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“You know what? You look a little pale, and I don’t want to risk this deal going south. I’ve been working my ass off, to get us to this point.” I keep my smiles inside, because he thinks I’m talking about the deal with Minty, while I’m talking about destroying him and his legacy.
“I’m going to call the doc, to swing by and check you out before the meeting. You’ve been off lately, and we need our A-Game for this.” I tap at Minty’s name in the schedule book for two o’clock. I underlined it and made it super obvious, so it would fuck him up twice as much when I later replace the bulky scheduling diary with the forgery I’ve created.
He looks at my tapping finger and starts to protest, but I shake my head. “Nope. I insist. Like it or not, you’re my father, and you’re the one who taught me how to conduct business. Montgomerys don’t carry deadweight, so see a fucking doctor and carry yourself like a man, or they’ll eat us for breakfast. I havebledfor our fucking name, and if you think I’m going to let you fuck up my deal after all this work, you’ve got another think coming, old man. Don’t let the team down because you can’t admit you’re past your best. Has Meredith said anything about your old-age shit, bugging her?”
“She flew back to the southern estate, to stay, while I’m finishing business here.” Jack pales slightly. “I kicked her out yesterday.”
“Ah. So shedidsay something” I shake my head and start walking out, but pause in the doorway. “What about the fucking baby?”
“Titus?” Jack asks, like he’s checking that’s the right name. “He’s still around, somewhere, I think.”
“You don’tknow?” Because I do. Cy’s security-approved nannies have been keeping us well abreast of the home situation. Meredith has abandoned her kid like always, but Titus is in safe hands, and Bo and Thaddy have been talking about raising him, if his mother doesn’t step up once Jack’s out of the picture. “You’re unbelievable,” I mutter and leave.
“He has nannies — plural,” Jack calls after me.
“Missing the fucking point, old man,” I yell back. “I’m calling the doctor.”
* * *
I chaseJack into the afternoon, keeping him busy, nipping at his heels, and repeatedly telling him to keep his shit together, because the doctor can’t make it until after our big plans are complete.
“Yeah, yeah. Minty, two o’clock.” He straightens his tie again and checks the time on his phone for the third time in five minutes, more flustered than I’ve ever seen him. “Take the lead, if you’re so fucking thirsty for blood.”
He sits up straighter. “In fact, forget about leaving the house or talking to anyone but me this week, because you’re going to be snowed under, taking the lead onallof this week’s tasks,” he says, almost smiling. “You want to gun for my seat, we’ll see how you enjoy the workload. God knows I’m sick of your constant hounding. Get back to work, and check that Minty and his crew are still none the wiser about us, pulling out the rug.”
I respond with a full-body chuckle. “Oh, they have no idea.”
Literally. The only thing I’ve been planning with Minty is how we’ll stitch up my father’s companies before Jack tars the innocent man with his wicked-fuckery brush and sends him off to prison, like he did Kira’s dad.
Poor old Sherman didn’t last more than six months before someone took him out with a shiv —probably at my father’s request, though we haven’t been able to prove it.
Under the pretense of chasing up refreshments for the meeting, I head away to change my clothes, while Loosh and Jules arrive through the basement, to tamper with the switchboard and make Jack’s office lights flicker. I adjust the time on my replica watch, to match what’ll be displayed on all his devices in a few minutes.
An expert at keeping my feelings locked down after the last decade of practice, I act natural when I head back into Jack’s office, with an empty glass and a sealed bottle of his favorite whisky balanced on a serving tray.
It’s a tradition — for his birthday. One I started seven years ago, knowing I would want to tamper with his drinks at some stage.
He stares at me. “What’s this? Why are your clothes different? And why do the lights keep flickering?”
I follow his gaze to the ceiling without acknowledging any change in the lighting, and then frown him. “They seem fine to me,” I report, giving him a sideways look. “And I’ve been wearing the same shit all week. Your crushing workload hasn’t even allowed me enough time for a fucking shower.”
I widen my gaze and look him over. “The doctor said you should report any other symptoms, because your fluctuations in memory were concerning. The confirmation CT scan isn’t until tomorrow, but let’s get through your birthday, before we go jumping to any conclusions.”
Jack squints at me. “Are you fucking with me, boy? I haven’t seen the doctor yet. I’m seeing himafterMinty.”
I widen my eyes, tilt my head, and put the whisky tray down with a slight shake in my grip. “What did you say?”
The slightest flicker of doubt flashes across his face, and it’s a sweet reward for all my hard work.
“You saidMinty,” I say, almost in a whisper. I cover my mouth and stroke my beard. “I’m calling the doctor back. This is beyond a fucking joke.” I hold the phone to my ear, while it rings. “Minty waslast week, Jack.”
I turn away when our doctor responds. “Hey Doc. Yeah… You said to call if anything got worse?” I throw a worried look at Jack over my shoulder.
“Hang up the fucking phone.” He reaches for the forged schedule book I switched out earlier, when he was too pressured to notice.
He flips through the pages and finds the date with the Minty meeting, highlighted to perfection, and emblazoned with the redResolvedstamp he likes to celebrate his victories with. The next few days are filled with what he’d expect but with a few medical appointments and tests scattered throughout.
Jack moves the ribbon marker that guided him to today’s fake date — his birthday. The one he forced us to celebrate early at Disneyland, so he could ignore his children in a different location, while fucking with me and Kira.
