Page 113 of Star Crossed
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever.” Nova shrugged dismissively as he worked on buying a big chunk of the stock. “Take it or leave it.”
“What do you actually do for a living?” Wyatt asked curiously. “I know what Ithinkyou do, but the reality sounds different.”
“I give advice,” Nova said simply. “Excellent, highly valuable advice that would behoove you to heed. Unless you got some sorta aversion to making money.”
“You really think this stock’s gonna go up that much?”
“I’d bet my dick on it.”
Wyatt snorted. “So if I wanted to buy some, how do I go ’bout it?”
“Lemme guess, you have a series of low-risk, long-term mutual funds that gives you a moderate quarterly return?”
“They’re not doing all that great right now. The economy’s fucking it all up.”
“It’s not the economy. It’s your shitty financial manager. I’ll walk you through opening your own trading account if you want.”
“Why?” Wyatt asked skeptically. “I could barely get a civil word out of you two days ago; now you’re taking an interest in my financial future.”
“‘Cause I’m stressed outta my friggin’ mind,” Nova snapped. “I need a distraction, and gambling keeps my mind busy. Since you took leave from work, you call me every hour to see if I’ve checked Romeo’s phone. Might as well make good use of all this wasted time.”
“Did you check the phone?”
“Yeah, I checked it,” Nova lied, because it was starting to get depressing to constantly turn up nothing. “You gonna stop fucking around with Angry Birds and do something productive or what?”
“Okay.” Wyatt relented after a moment’s hesitation, making it obvious he needed the distraction as badly as Nova did. “But I’m not exactly confident ’bout taking your advice when you’re referring to it as gambling.”
“You should be. I’m a very competent gambler,” Nova said confidently. “Now go to your computer, and I’ll walk you through it. When you start seeing a return, all I ask is that you take twenty percent and set up a Roth IRA for Romeo’s baby. I’ll walk you through that too when the time comes. Don’t think I won’t notice when you get a return, ’cause I’ll know it before you do.”
“Ah, that’s the deal.” Wyatt sounded amused. “Can’t do it without a twenty percent cut…’cause that’s not stereotypical.”
“A lot of my favors cost more than twenty percent. That’s a family discount. Call me stereotypical again, motherfucker, and I’ll make it thirty.”
“I would’ve bought the IRA for the baby anyway. I’m not intimidated by your business tactics, Moretti.” There was a shuffle on the other end and the chime of a computer coming on. “Okay, now what?”
Nova smoked three more cigarettes and helped Wyatt set up an online trading account. It was a decent distraction against the rising worry and exhaustion, and it wasn’t until a knock on Romeo’s door had him turning toward the front of the apartment.
“Conner, I gotta call you back.” Nova grabbed his 9mm off the couch. “Someone’s at the door.”
He hung up before Wyatt could say anything, because he would start getting all demanding in that cop-like way of his, wanting to know if it was Romeo and then giving instructions like Nova was inclined to follow rules.
Nova tucked the 9mm into the back of his jeans and walked to the door. He squinted through the peephole, seeing Gino on the other side, and opened the door.
“Eh!” Gino held up two cups of coffee. “Thought you could use it.”
“No shit.” Nova took the coffee and shut the door behind him. “Thanks, man.”
Gino patted his back affectionately as he walked past. “You look like hell. Hear anything from Romeo?”
Nova stiffened, sick of that question. “No.”
“Talking to Tino yet?”
“Grudgingly.” Nova took a sip of the coffee as he followed Gino back into the living room. “For information purposes only. He keeps texting me. I know it’s driving him crazy that I’m ignoring him.”
“That chick’s brother still calling every five minutes?”
