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He shrugged mildly. “I don’t know. I can’t vouch for what you were up to the last three days.”
I laughed, then gestured towards the door. “Tell Leon to tow Tom’s car to his house, and prep the rest of our back orders to get pulled out of the shop.”
Kade stood up and walked towards the door. “What are you going to do?”
I sat down behind my desk, like a captain taking the bridge of a sinking ship.
“I’m going to figure out how to keep us afloat for as long as I can.” I smiled grimly. “Might even have to pimp your ass out on Main Street.”
“Make sure you get a good price,” Kade said as he walked out the door.
14
The thing with Tom Crossman hit me hard – and he wasn’t even the worst of it. Four more people canceled their orders that day, and we didn’t get a single new customer.
I ran the numbers, called the bank, and came to the conclusion that I had two months before the body shop went under. Three if I let some of the mechanics go.
Lou was already burying me. Bit by bit, dollar by dollar.
Even worse than that, I couldn’t concentrate – because my mind was on Fiona. I kept thinking of her walking into my office that first day. How beautiful, how strong, how sexy she was.
How backstabbing.
I’d go off into fits of rage, which reminded me of that time we hate-fucked each other hours before she betrayed me. Which would get me thinking about hate-fucking her again, slamming her down on my desk, ripping off her panties, pulling her hair savagely, fucking her until she came, over and over, screaming my name –
It took a lot longer than normal to actually get any work done.
I didn’t get home until after 10. As soon as I walked in the door, I immediately grabbed some Johnny Walker Black and headed out onto the deck, prepared to drink Fiona and my worries away. As I uncapped the bottle, I looked out over the hills in the darkness and thought, I’m going to lose all this. I lost the club, I’m losing my business, and I’m going to lose everything else.
At the depths of my self-pity, Fiona’s voice whispered in my ear:
So what? Quit whining about it and go get them back.
At first I was furious.
That fucking bitch – that fucking, backstabbing, Judas BITCH had the nerve to say that to ME –
But then I calmed down and actually got to thinking.
I finally realized I was angry at the wrong person. Whatever Fiona had done was in the past. She was gone now. Time to get over it.
But Lou was still here. And that motherfucker had to pay.
I put the scotch bottle back inside, untouched, and went to work on my plan.
15
For about 20 seconds, I entertained the notion of just outright killing him. Walking in on Lou and putting a bullet in his head.
It would solve a lot of my problems, and I was pretty sure I could get away with it if I paid Dan Peters enough money.
But I eventually nixed the idea. That’s not what I did. That’s not who I was.
Not anymore.
But the idea was awfully appealing for about 20 seconds.
No, if I was going to take him down, I was going to do it the right way: no killing. Strictly legal.
