I zombied toward my bedroom door, and Stormy stopped me with a tug on my boxers, so I scraped my nasty clothes from last night off the floor and dragged them on. I could shower and change later. When I got out into the living room, Mark stood there, and he was wearing the same thing he’d been in last night as well—a black suit. To be fair, it might’ve been a different black suit because he probably owned a hundred of them. Dark circles were smeared under his eyes, and his pretty red hair, one of his nicest features, seemed to have hosted a bird rave. There was even a candy wrapper stuck in one of the curls.
“What happened to you?”
He grimaced in my direction. “After you stopped by, I went back to the office and tore it apart. I made sure there wasn’t a single folder I didn’t go through. I shredded a lot of invoices. A lot. For Midberry Medical Supplies. But there were some funny buyers on them.” He tossed a candy wrapper on my floor and popped what I thought was a gobstopper into his mouth. “Names like Aaron Arthur. That’s the president of the Kings of Men Motorcycle Club. Why is he giving money to your dad’s company for medical supplies?” Mark’s eyes glittered with fury.
“That’s what I wanted you to do. Shred stuff.” I didn’t answer him as I scratched my ass and glanced around. The white couch in the corner had a gnarly stain on it that I assumed I’d caused somehow. Maybe spilled a pop? Or beer? I had no idea. One of the paintings was off the wall and on the floor, but somehow the glass had survived intact. All of the pillows from the other couch were on the floor. “What happened in here?”
Stormy shook his head at me when I caught his eye.
“Why? What was going on?” Mark demanded. “Why was I at the office all night getting rid of your mess? What were all those papers?”
My head gave a painful thump, and I held both hands out toward him to slow him down some. “It’s expensive to run a campaign. And I had my half to cover for this coming year.”
“What were you doing?” Mark hissed. I’d never seen him so livid. His forehead and cheeks flushed red enough that I could’ve probably cooked an egg on them.
I glanced at Stormy, but he merely sashayed himself into the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but ogle his ass as he went. He looked damned good in a clingy pink shirt that made his graceful back pop with beautiful angles. Maybe he’d showered recently, perhaps even here, because his hair was still damp. I got the impression from everything he’d said that he’d stayed the night. Should I say anything with him here? I hesitated, and Mark crossed his arms.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Ross!” Mark shrieked, and I slapped my hands to my ears, but that was all he said. I gave myself a shake while my brain seemed to grow and shrink several times before it evened out. How much had I drunk?
“Okay, my dad owns Midberry Medical, right? I help him sometimes. I used a… few invoices from his company for people who, say, wanted certain things to happen in this city. Like… someone who wanted an additional floor on their nightclub, for instance, but there were zoning reasons or community reasons why that shouldn’t happen. A person like that might have paid ten grand and then their permit would be issued. I would keep eight and some would go to grease the wheels in the right spot.” I tried to smile at Mark but felt myself failing. “Bingo bongo, campaign money.”
Mark’s arms fell and he huffed air through his nose so hard it whistled. “Don’t you dare quote Steven Universe at me when you’re talking about something unpure. I can’t evenbelieveyou. Tell me Vane didn’t know.”
“Jeepers creepers, seriously?” Stormy laughed from the kitchen. “That’s no good.”
“How did you even catch that reference? I didn’t see a TV at your place. Vane didn’t know,” I said to Mark.
He was torn between smiling and glaring, and the result was kind of cute, but I knew if I laughed, he’d rip my face off and feed it to me. “I can’t believe you. You better not get caught. If people think I did this—”
“Yeah, I get it. If anything happens, I’ll make sure that no one thinks it was you. I’m not a total fuckhead.”
Stormy pranced back into the room, sipping at a straw shoved in a can of Pepsi as he shook his head. He dragged a familiar blue pill out of his pocket and tossed it into his mouth. With a wink, he swallowed what I assumed was Truvada, helped along by another sip of pop.Ugh, I needed to take mine when my stomach didn’t feel so awful.
“Bribes? That’s what this all comes down to?” Stormy came over and offered me the straw. I moaned as I drank some of the caffeinated, carbonated cure-all.
I shrugged. “Only small ones. From bad people. With lots of money. Does that even count as a bribe?”
“That’s the definition of bribe!” Mark shouted and scrambled my brain again.
Stormy shook his finger at me. “That’s how it starts.”
“I’m already screwed.” I shrugged.
“What is he doing here?” Mark pointed dramatically, or at least I thought so anyway, at Stormy, and proceeded to hyperventilate.
“There are degrees of screwed,” Stormy said, ignoring Mark. “Take for instance upchucking beer onto New Gothenburg’s favorite sexy nightly news girl. That isn’t good at all.” His eyebrows waggled and he snorted, but he couldn’t hold in the giggle. He sounded so happy I didn’t want him to stop laughing, even if I was pretty sure I was the butt of some joke.
I frowned. “Did I do that?”
Stormy sucked in a deep breath and cackled.
“That asshole detective only gave me twenty-four hours, and I’m wasting it. What should I even be doing?”
“What do you need to do to stay out of prison?” Mark asked, while Stormy continued to lose his shit. Stormy handed the can of Pepsi to me, and I spitefully backwashed into it, but that’s what he deserved.
I shrugged. “I’m just fucked.”
