Page 32 of Lead Me Knot

“Good thing they didn’t attend Kalamazoo.”

“Ha!” I drop my feet to the floor and start punching on keys to bring my computer to life. “Good fucking thing. Good weekend?” He shifts as if he’s hesitant to answer. I look at him, recognizing the sly smile he’s trying to hide. “That good, huh?”

“Pretty great.”

I remember those nights. I had more of a life when Tagger lived here. When Beck was with his mom, Tag and I were unstoppable. We didn’t have to work for attention. We just walked in, and it fell at our feet.

Basketball on Thursdays.

Just fucking around the city with too much money to burn for guys in their twenties.

When he had custody of his son, we’d go to games or watch from one of our apartments, order pizza, and teach the little guy all about football, baseball, or whatever was on.

I had a life.

Now, I have work that’s not noticed by anyone. The fun is gone, which means, I need to make some big moves or move on.

Should I live vicariously through him? Probably not, but I need to know someone’s having a good time. “Night out with the guys?”

“It started that way.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. Lowering his voice, he says, “You know how it is.”

“Vaguely,” I reply, grinning because I remember the good ole days a little too well when my best friend and I ran this city. Studying my schedule for the rest of the day, I then turn back to him. “Can you make sure conference room four is available for my three o’clock?”

Glancing down at his phone, he ticks off boxes listed on the screen. “I’ve already reserved it for the Sullivan meeting. I’ve ordered beverages and a tray of snacks just in case anyone’s hungry. It will all be set up before you arrive. Do you want me to have a drink cart brought in?”

“I made them twenty million in the first two quarters of the year. We definitely need the drink cart brought in. How late are you staying tonight?”

“How late do you need me?”

I redirect my attention out the window to mentally work through my past meetings with the Sullivans. I return mygaze to the computer screen and flip to emails. “Don’t stay past six.”

“Six? That’s early.”

Do I tell him how he might one day be sitting in this very office, and they’ll still think him sacrificing all his spare time was a waste? Nope. But I don’t have to be complicit. “Six is good.”

He stands and starts for the door. “There are four files with all the reports and bound for them to keep. But I also have the email ready to send with everything electronically.”

Mickey’s too on top of it. “You’re making me look good.”

“That’s my job, right?”

“No. Your job is to predict the stock market for clients. If you had to name one investment for me to sink a few million into, what is your recommendation?”

“On the spot?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I chuckle. “Yep.”

“I’d go with Westcott Enterprises at the corporate level, but if you’re looking to make some real money and aren’t afraid of a gamble, I’d niche down to the Westcott Racing division for next season.”

My jaw practically hits the desk. “You’re telling me to invest in a race car team?”

Holding his hands in the air, he laughs. “I’m not telling you to invest in anything, but I feel confident in research.”

I run my fingers into my hair, thinking through his recommendation. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“Is that a good thing or bad?”

“Good, I think.” I glance at the TVs hung on the wall showing the markets around the world and the ticker banners scrolling across the top just to see if their stockshows up. “I’m impressed with the outside-of-the-box thinking. I’ll do some research and get back to you.”

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