Page 53 of The Deals We Make
“I’m sick.” I’m not in the mood to chitchat. “What do you need?”
There’s a pause, like I caught him off guard. “Some masked little shits tried to break into the strip club office,” he says finally. “Need the security cam footage from the lot or area. I want to know their fucking faces, their vehicle registration. I want to know where they live.”
“Security at the club can access those files.”
“And they’ll take all fucking day to figure it out.”
I see my reflection in the window again. I’m not the same man I was last week.
“Like I said, I’m really fucking sick. Just threw up. Lying on my bathroom floor as we speak. It’ll have to wait until I can move my ass.”
“Saint was hurt. Thankfully, not so bad he couldn’t raise the alarm.”
I feel a curdle of fear for my brother, but I can’t make it past everything Calista just told me. Even though I know I’m wrong to hold him accountable for historic club decisions, I’m not ready to be the good soldier just yet. “Understood. But me getting the info to you tomorrow is not going to change that.”
“Vex, I really need?—”
“You know what, Prez? I’m the only one available twenty-four seven. And I don’t mean in the vague way everyone else is. But I have fucking insomnia because I never get to sleep through the fucking night. And I need tonight, Prez. Maybe even tomorrow too if I still feel like shit. And I’m taking it.”
With that, I hang up.
I know it’s not wise to hang up on the president of the club, but I meant what I said. I’ve been at the beck and call of every member. And usually, I tackle everything with a solid fucking heart.
But tonight is not the night. Not when I’ve just seen Calista cry her eyes out in my bathroom.
I place two of everything on the table. Steak knives and forks, glasses, napkins.
And I’m just plating up the food when Calista walks into the kitchen. I’ve seen her in my shit a million times. When we were younger, she was always borrowing hoodies when she was over at my place.
But seeing her in them now hits different.
Maybe it’s because of the way she fills them out. Maybe it’s something to do with what just happened in the bathroom.
Maybe it’s because the time in between the last time we saw each other and now is allowing me to reset who Calista is and what she means to me.
I put the two plates down on the table. “Should have asked if you were vegetarian, I suppose.”
Calista smiles softly. “Love bacon too much to ever seriously consider it, but I do try to eat non-meat meals a few times a week.”
I pull out her chair. Not sure where the fucking dating etiquette is coming from. I haven’t properly dated anyone in a really long time. Few years into joining the club, there was a club girl I got a little too invested in. But we had the crew up from the Miami chapter one time, and she left on the back of the enforcer’s bike. Guess because I never got an official title patch, she thought she could do better.
I never really thought much about having a titled patch until then. I bank the flicker of resentment I have at the thought.
Calista sits, and I help push the chair in. “Don’t have any wine, but I’ve got beer and liquor.”
“I’ll just take a water,” she says. “I think I’ve had enough alcohol for today, and the doctor is coming to see Mom tomorrow. Could do without a hangover.”
I grab her a glass and get myself a beer from out of the fridge. “There you go.”
“If you feel up to it, tell me what happened after you left,” I say as I sit down and we start to eat. “How did you end up CEO of a big company?”
“One of the best ways to get lost in the US is to buy a bus ticket with cash,” she says. “So that’s what I did. I’d sleep on them overnight, then change direction by day. During the hours I was awake, I’d think about what I was going to do next. I wanted to do something untraceable, at first. So, I used your money to buy a new laptop during one of the stops I made. I wasn’t sure if you had a way to trace the old one you gave me, so I turned it off. I couch surfed. Pulled off some fast freelance shit. Used a fake name. Realized there is no better cybersecurity expert than someone who hacked the shit out of companies.”
I cut into my steak. It’s cooked to perfection. Just pink enough in the middle, the way I like it. “So, you used my money to start a hugely successful company. Feel like I should be asking for shares.”
Her eyes narrow as she chews on a mouthful of food and points her fork in my direction. “Over my dead body.”
I put my hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Relax, Cal. I’m just messing with you. Don’t need a share of anything. I’ve managed to build up my own thing.”
