“Get the nurse to invoice me. I’ll pay out the next month, and we can reassess if she’s a good fit after that, okay?” I reasoned, hoping Ma wouldn’t be difficult for once in her life.
Across the expanse of ocean in front of me, the sun breached the horizon with a warming glare. I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing the new day and trying to breathe out the stress of the pre-dawn hours.
Everything would be all right. Adam was a dick I was better off without. Ma would accept the nurse, and she would have help to look after Dad. I would get the largest serving of coffee I could find on offer along the boardwalk and bounce into work over-caffeinated and ready to rock.
“That sounds like a good plan, Tatum. Thank you,” Ma murmured eventually, her voice steeped in exhaustion.
The counterargument I had perched on the tip of my tongue fizzled out. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or alarmed at her easy acquiescence.
“Good. Uh…that’s good. Send it through, and I’ll get it sorted,” I said, stumbling over an appropriate response.
“Thank you, my darling girl. I think I’m going to go and have a lie-down while your father is still asleep. You have a good day at work.”
I ended the call soon after and stared out at the calm sea. At least one problem had been solved for the morning.
With a final centering breath, I pushed upright and wandered down the boardwalk toward a man setting out chairs and opening umbrellas, preparing the outdoor dining space for a morning rush of diners keen to breakfast with the waves as a calming backdrop.
“Are you taking coffee orders yet?” I asked as we made eye contact.
He nodded toward a service window cut into the wall. With a wave of thanks, I placed my order with the already bored-looking girl behind the register.
It was good that Ma was accepting help, I reminded myself as I absently scanned my card. Maybe she’d finally learned she couldn’t do it all.
“It’s declined.”
I looked blankly at the girl in front of me for a moment too long, translating what she just said.
Card. Right.
“Run it again. Actually, never mind, I have cash.”
The twenty-dollar note had seen better days: the White House cracked and faded on one side, and Andrew Jackson’s face softer and more lined than it would have been in life on the other. Smoothing the thing on my leg, I handed it over with a flourish, ignoring the sneer on the girl’s face. How someone worked in service without being able to run a card properly was beyond me, but it didn’t help her case if she planned to look down on cash. Money was money, after all.
Fifteen minutes later, jumbo coffee in hand, I walked through the doors of Gilbert and Sons financiers.
“Morning, Dave,” I said, saluting the security guard with my cup as I scanned my ID.
“Morning, Tatum. Can you hold here for a minute? Mr. Gilbert wants to see you.”
Chapter
Two
Tatum
“Explainthis to me like I’m five,” my best friend, Ruby, demanded as I sat on the front steps of Gilbert and Sons trying not to cry.
“Because as far as I’m concerned, you’re the best damn employee they’ve ever had, and if they want to say differently, I’ll come in there and bust some heads.”
She would, too. Ruby was the frontwoman of Red String Riot, one of the hottest bands to sign with Golden Fire Records. The pocket rocket lead singer-slash-songwriter-slash-manager-slash-mother hen was a known diva when things weren’t to her liking. Mostly when one ofher peoplewasn’t happy.
“They had evidence of transfers made from my IP address. I don’t know what happened, but I’m lucky they just fired me. They could have called the cops. I’m innocent, but I have no way of proving it. Ruby, whoever did this tookhundredsof thousands of dollars from investors.”
I put my cell on speaker and pulled up myUberapp.
“Do you have any idea who could have done it?”
“No, I—oh, for fuck’s sake.” I resisted the urge to throw my phone as my driver’s booking was canceled due to insufficient funds.
