Chapter 5
Of Choosers and Losers
Ryder
The moment she disappeared through that swinging door, I knew she hadn't gone for pastries.
No. She'd gone to regroup.
I'd seen that look before – wide eyes, locked jaw, breath caught somewhere between fight and flight.
Next to me, Griff eyed the nearby pastry case, filled with everything from bagels to biscotti. He didn't say it, but I knew exactly what he was thinking. Why not box up some of those?
Good question.
I had a few answers, but none I felt like sharing, especially when Griff leaned toward me and hissed, "If there's spit in my coffee, it'll be your fault."
Hell, this whole thing was my fault. But I couldn't regret it.
Last night in Chicago, drowning in whiskey and trash-talk, we'd played one hell of a poker game – not for money, at least not near the end.
Money, we had plenty.
But bragging rights, clout, or whatever you called it – that was the real prize, which was why, at the very end, I'd tossed out a challenge I'd been planning for weeks.
Loser had to go away for a whole month.
And the winner? They got to pick the place.
Who won and who lost?
Well, let's just say I was the chooser, not the loser.
Me, I'd flown in, nice and easy. But Griff? He wasn't so lucky. For him, I'd arranged a long-ass limo ride followed by an hour on the ferry, giving him the perfect reminder that money had its perks.
His trip had taken most of the night. Mine had taken barely an hour, giving me a good night's sleep in Chicago and enough bonus-time to surprise Griff by showing up to meet him.
By private jet.
Hell, I'd gotten here so fast, I'd actually had the pleasure of watching Griff drag himself off the ferry – and carrying his own bag, too, which someone had promptly tried to steal.
Yeah, he just loved that.
All this to say, there was a reason he looked like the poster boy for bad decisions, and I felt fresh as a daisy.
Did I feel guilty?
Hell no.
The guy was overdue for a shakeup. And me? I was good at making things happen.
Griff had been restless for months, forgetting how lucky he was to have crawled out of the gutter. Alright, maybe not a gutter. His early life wasn't so bad. Not compared to mine.
Still, the guy had needed a reminder that after you make it to the top, there was no crime in enjoying it. And even if it were a crime, call me guilty, because I enjoyed my success every day.
But Griff? From the look on his face now, you'd think someone had already spit in his coffee and licked his pastries, too.
The guy seriously needed to relax.
He was still eyeing that swinging door like he expected the barista to come out drooling into a cup with his name on it – which would've been hilarious considering we'd given no names.
With a laugh, I pointed to the coffee dispenser, just a few feet away. Next to it sat a stack of to-go cups, upside-down and presumably spit-free.
"She can't," I said. "We'd see her."
From the look on Griff's face, he wasn't so sure. If I knew my friend – and I was pretty sure I did – he was already imagining his pastries getting defiled in the back.
But me – I didn't think so.
She'd looked more worried than angry – and the muffin scene surely hadn't helped. Yeah, I'd noticed. But I'd seen no reason to point it out to Griff, who was too hungover to catch half of it.
But the way it looked, he was noticing plenty now. With bloodshot eyes, he glanced around the crowded coffee shop, as if realizing for the first time that the line was way too long for one barista to handle.
But I'd noticed.
I'd noticed a lot of things, none of which I'd be sharing with Griff – not in his current state.
When he finished checking out the shop, he gave me a puzzled look. "Then why'd she disappear?"
It was a good question. And like I said, I had a few answers, just none I felt like sharing.
And besides, the real question was, would she be coming back?