Chapter 7 – Beau
BEAU
P unishingly bright sunlight streams through my bedroom windows, making me squint.
I wish I could go down to the gym and run, turning up the numbers on the treadmill until my mind goes blank.
I can’t, because the universe hates me. I woke up with my knee twinging the way it does when I need a rest day.
If I actually hit the gym, I run the risk of fucking up my knee for a month or more.
So I’m stuck lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with my unpleasant thoughts for company.
I almost broke the rules. I almost told Brinley, “I love you.”
At first, Brinley and I had unspoken, assumed rules.
Then, a few years ago, after she got pissed at me when I danced with a girl in front of her at Velvet & Vice, we actually sat down and wrote out the rules.
Never say “I love you” was the top on both lists, both spoken and unspoken.
It’s a rule I’ve never tested, because the rules are what keeps our precarious relationship safe. Maybe not happy, but safe.
Rolling over in bed, I pull out my phone to look at the text I’ve been avoiding.
Of course, my mother would text me after midnight.
As far as she’s concerned, family doesn’t inconvenience themselves with silly things like boundaries .
That’s just not the Italian way. No, a good son would make himself available to his mother at any hour of the day.
Mama has always been like this, but it’s only gotten worse since the divorce. Mama and Dad might have fought constantly, but I could count on him to remind her that I might occasionally sleep. Now, Dad’s in Vancouver and Mama texts whenever she goddamn feels like it.
Mama
When should we have lunch next week, cucciolo? I’ll bring someone I’d love you to meet—Giulia, Sofia’s daughter. She’s starting her culinary training here and I promised Sofia I’d help her get settled.
I roll my eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to see what she’s plotting.
Since I haven’t settled down by the ancient age of twenty-eight, Mama has decided to find me an Italian bride of my own, so I can get to work pumping out grandbabies.
I’d put good money on Mama’s friend Sofia sharing that goal.
Poor Giulia might not even know she’s being pimped out.
I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to thread the needle with my response so I can be a respectful son without committing to anything.
Beau
I always love having lunch with you, Mama. And stop calling me cucciolo, I’m twenty-eight.
There. Hopefully, she won’t notice I didn’t pick a date for a few more days. I’m not na?ve enough to think this will be the last time Mama tries to set me up, though. When she puts her mind to something, she’s like a dog with a bone.
She wouldn’t try to set you up if she knew you had a girlfriend…
Yeah, right. If Mama knew about Brinley, she’d never stop harassing me to make things official, and that can never happen.
If I can’t figure something out, I might be stuck fending off Italian women for the rest of my life.
“ W atch it!” Ryan barks at Nate as he dips a mozzarella stick into the bowl of tomato sauce. “If you drip that on the poker table, you’re paying to get it refurbished.”
Nate looks insulted. “I’m not going to drip on the table. I’m a grown man. I’m more careful than that.”
Ryan shakes his head and points at me. “No more bringing messy snacks, Beau,” he orders. “Clean food only. This is a respectable poker room.”
I shrug. “Fine. Next week, it’s all celery and carrot sticks. Save Ryan’s precious velvet tables.”
“Well I didn’t say you had to go that far,” Ryan grumbles.
I always bring food to our biweekly poker game, and so far, we’ve managed not to ruin the tables with crumbs and nacho cheese. Sometimes, Ryan just gets a little overprotective of the furnishings.
“I don’t know how you can care about food at a time like this,” Luke matters. “Not when we have no updates on Peppermint.”
“Let it go, Luke. Do we really need to worry about that on poker night?” I groan. I really don’t feel like spending my whole night throwing the guys off the scent instead of actually relaxing.
Luke just glares at me. “Peppermint cost me, Beau. This isn’t just about a deal not going through. I lost real money, not to mention the damage to my reputation. I want whoever did this found. Yesterday.”
“We’re working on it,” Nate says. “We’re all looking into our employees. Drawing lists of suspects.”
“It’s not moving fast enough. It’s time to start confronting our top subjects. Let them rule themselves out before we turn over the background for every janitor at the House of Cards.”
“Hold on. We can’t just go around accusing people without proof,” Nate says. “Not to mention, Peppermint might catch wind that we’re looking for them and find some way to hide.”
“Nate’s right,” I add. “We can’t jump ahead too quickly. If Peppermint invaded us for this long, they’re probably clever. No need to spook them.”
“If you want to narrow down the suspects, you need to look for patterns,” Ryan says. “When things were posted. How many of the articles are true, and how many are bullshit.”
“There’s a kernel of truth to all of them,” Luke says. “That’s why Peppermint is so dangerous.”
“It could be a journalist,” I suggest. “Someone who gets information from tips, someone who knows how to dig.”
“I was talking to Pippa about this,” Ryan says.
“We both think it’s not a journalist writing these articles.
Professional journalistic ethics aside, the details are too intimate.
It’s not like someone could pick up the details about James’s contract marriage from just anyone.
It’s got to be somebody we know personally. ”
“Or maybe they just got lucky,” I add. “They got enough secondhand gossip to write some invasive stuff. It’s not like Peppermint has written about every scandalous thing we’ve done, so they can’t know everything .”
