Nick turned away from the bathroom, paced across the adjoining hallway. Beads of cold sweat pebbled his hairline.
“I’ve got about fifty grand in savings,” Nick said. “What about you?”
Omar was shaking his head. “I don’t know, about five, I guess.”
“Five thousand dollars in savings? And yet you own seven luxury vehicles?”
“What are you, my dad?” Omar spat blood on the carpet between them. “I could sell the cars—it still won’t be enough. I’d net maybe four hundred. You could sell yours, too. What would we get?”
Nick did some quick math in his head. “Two fifty, rough guess.”
“All right, three hundred from you—that includes your savings. Four hundred from me. A hundred in the company cash fund, a total of eight hundred grand. He wants one point five. We’re still short seven hundred.”
“Jesus.” Nick slumped against the wall. “What about a loan?”
“A loan?”
“A bank loan. We’ve got business credit; we have Amex cards for both of us in the business name. Why not go to the bank?”
“I can look at that, but realistically I don’t see a bank fronting us seven hundred, Nick. We’re still a new business, not much of a credit history, and we don’t have A1 credit, not as Legacy Nutrition. You know how tight it was when we got started. Robbing Peter to pay Paul like my moms would say.”
Nick remembered those lean days, when leaving his cushy job with a pharmaceuticals firm to start his own company had seemed like a catastrophic mistake. “Okay, I know it’s a long shot. But do you think Shango might negotiate?”
Omar actually laughed, though a spark of pain flashed in his eyes and he cradled his face. “Yeah, like henegotiatedhis royalty from fifteen percent to fifty?”
“Why do you think he wants all this cash from us anyway?” Nick asked. “Why isn’t the royalty hike enough? Why hit us up for more?”
“Maybe because he’s a criminal, Nick?” Omar spat again, pressed the ice pack to his swollen jaw. “He sees our business making money hand over fist, and in his mind, it’s like an ATM. He’s gonna suck out cash whenever he wants.”
“You knew this about him but thought he was a good choice as an investor for us?” Nick said.
“I didn’t know what I know now, okay?” Omar found a chair, nearly collapsed into it. Nick found a nearby chair, settled into that one.
They hung their heads in silence.
“What do you think he’ll do if we don’t pay him the full amount?” Nick asked. “What if we give him what we can, up front, and then go on a payment plan for the balance?”
“He’s not the IRS, man. Guys like him don’t do payment plans.”
“But we need to be sure. We need to ask him.Youneed to ask him. He’s your contact.”
Icepack cradled against his face, Omar closed his eyes and tilted his head backward, resting it against the wall behind him. He sighed.
“Ask him,” Nick said.
“Don’t expect miracles,” Omar finally said.
5
Nick took an Uber back to his house. There, he showered, changed clothes, and drove to visit his mother in Roswell.
He had already talked to his mom on the phone, but after Shango had mentioned his mother by name, with specific descriptions of her usual daytime activities, Nick felt a compulsive urge to see her in the flesh to ensure she was okay and hadn’t been touched by the nightmare that had invaded his life.
He had checked on Amiya, too, and confirmed via text that she was fine, busy at work, and would be coming over that evening.
Nick didn’t plan on telling either his mom or Amiya, the two most important people in his life, what was going on in his business dealings with Shango. He had never disclosed his ties to the crime lord to anyone. The less anyone knew, the better; if any of these misdeeds ever wound up in a criminal court, the women he loved would be indisputably innocent.
His mom was a retired accountant and lived in a cozy, three-bedroom townhome in Roswell. She had moved into the housefour years ago, after his dad had died of a heart attack at the age of sixty-five.
