The Misters Series (Mister #1-7)

by J. A. Huss

  So no fucking way. This isn’t gonna go down the way they expect.

  I’m ready. I’ve been preparing for this moment for fifteen years.

  I’m all in, motherfuckers.

  Let’s do this shit.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Victoria

  West has been different ever since Mr. Mysterious showed up, but right now, as we drive in the car that will take us to wherever Mr. Match is waiting, he’s silent and withdrawn. Last night he was silent and attentive, so silent and withdrawn is yet another change that tells me something big is about to happen.

  I look over at him, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s staring out the window.

  I look across from me, at Mr. Mysterious, and he doesn’t notice either. He’s looking out the window.

  I look at Five.

  He shrugs and shakes his head, as if to say, Don’t bother.

  All of a sudden Weston sits up straight. “Where the fuck are we going?”

  I look out my window as we pull up to a gated community not far from the beach. It’s so close, I can smell the salt and feel the way the sea air changes things as soon as the driver opens his window to talk to the guard.

  “Nolan Delaney is expecting Mr. Vance and Mr. Conrad,” the driver says to the guard.

  “I thought you said Nolan wasn’t a part of this?” West asks as the guard opens the gate and waves us through.

  “He’s not,” Mysterious answers. “But Oliver and I use this house for business.”

  “Do you now? Somehow I have a hard time seeing Nolan saying yes to that little arrangement.”

  “I guess that’s why we don’t tell him.” He says it with a straight face too. Like this is no big deal. He uses houses that don’t belong to him all the time. “Besides,” he continues. “Nolan has enough houses for everyone. He doesn’t come here. He’s down in San Diego or out in the desert. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, now can it?”

  “You know what I don’t get,” West says. “Why the fuck you think that what’s ours is yours all the time.”

  Mysterious shrugs. “That’s just how I roll, Corporate. Anyway,” he says, suddenly looking over at West with a very serious glare. “You and him are alike, right? Silver spoons and all.”

  “Says the guy who grew up taking pony rides on horses worth two million dollars.”

  Mysterious doesn’t even shrug it off. Just replies, “Maybe you and Nolan really don’t have anything in common? Isn’t that what you always said back in the day? You’re so different.”

  I look at Five and he’s pretending this conversation isn’t happening.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” West asks.

  And this time Mysterious directs his reply to me. “You’re about to find out, Mr. Corporate. And so’s your little girlfriend. So if I were you, I’d enjoy this reality for a few more minutes. Because it’s all about to come crashing down.”

  I reach over and take West’s hand. Give it a squeeze. “It’s OK, West. Whatever is happening, it won’t change us.”

  “You better not make promises you can’t keep, Miss Arias,” Five suddenly says. He’s been quiet in front of me almost this entire trip and now is the time he chooses to speak up?

  “Well, Mr. Five,” I say, sneering his fake name. “I’m just letting my boyfriend know that I’m on his side. Especially since the two of you are so dead set on ganging up on him. We’re a team, and nothing you have to tell me can change that.”

  “You don’t know anything, Victoria Arias,” Five says back. “Nothing about what’s happening here. So I’m gonna give you a small piece of advice. Wait until you hear the facts before you make any more declarations.”

  “Fuck you. You know what? We’re out of here.” West drops my hand and pulls out his phone, his fingers running through his contacts.

  “Put it away,” Five says. And when West doesn’t listen he says, “Does the name Stewart Manchester mean anything to you, Weston?”

  It must, because someone is talking on the other end of West’s phone and West ignores the voice next to his ear to stare at both Mysterious and Five. He ends the call and puts his phone away.

  What the fuck was that about?

  I look over at West but he won’t meet my gaze.

  “Don’t worry,” Mysterious says. And when I look at him, I realize he’s talking to me. “This is his big moment, Victoria. Twenty-five years of lies are gonna come pouring out in just a few minutes.”

  I take West’s hand back, squeezing it again, only this time harder. “Don’t listen, West. I’m not going anywhere. It’s us, remember? Us against the world.”

  West looks at me with a frown. “Maybe he’s right. You should probably stop making promises, Tori. You might regret it in a few minutes.”

  “What?”

  But there’s no time to get any more information out of him. Because we pull up to a massive house and when I look out the window I see the last person in this little gang-up. Mr. Match is standing in front of a glass-front double door. He opens it at the same time Mysterious opens the door closest to us, and walks towards the car.

  I get out, then Five and West.

  Mr. Match greets me with an extended hand. I just look at him, refusing his gesture. He looks over at his friends and shrugs. “What’s up, man? How was the trip?”

  “Went as planned. As you can see.” Mysterious points to me and West, who has come up next to me. West does not take my hand.

  “Oliver,” West says.

  “We missed you at the last meeting back at Perfect’s house.”

  “I work. I can’t be taking off every time there’s a problem with one of you guys.”

  “Well,” Match says, “I think that’s about to change.”

  “Is that right?” West asks.

  But Match just waves his hand towards the house.

  “Are we staying?” I ask West. “We don’t have to stay, Weston. Let’s just go.”

  “Sorry,” West says. “But we do.”