“Did your PI find anything, Nate?” Luke asks.
“Not yet. He’s assembling profiles on people who have access to us, but it’s a massive project. He told me we might not get results for weeks,” Nate says.
Luke sighs, disappointed. I glance over at James, waiting for him to offer the Sequel PI team.
I know it’s way bigger than the one at UPS, and it could probably shave down those weeks to days.
But James only takes a sip of his whiskey.
He hasn’t said anything for a few minutes, I realize.
Not that that’s weird for him. James isn’t a big talker.
There’s something tense about the way he’s holding his jaw, though.
Like he knows something, but he’s choosing not to say it.
“It could be someone who works at Terrace,” Luke suggests. “I know the PI cleared them, but maybe they missed something.”
“It would make sense if it was someone at Terrace,” Nate says. “They could listen in on us and talk to anyone who works in the building.”
“We can go to the next staff meeting and question them,” Luke says, nodding.
“What? No!” I snap. “You’re not interrogating my staff. It’s hard enough to find good servers as it is.”
“It was just a suggestion! What’s got you in such a shitty mood?” Ryan asks.
I hesitate. I can’t damn well tell them that I know exactly who Peppermint is, and the closer they get to her, the more my anxiety pushes my blood pressure up to a dangerously high level. Fortunately, there’s something else bugging me.
“It’s my mom. She texted me this morning, demanding that I go to lunch with her and some Italian chick who’s apparently destined to have my babies.”
Luke whistles. “Man. No wonder you’re in such a bad mood, with all those Italian hotties getting thrown at you.”
“She might not even be hot,” I point out. “Mama wants grandchildren so badly, I think she’d set me up with anyone with a ponytail and a pulse.”
“No way,” Ryan scoffs. “Mama Bishop wants only the best for her son. I guarantee, whoever this chick is, she comes with all the bells and whistles. Probably cooks, too.”
“She’s coming to town for culinary school,” I admit reluctantly. “She could be Margot Robbie, for all I care. There’s no way I’m letting Mama think she can control who I date.”
“So you’re blowing your mom off?” Nate asks, raising his brows.
“I’m…shifting her on my schedule.”
Nate shakes his head. “Mama Bishop won’t stand for that for long.”
“Just go to the lunch, man,” Ryan says. “What’s the worst that could happen—she’s hot and Italian and can cook?
Poor you.” The guys all chuckle, and even I fight a smile at his exaggerated frown.
Then Ryan grins wider. “At least this chick’s age-appropriate.
Remember when Luke’s baby sister had that massive crush on you?
Following you around like a lost puppy?”
My hand tightens around my glass. No. I don’t want to remember this. I don’t want to go back to that awkward moment in time.
“Oh god, don’t remind me.” Luke covers his eyes with his hands. “That was painful to watch. Brinley practically drooled whenever you walked in the house.”
Nate smirks. Even James’s mouth twitches. My mouth tastes dry and metallic. The whole thing is ancient history to them—a funny footnote from when we were teenagers, no sharper than any other embarrassing memory from adolescence. I’m the only one who saw how deep the damage went.
I still laugh along with them, because I have to. I have to pretend this is a funny joke, because that’s the only way to keep Brinley secret.
Because I laugh, the conversation quickly shifts back to private investigators. Nobody realizes that my stomach feels like it’s on the floor. For the guys, the whole conversation was nothing. For me, it’s a live grenade dressed up as a punchline.
Everyone’s talking, but I have no idea what they’re saying. Brinley’s face swims through my mind, except now she’s fourteen again. Her eyes shining with tears, her face a throbbing, painful red. It feels like I’ve betrayed her all over again.
“Beau.” Hearing my name, I startle. Luke locks eyes with me from across the table. “You’re being awfully chill about this.”
For a brief, terrifying moment, I think I’ve been caught. Somehow, he saw in my eyes what I’ve been doing with his sister. “About what?” I ask.
“The whole Peppermint thing?”
Thank god. He’s already forgotten the conversational twist toward his sister.
I shrug. “I just think we should be smart, not reckless.”
“Exactly,” James adds unexpectedly. “Let’s find all the possible suspects before we confront anybody.”
“Which is why I think we can’t rule out our exes,” Ryan says. “We should all come up with a list.”
Nate sighs. “You only care because you want to see if your list is the longest.”
“Can’t a guy be curious?” Ryan laughs.
Somehow, I make it to the end of poker night without saying anything stupid to draw more attention to myself. I still feel on edge, though. By the time I’m riding the elevator back up to my apartment, I feel ready to jump out of my skin.
Everything is just moving faster than I wanted to.
I still haven’t answered Mama’s lunch invitation, and the Peppermint investigation is gaining traction fast. At least Brinley’s name wasn’t mentioned tonight, except as a childhood punchline nobody thought twice about.
But I know it’s only a matter of time until something slips and Luke realizes there’s someone close to him with a whole lot of motive to ruin his life.
My entire life feels like a kitchen at full tilt—every burner going, every timer about to go off, and I’m the only one who knows the whole menu.
The thing about a kitchen at full tilt—there's always one burner you forgot about. The one that catches fire while you're saving the others.