“I bank here.”
“Then you’re contributing to the problem without being aware of it. It all trickles from the top. If you think the bad guys are the ones selling dimes on the street, that’s nothing compared to these fucking crooks. And the sad part is that some of the current customers wouldn’t blink if it were brought to their attention, because it’s someone else’s problem. Their money is covered federally, so very few give a fuck if they’re banking with a known and exposed criminal. But if enough of those customers cared, they wouldn’t be getting away with it. But they did and still are. The higher-ups should have been crucified for what they did. There was a hearing. They paid a hefty fine, one that did absolutely nothing to hurt their bottom line. The CEO stepped down after the hearing, but no jail time was served, and here they are today, still in fucking business.”
He focuses back on the bank, a clear look of disdain on his face.
“You want to find real criminals? Follow the money. Always follow the fucking money. I’m not saying none of it was earned legitimately, but I’m saying those that did earn it legitimately are grouped with those who didn’t. It truly is a small world once you connect the dots. It’s an incestuous mess. Everyone has fucked everyone at some point, and most of them stay in bed together for the same reason.”
“You’re talking about the one percent? The wealthiest.”
“That’s where it gets tricky because that trickles from the top too.”
“This really happened, and they got away with it?”
He slowly nods. “But most people are paying attention to Janet Jackson’s halftime nipple peepshow or something similar because it takes the focus away from the real thieves.”
“A distraction?”
“They create them and at times, pay for them. The media is easily bought or influenced by the same people occupying the same fucking bed, and the world is kind enough to take care of the rest.”
He turns the car over and takes off out of the parking lot. I study him while he drives and can’t help the shift in my contempt. He’s fed up. Not just for the plant workers in this town but for everyone within reach of the vultures who prey on all unsuspecting citizens, daily. And I’ve indirectly been in bed with this criminal since I was old enough to open a bank account.
“So, I close my account, and that’s supposed to make a difference?”
“You close your account and you feel better about the part you play in it. You tell ten people about it, and maybe two listen and close their accounts. That’s the hard way, the slower, more painful process, and in the end, they’ll still win.”
“So, what would you do?”
“Aim for the head, not the foot.”
I mull it over and turn to him, his thick, dark lashes my focal point. “If you don’t trust me, then why are you so intent on making me understand?”
“We made a deal. I’m sticking to it. If you’re asking if I have better things to do, the answer is yes, I fucking do. You asked about vetting, but I can count on one hand the people who know who you really are.”
He clicks his signal at the stoplight and turns to me. “Those people at the parties, they all have a part to play that has nothing to fucking do with the foot.”
Roman. My father is part of the foot.
“So, they’re all looking for ways to get the head of the monster?”
His eyes linger on me for long seconds, taking me in in my shorts and tank before he floors the gas.
His business with Roman is personal, but he’d just told me in so many words that dear old dad is just the tip of the iceberg. I asked Tobias not long ago just how big this was, how far this went, and he just gave me a bird’s eye view…from space.
Chess, again. But this time I studied up a little. I move to take one of his pawns and I catch the amused expression in his gaze when he realizes it.
“Best summer ever,” I grumble as he swishes the ice in his glass.
“What will you do when it’s over?”
“I’m sure you know of my college plans.”
“I’m aware,” he moves a pawn as a thick lock of hair falls across his forehead. I ignore the sudden urge to reach out and push it away. “But what will you do?”
“After? Not sure yet. Definitely not following my father’s footsteps in the family business, not that you’re giving me much of a choice.”
“You couldn’t care less about his company.”
“Not true, I care a great deal about the future of his employees.”
Silence passes as he swirls his rocks around before he speaks.
“Roman pulled a Zuckerberg just before he bankrupted his first business partner to gain control of their company. It was a small venture, but that move gave him enough monetary gain to play his first hand on a bigger gamble.”
I sit back, stunned by his revelation about my father’s dirty deeds. “When?”
“Years before you were born. This gained him his first enemy. Jerry Siegal. The irony? He’s making his comeback by being just as fucking crooked.”
I bite my lip and look up to see him watching me. “You’re sure?”
Another swish of the ice, one, two, three times in his glass before he drains the liquid and stands.
“So, do you sleep in the woods?”
He slips on his jacket. “I might.” He nods toward where I sit next to the fireplace. “Don’t touch the board.”
“Oh, goodie, you’ll be back,” I stand. “Can’t wait.”
He takes a menacing step toward me, and I take one back, turning my head to avoid his effect on me. With the lip of the couch touching my thighs, I’m out of space, and with his next step, I’m engulfed in flames, the paralyzing knowledge that if he so much as reaches out and touches me, my body will react. I hold my breath to keep from inhaling him in as he inspects me closely from inches away.
“What is it about you?” He asks, his voice close to a whisper. I take it as just another insult, an inquiry as to what Sean and Dominic saw in me.
I step to the side to give myself some breathing room, and he moves in.
