Chapter Four
Charlie
Tuesday comes fast. The second soccer practice for Sam, and I’m already here. It’s one perk of moving. The bank I worked for had an opening in Casper. My transfer paperwork for a personal banker position didn’t take long to process, and knowing what I’m doing on a day-to-day basis means leaving on time or, in today’s case, early.
I won’t even try to convince myself that I’m not hopeful Jett will be at the boys’ soccer practice. Jett is fresh air. He knows nothing about me or Sam. He has no idea the kind of life we used to live, and I have the feeling he wouldn’t care if he did know. But I still don’t think I’ll tell him.
What am I even thinking right now? Of course, I’m not going to tell him. No matter how much I enjoy looking at him or flirting with him, I’m not going to date him, so there’s no need to tell him. Easy as that.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you to be here for a while. Did you get out of work early?” Whit asks as I take a seat next to her on the grass.
“Yes,” I say. Short and sweet.
“Isn’t it nice having a job that understands being a single mom?” she says. “Look how fine their coach is.”
“I swing my gaze to the man blowing the whistle. He’s tall, blonde, and built. He’s not bad. But also not my type.
“He’s cute,” I say.
“Let me guess, your type is six feet tall. Black shaggy hair, jeans, T-shirt and a backward cap type of guy who has a pretty awesome sister and nephew.”
I laugh. “Maybe.”
“I knew it!”
“What?” I ask, flinching as she shouts.
“You like my brother.”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, yeah, he’s your brother. Isn’t that a guaranteed ‘I have to like him’ deal since we are friends?”
“That’s not the type of like I was talking about and you know it.”
I nod and take a breath. I’ve never really considered how my developing any kind of feelings for Jett would affect Whit.
“Does that bother you?” I ask. I mean, I should know this, right? Just in case.
She doesn’t answer right away. She looks at me, scrunches her mouth to the side and then looks at the group of huddled boys.
“Yes and no,” she finally says.
I don’t even know where to begin with that answer. Luckily, she doesn’t make me wait long to find out.
“I love my brother, and I think he is great guy and I actually think he could make you very happy. I also think the same of you for him. I just … I’m not sure right now is the right time for him.”
Well, that’s not confusing or anything. I want to ask her more but don’t. Instead, I settle with, “Okay, but he asked me out a couple of days ago and I said maybe, but I’m going to say no.”
“Oh, seriously? When did you see him? I thought he was working,” she asks and locks her eyes on me, clearly focused on my answer.
“I saw him on Saturday at the college. He was meeting someone.”
“Did he say who?”
“No, we saw each other for maybe five minutes.”
“Well, dang. He didn’t waste any time asking you out then.”
I shake my head and smile.
“What classes are you taking?” she asks.
None now, thanks to Clint.
“I decided to wait till next semester,” I say and sigh. “Moving home was enough to process; I figure adding in classes right now is too much on my plate. I need less stress, not more.”
Which, again, because of Clint has yet to happen.
“I think you should date my brother … just not right now,” Whit says, evidently returning us to the topic of her brother.
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“I know, but honest friends make life less stressful, and so I’m being honest.”
I nod, thinking of how this honesty thing should work both ways.
“Okay, well then, maybe you should know that he kissed me the night before he asked me out.”
“Oh my gosh!” she says through a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“Holy crap. I had no idea you could smile that big,” Whit says, her voice high with excitement.
“Stop, I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”
“What else has happened between you and my brother?” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I knew he liked you. I knew it the moment I saw you two talking in the parking lot before we met.”
“Really?”
She saw us?
“Trust me, I know my brother way better than he thinks I do.”
I laugh at her pleased smile.
Whit groans, loudly. “All right, look.” She twists to face me. “I only say right now isn’t a good time for him because he works a lot. Like a ridiculous amount, and if you can get past the random meets, the late-night calls, and all the other intensity bullshit that comes with his job, then great, go for it. I support it.”
My phone chirps from inside my purse. I twist to pull it out and read it before I respond to her.
