Page 75 of Quiet Rage
Because for the most part, I won’t. A lot has changed around here, and it’s going to keep changing until this business looks the way I want it to.
My neck is stiff after bending over old ledgers for the past hour. Another fun twist: he had the handwriting of a serial killer, almost impossible to read sometimes. I can imagine him sitting in hell, telling himself at least he’s making my life difficult from beyond the grave.
The joke’s on him. As time-consuming as this is, as many nights I’ve gone home with a headache and tired eyes, it’s still a hell of a lot better than what he put me through before. There are a lot of lives that are better today than they were four months ago.
Including my dragonfly. She’ll always be mine, even if she isn’t ready to admit it to herself. We will always be connected. Maybe I should be glad that I have the distraction of work to keep me from following her every move. There are actual whole hours in my day when I don’t think about her. My heart still speaks her name with every beat, but I don’t always have the chance to obsess now. Asking myself if some asshole is trying to pick her up at a coffee shop, and how long it would take me to cave his face in for it.
I’m rolling my head from side to side and rubbing the back of my neck when one of the guards pokes his head in. “Boss, somebody here to see you. Says his name is Easton.”
That’s a surprise. Almost like my past life is coming back to remind me it existed. That’s how disconnected I feel now from the way things used to be. “Let him in,” I reply. It’s only another few seconds before he walks in, looking serious for the first time since we met.
“Look at all of this.” He blows out a low whistle, taking in the overstated furnishings Dad set up a long time ago.
“I haven’t had time to redecorate.”
“Well, I know one thing for sure: it’s not because you’re too busy answering the phone when your friends call.”
This is the Easton I know. Always a fucking smartass. “That’s what you came here for? To bust my balls?”
“I haven’t had a chance to do it in so long.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sighs, standing on the other side of my desk. “It’s good to see you. We’ve all missed you.”
Now that I think about it, it’s been way longer than four months since I checked out. Everything became about Tamson. “I’ve been busy around here,” I settle for replying. “I wish I could be around. I do.”
“Funny you should say that, because I was going to invite you over right now.”
“You didn’t have to come all this way.”
“Well, you never answer your phone, so there’s only one way to get your attention. That’s showing up and getting in your face.” He looks down at the pile of work spread out in front of me. “This will still be here in a few hours. We have some porterhouse steaks back at the house—Preston’s going to grill them. There’s one with your name on it.”
Now I’m annoyed with myself, because I can’t remember the last time I had a solid meal. I’ve been grabbing what I can, when I can. The idea of a thick porterhouse makes my mouth water. “It sounds good, but?—”
“No buts. I’m serious. Besides,” he adds with a grin. “Emma has got a friend over. You might be interested in her. She’s pretty cute. She’s nice. You could use a distraction.”
“I’m not interested in some girl.”
“I think you’ll be interested in this one,” he says with a mischievous grin.
That gets my attention. I know Tamson is friends with Emma. Could it be?
“Who?”
“You’ll have to come along and find out. Seriously,” he insists when I groan. “A couple hours. You can spare a couple of hours. It looks like everything is running pretty well right now. Business looked pretty damn good when I walked through.”
Business is good, maybe better than before. Because while I’m trying to legitimize Dad’s businesses, that means there’s no reason for people to avoid this place. I forgave all debts, wiped the slate clean. There was so much money coming through from all the different revenue streams, the debt he held over people’s heads was small change in comparison. I get that in the end, it was more the principle of the thing. Making sure people understood he was not to be fucked with.
Nowadays, customers can feel free to come in without being pressured by the prostitutes who no longer work here. No drugs, no rooms for addicts to crash in. All of that shit is in the past. We’re going legitimate. Dad would never believe how much more money we’re raking in now because of it.
Sighing, I stand, and I can’t ignore the stiffness in my back and legs after being in the same position for so long. He could be right. I need a short break. And the possibility of seeing Tamson tips my decision. “You’re not going to let this go until you get your way, are you?”
“Wow. It’s almost like we used to be good friends at one point who understood each other.”
He’s chuckling as we leave the office, taking the side door out of the building to cut straight to the parking lot. Being with him is good. I needed it. I almost forgot I used to have a life. Friends.
I don’t want to lose that. He couldn’t have showed up at a better time, even if I didn’t feel that way at first. As I follow him on the familiar route to the house he and Preston share with Emma, I think back on how isolated Dad eventually became. Uncle Joe was his last good friend, the last true ally. There was nothing beyond the business for Dad once that bridge was burned for good. He lost his connection to everything that should’ve mattered.
That’s not going to happen to me. I need to wake up and find a little balance in my life while my friends still give a shit.
Easton’s waiting for me by the time I park in the driveway, and we walk around the side of the house together. “It’ll be like old times,” he promises. “We’ve got a fridge full of beer. You need a break. Kick back, eat some beef, talk to people who aren’t employed by you.”