“Can you just give me some leash? That’s all I’m asking. Maybe knock before entering?” He leans in, his nose running along the side of my neck without contact, but the effect is the same.
“No.” It’s a faint whisper, but the message is received as if he’d shouted it. Shortly after, when the front door closes, I stand there fixed on the direction he went, my limbs heavy. He’s infuriating, and fighting with him is starting to feel pointless.
That night, I dream of amber eyes and lightning bugs.
I wake the next morning to the sound of a familiar voice drifting from the first floor. Aggravated, I brush my teeth while doing a once-over in my shorts and tank to make sure I’m covered. It’s the addition of the second voice that has me taking the stairs two at a time. When I enter the kitchen, I’m struck by the sight of Tobias, suited and flawlessly polished, the scent of his freshly applied cologne the first thing to invade my nostrils before I lay eyes on Jeremy. He’s busying himself by unwrapping a new laptop when he spots me and cracks a wide grin.
“Hey, you, been a minute.” He darts his eyes back to his task as I cock my hip next to the counter and stare a hole through the side of his head. My thirsty eyes drink in his familiarity, and all it does is make my heart ache. His man beard has grown a little longer in the eight and counting months since I’d last seen him, and he’s sporting his usual attire of dark jeans and suspenders over his T-shirt. Pinstriped suspenders I found at a thrift store and bought while shopping because I thought of him and considered him a friend. Late night conversations between the two of us spring to the forefront, but I bat the emotion away and let my resentment take a front seat. Ignoring the amber eyes combing me, I make my way to the coffee pot and click on the small TV on the counter to catch the last of the morning news.
It’s when I go to add my sugar that I find the box is empty. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I don’t miss the simper
on his lips before Tobias lifts his mug, and I narrow my eyes at him.
Jeremy darts his gaze between us over the laptop he’s just powered up. “I see you two are getting on well.”
We both glare in his direction, and his chuckle is unmistakable. Temper flaring, I turn and open the cabinet above the pot and spot another box of sugar on the second shelf, just out of my reach. Lifting on my toes, I try in vain to grab it when I feel Tobias approach behind me.
“I’ve got it,” I snap, pulling a spatula from the drawer and using it to hook the box before jerking it toward me. It gives easily, smacking me square in the face. Nose burning, I’m on the verge of exploding when an infuriating rumble sounds from Tobias’s throat just before he steps away. Shrugging off my embarrassment, I prepare my coffee and ignore them both, keeping my eyes on the screen. Jeremy speaks up a minute later.
“How you been, Cee?”
Elbows on the counter, I lean in and turn up the volume.
“That mad at me, huh?” I can sense when they exchange a look behind me. I couldn’t care less. But the burning at my back lets me know I may be revealing a little more skin than I should. I glance over my shoulder to see the source of my discomfort. Head cocked, Tobias is peculiarly looking at me before he darts his eyes to Jeremy.
“We good?”
“I mean, he only showed me how to do this once, but…” Jeremy glances my way, and I know who he’s referring to. They’re worried about the security of the laptop.
They share another wordless look as I go back to my coffee and pretend to watch the news. A few keystrokes later, Jeremy speaks up.
“I think we’re good.”
“Think or know?” Tobias replies in an unforgiving tone.
Jeremy sighs with exasperation. “It would help if you let me—”
“I’ll figure it out,” Tobias snaps.
“Too proud to reach out to your own brother, huh?” I say, with my back turned.
More silence.
“How is he these days, Jeremy?”
A pregnant pause. “I wouldn’t know, Cee.”
“Sure, you wouldn’t.”
A second later, I feel Jeremy beside me. I can’t look at him. I can’t let him see that his mere presence is weakening me. “We miss you, you know?”
“Do you?” I sip my coffee and swallow, unable to hide the bitter edge in my voice. “Nice suspenders.”
He thumbs them in my peripheral. “You know they’re my favorite.”
“Good to know you give a shit about something.”
“I do care about you,” his sigh comes out more like a grunt of frustration. I’m sure his boss is staring right at him, a clear threat just feet away. He’s tap dancing between an apology for me and certain punishment. It doesn’t seem like any of them are brave enough to go head to head with this asshole.
“Don’t worry about me. You haven’t in eight months.”
“Come on,” he argues, “you know we couldn’t—”
“Want to know how I’m doing?” I turn my head and glare at him. “Well, you can relay to Sean I now know exactly what happens to caged birds.”
“We’re good,” Tobias snaps at Jeremy, his intent to end our exchange clear. “I’ll get with you later.”
Not long after, the alarm beeps and Russell’s voice sounds out from where he calls from the front door. “Hey, man, we have to open up in twenty. Mrs. Carter wants her shit checked out first thing this morning.”
He’s talking about the garage—a place I used to consider a second home. It’s unreal what time and distance can do. It now seems like a lifetime ago. It takes some effort to keep from turning the corner and laying eyes on Russell. But I don’t because he doesn’t seem the least bit interested in seeing me. Maybe it has everything to do with Tobias and his menacing presence.
