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Bronx
"Hold the fuck on!"Coby shouts from somewhere inside his mansion as I pound on his door. "Jesus H. Christ."
I chuckle, stepping back to wait for him to answer. I guess he had a late night too if he's still in bed. It's already after eleven. Though, I'm guessing his late night was not for the same reason as mine. He was probably at the shop, working on a piece until the wee hours.
My little brother is a fucking talented artist. It used to drive our parents batshit crazy that he spent all his time drawing. I think they wanted him to be more like me. But Coby never gave a shit about sports. He was far too talented to waste his time on a field.
They changed their minds about his art when he was fifteen and got busted tagging a local grocery store. I guess they figured they could either take it seriously and keep his ass out of trouble or keep ignoring it and have to keep bailing him out of trouble.
He sold out his first gallery show a year later.
Most people don't know that he's a millionaire. They think he's just a punk tattoo artist. They're wrong. His work hangs in galleries all over the world. But tattooing is his passion. He's good at it too. Real good. People fly in from everywhere to get inked by him and Slade down on Bleaker Street.
Coby jerks the door open, bleary eyed and scowling. "Why the fuck are you beating on my door like the police at the ass crack of dawn, Bronx?"
"Motherfucker, it's after eleven," I say, chuckling.
He scrubs a hand down his face, poking his head back inside the house. A second later, the rest of him disappears. "Shit. I have to be at the shop in an hour."
He leaves the door standing open, which I take as an invitation to follow him inside. Like usual, his house is immaculate. He spends more time at the shop than he does here. Not that I can judge, considering I practically live at the club on weekends.
"Late night?" I ask, following him to the kitchen.
"Yeah," he mutters. "Dante Arakas was in for a back piece. We didn't finish up until almost three."
I arch a brow at the name, but don't comment. The Arakas family has been in town for a while now. Things were interesting when they first got here, but it's mostly settled. They own the strip club not far from the Sterling Rope. I worried that'd bea problem, considering they're basically the fucking mafia, but they've been cool. We send them a lot of business after they're tapped out at the club.
"Why the fuck are you up so early?" Coby asks, pulling his fridge open to poke through it. "Didn't you work last night?"
"That's why I'm here."
He materializes from the fridge with an orange and a bottle of creamer. "The dots aren't connecting, brother."
"Elodie Jackman."
Coby's hand tightens around the orange, his eyes narrowing on me across the island. Something dangerous shifts through his gaze, telling me everything I need to know…everything I suspected, anyway. He's in love with the girl. I saw the way he looked at her last time I was in the shop. She looked at him the same damn way, but they danced around each other like the other didn't exist. It's bullshit, if you ask me. But that's not my shit to figure out. It's theirs.
"She was at the fucking club?" he growls. "Did you let her in?"
"I didn't say she was there."
"Then what the fuck does she have to do with your job, Bronx?" He's tense, rigid. Clearly pissed. Jesus Christ. Does he even realize that he's in love with her? I don't know. He's tight lipped about her. Getting information from Coby when he doesn't want to talk about something is impossible. He's a stubborn son of a bitch.
I pull his invitation out of my pocket and set it on the island. "She pinched this. Gave it to Gemma Marsh."
"Jesus fucking Christ," he swears, staring at the invitation. There aren't many like it. Coby isn't a member of the club. But that little square on the island grants him an all-access pass anytime he wants to use it. Roman gave it to him after he helped me out with security a couple times. He's never used it. I don't know if he ever will.
"Figured you'd want to know so you could handle it."
"Does Roman know?"
"Nope. Don't see a reason to tell him, either." I don't think Roman would say much, but I don't want him doubting Coby's abilities next time I need his ass helping out with security, either. My brother is solid. No sense giving Rome a reason to think otherwise over an invitation that caused no harm.
"Fuck." Coby blows out a breath. "Thanks, man. I'll handle it."
"No problem." I tap the invitation. "But you might want to leave the damn thing at home from now on instead of locked in your desk at work."
"Yeah, no shit." He grabs a coffee pod and drops it into the machine before starting it. "You want coffee?"
