Page 3 of Alpha Bait

"Then who can?" Jamal spat.

I raked my hands through my hair, the ash brown color that had nearly changed to a dirty blond from my summer of yachting around Bequia.

"I will do what it takes to make things right."

"Stop using the technology."

I laughed.

"You can't be serious. That technology is the backbone of Carmichael Enterprises."

"Exactly. Just like him, as I said."

"You're being unreasonable, Jamal."

" Did you ever think about how hard it was for my father to get to where he is today? He killed himself. He worked so hard that he made himself sick."

"Cancer can't be blamed on anybody."

Jamal thrust his hands into his pockets and leaned in.

"I know exactly who to blame."

"They were business partners, Jamal. They had a misunderstanding. There's no reason for us to carry on the legacy."

"You Carmichael boys have always had to work half as hard to get twice what we do. When my old man dies, this feud won't die with him. Mark my words."

"You're making a mistake, Jamal."

I paused, trying to be more reasonable than he had been.

"I don't want this to be the way things end between us," I replied, laying my heart on the line for just a moment.

"Fuck off,. We aren't kids anymore.I'm not going to sit around and be the token black guy in your life so your family can continue to get rich off our ideas."

The doors to the elevator swung open and he stepped in, turning around to face me with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. So much for resolution. I walked back into the office. Ames sat across from my father, brushing off his navy suit with one hand and balancing a glass of Jim Beam in the other.

"What did he say?"

“Nothing Important.”

"I told you!" My father yelled, overexerting himself and falling into a coughing fit.

Good. The feud was his fault. I'd lost my friend because of him. And now he would leave us with billions of dollars of blood money, and a family of rivals hell-bent on taking down either of us. Worst of all , Jamal had made a good point: none of the Carmichaels had worked half as hard as the Holloways.

Ames had made it through Princeton by the skin of his teeth, but neither of us had made it through our MBA programs. We'd been born with the expectation to spend money, not earn it, and father had taken care of our educations but he'd never expected to leave his company in the hands of his sons. He'd reminded us of that every damn day of our lives.

"Whiskey should help a cough," I offered sardonically.

Richard II took the bait and poured himself a full glass.

Ames loosened his tie.

"Where's Selena? Wasn't she supposed to be here?"

"Delayed flight."

"Shit."

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