hopefully it’ll be enough to satisfy Slater.” Shane’s mention of our boss is enough to make my hackles rise. I like Slater. He’s a pretty good boss, but he also likes to rule things with an iron fist, and the fact that he has an unrealistic deadline for getting the down payment to him makes things a little… rough.

Slater mentioned the possibility of opening up a second location for the tattoo shop he owns. The one I’ve been working at for the past seven years. It felt like the stars were aligning when he offered me the chance to invest. Now all I need is the cash.

Fast.

Hastily, I rip open the white envelope. My grandpa died last month. I haven’t seen him in almost twenty years, when he and my dad had a fight. I don’t know what it was about or why it ended their relationship. Just that… we stopped going to see him and we weren’t allowed to say his name. And then my dad died a couple years ago, and I lost my desire to reconnect with a guy I barely remembered in the first place.

I was surprised when I received a call from his lawyer after the funeral. The one I didn’t know about. Apparently, my grandpa left half of everything he owned to me. His only grandchild. The other half belongs to his prodigy, Beau Williams. I’ve never met the guy, but he and my grandpa were close. Hence, the fifty-fifty split.

In all honesty, I’m surprised I got a dime.

My grandpa is from a little town in Love, Georgia. He didn’t own much other than a motel or some shit. The lawyer, Mr. Jenkins, suggested Beau run the motel and send me a monthly check of the earnings. He was more than happy to oblige as long as he could stay there rent free. It seemed like a win-win situation, so I went along with the idea.

Not to sound harsh, but it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Pulling the check from the envelope, my eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see the number printed on the paper.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath. There must be a mistake.

“Dude. How much? I gotta know.” Shane’s voice echoes through the speakers, shaking me from my stupor.

I clear my throat. “Let me call you back.”

I hit the end button before he has a chance to argue and quickly pull up Mr. Jenkins’ number.

It’s almost eleven at night, but I don’t give a shit. If my pounding heart is anything to go by, I’d say this is an emergency.

It rings for a sold thirty seconds before a groggy voice answers. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Noah. I just got my first check, and I think there’s been some sort of mistake.”

There’s a rustling on the other end as I wait for him to reply. I assume Mr. Jenkins is sitting up in his bed, taking his sweet-ass time in responding.

“I’m sorry, what kind of mistake?”

My nostrils flare as I look at the check in front of me again. “I think Beau Williams is skimming some of the money off the top and keeping it. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. It’s either that, or there’s been a misprint on the check.”

“Mr. Jamison, I can assure you that Beau would never do anything of the sort. May I ask how much money seems to be missing?”

I scan the check for a third time. “I don’t know. A zero or two?” I mutter. “Look, I was under the impression that my arrangement with Beau would provide a greater amount of supplemental income than… this.” I tug on the neck of my t-shirt before stepping into my apartment building and taking the stairs two at a time. “I have an opportunity right now and need the cash. Whatever the hell Beau’s doing, it’s obviously failing.”

“Hmm...” is all Mr. Jenkins says.

I roll my eyes while trying to control my temper. I’m about two seconds away from losing my shit. “Is there anything else you might suggest? Because this arrangement isn’t working for me.”

“The only other option is to sell the property for a lump sum, but you and Beau would have to come to the same agreement, and I don’t exactly see that happening,” Mr. Jenkins answers honestly.

I pull my keys from my pocket and slide them into the lock.

“And why, exactly, don’t you see that happening?” I growl.

He clears his throat, communicating how uncomfortable he is. “Well, Mr. Jamison, it’s because the inn is Beau’s current residence, as you already know. If I’m being honest, I don’t see Beau being very accommodating to your predicament when Beau is the one putting forth all the elbow grease. It might be best if you come down here and plead your case.”

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