Page 3 of His Last Nerve

The kicker? My mom didn’t even smoke. How shitty was that?

“Val, are you listening to me?”

My mind snapped back to the present and I looked at my mom on the screen. She had a silk, baby pink scarf tied around her head, and she was in her navy bathrobe, her pajamas underneath.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” I admitted, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Are you nervous about your proposal?”

I nodded solemnly. “It’s a huge opportunity.”

She nodded—in agreement, looking down at her lap. She didn’t like the type of work I was doing. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t either. Unfortunately, it was the only job that could cover all our mounting bills.

Whenever I wasn’t travelling for work, about one week out of the month, I lived with my mom. When her cancer took a turn for the worse, she turned the flower shop over to her partner, Lynn. Lynn wasn’t like family to me, but she was a good friend to Mom. Lynn runs the shop, but we still get forty percent of the revenue. That forty percent doesn’t even begin to cover her medical expenses.

“I hate doing this,” I sighed.

I hated my job, but I was damn good at it. I had a gift. I could negotiate better than anyone I’d ever met. It was why I wanted to be a lawyer, in the first place. I had a way with people. This was something I learned when I was twelve years old and negotiated with my science teacher about my project grade. He’d given me a B and I deserved an A.

I got that fucking A.

“I know you do,” she said, looking back at me.

“It pays the bills, Mom. You know that. It’s shitty, but sometimes you have to make a deal with the devil to survive,” I said, holding her eyes.

Mom’s eyes—green like mine—were filled with regret, and I knew she was about to start her, “Don’t Waste Your Life Working to Pay for Me to Live” speech. I hated that speech. She usually gives it once a year and every year, I give her the same response—You are my life, Mom.

It was true.

My mother was my only friend, my only family. My grandparents were dead, and my father’s family wanted nothing to do with me.Figures.No friends, no family aside from my mom, and no boyfriend. Hell, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I went on a date. Everything before my mother’s cancer diagnosis is a little fuzzy.

So here I was, in my late twenties, sitting alone at an airport on FaceTime with my mom—my only friend. I didn’t have co-worker friends, per-say. I was rarely in the office, in Dallas, due to my constant travels. The chance to make work friends was rare and, in the end, I knew I wouldn’t have time. I had bills to pay.

In school, I just wanted to learn. Something about consuming knowledge that excited me, and I did it quickly. When I was four, I wanted to know about the stars. When I was five, I wanted to know about animals. When I was six, I wanted to know about the oceans. When I was ten, I wanted to know about money. When I was fourteen, I wanted to know why it was calledTo Kill A Mockingbird. When I was sixteen, I wanted to know about chemical reactions. When I was eighteen, I wanted to know everything about law. When I was twenty-one, I wanted to know how to open a law firm.

When I was twenty-three, I wanted to know how to cure cancer.

Fast forward to now, at twenty-seven years old. Now, I wanted to learn how I could convince a rancher named Denver Langston to sell his land to Moonie Pipelines, the company I worked for. No, I needed to know how I could convince him.

Why?

Because if I landed the Hallow Ranch account, my commission would cover two years of my mom’s medical bills.

Two more years with my mom on this Earth.

Yeah. That’s all I needed to know: how to convince Denver Langston to sell his ranch to me.

Chapter Two

Denver

“Caleb,”Icalledfromthe front porch.

My little boy turned to me, his dark hair flowing in the wind. He needed a haircut. We would do that this weekend.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Good luck on your science test,” I said, giving him a smile. My son was the only person who got a smile out of me. Then again, he was the only person who fucking deserved it. My boy smiled back at me before getting into his mother’s car. Her fake blonde hair was in a ratty bun on top of her head, and her fake tits were hanging out, as usual. She tipped her chin to me as she got in her car.

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