Page 186 of Murder

‘What the fuck?’

I cast my eyes in the direction of my father, my fingers texting under the table cloth even as the General drones on about my mother’s campaign. ‘What?’ I ask Dove.

‘What did you do to Bear?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Answer your phone.’

“So…we have options,” Dad is saying. “What your mother needs to see is…”

‘Dinner. Dearest dad.’

‘He flew in?’

‘Tracked me here. We’re in Nashville—Capitol Grille.’

‘Fuck.’

‘That’s the word. So—what’s up?”

“Do you see my reasoning?” Dad’s asking.

“I do. I think your theory makes good sense.”

‘Shit, let me slip off to the RR.’

“So—what?” I ask a few moments later.

Dove’s voice is low. “Bear’s fucking pissed off, man. He texted me and said to tell you to watch your back. He said to tell you that the ‘brother operator’ shit is over.”

“What kind of cryptic shit is that?” I pull my dick out, aiming for the little round blue toilet freshener thing hanging along the back of the bowl.

“You know. Means you’re not his brother anymore.”

“So—what? He gonna take me out?” I hit the blue thing—score—but waver as I chuckle. Then I sigh and run a hand back through my hair. “He should appreciate this shit I’m doing for his ass. My whole fucking fam would like to see him— You know what they want. My dad is shitting gold bricks, man.”

“You don’t know why Bear’s pissed off?” Dove asks.

I laugh, the sound as miserable as the pounding of my head. “I didn’t do dick shit to Bear, except protect his ass. He been acting okay?”

He sighs. “I can’t tell. Too far away. You’d know more than I would.”

“I didn’t see much, but do we need to? Maybe he’s finally gone off the rails, D.”

I prop the phone on my shoulder, tuck myself back into my pants, and zip.

“Maybe,” Dove says. “Maybe so.”

“Tell him I’m fucking campaigning for him.” I laugh bitterly. “I’ve done nothing to get his panties in a fucking wad. Didn’t even do much looking in on them when I was in their neck of the woods. Told my father’s team to settle down, there’s nothing dangerous going on.” I lower my voice. “Is that true, Dove? When I saw them, they looked like more than friends. You told me—”

“So when you met up with your dad today, it wouldn’t be all over your face, I didn’t give you all the details, no.”

“All over my face.” I snort and push my sleeves up, pump some fancy coconut soap into my palm. “I’m better than that.”

“You’re not the best, Blue. C’mon.”

“I’m a good liar.”

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