21 Cutter #3
I can always count on Daryl’s bluntness. For a guy with a shady side, he can be brutally honest.
I look up and meet his eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
He sighs and sits forward. “Look, I get it. The man is hot. I thought about it more than once myself.”
I gape at him. “You?”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, you know I play both sides, though it’s better for business if I date women.”
“I mean, I suspected, but…you say you date women because it’s expected. What if it wasn’t?”
“I’d be fulltime team gay.”
That sits there between us for several minutes.
I had no idea Daryl was hiding so much of himself for an image.
All because he needed his investors’ money.
Another reason why I could never go into business myself.
I used to fake out batters during a game, but in the real world, I can’t lie to save my life.
Amber once told me I wear my heart on my sleeve.
“How long have you known this about yourself?”
He thumbs his lip. “I think I was ten the first time I got a chubby from watching Kevin Farrington’s older brother run laps in those tight track shorts.”
I grin. “He was another shameless slut. I swear I’m surrounded by them.”
“He was that, but he had a nice ass. It powered many a wet dream for a horny, confused kid.”
When I look at Daryl, it’s with new eyes. Everything he shows the outside world is an act. I’m sorry he felt he had to play that part with me, too.
“Do you ever see a day when you don’t have to hide?”
He’s thoughtful. “Maybe someday, when the club is solvent and I don’t owe them anything.”
“Then why expand?” It’s a question I’ve wanted to ask him for a long time.
“I thought it would get me to my goal faster, but I’m beginning to wonder if it will just get me in deeper.”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“You know you can. We’re friends.”
I hope he still thinks so in a minute. “Where did you get the idea to expand?” I’ve long suspected the answer to that question, but I’m curious if he’ll admit it.
His eyes harden, his shoulders tense. “I think you know.”
“I don’t know anything, but I suspect. Your father?”
“Cutter…”
“No, listen to me, Daryl. I may be overstepping my bounds here, but like you said, we’re friends, right?
” He nods. “I don’t know what your old man did to get himself thrown in prison, and frankly, I don’t care.
Glass house here, right? But I like to think of you on the outside. Don’t let his bullshit pull you down.”
He may never speak to me again. He may fire me and throw me out of his office, but I said what I wanted to say and believe it or not, I did it in gratitude for all the times he pulled my worthless ass up.
I’m already expecting the worst so I won’t be surprised. But that’s not what I get.
“Thank you,” he says.
I do a double take. Did I hear him right? “You’re thanking me?” He nods. “For what?”
He stands up and walks to the credenza and pours himself a finger of scotch.
He normally doesn’t drink during business hours.
I remember a time when he wouldn’t drink at all around me until I assured him I wasn’t going to fall off the wagon through osmosis.
To be honest, even on the rare occasions when I think I need a drink, it’s never a physical craving that draws me to it. The smell of alcohol turns my stomach.
It’s a psychological need. Drinking softened the edges. Made my need to control take a deep nap. When I was drunk, nothing mattered. I was free.
I know that’s not the answer. I know running from a problem doesn’t make it go away. But it taught me something about myself. When I panic, I grab for whatever shortcut is available. So I can’t afford to panic.
Daryl takes a sip of his drink before speaking.
“Of all the kids I knew back in high school–and you know I was popular–you’re the only one who’s stuck around.
Even the ones who knew me before high school bailed after my dad got pinched.
I was kind of a pariah with everyone. Except for you.
You stuck by me. Granted, we kind of bonded over our hatred of your brother, but that’s just a happy accident. ”
I shrug. I never knew why Daryl hated Callum. “What happened between you and Callum? I mean, you were never best buds but you were teammates. Then suddenly you looked like you wanted to kill each other every time you were in the same room.”
“I hate to be this guy, but that’s something you need to ask your brother.”
I stare at him. When has Daryl ever suggested I talk to Callum? Hell, he once jokingly offered to loan me a gun to go visit him. There’s no love lost there.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just what I said. I made a promise.”
“To who? My brother?” When he doesn’t answer, I feel my anger growing. “You put a promise to my brother over your friendship with me?”
“We’re talking about my honor here.”
“Honor?” I snort. “What the fuck, Daryl?”
When he doesn’t answer, I stand up and head for the door.
“We still haven’t talked about why I called you here.”
I glare at him. “Fuck you, Daryl.”
I have to restrain myself from slamming the door.