1. Family comes first
2. We do not lie to each other.
3. We do not keep secrets from one another.
4. We do not fight about money.
5. We do not fight over women.
I pick up the closest thing to me, which is my mushy bowl of Raisin Bran, and sling the entire thing across the room at Camden's head.
He ducks just in time.
Bran flakes and cashew milk drip down the wall directly behind him.
The big fucker has always had quick reflexes.
"The only reason why you're getting away with that–" He points his finger at the wall then at me. "Is because you already got your ass kicked once this week."
My eye starts to twitch. If ever I have felt close to wanting to pummel my brother into next month, it's at this moment, but I might really hurt him if I did that. We're not kids anymore. We're grown men. We don't need to fight. That would be disastrous.
What we need is space.
If I wasn't sure about it before, I am crystal clear about that right now.
"I'll be out of here by the end of the week."
"Do what you gotta do," Camden says in his bitter I don't give a shit voice, as if I'm the one being unreasonable.
No remorse.
No apology.
So I pack my two large black duffels and walk out on my brother for the very first time in our lives. If the one brother I've loved all my life treats me like this, I've decided that I'm definitely in no rush to meet another.
Twelve
cutter
"Hey, man, it's me again."
My phone rings through the Bluetooth activated sound system in my car. I've basically been driving around the city in a fog for an hour trying to calm myself down. Worried like an imbecile about things like who's going to schedule the waitress shifts at the tapas lounge or who's going to make sure that Marco remembers to put in those extra orders of vodka at the club. Then realizing that it's not my problem anymore. Somebody else is going to have to step up while I sit on my ass for a while. Maybe then Camden and Roman will realize how they've made the mistake of taking my kindness for weakness.
"What's up, Johnson."
"I think I've got something."
"What."
"A flag went up at your lady's job."
I pull the car over.
"Explain."
"A kid fitting your guy's description just applied for a mailroom position in her building."
"Did you get a name?"
"No, my contact saw the guy go in for an interview. No names yet."
"What businesses are in the building?"
"Only the drug company. They own the whole thing."
Fuck me.
"He's doing a piss poor job of it, but he's fucking stalking her."
"We won't know for sure that it's him, boss, until we get the name. Probably half of the mailroom there fits his description. Give me another day or so. My guy's uncle works in the IT department there. He has to try and pull the human resource records without leaving a footprint. In the meantime, you keep trying to get some info on him too."
"Who's hiring who, Johnson?"
"Sorry, boss. I'm not telling you what to do. Obviously, you're still working your magic on your end. Just want to make sure we get this scumbag for you."
I'm just giving Johnson shit because I'm mad at myself. What kind of fixer can't find a twenty-one-year-old kid.
"Gotta take another call. We'll catch up later."
It's Roman.
"What's up," I answer flatly. Already assuming that I know what this call is about. Roman doesn't do chitchat.
"I talked to Camden."
Of course he did. That little snitch.
"I hear that you're taking some time off."
"That's right."
"I know what happened at the hotel, and I feel fucked-up about it, Cut. Normally I would have been there, but Elizabeth was having something called Braxton-Hicks contractions that night."
"Uh-huh."
"We thought she was having the baby early. She was scared out of her mind. I was shitting bricks. Wasn't going to leave her by herself, brother."
"I'm not trying to be an asshole, Rome, but that wasn't the only night you and Cam both left me hanging. I understand that there's going to be a lot of things that come up now that you're getting married and are about to have a baby, but me carrying all of the weight isn't the solution. We need another plan if this is going to be a true partnership moving forward. Otherwise it feels more like my business instead of our business.
"You serious?"
"Fuck yeah I'm serious."
I hear muffled voices in the background. He's apparently distracted by something or someone around him. Probably Elizabeth as usual.
"Listen, brother, we can talk about the inequality of how we're dividing up work later. Just trust that we'll fix this. Right now I'm calling about something else, and then I've gotta go."
The blow off as expected.
"What."
"It's the glamazon."
"What about her?"
"I heard about the black eye."
My chest tightens. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he's going to say some shit I don't want to hear.
"And?"
"And I called you because it's no secret that you've been scaring away dudes at the club who even think about looking at her two seconds too long. Not totally sure I understand why, but understand this, Cut–she doesn't belong to you. You haven't made a claim. I'm not even sure that's what you're planning to do. So I wanted to make sure you understood that she's my woman's best friend, and I'll take care of it. It's nothing. The scrawny kid that bags my groceries at the mini mart could deal with this asshole. So don't worry. He won't hit her again."
"Do you know who he is?"
"Not yet."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Not yet but like I told you, I'll handle it."
"Do you seriously think you can just call me up and order me to stay out of this? You're not her father or her brother. In fact, from everything I've observed, she doesn't even like your ass."
"Well from what I hear, she doesn't like you very much either."
