Page 19 of Cooper

“I get it.” He nods quickly. “We’ve got a guy that checks out everyone we do business with. He’s on a retainer. I could hook him up for you. He’s doing something for Garrett right now, but the guy is a machine.” Colton states. These brothers are billionaires. Money is no object. They own an airline that their late father left for them, that they were all groomed to run, except for Wade. The Ford brothers are the type of people that would get pissed if they knew that someone was in trouble or they could help, and you held off because you didn’t have the money for it.

“I hate to ask so close to Christmas, but this girl is hurting bad. My guess is it’s got something to do with her husband. She doesn’t speak much about him other than that they’re divorced. The little that I know of her I learned through Blake. He gave me access to her file.”

“Blake’s a good guy.”

I nod. “Yeah. He’s seen his share of people with trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He licks his lips. “Listen, the guy’s name is Jenkins. Earl Jenkins. But don’t ever call him by his first name or he’ll get pissy with you and start calling you something else, if you get my drift.” He chuckles matter-of-factly. “And don’t let his first name put you off. He’s our age and knows his shit like no other. He’s dug in so deep to some of our potential clients, learning shit that would send a donkey packing, helping us steer clear of troublemakers. Now, I’ll tell him he’s got free reign, and any cost for stuff like sealed files, things like that, he can go ahead with on your approval. Like I said, he’s a machine. He works alone, too, so don’t ever let anyone dick you around and say that they’re working for him. That’s rule number one with him.”

I frown. “Sounds good. I’m hoping that it’s just something simple like he’s one of them psycho exes, but I’ve got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me otherwise.”

“Always listen to your gut, man. That’s my first rule. That’s how come I know who’s who all the time. And that girl is a good one. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Thanks, man.” I shake his hand. “Now, I better get on this bad boy, or she’ll be suspicious.”

“I’ll grab Maya and come along.” He says, pulling the mare out of her pen.

“Hey, how come you didn’t have her ride Maya?” I ask, curiously.

“Ah, she got taken out earlier. I didn’t want Rebel to get jealous.”

He changes the saddle to a single one, tossing it on Rebel, and then he places one on Maya’s back, and mounts her. “You love her, man?”

I look at Colton and purse my lips into a smile, looking downward.

“Don’t know why I asked. You wouldn’t be going to all this trouble if you didn’t.”

“The kid, too.”

“Looks like you got yourself a couple of early Christmas presents, dude.”

“Yeah. And the best kind, too.”

Mingles is pumping tonight. And I feel it. My arms are flailing about, beating the shit out of the drums, while I keep one eye on my girl, who looks up at me and smiles every now and again. We play a couple of Christmas songs, and everyone joins in, including the waitresses, and including London. As much as I’ve got it licked, calling her Stella outside of the house, it still makes my skin crawl. Not that Stella is a particularly gruesome name, but knowing that it’s not hers, and she’s using it to conceal herself from some unknown trouble that’s either too scary to share, or too risky to share. Either way, like I said, it makes my skin crawl.

During setup I couldn’t take my mind off this Earl Jenkins guy. I mean, how is he going to find anything out? If she’s using a pseudonym, how is he going to find out anything about her? Blake’s file was scant at best. Working in a bar doesn’t require much other than your social security number and an address, and there wasn’t even an SSN. There wasn’t even banking information in there, so I’m assuming he’s paying her in cash. Which scares me to no end. Is her surname even real? I imagine not. And the more I think about it, the more it makes me sick.

But as I hit the drums and start playing, it all melts away, and that’s the best part. All I think about while I’m at the drums is playing. It’s an escape. It’s the escape. I don’t drink, do drugs, or do anything, but when I play, that’s my drug. I love it and I do it every day, whether it’s for money or not. Whether it’s for the kids or not. Just like I can’t imagine my life without London and Bean, I’ve never been able to imagine my life without playing. I’m in my element. Thrashing my sticks up and down, twirling them in the air, beating the shit out of the skins, pumping with Wade’s beats, keeping time with the rest of the band, it’s all such a fucking rush.

And then as Wade announces a break, I head over to the bar, for a bottle of water. Colton approaches me, as I watch London serve a table their drinks. “There’s a message on your phone. Jenkins tried calling but I told him you were playing tonight.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. I turn my phone off when I’m playing. Don’t want the distraction.”

He nods. “I get it. If you’ve got a minute, give him a call. He just wants to connect with you.”

“Sure thing, man. I’ll do it after I take a piss.”

He nods and heads back to his post. London walks up to me and smiles, as she delivers a drink order to Blake. “How’s it going?” She asks.

“At the risk of sounding corny, much better since you’re here.”

She grins. “I called to see how Bean’s doing. She adores Nate.”

“I figured. He’s a good kid and he loves little ones. Never had a sibling and always wanted one.”

“He’ll make a great uncle some day.”

“That’s the truth.”

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