I just pray that it’s enough.
Monroe has arranged to meet Scott in the club's upper rooms, where the game night took place.
It’s the sort of room I can imagine someone like Monroe would thrive in. The ceiling is low, the walls are black, and there’s a makeshift table and bar at the back that was set up a long time ago when we were just starting out.
I’m tense as Monroe and his boys come into the room. There are two other men with him today, the same guy with the rose tattoo and a greasy-looking dude who I would bet is his ‘man ofbusiness’ as my dad would have called him. The guy who counts the dirty money.
Scott stands in the center of the room, and Seb and Ben are at the bar. My younger brothers are under strict instructions to say nothing, no matter how unpleasant Monroe may get. I don’t need them to start a street war.
The final tally is thirty grand, and Scott has the bag at his feet, zipped up tight—it’s more money than any of us has ever had in cash before.
Scott is standing upright, but I can tell it’s an effort. His ribs still hurt like hell, and the bruising on his face is stark and unpleasant.
Monroe stops in the center of the room opposite Scott and steeples his hands like some kind of mafia gangster. This whole setup is ridiculous to me, as are all the men involved. If this were being dealt with by women, there would be far less dick swinging and posturing going on.
They’re such man babies.
“Nice to see you again, Scott. You fall down some steps or something?”
My fingers curl slowly into a fist. “Just a little altercation with some friends,” Scott says slowly, keeping his voice low and even. “Nothing to worry about.”
Nick smiles a creepy, Joker-like smile and nods. “You said you have something for me?”
Scott picks up the bag and hands it to the greasy man to Nick’s right.
“Thirty grand. The first installment.”
There’s an ominous silence as the guy takes it, unzipping it without much enthusiasm and then closing it again and dropping it at Monroe’s feet with a little shrug. My entire body tenses up.
“Hmm. That’s disappointing, Scott,” Nick says. “You owe me a lot more than thirty grand, and with the interest accrued in the time it’s taken to pay that much, you’re basically back at zero now.”
That fucker.
I can see the sweat on the back of Scott’s neck. There’s a creak behind me as Seb and Ben shift.
Easy boys.
Nick’s eyes move to my younger brothers. The look he gives them isn’t entirely dismissive, but they clearly don’t worry him. He puts his hands in front of him, rocking onto the balls of his feet.
“Listen, I don’t want any nasty business between us. I said that before. You’re a nice guy. We want to work together, right? And put this behind us.”
I glance at Scott, but he says nothing in response to that.
“Thirty grand is a good start, but it’s nowhere near what you owe me, and we both know that you don’t have the rest. I’ll bet you’ve scraped this together from a few places, am I right? I hope you haven’t skimmed out of your brother’s safe again.”
Without meaning to, I take a step forward, and finally Nick’s eyes land on me. They run down my body and up again, as do the eyes of the two men beside him, and I stop.
“Of course,” he says predictably. “This doesn’t just have to be about money. We could negotiate other terms.”
He’s baiting me, I know he is, but I can’t stop myself from grimacing. He chuckles lightly as I sense rather than see Seb and Ben move closer behind me.
Scott doesn’t even look at us; his eyes focused only on Monroe.
“I’ll get the money, Nick. You don’t have to worry about that. Every week. We’ll meet here, and I’ll get your money.”
I keep my face blank, but my chest tightens. Thirty grand is an insane sum, more than we could usually hope to pull together in two months, let alone every week.
“It goes up 10% every time you delay, Scott. And if I don’t get my money every Sunday, I’m gonna have to start taking it in other ways.” His eyes flick to me and back. “I don’t want this to get messy. Neither do you.” He bows theatrically.
