Page 15 of Fortune's Control
Aiden’s eyes gleamed. “Spoke to a potential customer in Miami. Two corvettes, a 1958 and a 1962, but it’s not a done deal yet. I asked him to text me some pictures, and we’d talk again in the morning. Two of them.” He pumped his fist. “I might need to drive and get them if it comes through.”
“Congrats,” I said, unsure what else to say, and then it hit me. “We should keep moving. You’ll need this space sooner than you realize.”
Aiden sighed. “I want to argue on general principles, but you’re right.” He gazed up the narrow staircase. “Jack, when you said we should do the upstairs first, you meant the opposite, right?”
Jack rubbed his chin with his thumb and flashed a sardonic grin. “Sure. The roof is in top-notch condition, so we can assume there are no structural issues upstairs. We can work in the dark, too, if you want, and see how that goes.”
Aiden huffed. “Well, who died and made you chief asshole?”
“I was born this way.”
Aiden climbed the stairs without a backward glance. “I want to start first thing. Dean is off tomorrow, and with luck, no houses will catch fire, so let’s get moving on a plan.”
Stairs. I considered moving my bedroom to the first floor more than once, but continued to resist the idea. Living on the first floor meant giving up, and I refused to do that. Besides, the stairs leading to Lilah’s garage apartment were worse as the uneven distance between steps made it difficult to maintain momentum.
I gripped the handrail, stepped, and pulled myself up.
Jack and Aiden pretended not to notice my delayed arrival.
“The windows open fine.” Aiden opened and closed one to prove it.
“That’s not the problem. They’re half-rotten. You need to replace them, too,” Jack said.
“I don’t care about rotting wood.”
“Your tenant will.” Jack avoided responsibility but was a stickler for proper construction practices. I wondered, not for the first time, if all he needed was the right project.
Aiden shrugged. “Everyone enjoys a cross breeze at night.”
“I can’t. I am out of words.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shane, please help me.”
“What’s the plan for out front?” I asked to change the subject and rescue my friend.
The building was once a car dealership. White paint, now almost invisible from time and the elements, spelled out its former name on the side of the building. The red brick and metal roof were distinctive enough, but the front entry gave the place its charm. A weathered overhang, with hints of rust and faded blue paint, caught one’s eye, while afaded orange sign advertising a business that had closed decades ago stood out front.
He didn’t hesitate. “That’s all staying. Oh, I meant to ask, did you ever tell your new wife that you don’t like chocolate?”
Aiden’s casual delivery almost got me. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
Lilah wrapped the plate of chocolate chip cookies with a pretty blue bow and a handmade card. I couldn’t stand chocolate, but it wasn’t like the topic would ever come up.
He wasn’t done. “Have you two carried out a single conversation? I mean the kind where you interact like humans rather than you telling her what to do.”
“We interact.”
The two of them asked this question, in varying forms, every day, and I was no closer to a direct answer than I had been the first time.
Jack chimed in as he watched me with curious eyes. “Do you intend to stay married to her? Does she expect you to stay married?”
“Let’s keep moving. I have work to do before tomorrow morning.” I’d answer his questions once I knew.
6-Shane
Jack: Come over! There is cold beer! Acknowledge my existence!
I ignored this text, too, just as I did the one he sent five minutes earlier. For now, a hot shower, the woodshop, and an early bedtime made for a pleasant evening.
“You’re the strongest, bravest, handsomest pirate in the world, aren’t you?”
