Page 69 of Call the Shots
“June had one of her friends fuck up my car and she won’t tell me who. She’s holding it over me. It’s basically like she did it.”
“That could be anybody. Everyone’s friends with June?—”
“I need you to get those receipts, Bear. They’re on her laptop.”
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was a joke, but seconds passed, and Xavier’s tight smile never wavered. He wasn’t kidding.
“Her password’s esperanza,” he added. “It’s her favorite flower, she used to grow them at her house. Her birth year’sat the end, the second E is capitalized, she never changes her password. The receipts will be on a folder, copy it?—”
“Xavier—”
“Pull a fire alarm in the lobby bathroom, she’ll leave?—”
“Ican’tdo that.”
He gazed at me, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m fucked but I bet I could go to the businesses. It’d take forever but I could do it.”
Maybe June and I were at each other’s throats but doing that was an invasion of her privacy. I couldn’t do that to her. Even if she did steal them.
“Hey?” He took a swig of the beer. “You know your nudes situation?”
“Uh…yeah.”
“What was your ex’s name?” He sucked on his teeth. “Started with a P, ended with aneesound…man, what was it?” He clicked his tongue. “I can’t think of it. Polly? Penny? No…”
“Paisley,” I said quietly.
He snapped his fingers. “Paisley, right. Yeah. That was fucked-up.”
I shifted away. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”
“See, if I was around, and I knew there was anything I could’ve done to stop Paisley, I would’ve done it. I would’ve broken into her phone.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Because we’re brothers,” he continued. “We look out for each other.”
CHAPTER 27
JUNE
THE DETERGENT APOLOGY
Sayinghe was sorry was one thing, but I couldn’t believe how easily Montoya wanted to forgive Bear. Bear needed to actually apologize, not a two-minute phone call from a party. Sunday morning, I pushed open his door to see Bear lying on his bed. He wasn’t playing one of his alien-shooting games, he was just tossing a folded-up baseball cap in the air.
“I’m not in the mood,” he muttered.
“What do you have today?”
“Why?”
“You don’t have gym slots, no practice, no classes, what’s the plan?”
He shrugged, moody. “Just this.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Why?”
