Page 40 of Fixed Asset

“I don’t know, those social media financial gurus say real estate’s where the money’s at.”

“On second thought, Jack’s place is a dump. You might wanna convince him to move in with you.”

Oh no.

I didn’t live in dumps. Not because I was some pretentious twit, but I’d bounced from filthy house to filthy house after my grandma died until a second cousin took me in and gave me a home. I made a promise to myself I’d never again live in filth and clutter.

Could I make an exception if it meant having Jack? Yes. Would I scrub his house from top to bottom like a woman on a mission to give her man a sparkling-clean house? Also yes.

“Damn, the look on your face is priceless.” Pete chuckled. “I’m joking. He lives in a minimansion by the water.”

It seemed like Jack and I had a lot to talk about—like how in the hell he could afford a minimansion in Southern California where the prices were insane. I’d seen houses for sale on the side of a busy highway for nearly a million dollars.

“I’m not money—”

“I know you’re not.” He stopped me from finishing. “I know you lost your parents, then your grandmother, and from there you moved from family member to family member, none of them keeping you long because they couldn’t afford you. Until the last one you stayed with until you left for the Army.”

That was a watered down, nice version of why they hadn’t kept me. The truth was they didn’t want me.

I wasn’t embarrassed by how I grew up, so that wasn’t what had my anger spiking. Neither was it a secret I was ashamed of. But I didn’t like people knowing personal things about me that I hadn’t shared with them directly. I hadn’t even discussed with Jack how I’d grown up, and Pete knew.

“Did you share this with Jack?”

Pete’s eyes narrowed. “I know you don’t know me, so I take no offense. You’ll come to learn that I don’t share business that’s not mine.”

“But you’ll snoop and find it for yourself.”

Pete nodded, then verbally confirmed, “When it comes to my team, damn right. What I don’t do is speak out of turn.”

Some of my irritation waned. If I was in his position, I’d snoop too.

Yet, I wasn’t ready to let it go.

“Did you find out anything else interesting?”

“Just that you have excellent credit and you need to pay off your car. The interest rate sucks. Better yet, sell it. Fords suck.”

I was highly offended at this blasphemous statement. “I love my Mustang.”

Pete shook his head. “You’ll love a Camaro more.”

I doubted that.

One of Berta’s guards was coming out of the house with Jack. It was go time, but I had more to say.

“I can’t work for a man who doesn’t like Fords,” I told him haughtily.

“Can you love a man who hates them?”

“No.” I drew out the word and watched Jack as he made his way to us.

Jack did a slight head tilt when he saw me staring. His eyes flicked between me and Pete before they finally planted on Pete and narrowed.

“What’s happening?” Jack asked me.

“You don’t like Fords?”

“Hate them. I drive a Chevy.”