VICTOR
Victor entered the Roundhouse Café surrounded by his security detail. He nodded and waved to a few constituents as he made his way over to the table where his brothers were waiting.
“Nice of you to join us,” Lucas jibed between sips.
“Sorry. Got caught up at a budget meeting.” Victor unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat. “I see you got started without me.”
“Only drinks and appetizers,” Lincoln informed. “I ordered you a bourbon on the rocks. It’s on the way.”
Gregor and the three other men charged with Victor’s protection, took a seat at the table next to them. Two more stood by the bar.
“What’s the plan?” Lincoln asked, tossing a copy of The Times on the table. “How are we gonna handle this?”
“We?” Victor chuckled. “Wearen’t going to do anything about this. I have people that deal with shit like this.”
It didn’t surprise him that Lincoln was ready to dive right in. He was a problem solver, not at all accustomed to allowing someone else to fight battles he considered his. Victor, on the other hand, had learned to delegate. Renee Griffin, his press secretary and publicist, was nothing if not competent. It was her job to curb the bad press, and she was very good at her job.
“Victor, I would normally agree,” Lucas chimed. “But look at this picture. It was taken at Taylor’s birthday party. This was a private party—no press, no photographers. One of the guests had to take this picture.”
“Exactly,” Lincoln agreed. “We have a traitor in the midst.”
“I’m aware. It’s being handled.”
Before either brother could respond, a waiter approached the table and placed a rocks glass filled with ice and brown liquor in front of Victor.
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Governor,” the waiter responded, wide-eyed with a big, toothy smile. “I’m honored to serve.”
“Oh, please.” Lucas scoffed humorously. “Can we order already?”
“Hater,” Victor muttered under his breath.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, pulling a notepad from his apron. “What are you having?”
After placing their dinner order, the waiter hurried away, promising to return with fresh bread. When Victor was finally alone with his brothers, he couldn’t help the almost goofy grin that spread across his face.
“What the hell is up with you?” Lucas asked. “You’ve just been linked to the mafia. Why are you so giddy?”
“Giddy?” Victor frowned. “What am I, a fucking school girl?”
“Today,” Lincoln remarked facetiously.
Ignoring his asshole brother’s comments, Victor blurted, “Taylor is pregnant.”
Lucas and Lincoln turned to each other and shared looks of astonishment. Then they turned back to Victor, both smiling from ear to ear.
Lincoln raised his glass. “Good shit, bro! Congratulations!”
“Yeah, congrats! I’m happy for you guys,” Lucas added. “I’m gonna be an uncle.”
“Yep. My baby is having my baby,” Victor beamed.
He couldn’t have been more pleased. To be honest, he’d never thought much about having children. His marriage to his first wife had been a calculated political ploy. Although he cared for Rosemary, he was never motivated to have children with her. Victor wasn’t even sure she would have been willing to have children. She was a good person and a great lawyer, but maternal? Not even a little.
“When is Taylor due?” Lucas asked.
“December. We have some time.”