But it doesn’t matter. These men aren’t my friends. They’re in on secrets I’m not privy to. Where once I belonged, now I’m just a liability.
“See you around, Cee,” Jeremy says from by my side, but I don’t look his way. I don’t utter a word. And I can feel his disappointment before he turns and leaves.
I turn up the TV to drown out any conversation with Tobias. I’m relieved when he busies himself on his laptop. A few minutes pass before he pauses his keys when the anchor speaks up with a breaking bulletin.
“Last night, a known terrorist leader was killed in a successful operation led by the US Military. Shortly after the news broke, the target was portrayed by a major media outlet as an ‘Austere Religious Scholar’ leaving some Americans outraged who’ve started to voice their objections on social media—”
“Bullshit!”
“Bullshit!”
Our shared reaction has me turning to Tobias, who stands equally as perplexed on his side of the counter. He runs a hand down his face in frustration as I turn back and click off the TV. We stand in silence for a few seconds before he turns and tosses his coffee in the sink. “This is fucking terrible.”
“I agree, since when is it okay for reporters to humanize terror—”
“No, the coffee. You need a French press and a decent grind.”
Baffled, I stare at his back, his shirt a light blue, fitted perfectly to outline his broad frame.
“Well, you’ve spoiled your French tongue. I’m sure you had a plethora of tastes to choose from.”
He turns his head, before placing a palm on the counter and facing me with a cocked brow. “Are we still talking about coffee?”
“Of course, we are,” I snap, perplexed. “And at this point, I’m surprised you haven’t changed your address here for Prime Delivery.”
His light chuckle fills the kitchen. I wrap my hand around my waist as he scrutinizes me from where he stands.
“You truly do care about them.”
I inhale a breath for patience. “I told you a dozen times already. Our deal wasn’t even necessary. You’re the one that gave me the card to play. I would have kept my silence with or without our deal.”
He lifts one side of his mouth. “Can’t be too careful. You know. ‘Hell hath no fury—”
I slash my hand through the air. “‘A bird, unable to fly, is still a bird; but a human unable to love is an inexpensive stone.’” I retort dryly and walk to where he stands, setting my cup in the sink beside him before lifting my eyes to his. “Like I said, you’re incapable of my kind of currency.” It’s then I feel the spike, and it’s unavoidable. His eyes flame brighter with each passing second as we face-off.
“Endearment, adoration, devotion, warmth, attachment; also synonyms for love.” I turn to head upstairs and he jerks my elbow, pulling me flush against him. Electricity pings between us, stunning me for several seconds. It’s both lightning and thunder without warning. Between his striking physical attributes, the burn in his gaze and his mouth-watering smell, it’s getting impossible to play immune. The intensity of my attraction keeps shifting. The more I try to deny it, the more it rears its ugly head.
“No more bruises, please, I have a shift tonight.”
He lessens his grip. “You bruise too easily. You think I don’t understand you?”
“You don’t know me.”
He dips, his breath hitting my ear. “I know you.” He brushes the loose hair away from my shoulder, and I’m barely able to control the shiver that slight touch induces. “And you’re afraid of just how much I do know.” He lifts a finger and runs it faintly along my collarbone. “You think it’s love, but the truth is, you’re an addict,” he slowly trails the pad of the same finger up my throat before brushing it lightly across my lips. The shift in intensity is jarring as my limbs begin to tingle with awareness. “You’re high right now. And that’s all your currency is, a high.” I jerk away from him and he crowds in, his eyes trailing from my pumping chest back to my lips before he steps away, collects his laptop, and strides out of the kitchen.
“You’re an addict.”
The weight of that statement has blanketed me my whole shift.
“You sure?” Melinda asks as she gathers the last of our tubs together.
“Sorry, what?”
She looks over to me. Evident worry etched on her features as I recall our conversation. An attempt by her to set me up with her church’s new youth pastor. She’s no dummy—in fact, she’s become an expert at gauging my moods. More often than not, she’s bringing extra lunch on her shifts to make sure I’m eating. It’s comforting to know she cares, her concern for me maternal.
“Yeah,” I say, wiping down our workstation. “I’m just going to head home.”
She pauses as we pack up. “Honey, it’s been months and months. I just don’t want you wasting away anymore.”
Months and months. And today more than ever, I feel the weight of that truth.
“You’re an addict.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I went on a date not too long ago.”
This seems to perk her up. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. Great guy. And we’re going to give it another go, sometime soon.” The lie comes easy, but I feel no guilt when I see the relief in her eyes. Though invasive and maddening at times with her chatter, I’ve grown real affection for her and consider her a friend.
“That’s so good to hear.” She bristles. “Well, excuse me for saying it, but he’s a damned fool. And I promise you he will regret it if he’s not already. I can’t believe he just up and left like that.”
We both know the he she’s referring to is Sean, but I dart my eyes away. When the conveyor belt comes to a halt signaling the end of our shift, she takes a step toward me and hesitantly pulls me into a hug.
Exodus Page 8
