The man—Brutus—pushes off from the mantel. “Spirit can be useful when it’s properly directed.”
He stops in front of Art, studying him like he’s examining a piece of meat.
“Arthur Penngrove. The mayor’s son. Do you know who I am?”
Art’s face goes white. “Yes.”
My mouth drops open.He does?“What’s going on?”
“It seems the prodigal politician’s son has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle,” Freddy chimes in.
“I can explain,” Art replies.
“You can explain why you owe me two million dollars from your trip to Boston?” Brutus tilts his head. “Please. I’m fascinated to hear it.”
“Art. What the fuck?”
“It was supposed to be a sure thing,” Art says, his voice cracking. “It was just poker. They said the games were easy, that I could double my money in a night, and you know I’ve been trying to get some capital so I can get out of my father’s bullshit politics. But they kept letting me play, kept extending credit, and I didn’t realize until—”
“Until you were in so deep you couldn’t see the surface,” Brutus finishes. “Yes. That’s how it usually goes.”
He turns away from Art.
“The boy owes me a significant debt,” Brutus continues. “And debts must be paid. It’s the foundation of civilized society, wouldn’t you agree, Craig?”
“I would.”
“What do you want?” I interrupt.
“What I’m owed.” Brutus spreads his hands. “Unfortunately, Arthur here doesn’t seem to have access to that kind of capital. And his father… Well. The mayor can’t exactly write a check forgambling debts without raising some uncomfortable questions, can he?”
My gaze bounces from my father, to Freddy, to Art, and then back. “You guys are just gonna let this fucker come in here and talk to you like that?”
Freddy straightens off the bookshelf. “We’ve been discussing alternative arrangements.”
“What kind of arrangements?” I ask.
“The kind that benefits everyone,” he says. “Arthur gets his debt cleared without involving his father. Brutus gets his investment returned. Andweget something useful in exchange.”
“Dad.” My voice comes out rough. “Can’t you just pay this and clear it?”
For the first time in my life, regret flashes across my father’s face. I hate that it gives me a spark of hope, when I should know better.
“Brutus is an important man for our family,” he says. “He’s helping us change everything for the future of this town. I’m afraid it’s not as simple asclearingit.”
“Jesus, this is about your stupid feud with the Montgomerys, isn’t it?” I groan, palming my face. “Is he the one you’ve had bullying people out of their loans in the HillPoint for you?”
“Arthur can’t pay his debt,” my father continues. “But the debt needs to be paid. Brutus has operations. Enterprises that require certain kinds of people.”
“What kind of people?”
“Fighters.” It’s Brutus who answers, his eyes locking onto mine. “I run a business, Lance. An entertainment business, you might call it. And I’m always looking for fresh talent.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “What, like boxing? You want Art to join a gym?”
Nobody laughs.
“Something a bit more exclusive,” Brutus says.
