“For stepping up. I’ve leaned on you hard these last six months. We all have. I just wanted you to know it ain’t gone unnoticed.”
“Just doing my job, boss.”
“It’s not your job to work eighteen-hour days seven days a week—”
“Nash’s been doing it too—”
“Or to put up with me bitching you out when I’m spoiling for a fight and I know you’re the one cunt in the room who might pop me one.”
“Never have, though, have I?”
“There’s still time.” Cam grinned for a second before sobering again. “Have you thought about buying a house?”
“A what?”
Cam pushed my rum towards me. “A house, Mats. I like having you on site when I’m not around. Em and Nash too. But you can’t bunk up here forever. You need roots, man. And you need to spend some money before the tax man comes for you.”
I didn’t have any money. Everything I earned, legitimately or otherwise, was squirrelled away. Vaulted and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Besides. “What do I need a house for? You want me to spend money? I’ll buy another hog.”
“You always say that, and yet you ride that shit heap Dyna around like it’s a fucking fashion statement.”
“You ride a Dyna, boss.”
“I got three houses too.”
“Good for you.”
“It is. Means I’ve got somewhere to go when I need to get away from all this. And somewhere to take Saint and Alexei when they need that too.”
“Saint’s van too small for a three-way?”
“Watch your mouth.” Cam thumped my arm. “But because it’s you, I’ll tell you it’s a rare day Saint wants to fuck in this building, and I haven’t ever seen Embry bring anyone back here either.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “You think I should buy a house so me and Embry can bang? Right. Thanks for that, pres. I’ll let him know.”
“Come on, mate. Don’t simplify my cracking financial advice to that.”
“I ain’t simplifying nothing.”
“Clearly.”
“You telling Embry to buy a house too?”
“You think he would?”
“Nope.” No chance. Embry hatedthings. Apart from books, he owned less than me, donated money to prison reform charities, and probably kept what was left under his mattress. Besides, I could buy all the fucking houses in the world, wouldn’t change the fact that screwing him to sleep, then passing out with my arms tight around him was never gonna happen.
I was lucky he let me hang off the edge of that shitty bed upstairs.
“All right.” Cam finished his drinks. “I’m done playing mother for the night, but think about what I said, okay? Bit of responsibility won’t fucking kill you. Or do it for him if not yourself.”
“He ain’t—”
Cam held up his hand. “Just think about it, brother. That’s all I ask. I love you, and I want you to be happy.”
Happy. Fuck. As Cam clapped my shoulder and strode away, it dawned on me that I had no idea what that word meant. I’d felt joy in my life. Peace, even, in those rare moments of perfection.
But happiness was someone else’s dream.