  “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Match says. “So please, come in and make yourself at home while we hash it all out.”

  Chapter Forty - Weston

  Pax is arranging furniture. Or, I should say, rearranging furniture. I’ve been to this house of Nolan’s before. Not a lot, but we were only a couple hours apart before he took on that project in the desert, so I came down every once in a while. Del Mar is not halfway between my house and his, not at all. But when you’re driving down the 5 freeway in bumper-to-bumper traffic on a Friday night, you’re grateful you don’t have to make that last trek into downtown.

  So we met here.

  This house is like a tribute to sleek modern design. And I know that Pax used to own it, that he sold it to Nolan, and then asked him not to sell it without asking him first—he’s always had that entitlement mentality—and Pax made him pay cash.

  I know this because Pax came to me the same day the house finally closed and he got his money. He came to me because he needed more.

  I gave him that five million, plus another million a few days later. He caught me when I was flush with money and feeling magnanimous.

  “What are you doing?” I ask Pax as I look at Five and Oliver having a quiet conversation out on the terrace. Pax ignores me.

  Five. Yesterday on the boat he looked like a guy who’s just about done riding waves and just about to realize he’s got nothing to show for all those years he spent on the sand but an old float plane.

  Today he looks like a secret agent.

  All four of us are wearing dark suits. It’s like a uniform. We are all wearing black ties. I wasn’t given a choice. My suit was provided for me. But Five is different than us Misters. He’s got black sunglasses on as he gazes out over the terrace to the ocean. The horses aren’t running at the moment, so there is no one down on the Del Mar Racetrack, which this mini-mansion overlooks.

  It’s not the sunglasses though. Or the dark suit. Or the way he went from frumpy to manscaped in less t
han twenty-four hours. It’s everything about him. The way he talks—or doesn’t talk, I should say. The way he listens, I guess. That detached expression he’s always wearing. It’s the confidence he has. Like he knows things. It’s the money, too. Obviously, he’s got plenty of it.

  But we’ve all got money. And even though Pax has been borrowing like crazy over the years, I know he’s good for it because I know he’s fucking loaded up to the neck in real estate.

  “What’s their deal?” I ask Pax, nodding my head out to Oliver and Five on the terrace.

  “We’re gonna find out soon,” Pax says, pushing a chair into position. Then he smiles, looking down at his arrangement like his job here is complete, and puts two fingers on his tongue and whistles sharply to get everyone’s attention.

  I look over at Tori to see how she’s taking this.

  She looks bored. So I shoot her a smile and she smiles back.

  “OK,” Pax says, rubbing his hands together when Oliver and Five come back inside. “This is what I call the Jesus Circle. Miss Arias,” he says, stopping to stare at her across the room. She’s sitting at the bar, sipping some water that she helped herself to. “Join us.”

  Tori glances at me. I shrug. She gets up, bringing her water with her, and stands by my side.

  We are a team, that positioning says.

  If Pax, and Oliver, and Five are a team, well, we can be a team too.

  There are two sides in this room.

  Us and them.

  “The Come-to-Jesus Circle, actually,” Pax clarifies. “And,” he says, looking at all of us and then the furniture, “there are assigned seats, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, Miss Arias.” He gives Tori a wink. “I have you next to your BFF.” He points to the first chair on his left. “Five,” he says, “you sit here.”

  Five walks over to a big plush chair and sits down, casually kicking back, one ankle placed easily on the opposite knee like he’s settling in for something long and boring.

  “Then you, Corporate. And you, Miss Arias.”

  We are sentenced to sit on the couch, to Five’s left.

  “And you, Match. Right there.” He sits in the chair directly opposite Five.

  “I’m taking this one,” Pax says, turning a dining room chair around so he can cop a squat on it, facing backwards, and prop his hands on the seat back.

  “You want to tell us what the fuck is going on?” I ask, unperturbed.

  “Don’t be so antsy, Corporate. These things take time.”

  “You’ve got ten minutes. Then we’re leaving.”

  Pax nods at me, a gesture that someone less familiar with him might mistake as backing down. But I know better.

  “OK,” he says. “I’ll get this show on the road. I’m the one who set you two up with that whole Wallace Arlington job.”

  “There’s no job?” Tori asks, her words a combination of annoyance and regret. “So you wasted our time and almost got us killed? For what reason?”

  “Miss Arias,” Pax says, slowly turning his head to look at her. “I’m in the hot seat right now. That means I talk and you listen.”

  “Fuck you,” she says. Doesn’t yell it or even say it with contempt. She states it. Fuck him.

  I raise my eyebrows and smile at Pax when he looks back to me. “As I was saying before I was interrupted. My come-to-Jesus moment with you, Corporate, is that I set you up to be on that island.” He smiles, then adds, “To get you killed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tori,” I say, looking down at her. I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “Let him finish.”

  “But,” Pax says, ignoring Tori’s outburst, “you’re not an easy guy to kill, are you, Corporate?”

  “What would be the fun in that?” I ask, looking at Oliver. “You’re in this too? You guys set me up?”

  “Take your own advice,” Oliver says. “And let him finish.”

  Tori’s leg starts bouncing, like she’s getting pissed off.