"Listen, asshole–"
"I didn't call to argue, Cut. Just stay out of my way."
"You arrogant mother–!"
"Bye, Cut."
Click
I rake my hand across my head several times in frustration. This day is going to complete shit. Until the best idea I've had in a long time pops into my head. I'm going to beat Roman at his own swinging his big dick around game.
"How did you know about the opening in our downtown property, Mr. King? We haven't even posted it publicly yet."
"Oh you know how it is, Ms. Toddson," I say flashing a smile. "News of prime rental vacancies spreads fast in this town."
"I guess it does." She grins. "And please call me Maria."
"Maria then."
Maria Toddson is a middle-aged realtor with an oversized wedding ring on her finger, and deep crow's feet, who was probably hot as hell in her heyday. She's not the best realtor in the city by a long shot, but she's the one I need for this specific listing.
"I have no problem showing you the apartment, Mr. King, but based on your credit profile you may be more interested in a vacancy in one of our luxury buildings. I've got a beautiful penthouse coming up in a month on Spruce. It's totally your style."
"No thanks, Maria. I want that specific apartment, on that floor, in that building, and as soon as possible. Can you make that happen?"
"If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do. I'll grab the paperwork right now, but just so we're clear, the minimum commitment is a twelve-month lease in that space."
Aww, that's cute. She's trying to play hardball.
"This is just a temporary arrangement, Maria. I don't want to be pinned down to a year commitment. Let's just do a month-to-month."
"Hmm–then if you don't mind,
I really think I should show you another space. The owner wants at least a twelve-month commitment on the rental. I promised him that."
I already did my homework before approaching Maria about this rental. The building is under distress and is in the first leg of the foreclosure process. The owner has a bit of time to turn things around before the bank takes back the property, but he's not handling it well. I'm guessing he probably has nothing but month-to-month renters in the building who are paying rent rates from ten years ago.
"Does it really have to be this space?"
"Yes."
"I don't usually say this to clients, but I feel like you're totally down to earth."
"I like to think that I am."
"So then I'll be honest with you. I have to be careful with this particular rental. I took a chance the first time and rented the space to someone who couldn't afford it, and now my boss is giving me a hard time, because we had to spend money to evict her. So while it's obvious that you can afford it, I don't want you to take it if you know you're just going to leave mid-lease. I'd have to find another renter six months from now, and I just can't risk having any more drama."
I didn't become this wealthy at this age by making stupid decisions. Normally I would wait and try to buy a piece of real estate like this once the property reached the point of a short sale. That's when you can grab a property at a dirt cheap price and immediately make a profit. Yep, I’m about to make a stupid decision, but I can afford it and most of all–I'm highly motivated.
"Do you think the owner would consider selling?"
"You want to buy the unit instead of rent it?"
"No, Maria. I want to buy the whole building not just the apartment. A cash offer. Would that settle things?"
Her eyes widen.
"Really? I mean if I was going to be totally forthright, Mr. King, I'd tell you that my boss would probably jump at the right offer."
"Get me in the room with the owner today, and I'll make sure that part of the agreement includes that you get a five percent commission."
She tries to contain how excited she is.
"You're positive? The entire building?"
"Positive."
"Awesome! I'll get him on the phone right now." We shake hands to make it official. "Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. King."
For the last five years, I've lived in the carriage house that my brother and I bought together. It was our first substantial real estate purchase since leaving our mother's tiny row house in the old neighborhood. We made sure to buy a place that was spacious, with high ceilings, to accommodate our large statures. A home that's modern, professionally decorated, and is regularly cleaned by a diligent crew of women who know exactly how we like things. So, even though I'm not moved in yet, I can already see that this new place is going to be a little different than what I'm used to.
It was important that I get this particular apartment. A modest corner unit with exposed brick in the living room, two decent sized bedrooms and a great view. I decided the easiest way would to get it would be to cut out the middle man. To accomplish that, I am now the brand-new owner of a seven floor, twenty-eight-unit, Center City, rental property.
And best of all . . .
I don't have to listen to Camden and Jade having sex half of the night.
I can stock the fridge with whatever carnivorous snacks I want.
And I'm going to be within walking distance of my latest fix . . . or rather my fixation.
Her.
Thirteen
Sloan
"Morning, Ms. Pearson."
"Good morning, Mr. Stokes."
Our sales division head, John Stokes, walks out of the elevator with his bike and complete cycling gear on. I admire that he's sixty-four years old and still rides his bike five miles to and from work every day, but he's also the last person I feel like seeing right now. Frankly, he's my boss's boss. I didn't even think the man knew my name.
"So how are you adjusting to managing your own team?"
According to my pitiful sales numbers, not so well.
"I'm really enjoying the challenge, sir. Thanks for asking." I smile painfully.
"How long have you been a manager in the department?"
"A couple of months. Not that long."
