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The guy was so damn proper and well-spoken. Loaded as fuck too.
I glanced over at Micah again, and he nodded, allowing me to take the lead. The following half-hour conversation centered around Jackson Zerig and all that had transpired since the package had arrived on Wednesday. While we took a chance in spreading information we’d rather not have leaked to the public, we’d done right by Mr. Gibbons and had never encountered any issues with him or the NDAs he’d signed.
Mr. Gibbons informed us of his cost, which Micah agreed to without hesitation.
“First thing you need to do is acknowledge the man’s request. Jackson Zerig is an alias, by the way,” Preston said. “The guy doesn’t exist.”
We’d heard a keyboard clacking in the background while I had spoken. Obviously, Preston didn’t waste any time and had all sorts of hacking tricks up his sleeve.
I’d gone through Zerig’s paperwork again and hadn’t noted anything strange about the copy of his license we had on file. That shit looked authentic as fuck.
“It sounds as though you’ve done some digging like this before,” Micah said, grinning across the coffee table at me, hope in his eyes.
“A time or two,” Preston admitted, “but same as Elite, I require NDAs. Seeing as how you have enough information on my closeted ass to make waves in my life, I believe I can trust you and vice versa.”
“You have our word we will not speak of your involvement with anyone,” Micah assured him.
“When he gets in touch with you like he promised to do, tell him you’ll need some time to get the funds together,” Preston continued, all business. “Use whatever stall tactic you can. Get him to hold off as long as possible so I can work my magic.”
“Will do,” Micah said, and I nodded.
“I promise I’ll find out who he really is. What he’s hiding and how you can use that information to hopefully dissolve the situation Elite is facing.”
I hung up and once more glanced over at my brother.
“I’m glad you remembered this guy from…” Micah looked over Preston’s information form, which listed the two Elite’s he’d booked with—Mason and Kellen. “Last year?” He glanced up at me, surprise lifting his eyebrows once more. “Good job, Sean.”
I soaked in his words of praise, a sweet sting stabbing my chest. “Thanks.”
My footsteps no longer dragging, I walked out Micah’s door ready to head home and study while we waited on Preston to work his magic, as he’d said. Fingers crossing, I shot off a prayer to whatever saints might actually exist.
A cardinal flitted across the sidewalk on quick feet, chirping at me with a side-eye glance. A grin split my face as I thought of my mom’s father, Grandpop. Cardinals had always been his favorite bird. He’d even turned his back on the Red Sox to follow the baseball team from St. Louis, the traitor. We’d had plenty of fake arguments when I’d been a kid.
I drove toward Boston, my stomach calm for the first time in fucking forever and headache gone. I hadn’t gotten reamed out like I’d expected, and Preston’s confident tone had given me hope everything might actually turn out okay.
While the rest of the day lay open ahead of me with hours available to focus on school, I decided to take a few for myself. But not to drink.
I pulled into the cemetery where Grandpop and Grandma rested. It had been months since I’d last visited. The skittering bird looking at me like I was trouble reminded me too much of my childhood hero and a proper father figure to ignore the sign I felt sure he’d sent me from over the rainbow bridge.
A slight chill clung to the late afternoon air, but the sun still hung in the sky, warming the patches of brown grass not in shadow.
“Hey, Grandpop,” I stated, patting his headstone. “Grandma.”
Sighing a lungful of fresh air, I sat cross-legged on the ground in front of their shared marker. Tranquil silence settled over me like it always did whenever I took a moment to reflect in quietness. Cemeteries freaked a lot of people out—my mom and brother included—but something about the cold stones and dying flowers soothed me. Morbid, but I’d never claimed to be normal.
Besides, Grandpop had requested while on his deathbed that I swing by every few weeks to share the latest baseballs stats just in case heaven didn’t allow sports talk.
I hoped wherever he’d gone allowed what had made him happiest on earth outside Grandma.
He’d found peace after old age eventually took him away from his family. If only my soul and body could know that kind of rest in life.
Chapter 17
Matteo
“I have a confession to make.”
For late October, the sun still warmed my face as I sat with Katie, my eyes closed since I couldn’t bear the thought of looking at her name etched in granite while I spoke what I’d been keeping from her for far too long.
