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“Wantabeer?”I ask my brothers, and when they both nod, I grab three cold ones from the fridge before joining them at our kitchen table.
CJ is sitting at one end, a large amount of textbooks spread out around him. I don’t know what he’s obsessing over this week, and I make it a habit not to ask unless I absolutely need to know. Mostly because I never understand half of the jargon, he uses when he talks business.
Kas is sitting opposite, busy looking through slides for the fundraiser that’s taking place this weekend.
“How’s it all coming along?” I ask as I hand him the beer.
Without taking his eyes off his laptop, he answers, “Yep, that sounds great.” This is how my conversations go with my brothers these days.
They’re both so stressed preparing that they have their noses in papers, laptops, tablets, or, in CJ’s case, books. No one can accuse them of not taking this seriously, and that is how it should be.
I sit down in the middle, taking a large swig of the icy cold goodness. It’s been a long day of following Steve around in my new job as his bodyguard. Well, I say new, but it isn’t, really. It’s been my job for the last almost six months. At first, I was going to decline Martin’s offer, but I quickly changed my mind when I saw the number of zeros on the salary offer.
Since I never got my money back, something that would have been too risky after Luis’ death, there was no way I could turn down Martin’s generous opportunity. Although my brothers and Baby have reiterated time and time again that I should only accept if I wanted to, I couldn’t turn down that amount of money. Especially not since I’m the only one working full-time.
Kas scored a job at the hotel he had previously worked at. He’s helping with event planning part-time now. Baby is volunteering at a local shelter where she helps care for and entertain kids, something she loves more than I thought possible. CJ works as a delivery driver in between the extra hours of Business Class he has taken on.
As for me, I’ve learned that I have even more in common with Baby than I thought. We’ve both felt what it’s like to have nothing, and like her, I need to make something of myself. I’m not looking to invent anything or become rich and famous. However, I know I won’t feel good if I can’t contribute financially to Second Chances or our lives.
“Sorry man, it’s coming along great. I got the inspection report of the property we looked at, and there are no red flags, so I think we should put in an offer.” I watch as Kas cleans his glasses on his shirt before putting them back. “CJ and I watched the videos again earlier today, and we still think it’s perfect.”
A few months ago, I saw an ad for an old gym that’s up for sale and went for a private viewing. Apart from all the mirrors, it’s the perfect place for us. Not a lot of work needs to be done, and the guy who did the inspection for us estimated we could have it ready in six months.
“Yep, let’s go for it already,” CJ adds. “We still have time to put in an offer before the office closes for the weekend. Wouldn’t it be great if we could announce the location at the event?”
Our fundraiser, that Baby and Kas have organized, is happening next weekend. Since Kas is a wizard at event planning, it makes sense he’s handled most of that. While he’s been engrossed in that, I got my old gym to donate memberships and gear to our raffle, which is a great help.
Sure, it’s nothing compared to what Martin’s contacts have donated. We have a weekend in a luxury apartment in Paris, Rome, a farm in Montana, and even on a fucking yacht. While we barely have any contact with Martin, he insisted on helping us with this, and I think his company, Electric Mind, is our biggest sponsor.
As if all those things aren’t enough, we have over five hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry as well. Some of them are Baby’s from her old stripper days, but the majority are donations from generous local shops. The agreement with the shops is that they’ve put a minimum price on each item, and anything that’s paid on top of that is ours to keep. Honestly, my brothers and Baby have done a fantastic job. She and Kas have worked wonders with the donations and our black-tie Valentine’s event.
“Okay, I think it’s all set,” Kas says as he shuts his laptop. “The program is complete, and so is the inventory list, menu, adverts, and the auction list. Mia has arranged for our rented tuxes to be delivered in the morning, and… I feel like I’m missing something.”
I watch as he absentmindedly taps his fingers against the table, and I try to think of what could be missing. “Are the waiters all up to speed?” I ask, unable to remember the last update I heard about them. Seriously, Kas keeps telling us things that he needs to do, and even though I try to keep up, it’s impossible.
“Yeah, they’re all ready, and so is the caterer,” Kas says before turning around on the couch. “CJ, did you finish our estimated earnings from the auction?” CJ holds up one finger, and I hope that means he’s asking us to wait, not that we’ll only make one dollar.
Truthfully, the mere thought of the amount of money we’re looking at earning is so astronomical it’s making me dizzy to even think about it. All the people helping us are employees of Martin’s that are volunteering. Our total cost for this fancy event is eight thousand on food and drinks, and we’ve already more than made that money back from ticket sales alone.
“I talked to the tattoo parlor, and they have time tonight. Mia’s shift is almost over, so let’s go pick her up. On our way to the parlor, we can drive by the gym one more time,” CJ suggests, reaching for his car keys on the table.
A few weeks ago, once donations started rolling in for real, CJ finally broke down and bought himself a piece of shit car instead of using mine or Kas’ for his job. It’s not that any of us minded, apart from CJ, and I can’t say I blame him.
Kas and I abandon our half-full beers and follow CJ outside and get in his rusty vehicle.
“Do you think she’ll want to?” Kas asks, sounding nervous.
I wish I knew, I fucking wish I knew. If she doesn’t, I’m out of ideas of what to do to help her, and that’s a position I know none of us want to be in.
“Where are we going?” Baby asks, noticing that CJ isn’t turning right, which would be the way back to our house.
I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “Even though you’re putting on a brave face, Baby, we know you hate your brand. Since none of us will mark you with our letters, we came up with a different idea.”
Fuck me, I still can’t believe she even asked us to do that—and not just once, countless times during the last year. She switched between asking us to cut the brand away to asking us to burn our letters on top. We met neither plea with the enthusiasm or can-do attitude I’m sure she hoped for, especially not from Kas.
My brother lost his shit, like I’ve rarely seen before. Kicking and punching walls, shouting until his voice became hoarse. Despite the anger, Baby keeps asking from time to time. Even though Baby’s requests are upsetting, I don’t just understand—I get it. And there’s something sweet and touching about our girl trusting us enough to ask this of us, even if we’ll never give it to her.
“Okay?” Baby asks, sounding like she isn’t sure she’ll like where this conversation is going.
