Chapter Four - Weston
“OK,” I say, barely managing to contain my bad mood through the whole Mr. Mysterious act Paxton puts on. “What do you have for me?” I don’t know why Pax always has to fill me in on his life these days. But he does. It’s always something with this guy. These jobs he takes. I can’t stand it. I liked him so much better when he ignored me. But ever since that whole thing with Mr. Romantic went down he’s been over-sharing like a motherfucker. It’s way too much TMI for me.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Pax says.
“What was the question again?”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“What?” I know my expression says, Come the fuck on, but I hold it together. Pax has info I need. And I need it now. Before Victoria gets it first. She has something up her sleeve. Or down her bra, more likely. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question, Mysterious? I’m the headhunter here. Besides, I’m on track. I got it all planned. You, on the other hand, I have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I got a track. I’ve got many tracks, in fact.”
“Name one,” I say, the annoyance leaking through.
“You name one. I’m the one who asked.”
“Is this what you need to fill me in? Fine. In five years I’ve gone global. I’ve got offices in LA, New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Berlin, Hong Kong, and Tokyo.”
“Is that where you’re headed? Global?” Pax takes a sip of his drink, which is a fucking mint julep of all things, and I suddenly feel like I’m being played.
“Yeah,” I say. “Global. I’ve got the London office set up. Hong Kong is next. And after that, it’s on to Russia. I’ll be in Tokyo and Paris in three years. Hell, in five years, I might retire.”
“You ever think about doing something else?”
I don’t have a word for the look on my face or the depth of confusion in my mind. “What? What the fuck else would I do? This is my job. I fucking rock this job. I’m heading out and moving up. Why the hell would I do something else?”
“Hey,” Pax says. “I’m not knocking it, man. I’m just asking.”
“Why, are you? Gonna do something different?” I ask him.
“Sure. Why the fuck would I be a fixer for the rest of my life? People get old, Weston. Shit gets old. My shit is getting old. I’m ready to do something else.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno,” Pax says, sipping that ridiculous drink.
Is he playing me?
“Well, you can do something else after you give me my info. I need to know where Wallace Arlington is today.” I knock my knuckles on the wooden table to emphasize my point.
“Do you like the party?” Pax asks, changing the subject.
“What?” I look around as he pans his hand, like he’s showing off this event. “Whose party is it, anyway?”
“Some charity thing. Do-gooder awards. You win any of those things, Weston? Do-gooder awards?
“I’ll let Mr. Perfect corner that market, thanks. And yeah,” I say, one hundred percent bored and well on my way to irritated. “It’s a great party. Now where is Wallace?”
“Well,” Pax says, lowering his voice and leaning in, “I hear he’s going to be on some island tomorrow for a corporate event.”
“What kind of event?”
“What do I look like, fucking Google? I don’t know.”
“What island? I need to make arrangements.”
“Well, you can’t take the jet, it’s float plane or boat access only. And the water is gonna be rough, so I doubt you’ll get a charter boat to take you.”
“Who fucking cares? Fuck the boat ride. I can get a float plane. Just tell me where I need to be.” Why is he dragging this shit out?
“Sandcastle Cay. The northern part of the Exuma Cays. It’s about fifty miles southeast of Nassau. He’s gonna be there tomorrow, but after that I have no clue where he’s going. I only got this tip after I threatened to expose a secret I’m holding for a friend of his.”
“Shit. How the fuck am I gonna get a private flight out there with half a day’s notice?”
“I got a guy if you need a reference.”
I almost don’t stop my eye roll. A reference. Jesus Christ. “Yes, Pax. I’d like a reference. Just get me to this guy tomorrow and I’ll knock off half a mil from that debt you owe me.”
“I pay my debts, Corporate. I don’t need your charity.” He laughs hard as he tries to take a sip of his girly drink, and doesn’t quite succeed without dribbling it down his chin.
I can’t even with this guy.
“Here,” he says, pulling a business card out of his wallet. “Give my friend a call this afternoon and tell him Mysterious gave you his number. He’ll take care of you.”
I take it and stand up, ready to get the fuck away from him. “OK, well, thanks. And hey, if you’d like to pay that debt off, it’s seven point five million now. With the interest.”
Mysterious sends me a wide grin and shoots me with his finger. Something that reminds me a little too much of the equally cocky Mr. Match. They have been spending far too much time together if he’s picking up his mannerisms.
“See ya around,” Pax calls, after I’m already walking away. “And don’t fuck this up. We can’t afford any more mistakes.”
I’m not the fuckup. What kind of drugs is he on? He’s the fuckup. But I don’t stop. He’s crazy. We all know he’s crazy. I got what I needed and I’m gonna nail down Wallace Arlington tomorrow. This whole deal will be one and done and then I can get back to building my global empire.