First, Charlie.
He hit the call button, and the man who used to have Julia under his thumb answered on the third ring.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man with steel balls.”
Clay did his best to force out a laugh. “Iron, actually. I had a metal transplant last month.”
“Excellent news. I hope the surgeon stitched you up well,” he said in his lightly accented voice. Clay heard the sounds of dishes being stacked and assumed Charlie was at his favorite place in the world—his restaurant, Mr. Pong’s. “I hope you’ve finally come to your senses and plan to take me up on my offer of employment.”
“Afraid not. The actors and producers of the world are keeping me pretty busy.”
Charlie cleared his throat, stripped the casual tone from it. “So what do you want then? Or rather, what do you need? I’m watching the Giants game right now, and Buster Posey is on deck. I never miss Buster Posey at bat.”
“He’s your favorite player ever,” Clay said, remembering the conversation they’d had about sports the one time they’d had lunch at Charlie’s eatery when Clay had secured the terms for Julia’s freedom. “And he’s having a great season. On track for MVP.”
“He is. I’ve got my bets down already.”
“Of course you do,” Clay said.
“So why are you calling?”
He’d been weighing just the right words, but wasn’t even sure if the right ones existed for his question. “I don’t suppose you’ve taken up a new interest in Julia, have you?”
Silence. He was met with stark silence, and it felt lethal. Like he’d crossed a line. Seconds later, Charlie spoke. “Why would you think I have an interest in Red?”
“Because she thought there were some people following her in Vegas,” he said, figuring honesty was the best policy at this point.
“What a shame for her,” Charlie said in a dry voice. Clearly, he didn’t think it was a shame at all. “I hope it’s not bringing her trouble but—and correct me if I’m wrong, though I’m sure I’m not—we did have a deal, right?”
Clay’s chest tightened and he gripped the wheel harder, trying to keep his eyes on the road while also focusing on the conversation that was quickly going south. “Yes. We had a deal,” he said.
“And I believe,” Charlie began, stopping to take another harrowing pause that sent Clay’s pulse racing, “that the deal was I would leave her alone if the money was paid. The money was paid, the debt was clear, and we shook hands like men. So why would you call me and ask such a question?”
Shit. His luck wasn’t just gone. It was f**king being filleted, fried and served back to him on a platter.
“Hey, nothing to it. Just looking out for my woman.”
“As a man should. But it saddens me that you would misconstrue the terms of our deal. I said I would leave her alone, and I have left her alone. In fact, I haven’t even thought once about her. I have new ringers, all over the country, and I don’t need a thing from her.”
He gulped. “The country?”
“I do not want to have this conversation now, or anytime, frankly. You knew I was expanding and moving games to new cities. I have new ringers, and they are taking care of business. But you are not. You are violating business ethics. I do not like the insinuation that I would disrespect our deal. You are pissing me off.”
He heaved a sigh, and prepared to eat crow for the second time that day. Grovel if he had to. But the line had gone dead. Charlie had hung up on him. His stomach dropped.
He banged his fist on the steering wheel. Great, just great. He’d made a mobster mad. He might as well have waved a flag in front of a bull.
He was about to call him back when an email flashed on his screen, again from the delivery company. Trying to keep his eyes on the road, he managed a quick glance. En route for an early delivery. We expect the package to arrive at the Allegro by five.
Fucking A.
Could anything more go awry today? First the seller was molasses slow. Now, the delivery company was far too fast.
He’d have to deal with the problems one by one. He called the delivery company, but was met with a voicemail. So not what he needed.
But then he realized he didn’t need to reach them. He simply needed to reach someone who’d intercept the package. He sure as hell didn’t want Julia’s paws on the special gift he’d tracked down. She’d figure out somehow that it was part of a bigger gift. It was designed to be a part of the whole damn proposal, and with everything that had already been screwed sideways today, he needed the proposal to go smoothly. He wanted her to be surprised and he was using this gift to throw her off the scent. Then bam, he’d slide into home.
He dialed his little brother’s number.
“Where the f**k are you? I’ve been dying for you to hear my new routine. It might even make you blush,” Brent said, launching right into things, not even bothering with a hello.
“I’d expect nothing less from your filthy mouth.”
“Gotta play the part, tats and bike and all.”
“What would you say to getting on that bike, riding it over to the Allegro, and heading off a package coming from this delivery service before my soon-to-be fiancée gets her hands on it?”
“Aww. That’s sweet that you need me to be your gopher bitch,” he teased. “What’s it worth to you?”
“It’s worth me not smacking you upside the head when I see you tonight. How about that?”
“You always strike a fair bargain. Consider it done.”
Clay cleared his throat. “And Brent, can you do me a favor? After you get the package, can you check on Julia? Maybe play a few rounds with her, buy her a drink? I won’t be there for another few hours, and I don’t want her to be alone,” he said, laying bare his concerns.
Brent stripped the joking from his voice, clearly sensing that something was amiss. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I think so. But you can never be too safe right? Sometimes you get a notion that prying eyes are on your woman, and you can’t shake it.”
“Say no more. I’m there. I’m on my way right now,” he said, and Clay could hear the clinking of keys and the shutting of the door. “Hey, how big is this package?”
“It should be in a small box, I’m guessing. It’s a necklace, but I didn’t want Julia to see it and think it was the ring because of the size of the box.”