I make a mental note to buy bottled water for the foreseeable future.No need to catch feelings and all that.No, thank you.
Pushing to my feet, I slip out of the booth.“And on that note,” I muse, “I’ll leave you two to it.”As I take a step toward my brother, I call over my shoulder, adding, “Don’t forget to name your first baby after me!”
Then, I walk away.
Shoving aside the image of June’s sweet smile as she peered up at Mr.Fireman, I grab the door handle for Jagger, motioning for him to step through it.
“Thanks,” he says.
“No problem.”
2
FORD
When we make it home, Jagger heads upstairs for a nap despite drinking two shots of espresso.Seems his fight last night took him out more than he’d like to admit.
He reappears hours later, with his dark hair sticking out in all directions and his hand covering a yawn.
Standing from the couch, I slap Jagger’s shoulder.“How you feeling, slugger?”
The bastard winces but recovers quickly.“Doing fine.”
Fine, my ass.Last night, the guy starred in an underground brawl.We thought it was an easy win, but we didn’t know what was happening behind the scenes.Thankfully, Violet caught on before it was too late.Instead of throwing the fight, Jagger beat the shit out of Ethan, and damn, was it a sight to behold.If only we didn’t have to deal with the fallout.
Apple in hand, Roman enters from the kitchen.Sometimes I forget Rome is from The Drift.He’s basically our brother in every way except for blood.Hell, after his real brother was arrested for pushing drugs, Roman even moved into one of the spare bedrooms and has been living with us ever since.Taking a bite of apple, Roman lifts his chin at Jagger in greeting, then sits next to Hawke on the couch.“You look like shit.”
“Feel like shit,” Jagger confirms.
Hawke eyes us.“Ready to tell us what the game plan is?”
Not going to lie.I think we’ve all been procrastinating on the whole what the hell are we going to do now that Ethan screwed us over reveal.You see, not only did Ethan lose a shit-ton of money last night thanks to the fight, but he informed his uncle, Gus, about the wager.And Gus—who happens to be our very shady business partner and the uncrowned king of The Drift—put down a decent chunk of change, thinking his nephew would win.
Fast forward to Violet intervening, and here we are.On Gus’s shit list.And how did Gus respond to said beating of his nephew?By accusing us of manipulating our underground betting system.His solution?Open up the playing field to let Ethan Morgan take bets for Drifters and Harden folks alike, while simultaneously fucking us over in the process.
Yeah, to say I’m not very happy with Gus or his nephew would be a massive understatement.Which brings us back to Hawke’s question.
“Ready to tell us what the game plan is?”he asks.
Jagger gingerly wipes at the corner of his good eye.“Pretty sure this is more of a brainstorming session than announcing a game plan.”
“Well, at least catch me up,” Hawke pushes.He was mysteriously absent last night, though I have a theory as to where he was.
Swallowing his bite, Roman explains, “After our meeting with Gus, Jagger suggested we take a smaller cut from our bets for the time being.We have the market, and we’ll make sure we have the better odds.Once Ethan figures out how tight shit can be, we’re hoping he’ll give up and leave.”
“And if he doesn’t?”I challenge.
All eyes turn to me.
Jagger might be the head of our underground gambling operation, at least on some level, but everyone in this room knows I’m the person who runs the numbers.The person who studies the data and the variables, then calculates and analyzes and predicts and everything in between.It’s not that they can’t.But when it’s second nature for my brain to do all of that almost without thinking, why not let me do the heavy lifting?And after sleeping like shit, I landed on the conclusion that our situation is a lot more precarious than any of us would like to admit.
“Look, I agree with you, Jag,” I start.“Right now, we have the market, and we’ll make sure we maintain better odds than Morgan offers.But if we get lazy, or if we fuck up, whatever edge we have will be swallowed in an instant.Morgan’s not messing around, and neither is Gus.”
“So what do we do?”Hawke asks.
It’s the same question that’s been marinating since the moment we showed up at Gus’s strip club to meet.What to do, what to do.That is the question.
“Personally?”I mutter.“I say we utilize our name.Sure, anyone can take a bet, but can they throw a party like we do?I think we all agree the haunted house was one for the books,” I add, mentioning the time we created a tournament for all the ladies to participate in.Not only did they make a decent chunk of change, but so did everyone who placed bets that night.“What if we do something similar?”I ask.“Remind everyone that they might be able to place a bet with more than one person now, but the parties aren’t parties unless they’re organized by Hardens.”
