“It means I’m not a patient man, Lance. And I have a long memory.” He tilts his head toward Art. “So does your friend’s father’s voter base. So do the newspapers. So do the people who would love nothing more than to see the Penngrove family fall from grace…or the Calloways.”
Art makes a strangled sound beside me, and my father scoffs. “Thatwon’t be necessary, I assure you, Brutus.”
I look at him. He’s still sitting behind that massive desk, still wearing that stone-faced expression, still refusing to fuckinghelp.
“Dad.” I sound like I’m begging, and I hate myself for it. “Do something.”
“You’ve spent eighteen years making choices that embarrass this family. Making headlines for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s time those impulses were put to use.”
The words hit like a slap. No, worse than a slap. A slap would at least mean he cared enough to be angry.
“You planned this,” I say. “You knew this was coming.”
“I knew Brutus needed something,” he admits. “And I knew you needed direction. This solves both problems.”
“I’m yourson.”
“Then act like it. For once in your life, be useful.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
I could walk out. Tell all of them to go fuck themselves.
But then I look at Art. At the way his breaths are coming in shallow gasps like he’s about to shatter into a million pieces.
“How long?”
Brutus raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“If I do this.” I swallow hard, my throat dry. “If I fight for you. How long until Art’s debt is cleared?”
Art’s head snaps toward me. “Lance, no.”
“How long?” I repeat, ignoring him.
Brutus and Freddy exchange a glance.
“A year,” Freddy says. “Maybe two. Depends on how good you are. How much you bring in.”
“And then I’m out. Completely out. The debt’s cleared, and you never come near Art or our families again.”
“You have my word,” Brutus says.
His word. Right.
But what choice do I have?
“Lance.” Art grabs my arm, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Don’t do this. Please. I’ll figure something out, I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” I turn to face him, and he flinches. “Rob a bank? Sell your kidneys? You heard him, Art. You’ve got nothing he wants, and clearly my father’s not willing to part with his ownpreciousmoney to solve this.”
“But you shouldn’t have to do this.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I give him a shaky smile. “I’m just wasted potential, remember?”
Art’s face crumples. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah, well. Guess we’re about to find out.” I turn back to Brutus, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll fight for you. I’ll work off his debt. But when it’s done, it’sdone.”
