Page 10 of Veiled

I can’t stop the grin on my face at his nickname. Not a fan of city folk, but he said since I passed the credit check and could pay for a year in advance, he’d make an exception.

The credit check is how I’m assuming Waylon finally caught up with me, and I knew it would be a risk when I did it. But after months of bouncing from place to place, only using cash, I wanted to settle down for a bit.

And it looks like it bit me in the ass.

“Has he already signed a lease?”

Sam looks taken back a little by my question but gives me a quick nod. “He did. Only for three months. Passed the credit check and paid awfully fast.”

Goddammit. How the hell did Waylon make that happen?

“You okay there, city boy? You’re looking a little pale.”

I grit my teeth and force a smile. “I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Not used to you being out here so late.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, the wife won’t be too happy with me, but maybe I’ll buy her something pretty with all this city money coming in.”

I smile genuinely at that. The man’s wife has him wrapped around his little finger, and no doubt he’ll buy her flowers this week just because. Not to get him out of any trouble.

“Well, keep an eye on him, will ya?” Sam asks with a smile, but I think he’s serious. “Not sure about this one. Wears a suit and has some goop in his hair.”

I barely manage to stifle a laugh, and if I wasn’t so pissed off that Waylon is here, I probably wouldn’t have been able to hold it back. Him and his fucking suits. Always on. Always perfectly poised.

Ready for his part.

Sam hops in his truck and leaves, his truck winding down the road and disappearing behind the trees as I stand there and go through some breathing exercises before heading to Waylon’s cabin.

I bang on the door. Clearly the breathing didn’t help at all, but I don’t care. I bang again just before the door casually opens, and Waylon stands there, looking totally unbothered, like he was waiting for me. “Justin.”

“Why are you here? What the hell are you doing?”

He just smirks at me, utterly calm and confident. “I’m not leaving. I’m your manager, and clearly,”—he looks me up and down, his eyes landing on my own—“you need to be managed.”

“I told you, you’re fired. I don’t need or want anything from you. And three fucking months? You paid for three months? Are you completely insane?”

“Well...” His casual tone makes me nearly feral. “Three months to start. If I don’t tear shit up, and what else did he say...?” He pretends to think. “Oh yeah, if I keep it down, I can extend the lease.”

I shake my head, my teeth clenching so damn hard I’m worried they’ll crack. “How the hell did you find cash out here?”

He waves that off. “Oh, I paid with PayPal. Pretty damn handy, if you ask me. Of course, I had to pay the fees, but that wasn’t so bad.”

I might actually kill him. My fists clench at my sides as I try like hell to stay calm. He’s playing me. I know that. He’s handling me, like he’s always done. It’s what he’s good at.

And I hate it.

“Sam takes PayPal?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Yup. Shocking, I know. But turns out, he’s pretty good with all the modern technology shit.”

I growl. I don’t mean to, but I do. I can’t believe he found a way to do this to me. “I don’t care. Leave. You need to get the hell out of here.”

“Can’t.”

He starts to close the door, but I put my shoe there to stop him. “You can. And you will. I don’t want you here, Waylon.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here.”

We just stare at each other, my rage ticking up, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

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