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“I’d like that,” I said, sensing that best friend curiosity, the hope that his buddy wasn’t going to get hurt by a woman with the wrong intentions.
“Here,” he said, taking my phone out of my hand, and putting his number in. “If you hear from him first, you text me. And I’ll do the same if I do,” he said, sending himself a text from my phone, so he could add me.
“Okay. Deal,” I agreed, giving him a small smile I didn’t feel.
While I understood the need to be alone sometimes, as someone who was alone most of the time, I didn’t like the idea of him out there struggling with no one to talk to or lean on.
Sure, he was probably doing that macho-guy schtick. Not wanting to lean on me because I’d been through something too. But that wasn’t how it worked, damnit. We had to be able to lean on each other.
Which I was going to need to gently inform him when he eventually did drag his ass back to the clubhouse.
It was Junior who visited next, zeroing in on me, then making his way in my direction.
Sully had abandoned me to go with Callow to hit the bar. Which I couldn’t fault him for. It wasn’t like he was going to get any ass hanging out with me. Besides, he’d already fed me twice that day.
I was still perched on the couch, but I’d traded the rom-coms for old sitcom re-runs, just wanting something mindless that I didn’t have to follow too closely.
“Have you seen Voss?” I asked, making his brows raise.
“He’s not back yet?”
“So you did see him?”
“He stopped over this morning to pay me,” Junior said. “I figured he was heading back here.”
“No,” I admitted, feeling my shoulders slump.
“He’ll be back,” Junior assured me. “But I’m here to see you.”
“Me? About what?”
“About the sale of your truck.”
“My truck? I don’t have a truck,” I said, face scrunching up.
“See, you do, though,” he said, his eyes doing the whole ‘work with me here’ thing. “You had a rig that was sold to you a few days ago from a man your father used to be friends with.”
“I… why did the rig get sold to me?” I asked, sensing it was important to keep up the pretense.
“The way I heard it, Ben and his brother Jim were heading out on a boat, wanting to have a long vacation after they both decided to finally retire.”
“Right. Retire,” I said, silently adding to their graves. Wherever those were.
“And before they did so, Ben sold you his rig for some money for his trip.”
“And I wanted the rig because?”
“Sentimental value,” he said. “You were close when you were a kid.”
Well, that part was unfortunately true.
“That’s also why he sold it to you for so cheap. In case anyone ever asks. But this is Navesink Bank, and I doubt they’d get their shit together enough to do so. Besides, the way it looks, there’s no one to miss Ben and Jim, so I don’t think anyone will even report them missing.”
“Right,” I said, still confused. I didn’t want that rig. You know… the scene of my kidnapping. I bet if I looked closely enough, I could find my blood in there somewhere. And that was a thought that had a bunch of other ones I didn’t want to revisit crossing my mind again.
“Anyway. You decided you don’t really have use for a hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollar truck since you don’t do that job anymore. So you sold it.”
“I sold it,” I said, watching as he reached into his backpack and produced a manilla folder.
“What is this?” I asked, taking it when he held it out to me.
But he didn’t answer, so I had to open it myself.
And there inside… was a lot of cash.
More than I’d ever seen in my entire life.
“That is eighty grand. Fair market, really, for that year. And it was cash, so that always shaves a little off the top.”
“You…”
“You,” he clarified, voice firm.
“Right. I sold my gifted rig for eighty grand?”
“You did. You’ve been busy as fuck today,” he said with a little smirk.
It was right then that I noticed his tired eyes.
“It sounds like I need a couple days off,” I said.
“That you do,” he agreed, nodding. “So, what are you going to do with it?” he asked.
“God, I don’t know. I’ve never… I’ve never had this much money. I was worried about paying my cell phone this month.”
“Sounds like it belongs in your savings as a buffer then. And yet, that look you got says you have other plans for it.”
“Well, not all of it. Maybe half of it?”
“Barlowe House?” he asked, rocking on his heels, already knowing the answer.
“We really need some improvements.”
“Thought I told you I could help you out with that. Just gotta give me a little time.”
