5
CHRIS
The floor receptionist said that Mickey had no time for visitors this morning. Chris thanked her and walked ahead regardless since this was not the time to politely follow the rules. He had no idea how long he had left before Trevor made his move, and he’d never experienced a desperate Trevor before.
People talked on the other side of Mickey’s door. He couldn’t knock and interrupt because they were likely the ones paying his salary. He knew all of senior management by now, but he was still a small fish in a rather large and toxic pool.
He paced around the hallway, unsure of what he expected to happen. Last time he had to deal with Mickey, it ended up with him and his friends almost dying on Fire Island.
His phone vibrated with an incoming message from Jay, asking if Chris had spoken with Melissa. Explaining everything was too long for a text message, so he called him instead.
“Hold on,” Jay answered the call. “Let me get away from the noise... okay, what’s up?”
“I thought it’d be easier to talk on the phone. I managed to get Melissa and the twins out of the house for about a week.”
“How’d you pull it off?”
“I told her mom that I’m bringing people over to check about renovating the house. Melissa has been dying to do that.”
“Why? What’s wrong with your house?”
“Nothing.”
“Jesus, I’m never getting married. Go on.”
“I told Melissa’s mom that I wanted this to be a surprise and asked her to invite Melissa and the twins for a week.”
“And when she hears about the fake renovation?”
“I can’t wait for that to be my biggest concern. Are you coming over tonight? You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I told you I would. I brought a bag of spare clothes with me to work. Clean underwear and all.”
Chris exhaled, deeply relieved. Last night, even with his new gun, he walked from his car to his house in dread, looking all around and waiting for Trevor to jump him. His peaceful neighborhood felt like a minefield.
“What about Mickey?” Jay asked.
“I’m waiting to speak with him now.”
“Be frank with him. If we want his help, he needs to understand how serious this is.”
“I’ll be frank.”
“Okay. I need to head back. See you later.”
“Jay.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Thank me once we’ve handled those two assholes. Until then, I want steak for dinner.” He hung up, and Chris resumed his unproductive pacing.
When the office door finally opened, Chris hurried to walk inside before it could close behind Mickey’s visitors. Smaller than the average person, Mickey came across as anything but intimidating, but Chris knew him well enough to be wary of the man, even while being on his good side.
Without looking up from texting on his phone, Mickey said, “Yes, Roberts?”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“There’s a security camera in the plant next to my door. I saw you pacing like you’re waiting for STD results.” He put his phone down. “Well, come in, unless you want to pace some more.”
Chris closed the door behind him. “I didn’t recognize the people who just left.”
“They’re helping with my campaign. I’m sure I can count on you to volunteer at a later date.”
“Hmm, sure.” He sat in front of Mickey.
“So, to what do I owe the honor? Don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve been avoiding me ever since that little predicament on Fire Island.”
Chris had a sudden flashback of Dima’s hands choking him time and again, then of Tobias getting hit by a bullet. He pushed the memories away. “It was a bit more than a predicament.”
“I know, and I’ve told you how grateful I am.”
“I’m not here about that. I need your help.”
“Of course you do. A person does not pace outside someone’s office just to burn calories. Is this about a case?”
“No. My two adopted brothers are trying to kill me.”
Mickey cocked his head. “I feel there’s a bigger story behind your dramatic statement.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Go on.”
Chris briefly talked about his childhood and his late adoption, not dwelling on his two years with the Mitchells, just making it clear that he had to leave and cut ties with them. He then talked about the sudden passing of Robert and Kim, which led to the ridiculous will.
“Did they ever hint that you’d be getting their inheritance?” Mickey asked.
“No, never. I told the lawyer I didn’t want that money and thought that was the end of it. Last Saturday, Trevor and Andy came to my house. It turns out that I can’t waive the money without losing it to charity, and I also wouldn’t be getting it for the next two years.”
“And if you end up dead during those two years?”
He could count on Mickey to see the full, disturbing picture. “If I’m dead, the money goes to Trevor and Andy.”
Mickey looked away. It took a lot to make this man unsettled—or even bothered—but Chris had managed to achieve that.
“Are the brothers dangerous?” Mickey asked.
“Yes.”
He met Chris’s eyes. “Enough to kill?”
“Yes.” He had no way of knowing that for sure, but he could feel it in his bones.
Mickey leaned forward on his desk. “Pay them periodically until you can legally receive the inheritance. I’ll get you a raise if it helps. No man wants to risk murder, especially with such an obvious motive.”
“Trevor has a debt, and not to the bank.”
“How much?”
“A million dollars.”
“Oh, fuck me sideways. You need to have quite a talent to owe so much money.”
“He has that talent. I don’t think he worked a day in his life, but he always felt entitled to whatever he wanted.” Chris exhaled. “I’m sorry about dumping this on you with the campaign and all. I only told Jay, and he thought you may be able to think of something. I got the Mitchells’ lawyer looking for loopholes, but knowing Robert, there won’t be any.”
“Don’t ever apologize for asking for help. Let’s start with you getting me a copy of that damn will. I don’t know who the lawyer you spoke to is, but if there’s a possible loophole, my people and I will uncover it. In the meantime, can you and your family find somewhere else to stay?”
“I got Melissa and the twins to leave today for Massachusetts. I’m going to keep living in my house in case the brothers are watching me. I don’t want Trevor to get suspicious and do something crazy.”
“If you’re alone in there—”
“Jay is coming to stay with me. Both of us have guns.”
Mickey nodded his approval. “You boys know what you’re doing, but Jay can’t be with you around the clock. We’ll need help from someone who knows about discretion.” He picked up his phone and made a call.
After a few seconds, he said, “Good morning, Oscar. Is this a good time? Oh, I’m sure your caviar won’t get warm. I’m calling on behalf of Chris Roberts. What? No, he does not want to be a toy in the club—that ship has already sailed and hit an iceberg. I need you to meet with him as soon as possible. This might be a life-and-death situation. Tomorrow evening?” He watched Chris, who warily nodded. “He will meet you at the club at six o’clock. Please take this seriously. Yes, of course you take everything seriously.” He rolled his eyes. “Goodbye for now.”
“Thank you,” Chris said, although he wasn’t sure what to expect from Oscar. Tobias’s former partner had proven to have multiple faces, each unpredictable yet dangerous, even though he had ended up saving their lives by gunning down Tobias.
“Go home,” Mickey said, the warmth in his voice surprisingly human.
“It’s still early. I have work.”
“Your head is not here, nor should it be. If you don’t want to go home just yet, there’s a shooting range not far from here; I believe it’s called Westside Rifle and Pistol Range. I might have gone there a time or two to blow off some steam.”
Chris nodded, knowing that his work wouldn’t be productive if he stayed. “I’ll go there. Thank you.”
“Send me the will today, and write down everything else that you can think of regarding those... people.” Mickey smiled grimly. “I need you alive and well to hand out flyers for my campaign.”