I sit inmy office at Kingdom when I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my jeans. Pulling it out, I realize it’s Emilee’s.
Motherfucker: Where are you?
It has to be a guy with that saved as a name. Probably an ex of some sort. No woman saves a guy under motherfucker that she wants to see or talk to. I scroll up to see their previous messages, but there are none.
I type back a reply.
Me: Where are you?
He reads it and replies immediately.
Motherfucker: At home. Where you’re supposed to be.
I don’t know much about her, but I don’t think she’s married. I didn’t see a ring on her finger last night. I looked. And I didn’t see a man there with her.
Me: And where is that?
I ask.
Motherfucker: Quit fucking around, Emilee. We have a deal, and you’re not keeping your end of it!
I run a hand down my face. I look up when the door to the office flies open, and Bones enters like he always does.
“So how did the talk go?” he asks, getting down to it.
I turn her phone off and place it in my pocket. “Well, about as good as it could have gone.”
He runs a hand through his hair.
“Hey, let’s go out. Get some drinks.” I offer, walking into Grave’s office.
He’s lying back in his seat with his hands behind his head and his black boots on his desk. Some Netflix shit is playing on his flat screen that hangs on the wall. His blue eye slide to mine slowly. “You wanna go out?”
“Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because you don’t go out.”
I shrug. “I feel like having some drinks.” He’s right. I used to get fucked up. But that was back before I helped run a multi-billion-dollar company. My only responsibility was to wake up, drag myself to class, and hit some balls out on the field. Things are different now.
“Sure.” He sighs and sits up. “Just let me turn my computer off and I’m ready.”
The car ride is awkward. Grave and I don’t spend much time alone. He pretty much spends all of his time partying with Cross while Bones and I pick up their slack at Kingdom. “So … how are things going?” I ask.
He sighs. “I knew it.”
“What?” I feign innocence.
“Bones set this up.” He scoffs, looking out my passenger window. “What does he want you to talk to me about?”
I sigh. “He’s just worried about you.”
“No, he’s worried about the image I’m giving Kingdom.” He looks over at me. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shitty liar?”
I chuckle at that. “Can you blame him?”
He doesn’t answer.
“It’s not all about Kingdom,” I start. “He’s worried about you.”
