Twenty-One
STONE
MARCH
I'm not one of those people that can run for the sake of running. I have to have a purpose. That's why three times a week, I make sure to run with a destination in mind. Today I'm running to a juice bar that's about a mile's run from the house. The angry dude who works the juicer is fixing me a carrot and spinach juice bomb. Some overpriced shit that's supposed to help me keep my energy levels up.
I'm patiently waiting for my drink and playing on my phone when someone taps me on my shoulder. I'm pissed when I realize who it is. Not just because I don't want to talk to this motherfucker, but because I should have seen this pirate in a three piece suit coming a mile away.
"What's up, Stone."
"What are you doing here?"
"Checking in on my client. Do you have my money yet?"
"Not yet."
"Are you close to getting my money?"
"What's the rush?"
"Rush? You've owed me my money for five fucking years. I think I've been pretty patient about things if you ask me."
The tone of Bucky's voice garners us a bit of unwanted attention. Usually I wouldn't care about shit like that, but I've found myself giving a shit about what people think more than I think I ever have. Particularly what one person thinks.
"I've been working for Nate for over a month now–"
"Correction–living and working."
So, he does have eyes on me.
"Right–living and working and I don't see any evidence of any money. His house is modest. His car is modest. No other properties. In fact, so far it looks to me as if his bike shop is barely breaking even year to year."
Bucky turns his lips up to one side.
"Now who would keep a shop open that's just breaking even for thirty damn years. That doesn't make any common sense, and if there's one thing I know about Nate Carter it's that he isn't dumb."
"He's may not be stupid, but he definitely is sentimental. I definitely think he might be holding onto the shop, because it means something to his family. It's his legacy."
"All that family shit doesn't matter. He can keep that bike shop for the next millennium. That doesn't negate the fact that I want my money. So, find it or move to plan B. You've got four months left."
I nod my head in understanding, as I look anxiously through the glass pane of the store. I don't want to let on to Bucky, but there's a very specific reason why I've come to the juice bar today. Ariana is going to be here in about ten minutes.
Even though Nate and Ariana live in a nicely sized house, you can hear a lot through those walls, especially when she gets on the phone. She probably doesn't realize how much I can hear downstairs, because she's never lived with anyone but her father, and he never talks on the phone.
She probably also doesn't realize that when she's talking to a man, except for me, that she uses a certain tone of voice. A gentler voice. Like she's trying to pretend that she's some sort of delicate flower. I hate it. She doesn't use that voice with me. With me it's either all business or she says practically nothing at all.
It's in this muted little voice, I overheard her agreeing to meet the man here today. I don't know who it is, but until I see otherwise, I can only assume it was the douchebag biker whose lungs I almost kicked into next week that time at the shop. If it is him there's going to be some shit that goes down in this juice bar today, and I can't have Bucky seeing any of that.
"Are we done?"
He squints his one good eye at me suspiciously, grabs his order from angry guy, and motions to leave.
"Done for now."
I wait until Bucky is out of view and then I take a seat in the farthest corner of the store that I can. The place is almost packed with people, so I'm hoping that once my hoodie is up she won't notice that I'm here.
"Is anyone sitting here?" A woman with short blond hair and a yoga outfit on asks.
