Shit. Did I really just joke myself into collecting Dan juice out of industrial carpet? Seems like I did, because Pierce hasn’t followed up his demand with a ‘just kidding.’ I forget most people don’t share my ability to shove amusement in at the worst possible moment.
One person did, and I had to go and fuck it all the way up. Because, in addition to being funny as hell, I’m also dumb as hell.
“Would you like for me to send a few of my team members there to assist your security team until we get this all figured out?” Pierce makes the offer before I even get the chance to request his help.
“Actually, that was part of the reason for my call.” Initially we were going to have Titus reach out to him. But since I have an equally close relationship with Pierce—and no fiancée at home who needs my attention—it was decided I’d be the one asking the owner of Alaskan Security for help.
Right before I have to inform him he’s not going to get his Jeeps when he wants them.
Pierce and I chat for fifteen more minutes, making plans for where his people are going to stay, and how long I realistically think I’ll need to complete his first fleet of SUVs. I also make sure he’s serious about wanting me to ship him body fluids.
He is.
Once we hang up, I lean back in my chair on a groan. Just when I think I can’t be any more of an idiot, I open my mouth and end up digging through my drawers for something I can use to scoop dried-up dead guy into a plastic bag.
After collecting a utility knife and a pair of chopsticks that came with one of the lunches I ordered last week, I head for the barricaded portion of the building. Stopping off in the breakroom closest to my wing, I dig through the drawers for a storage bag, adding it to my arsenal.
Ducking under the tape stopping anyone with any sense from going back to the burned-out area, I make my way into what’s left of the storage room. The place still looks mostly like it did a week ago, minus the servers and as much Dan as the coroner could collect. The scent of smoke lingers in the air and charred remnants of office supplies are scattered acrossthe space. On one hand, I’m grateful we didn’t decide to jump in and set it back to rights, because maybe Pierce will be able to identify who Dan really was.
On the other hand, if Tucker had already gutted this place, I wouldn’t be crouched down, looking for the area most likely to contain bits and pieces of human residue.
Should I be wearing a hazmat suit? Gloves? I don’t plan on rolling around on the floor or touchinganyof this shit with my bare hands, so I think as long as I’m careful…
I cut a square of carpet that seems to be discolored in a way that turns my stomach, discovering it’s not easy to pick up with chopsticks. Putting my experience as a dog dad to good use, I tuck the plastic baggie over my hand like I’m about to scoop up one of Copper’s steaming dumps, using it as a barrier between me and whatever portion of Trevor’s former assistant soaked into this area.
Making sure nothing touches the edges so I can safely seal the bag, I tuck it in on itself, standing as I zip the opening closed. I hold it away from my body as I carry it back to my office, because the more I think about it, the grosser this is.
But if it will help protect my family—and our business—it will be worth the current rolling of my stomach.
Grabbing a permanent marker, I quickly scribble ‘dead Dan’ across the bag and shove it into an overnight envelope. Passing it off to Malik, my administrative assistant, so he can ship it, I go back into my private bathroom and start to scrub, washing all the way up to my elbows with the heavy duty soap I keep on hand to cut through the grease and oil I deal with daily.
Then I wipe down my whole desk with an antiseptic wipe, just to be safe.
While I’m in the process of scrubbing my mouse, an emailnotification pops up on my phone. After also cleaning it—just to be safe—I open it up and discover the first bright spot I’ve had in the past week.
Because while I might have been a shitty boyfriend, and am on frequent occasion an asshole of a brother, I’m confident I’m going to be the best uncle who’s ever lived.
4
Tobias
“Are you kidding?” Titus stares at me from where he stands, frowning down at me from the back stoop of the house he shares with his very pregnant fiancée, Mariah. “You can’t give my kids a puppy. They haven’t even been born yet.”
“I’m not giving them a puppy.” I motion at the tiny furballs rolling around the sprigs of grass poking up from the dirt. “I’m giving themtwopuppies.” It wouldn’t make sense to bring only one dog when there’s gonna be two kids.
That would just be ridiculous.
“You’re not giving them any puppies.” Titus crosses both arms over his chest. “I’m the one who’ll be stuck taking care of them. And with my luck, they’ll be horny little psychopaths just like Copper.”
And what would be so wrong with that? Yes, Copper is all for free love, but outside of her propensity for humping anything that holds still, she’s been one hell of a good dog.
Even if there are days it’s hard for me to look at her.
I gesture at the miniature poodles chewing on my bootlaces. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with them then?” I’m trying to be a good uncle here. Show my future nieces or nephews how much I love them. “I know you’ve never had a pet, but they’re not really a returnable item.”
My brother shrugs. “That’s not my problem.” He turns to go inside, but stops, swinging back my way while lifting an accusatory finger. “And don’t even think you’re going to bring this up when they’re five. Tell them how you tried to give them puppies but their mean old daddy wouldn’t let you.”
I stretch both my arms wide. “Isn’t that what’s happening?”
