I hop on the train and head toward Millennium Park. Told Dex I’d meet him at The Gage for a few drinks, even though I clearly need to take it easy on the booze. It’s getting to be a problem, affecting my decisions.
The train ride is nice. There’s something comforting about it; I don’t know what it is. I think it’s because it was how I got around the city when I was a kid. It’s always been me and the train and wherever I was going. It gives me a chance to think about shit, be around normal, hard-working people. It keeps me grounded, my roots in reality.
For some reason Harlow Collins still dominates my thoughts the entire time. Everything I see reminds me of her. A black jacket, someone’s tattoo—I think about her. Her putting up a fight makes me want her even more, and when I want something, I always get it. Surely, Dex and the brothers aren’t that protective of her. I mean, she’s a grown woman for fuck’s sake. She’s not a kid. It’s wishful thinking on my part and I know it. If I had a little sister or a cousin who was like a little sister, I’d beat the piss out of anyone who looked at her, no matter how old she was.
The sex was phenomenal, but it’s not even the sex. She hides behind layers, just like me, and I relate to that. If she gives in, gives me a chance, she won’t be able to fight it, and neither will I. I know she feels this shit too. I can tell over the damn phone she wants me as bad as I want her.
I hop off the train around Millennium Park and head toward the bar. It’s a restaurant too, so coming here during the day isn’t pathetic, like I’m a full-blown alky. I’ll just get something to eat and drink water.
When I walk in, Dex is up at the bar and not a table. Great. Jimmy just poured him a scotch and damn, it looks delicious. The guilt socks me in the chest the entire time I walk over toward him.
I hate keeping shit from my best friend, but what the hell am I supposed to say? Hey, I had sex with your baby cousin and it was the best sex of my life? There would be a fight to the death, and that would be a mild reaction the way these guys protect Harlow.
“What’s up, bitch?” Dex stands and shakes my hand.
I give him a little extra squeeze for calling me bitch. He tries to play it off like it doesn’t bother him, but I know it hurts like hell. Besides, he might think something is off if I don’t crush his hand. I do it to everyone.
“What’s up?” My eyes move to his glass. “Scotch for lunch?”
“Always, you having one?”
“Nah, I’m gonna lay off for a bit.” It looks so damn good, though. The little beads of condensation trickling down from the ice. I really need to quit drinking.
Dex stares straight ahead into the mirror behind the bar. “Yeah, the reception got a little wild.”
“How are the newlyweds?” That’s good. Distract him from thinking I have something going on with Harlow.
I don’t think he has any reason to think that, but this shit makes me paranoid—all these new feelings.
“Good. Good. They’re in Italy. Deacon can’t booze because Quinn can’t.”
“Can’t or she won’t let him?”
We both laugh, because we both know the answer to that one. Another reason I don’t need a woman. They want to tell you what to do all the goddamn time, always try to change you. Fuck, what am I doing?
“You know what’s up.”
I shake my head, grinning my ass off. “No, I really don’t. Nobody tells me how to live my life, sir.”
You would let Harlow. You’d do whatever the hell she told you to do.
I wish my brain would shut off for two fucking seconds.
“Abigail is cool as fuck. She doesn’t care if I have scotch in the afternoon.” He glances around nervously like she might walk in at any moment.
“Right, why you looking around like she might walk in here and bust you?” I shake my head at him in haughty derision.
He doesn’t even try to deny it. “You’re an asshole.”
“Indeed.”
Jimmy walks up. “Hey, Cole, what can I get you?”
“Water and a menu.”
“You got it.”
I turn to Dex. “So, we all set for all the meetings?”
“Soon, next few months, Pais has a paralegal coordinating everything. Just wanted to go over a few things, you know?”
“Like what?”
He winces a little. “Well, you’re not going to like this part.”
What the fuck? I sigh. “What is it?”
“Can you wear a suit?”
“Is this the VCs requesting this shit or you?”
“It’s for appearances, dick. They’re going to give you a couple hundred million dollars and you can’t put on a fucking suit? And a nice one too, not some Sears Roebuck door-to-door shit.”
I shake my head, staring right at him. “You’re killing me, Collins.”
He slides a card over. “I have a guy. He’ll take care of you. Drop a couple grand and don’t be a cheap ass.”
I know it’s a drop in the bucket, but it still bothers me. Yeah, I don’t like wearing suits, but I hate frivolous spending even more. I grew up without shit, fighting to eat. I watch people around town, living in poverty, or even middle-class wages and it feels wrong spending that kind of money on clothes. He’s clearly not going to let this go, though. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, man. All that’s left really is getting all the presentations in order, business plans, financials, charts and shit, contracts drawn up. It’ll take a little while, but we need to do this right. I’ll have my associates coordinate with the ladies at your corporate office in the accounting department. You won’t have to touch any of it, just go over the final numbers to present. You’ll need to memorize that stuff. Pais and I will review everything and have it all ready so it takes up the least amount of your time possible.”
“Sounds good. And I don’t mean to sound like an asshole about the suit, I just…”
“You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, just a lot of shit going on.”
“Personal or business?”
Fuck, there’s no way I can discuss Harlow Collins with him, and it’s not totally her. “It’s just happening, you know? All this.”
Dex nods. “It’s a big step, but you’re covered. We got you.”
“And Covington approached me after the wedding. Seemed like I hurt his feelings, if you can believe that shit.” I know things between Wells and me are good, but it seems like a good cover story to distract from the I-fucked-your-baby-cousin issue.
“Nah, I talked to him about it. He understood after he talked to you. That guy turns emotions on and off like a switch, there’s no way there’s bad blood there.”
I hem and haw for a second, trying to sell my false concerns.
“What happened to you after the reception anyway? You just kind of disappeared.”
My eyes dart over to his. Shit! I play it off and shake my head slowly. “Nothing, really, just kinda, you know?” I let my sentence trail off.
“You get some ass?” He nudges me with his elbow. “There was plenty of it running around.”
Goddamn it, I don’t want to lie. I hate hiding things from him. Harlow would never talk to me again if I told him, though. Dex wouldn’t talk to me either. He might even try to fight me in here.