“No, you’re right. We’ve got to do this on our own. Keep it quiet,” I said. “The harder part is going to be giving all the money back. Without smashing everyone’s face in who made a bet.”
“You have to figure it’s Wick,” Heath said. “He was so ready to tell you about it. About Gi. Bringing her to The Woods like that. He’s almost begging you for a fight. Why don’t you give him one?”
I raised an eyebrow at that. “You want me to fight Wick?”
Heath shrugged and took another guzzle of beer. “Why not? Unless you think you can’t beat him.”
“You think I can’t take Wick in a fight?”
Another careless shrug. “Don’t know. Have you ever actually been in a fight? I mean, I’ve known you, what, five, six years now, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take a swing at anyone.”
I snorted. “I’ve never taken a swing at anyone, because I’ve never had to. Brain always wins over brawn.”
“Says the privileged son,” Heath retorted. “When I was in the foster home I had to learn how to fight. Fast. How to take a hit, how to give one. Talking out my issues was not an option for me. Not going to lie, I’m glad I had to do it. Made me grow up faster.”
That made get out of my comfortable leather chair. Stand to my full height, which was nearly three inches over Heath. “So I’m not a man until I’ve hit someone? Is that what you’re saying?”
Heath held up his hands in protest. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I’m just telling you how it was for me. In the foster home. Things were a bit more…real.”
“Real?” I repeated, suddenly pissed. “You think I don’t know real? My father is an activist for social justice. My mother is a U.S. Senator who also happens to be married to a black man. My family gets death threats from white supremacist groups every day. Don’t fucking talk to me about real.”
“Fitz, calm down. You don’t have to go all angry young black man on us. We get it.” Ed said, even as he was focusing on his phone.
“Oh, the two white boys in the roomget it. I’m so glad.”
“Look,” Heath interjected. “All I meant was, you know damn well the person behind all this is Wick. You really want to do something about it, then doing something about him.”
Ed stood and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “He’s got a point, Fitz. Let’s just talk to Wick again. No one around to watch. We’ll get him after practice and, between the three of us, we’ll lean on him a little. Wick is nothing if he’s not pretty to all the girls in school. We threaten to change his face and that might be enough.”
It wasn’t going to be enough. Wick was an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t do something as bold as bring Gi to The Woods without having a sense of what my retaliation would be.
Which meant he was expecting it.
“No. I have a better way,” I tapped my head. “Brains over brawn.”
* * *
Wednesday Night
The Club
Wednesday night dinnersat The Club were a family ritual. When my mother could make it, of course. We always reserved a table for the eight p.m. seating and, if Washington politics and the train schedule were being kind, my mother had no problem making it home in time.
Tonight was not one of those nights. So it was just me, Gigi and Dad.
Technically The Club was the Tavistock Golf and Country Club. Adjacent to Haddonfield, it was located in the town of Tavistock, which consisted of one winding road and a handful of multi-million-dollar mansions. Some of the most expensive real estate in all of New Jersey.
Wealthy people lived in Haddonfield. Billionaires lived in Tavistock.
The club had several dining rooms, most often used for weddings and funerals and such. But there was also a full-time restaurant downstairs that featured subpar bar food. One didn’t come to The Club for the fine dining experience.
One came to be seen.
As my dad was often the only black man in the room, he loved coming to The Club. A reminder to all the white people that our time was coming, he would say. My dad owned a lot of flashy gold jewelry and diamonds but never wore any of it. Unless we were coming to The Club. Then it was bling city almost to the point of embarrassment.
My mother thought it was cute how the liked to show off his blackness for all the white people. I thought it only underscored the point he wasn’t quite as comfortable in his skin as he said it was. Otherwise, why the costume?
It was an argument we frequently had, but not tonight. Instead, I was focused on much more pressing issues.
