Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
“Bingo.”
“Damn. Some woman did him dirty. Too bad our work schedule is going to make it hard to even talk to him about it this week.” I’m walking up towards my building. Never have I ever been more annoyed with having to work nights than I am right now.
“When will you bring this up to him? Also, you heard not a freaking thing from me. Ezra told me this during the late-night hours, so if you can make sure I’m free and clear, that’d be freaking awesome.” And the plot thickens. It seems my best friend has been holding out on me.
“You got it. I’ll text or call tomorrow. If things go as planned, I’ll be there around eight or so. Love you!” I’m opening the door to my building, perfect timing to end our phone call.
“See you soon. Love you.” I wait to hear her hang up the phone. “No, not you, sorry.” I laugh. The phone clicks off, and all I have left to do is get inside my apartment, text Parker, shower, and pass out. Thank goodness.
TWENTY-TWO
Parker
“I’m out. I like the plan, don’t get me wrong. It would make the most business sense, but I’m not touching this at all. I’ve got too much to lose,” I tell Ezra, Theo, and Boston in the meeting room at Four Brothers headquarters.
“You’re pussy-whipped. Never thought I’d see the day,” Boston jokes, sitting back in his seat, feet on the mahogany wood table that he insisted on putting in this place. Ostentatious, ridiculously expensive, and he’s got his shoes on it.
“Maybe so, but that’s my pussy you’re talking about, so shut your damn mouth.” Boston knows when to stop, thankfully.
“Good call. You need to talk to your girl. Let her know I’ll be point on it. She knows Millie and I are something. Don’t label it, because I’m not dealing with my relationship right now. We’ve got enough to deal with.” Ezra’s in full on business mode. The comedian, mother hen getting in your business, and gossip monger is long gone. In its place is my brother before me. Key points of the presentation are on the screen. A portfolio with our investments, comparables, and the last ten years of showing that we’ve been in the black sits in front of each of us. I don’t bother opening it. There’s no need. Ezra’s got this locked and loaded.
“It’s solid. If the merger happens, it means we need to look at expanding,” Theo, the silent one of our group, says, probably because the rest of us have no problem taking over when necessary.
“Agreed. Set up an appointment. I’m going to Vanessa’s. I don’t want to blindside her with this before I’ve been formally introduced to her parents.” It was sheer luck I was able to convince my mom that we were still getting to know one another, and she shouldn’t be coming over after she and Ezra walked into my place without calling or texting first. They’ve since lost their key privileges. That doesn’t mean Ezra hasn’t made a duplicate. Sneaky fucker.
“Not so fast. We still have business to talk about. I want to tell you my idea if we expand.” Boston takes his feet off the table and leans his elbows on his knees, head tilted up. “My trip to New Orleans, we’re talking prime investment. The area needs more jobs. We’d be stupid not to set up a building down there.”
“Who’s going to be down there? It’ll have to be one of us. Parker’s out, so is Ezra. That leaves you and me. And I’m not thrilled about the thought of sweating my balls off. That leaves you, Boston,” Theo says. He’s got his chin propped up by his hand, in his thinking pose, refined, the one in the group who doesn’t deal with any childhood trauma.
“Which is why I’m suggesting myself.” My ears perk up. Boston is born and raised here in New England, a son of a wealthy politician. This is going to go over like stink on a pig.
“Get all the paperwork together and bring us the building plans, how you think we’ll expand, and we’ll go from there. No use in talking it to death until we’ve got it in front of us,” I tell Boston. This is a plan I can stand behind without any red tape. It’ll help him, too, if dear old daddy and mommy dearest know that it’s my name behind it instead of Boston’s. Let them think it’s the dirty kid from the wrong side of the tracks, who doesn’t come from family of old money, and everybody knows no politician has clean hands. Blood money is what it boils down to. It’ll have them rolling their eyes and coming after me instead of Boston.
“Fuck, I know that look. Love you for it, brother, but this is my battle, not yours, man,” Boston tells me.