“Hey, guys—I hate to interrupt, but if we want to make it to the talent show, we need to leave now.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go?” I suggest a bit too brightly. “We have so much to process. Let’s spend the next four to five hours doing that.”
I’m met with silence.
I’d bet my left ball Clancy and Pip are exchanging one of their looks between them.
“Not on your life, boy. You are coming to this talent show, even if I have to drag you there myself.”
“And you already promised to give me a standing ovation, even if I completely mess up,” Pip adds.
“Fine,” I say, getting up and counting the paces toward the living room in my head. “But I cannot handle any more surprises today. If you guys are up to something evil, I need you to know it will kill me.”
With a laugh, Pip squeezes my waist and leans closer. “Bold of you to assume we haven’t factored your imminent death into our evil plans.”
And on that note, we head into town.
39
Maverick
I’m buzzing with nerves, peering out from behind the curtains as the ballroom fills up.
Candice has done an amazing job. We’ve sold out, and her pricing strategy was genius. She sold ten tables at twenty K a pop. But she was also mindful of making this an event all locals could afford, so general tickets cost between five and thirty-five dollars. This way, the center is guaranteed a much-needed injection of cash, and just as importantly, it’ll help spread the word that it’s back in capable hands and worth supporting on a continuing basis. A one-off event like this is good, but an ongoing philanthropy program is the ultimate goal.
My eyes scan through the crowd. All I care about is finding one guy and one guy only. I press my teeth into my lower lip, my stomach in knots. It feels like forever ago since I fired Jackson, but in reality, it’s only been a few weeks. The longest few weeks of my life.
There’s still no sign of Clancy and Jackson. Clancy assured me he’d be able to get Jackson to come tonight, but I have my doubts. I think he underestimates how stubborn his grandson can be and how much he doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.
With one final unfruitful sweep, I leave my spot and weave my way through the entertainers getting ready backstage. In another stroke of genius, Candice called in some favors and hired an indie college band who agreed to forego their usual angsty fare in favor of downtempo covers of classic songs most people will recognize. It’s a smart move because if the talent aspect of tonight is a bust, at least the audience will still get a show.
I’m in my head, tossing up whether or not to text Clancy to find out if he managed to drag Jackson along with him, when I spot Pip.
I march straight toward him. “Hey, man. Is Jackson here?”
He spins around, looks up at me, and grins. “Oh, I’m great. A little nervous about my performance, but thanks for asking.”
I grimace. “Sorry. How are you doing?”
The pocket-sized dude shakes his fist at me. “Mind your own goddamn business and focus on fixing things with Jackson.”
“I can see why you two are best friends,” I reply with a smirk. “Is he here?”
“He is. Clancy got him here just like he said he would. They’re out on the patio. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re planning?”
“Are you going to tell me what your routine is?”
“Go fuck yourself,” he says, an impish smile tugging at his lips.
“Right back at ya, buddy. Break a leg out there.”
I pat him on the shoulder and head over to our table to watch the show. I can breathe easy now, knowing that Jackson is here. I approach Candice and Wagner, already sitting there, deep in conversation.
“Hey, why aren’t you with Sammy?” I ask Wagner as I take my seat.
My brother glares at me. “Said I waskilling his vibeand told me to leave. Wonder where he picked that up.”
“Don’t look at me.” I take a sip of water. “I usually call you a fucking idiot.”