My heart stills at the unrecognizable number. My entire body goes stiff when a picture of Sam on the field appears on my screen.
“Are you okay?” Whit asks.
“Yeah,” I answer quickly, scanning the field. My real answer is, no, I’m not okay.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” she says.
“I’m fine.” I take a deep breath. It’s probably just Clint trying to scare me. It’s working, but that’s all it is. A scare.
“Is this about what I said?” she asks, concern written all over her face.
“No.”
“You swear?”
The coach blows his whistle that practice is over and I jump up.
“I’ll see you back at the apartment,” I say, marching right for Sam and surveying every area around us; the kids running to gather around the snack cooler, the parents packing up their belongings, and the families off in the distance playing on the playground equipment. Nothing screams “I just took a picture of your kid and sent it to you to scare you.”
“What wrong?” Sam asks when I reach him.
“It’s time to go,” I tell him.
He grabs his backpack, not asking a single question.
“It’s everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I lie.
I just need to get him home and get him safe. Then … then I don’t know, but sticking around for someone to keep following us is not in my plans. Not now. Not ever.
Jett
The worst part, not a single moment that I’ve been with Clint has he mentioned any deal, anything about his stash of drugs, or anything about Jimmy. It’s starting to really piss me off. He said he needed to meet a friend. Wasn’t that friend Jimmy?
Clint waves me over to him as I step out of my car. He’s the only guy sitting on the benches outside the freshman dorms, again. I’m going to have to convince him that the freshmen aren’t the right people to target. I’ll tell him it’s because they don’t have money, that we need to sell to people who can afford to be a reoccurring customer. It’s lame, I know, but when I know he’s hiding at least twelve kilograms of cocaine somewhere, he needs to think I have a larger desire to sell much more than marijuana. That, and I shouldn’t need to remind him about the last time he sold drugs on campus. If he’s locked up for weed, I’ll never finish this case.
“You know, I’m thinking I should have really given the college thing a try,” he says when I sit down next to him.
“Oh yeah, why?” I ask.
“The women,” he answers. “I think I would have gotten laid a lot more had I actually attended classes. Women dig a smart man.”
Three girls walk by and I keep my focus on the sidewalk as Clint makes some sort of throat call at them. None of the girls say anything as they pass.
“Fucking teases, all of them,” Clint says, glaring at their backs.
So much for that college idea.
I side-eye him. The first assignment I ever had involved a man who physically abused his girlfriend, and I’ll be damned if I let another assignment hurt someone in front of me again. Between Clint’s scowl and the way he just treated those girls, I’ll really enjoy that victory beer when he's behind bars.
“You didn’t want in on that?” he asks, pointing at the girls. We are still on that topic, it seems.
“Not really, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
He nods, slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that’s a smart idea. The women here are just fresh.”
What the fuck does that even mean?
“Are we working or what?” I ask.
“Yeah, we’re working,” he snaps.
We sit here for a few more minutes while Clint messes around on his phone and takes pictures of random woman as they pass. Me, I find the bottom of my shoe more exciting before I finally ask, “Is this how you work now?”
“When you’re trying to keep a low profile, yeah, it’s best the work comes to us, we don’t go to it.”
I laugh.
“And that’s the exact reason why I drive a lit Jeep and you have duct tape over your driver’s window,” I say.
“You think I don’t know how to sell drugs?” he asks.
“Small time maybe, but anything more, I’m questioning it.”
Clint jumps up off the bench. He pokes my chest with his finger.
“Listen here, don’t fucking test me.”
I raise my hands as if I am surrendering.
“You want a big deal?” he asks.
“Better than this petty shit,” I answer. “Yeah.”
“Meet me at my place. I’ll text you the time.”
He backs away slowly. We always meet at his place or the club to discuss something. I should bug his apartment. Risky, yes, but I could get a lot more information that way.
“That’s all I get?” I ask.
“I never know how to take your eagerness.” He pauses. “Have patience. Good things take patience, Jay.”
Don’t I know it. This job takes more than I ever thought possible.