"Hmm . . ." He holds his chin as if he's in deep thought. "I spent a bit of time going over your numbers over the weekend, and while you're doing a decent enough job, I think there's definitely room for improvement."
Could my luck get any worse? The division head picks my numbers to review out of all the teams in our department.
"You're a hundred percent right, Mr. Stokes, but I'm not worried," I say with feigned confidence. "My team is young. Give us some time, and we'll get the numbers up."
"Cocky, huh? I like that."
"Not cocky . . . just confident, Mr. Stokes."
"Even better." He smiles. "So Sloan, may I call you Sloan?"
"Of course."
"You show a lot of promise, but unfortunately we are a numbers driven department and potential doesn't make the stockholders happy. Results do. So I'd like to check in with you personally around the end of the quarter. See where your numbers are. Then we'll know how to proceed from there."
"Sure, that sounds fair."
"You took the day off yesterday, right?"
Wow, he's definitely paying attention.
"Because of this," I say referring to my face.
"May I ask what happened?"
While my scars are healing nicely, I still basically look like the bride of Frankenstein. People at work are trying to be polite about it, but I know they're talking about me. Especially because I haven't told anyone the truth about how it happened. In my opinion, it's really nobody's business.
"Freak accident."
"I see. Well, Sloan, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm thinking that I'd really like to see you match the numbers that Regan Pullson's team is bringing in by next quarter."
A wave of nausea hits my stomach. He has to realize that he's asking me to perform an almost impossible feat. Regan's territory is larger and more established than mine. Two facts that she never lets me forget.
"Um, okay," I say while holding back angry tears. “I’ll work on that.”
"Make sure to book yourself on my schedule with Martha."
"Will do, sir. Looking forward to it."
Mr. Stokes turns to walk toward his office when he stops to speak to me once more.
"And one more thing, Sloan."
"Yes?"
"I didn't see your name confirmed for the advanced sales training program."
Crap.
Every manager in the company has been strongly encouraged to enroll in the company's advanced sales training program. An invitation-only program which is offered once a year and is held in a different city every year. Our company is global, so sales managers from all over the world attend. It's expected for me to enroll since I've newly been made a sales manager, and it's actually a privilege to be invited, but I dread the entire thing. Sitting in an auditorium and listening to panels of men speak on how innovation in pharmaceutical production is changing the world all day is not my idea of a good time.
"I actually planned on confirming with Fern this week."
Fern is my immediate supervisor and the person in charge of confirming my enrollment. I hadn't confirmed my participation with her yet, because I had a personal conflict with the date. The conflict being I didn't want to do the shit. I'm sure she couldn't wait to share my procrastination with Mr. Stokes, because although she puts up a good façade, it's obvious that she, as well as another woman in this division, namely Regan, do not have my back.
"The training is always a good time, and you'll definitely learn a lot. I'm a keynote speaker on one of the goal setting panels this year. It'll be nice to have a few members of my team in the class."
I'm not entirely sure what's happening, but the fact that the head of the sales department knows that my numbers
suck, calls me out on them, and is double-checking to make sure that I attend the sales program tells me everything I need to know. I have to go if I want to keep my job. But I'm going to hate every minute of it.
"Sounds awesome, Mr. Stokes. I'll be there."
"There's a man in the lobby who I guarantee you just made me ovulate. If I'm pregnant by next month, you all will know the date of conception and who the father is."
I almost spit out my cup of coffee from chuckling at the comments of our office receptionist, Gidget. She's a relatively new hire. Young and spunky, a little thick in the thighs, and someone I'm starting to have a serious girl crush on. She basically has no filter, and that's rare to find in the very corporate—boring—world of pharmaceuticals.
"Who is he?" I ask. Always curious about whatever gossip she has to share for the day. Desperately wanting to think about anything but my own personal drama.
"What are you two hens clucking about now?"
Enter the company's resident hair flipper and ass kisser, Regan Pullson. Also known as the biggest passive aggressive bitch in the office and the woman who Mr. Stokes just threw in my face. Reagan and I have been at odds with each other since basically the first moment we met. There's just something about me that she doesn't like, and now that we both head our own team of sales reps it's getting even worse. Everything is a competition with her.
"I haven't had enough coffee for her this morning," I mutter under my breath as Gidget chuckles at my comments. I knew almost immediately that Gidget and I would get along famously when she was hired. She totally gets me. "If she flips her hair one more effin' time."
"I was telling Sloan here about the giant wet dream in the lobby," Gidget says to Regan. "He's so hot that I'm about to go to the bathroom and use the hand dryer to dry my thong out."
I belly laugh again.
This girl's a hoot.
"Honestly." Regan rolls her eyes and turns her lips up with distaste. "You're so inappropriate, Gidget."
"I try, thank you very much."
Gidget curtsies facetiously.
"Why are you even back here talking about him anyway? Isn't it your job to find out why he's here and who he's here to see?"
Indebted To A King Page 9
