Page 56 of The Older Brother
My molars gnash together, but I show nothing but gratitude on the outside. I have to keep this looking legit, though.
“Don’t fuck this up for me,” I say to my brother.
And for once, rather than chastising me, my father simply laughs before getting to his feet and pointing to Caleb as he echoes my sentiment.
“You’d better get used to that kind of demand, son. You’re dealing with other people’s money. You must make more for them, otherwise you’re nothing more than a thief.” My father’s analogy is a bit ironic, yet it resonates with Caleb just as much as every piece of advice our dad shells out to him.
“I know. I’ll make him money. Then he can owe me for the rest of his life, too.” Caleb’s glare lingers on my face for a hot second before my dad moves to his door and opens it, signaling it’s time for his prodigies—aka stooges—to go.
“You know, it’s brave of you to put your life savings in my control. What if I decide to make it disappear?” Caleb stops at the edge of Allison’s desk, probably so they can gossip about me when I leave. I pull my wallet out and ready my parking ticket before heading to the elevator.
“You could, Caleb. That’s right. But then, you’d be just as big of a fuck-up failure as I am, and I’m willing to bet that you’d rather come out looking like the hero than tanking my pathetic bank account.” I shrug, and Caleb huffs out an irritated laugh before flipping me off.
I don’t breathe until I exit the elevator, too paranoid about the security cameras in there. There are cameras in the garage too, but I’m not on the executive floor. I’m parked up here with the commoners, so nobody is zooming in on me to see whether my face is panicked or my brow is covered in sweat. If they do zoom in, though, well . . . fuck, that’s exactly what they’ll find.
I climb into my car and wind my way down the garage to the exit, handing over my validated ticket to the guardsman before zipping through the gate and south through a handful of lights before pulling into the parking lot for Min’s Hot Buns.I’m one of five cars parked here, and I think the other four are all employees working in the bakery. I unclasp my seatbelt and tug my shirt up enough to reach the straps hugging my chest. I exhale loudly as the bands fall away from my body, and I pile the wire and mic into my lap.
I pull the small switch box from inside my waistband and turn it off before falling back into my seat with a deep breath. I close my eyes in relief but crack a lid when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I wind up the wire in my lap and tuck the device under my seat before checking the alert on my phone.
I expect to see something from Mike-Steve, but I guess that’s not the way covert operations really go down. Instead, it’s a short text from Saylor.
SAYLOR: Is it weird that I missed you today?
She isn’t asking me for a thing, yet somehow her words overwhelm me in the moment. What starts as a soft laugh suddenly leads to my eyes tearing up, and my chest growing tight, so I wipe them dry with my forearm before clearing my throat and rolling my shoulders to pretendwhatever the fuck that wasnever happened. I cradle my phone to text her back.
ME: Not weird at all. I missed you too.
Of everything I’ve done today, sending that text scares me most.
Chapter 18
There wasa time in my life when I was excited at the sight of my mom in the bleachers watching me stand on the starting blocks with her knuckles pressed to her mouth. She used to get nervous in the beginning, but then I started to win a lot. After a few years, she quit standing for my starts. And soon after, she stopped showing up at all.
I’m not sure how to classify the expression she’s wearing now. It’s somewhere between resentful and disappointed, I think. Wait until I break the news about applying to the social work program instead of the business school.
“I think it’s great that you swim with the girls. It really motivates them. You know, they look up to you.”
I’m not sure if my boss, Christen, is being honest or simply trying to butter me up so I don’t quit this summer. It’s not like I have another job waiting in the wings. Plus, I kind of like working with younger swimmers. I like teaching them things and rooting for their wins, however big or small. We have a meet coming up next week, and I’m a little nervous for them. Like, giddy nervous. Not the anxious type that usually sits heavy in my stomach.
I lift myself from the pool, then slide my goggles up my head, my tight swim cap muting the background noise. Christen hands me my towel as I turn my back to my mother, who has moved toward the entrance. She’s leaning against one of the ticket booths, typing things on her phone. It’s her way of subtly rushing me. I don’t need to see it.
“I was thinking of getting the girls pizza or something after Friday’s practice, for team bonding. They’ve been working hard.” I hold my breath, waiting for Christen to approve it, and hopefully offer to pay for it.
“That’s a great idea, Saylor. They’ll love it!” She pats my shoulder as she moves toward the office. At least I got half of what I wanted—permission.
I pull my cap from my head and run my fingers through my wet hair as I turn to face my mom. I hold up a finger, and she winds hers in the air, another sign to hurry up. She didn’t love hearing that my car was at Rowan’s garage. It’s all she talked about—my car. Not a word about me being in his car or kissing him. Her silence on the topic speaks volumes, though.
I’m tempted to stay in this locker room until they lock up for the night, but the hot water from the shower is already turning me into a prune, so after running the comb through my hair and slipping into my linen shorts and tank top, I make my way out to the parking lot, where my mom is now waiting in her running SUV.
“I know we planned to get dinner, but if we go to the dealership now, we can pick up your rental.” She shifts into drive before I can answer, but eventually the dinging of the passenger seatbelt alert gets her attention. She stops at the swim club’s exit with her blinker on.
“Saylor, put on your seatbelt.”
“Uh, I will when we discuss this rental car that I’m suddenly getting? Who’s paying for that?” I know she’s not, and she knows I can’t.
“David takes care of his employees. It’s nothing,” she says, waving a hand at me. “Now stop being a child.”
“Mom, I haven’t been a child for a long time. We don’t need David to get me a car!”
