Chapter Nine
Now
They say you never forget your first, and that’s true. I’ll never forget Ellen. She was my first and onlygirl. I’d had a couple of short-term boyfriends in high school who I bossed around, but when Ellen and I met in college, I knew she was theonefor me.
I did manage to sleep last night, although my dreams were filled with thoughts of her in a way I haven’t dreamed in a few years. Not just dreams, but bittersweet memories.
When I awaken this morning, I groan because I know I have to spend most of the afternoon around George and Declan. At least this fundraiser isn’t formal. It’s an indoor event, too, so it won’t be so ungodly hot. It’s being held in a large event hall at a local church on the outskirts of Nashville.
The only bad part about today is that it’s also to help highlight our local high school FFA groups ahead of the state fair next month.
Meaning there will be heavy attendance from agricultural and livestock bigwigs.
Like farming, poultry, pork.
And cattle.
Yeah. Thatlastone.
I’m sure Declan’s probably aware of this. How can henotbe?
I’ve managed to juggle schedules and guest lists in such a way as to keep Terrance Ronald, Jr., and Declan separate as much as possible over the past several months.
Today, however, the man will be in attendance. I can’t freeze him out of events where it would hit his ego because of his business peers. That’d just be fucking stupid. Besides, his money’s green and spends just like anyone else’s. Why not soak him for as much as we can before I kill him?
Plus, Ineedaccess to the man if we’re ever going to get our revenge on him.
Our long game.
One George has no clue about, and cannot ever know about.
For starters, there’s a fifty-fifty shot George might go after him himself, now that he’s so in love with Declan.
The other fifty percent would side with him stopping us from getting our revenge.
I still don’t have a solid plan in place yet, but cultivating continuous access with the man has to happen.
I’ve been downstairs in my basement working out for nearly an hour when Declan texts me good morning. I’m actually surprised he’s texting me this early on a Saturday that he’s not with me, because it’s only a little after six in the morning and the sleepy octopus won’t let him out of bed that early when they can sleep in.
I respond with a good-morning text of my own, but that’s all, and continue running on my treadmill. I have a fairly sedentary job and need to keep myself in shape, but it also allows me time to think every morning.
To clear my mind.
To burn off anger or nightmares or whatever gunk is gumming up my mental wheels, so I can hit the ground running.
He texts me again about an hour later, around seven.
Sir wants to know what time you’re coming over this morning.
I stare at the message on my phone, where it’s propped in the cupholder on my stationary bike. I consider ignoring it but I don’t want to hurt Declan’s feelings. We had a blow-up over the summer that I take partial responsibility for. Declan felt ignored by both of us…although with him living with George now, that’s not so much of an issue.
Since then, I try to never ignore personal texts from him, unless he knows I’m in a meeting and can’t respond right away.
He’ll know damn well I’m still working out, or at the very least that I’m awake, and able to respond.
I back off on the bike’s incline and resistance settings so I can get a little bit of a breather and I sit back, still pedaling as I contemplate responses before I finally reply.
I’ll meet you guys at the fundraiser. I’m driving over. Be my good boy today and have fun.