  “Go ahead,” I say, looking back to Pax. “Finish then.”

  “I got a call about a month ago. Just before all that shit with Romantic happened. It was your friend Liam Henry.”

  “Go on,” I say.

  “He said you were becoming a problem for him. He said Perfect’s little altercation with Allen was also a problem. He said there better not be any more problems.”

  “You work for him?” I ask.

  “Have. In the past. Strictly free agent stuff, you know. Contracts and shit. His son had a run-in with an ex-girlfriend a few years ago and I took care of it for him. Couple other small things. But when Romantic had that issue, well, Liam got nervous.”

  “Why?” I ask, trying to fit the pieces together.

  “He never said. But I can read between the lines, West. And I’ve been putting the pieces together for a while now.”

  “So tell us,” Tori snaps.

  I place my hand on her leg and say, “Quiet.” She has no idea what’s happening. But I’m starting to understand. “Go on.”

  “I think I’m gonna hand the talking stick over to Five now. And we’ll just let it all sort itself out in the circle.”

  I let out a deep breath and look at Five.

  He says, “I’m gonna pass for now. I think I’ll go last.”

  I look at Pax again and he smiles, “So you’re up, Corporate. And start from the beginning.”

  “Maybe I’ll pass too,” I say, buying a few seconds to collect my thoughts.

  “Sorry,” Pax says. “No can do. But I’ll help you out, if you need it. When you were seven years old your drunken asshole of a father found something interesting, didn’t he?”

  I look over at Tori, then catch myself and look back to Pax. I lied to her about this. I told her I was fourteen.

  “Don’t look at her, Corporate. She’s not gonna help you out with this one. And you’re not gonna send her out of the room to save face. So man up, asshole. It’s time to man up.”

  “I already know,” Tori says. “He told me the other night while we were on the island.”

  “Tori—” I say.

  “Did he now?” Pax interrupts. “Somehow I doubt that. Oh”—Pax laughs—“I’m sure he told you something, Miss Arias. But whatever it was, it was a lie.” Pax looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Everything he’s ever told us has been a lie. Isn’t that right, West?”

  “West?” Tori asks. “What’s going on?”

  I stay silent, but Oliver is there to fill the space. “We know, West. So just come clean. We know what you did.”

  They cannot possibly know. They can’t. I’ve never told anyone.

  “We have our ways of finding things out,” Oliver says. And when I glance over at him, he’s nodding to Five.

  I look over at Five too. He shrugs and says, “That’s why I passed. I already know everything about you, Mr. Conrad. And we just need you to come clean so we can clear the air and fix this shit.”

  “Fix it?” I ask. “Fix what?”

  “The reason why people are coming after us is you, West.” Pax says it. “We know it’s you.”

  “Wait,” Tori says. “Just… wait. I have something to say too. Before this goes any further.”

  But Oliver puts up a hand and says, “You’ll get your turn next, Miss Arias. But his story has to come first.”

  I thought about it. I thought about all the ways I could be caught and this was never even up in the top hundred. Cornered by my own friends. My girlfriend in the room, listening to all of it. All the lies, all the plots, all the planning, all the betrayals.

  But I feel a huge sense of relief too. It’s time, I think. These guys are right. I’ve been running since that night I met Victoria out in front of the administration building.

  I was on the verge of getting busted.

  And then I wasn’t.

  I thought it was weird then and I think it’s weird now. But they’re wrong if they think this is my fault. I didn’t start this shit. I had nothing to do with that girl
who accused us of rape. I didn’t even know her.

  So fuck Mysterious, and Match, and their friend, Five.

  Just fuck them.

  I’m tired of running anyway. I’m tired of feeling guilty for putting myself first.

  I’m tired of all this shit.

  Fuck them.

  I open my mouth and start talking.

  *******

  When I was six things were bad. My father was a drunk, my mother was sick, the house we lived in was nothing but a shack. The school I went to was small but everyone knew who I was.

  The poor kid.

  But also the smart kid. The tough kid. The fighter, the troublemaker, the liar, the cheat, the thief.

  My father was also a gambler. And even though the house we lived in was worthless, the land wasn’t. We were land-rich. And every time a real estate developer came knocking because they wanted to buy the land around us and put up more luxury mansions, he’d ask for some outrageous number.

  Fifty million. Hundred million. Prices just so astronomical, the developers took it as a joke.

  He wasn’t joking. He knew what we had. Five hundred acres of prime, undeveloped land on an island that has very definite boundaries. These developers saw dollar signs. Lots and lots of dollar signs.

  But undeveloped, it was nowhere near worth the price my father was asking. “They’ll give in eventually,” he used to say. “They’ll have to. Only one place on earth that looks like this, West,” he’d say. “And I own it.”

  His grand plan started to fall apart during a Saturday night poker game about a year and a half later.

  We were on a yacht, we were in international waters, and he was drunk as I’ve ever seen him.

  I realized later that it was a setup. But I was only seven back then, so how could I know? I was clever, but not wise. It went right over my head.

  By this time my mother was already dead. And my father really was thinking of selling the land. And I had just finished my first season of illegal lobster trapping, which is how I knew about the cave.