Chapter 9
Michael
I go home that night frustrated and a little stoned, only to discover my parents tensely sitting in the family room waiting for me. I slow down a little when I see their faces and the way their eyes flick to me and stay on me as I walk in. My father’s mouth works like he’s trying to figure out what to say.
“What is it?” I ask as I come in.
My mother sighs. “Maria has... a friend over. Try not to disturb her.”
“Friend?” Something in her tone catches my attention.
“She keeps bringing this one really creepy guy over,” my father elaborates. “We’ve had no reason to ban him from the house yet, aside from staring at your mother’s tits for ten solid seconds when he first saw her.”
“That’s weird. Why is she hanging around with him? Is he particularly attractive or something?”
“Not at all. He looks like someone you should keep your underage daughters away from.” My mother winces. “He even has a... what do the kids call it? A neckbeard.”
“What the hell is the guy even here for?” Maria is shallow as hell. She doesn’t go near guys who aren’t model-perfect. So, why does she have some creepy, ungroomed spud following her around?
“Fixing her computer, I think.” My father rubs his temple. “She said she didn’t want to wait until you weren’t busy. Just hoping he’ll be done soon.”
A little alarm bell goes off in the back of my head, but I’m too tired and distracted to pay much attention to it. “I’ve got too much going to be dealing with her or her weird-ass friends right now anyway,” I grumble.
“Actually, I’d really like it if you kept an ear out for trouble from him,” my mother says, “since you’re right down the hall.”
I look between my parents. Did we suddenly stop being mobsters on the last day? “Why don’t you just kick him out?” I ask before I really think about it.
Dad winces. “Yeah, I confronted the guy, and your sister blew her stack completely. Told me to stop policing her friends, pitched a fit about how unfair I was being...”
I stare at him tiredly. The Golden Child strikes again. I’m willing to bet they’d come down on me or anyone else who brought in someone who creeped them out. But my family dynamic is what it is. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Have you got a lead on our stolen money yet?” My father lifts an eyebrow as he looks up at me, changing the subject to something he knows will grab my whole attention.
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m designing a search program looking specifically for incidences of the wire transfer interception program’s use. It has only been used a few times: by Arya, by myself, and by whoever stole from us. I am pretty sure Arya didn’t steal it back, but this will make sure and hopefully point me in the right direction.”
My father nods curtly. “Well, that’s a start.”
“Did anything come up in the staff background checks?” I’m still hopeful that it’s just some social engineering by an outsider, the same as we hit the Castelluccis with.
“Not a damn thing.” He shakes his head. “I can see why you wanted me to check, though.”
I smile thinly. “I’ll figure this shit out. Thank you for checking.”
He nods distractedly, and I turn and walk away. I’m glad he’s moving on this. I’m glad we can still speak with each other respectfully. Since talking to Arya, I’m realizing that I’m lucky to have a family like mine. I can actually get past humiliation, arguments, and being in the doghouse if enough time and work goes into it.
Arya, though? No wonder she’s so pissed at me. She can’t help how crazy her mother is or how much of an asshole her father is, but until I upset her personal apple cart, she had been maintaining. Now, apparently, a whole lot of family crap is coming to a head for her. I just have to deal with this embarrassing theft and the surrounding mystery. She’s trapped in a daytime talk show episode.
I need to find a way to make all this shit up to her. But there’s a roadblock. She doesn’t trust me at all, and rightly so.
But the thing is, even if she gives up on her family, she still needs to clear her name. She’s still part of the wider Family, same as me. She has a reputation to repair.
Will she let me help her fix it? I sure hope so. I need to know who stole her code a second time and that five million a third. And I suspect that the only person who can really help me do that is the woman who wrote that program in the first place.
I’m lost in thought when I catch sight of the guy hanging around with my sister. At first glance, he’s less of a train wreck than my parents described: medium height and build, unkempt, unshaven. Then, I notice that his eyes are glued to my sister’s ass like he’s never seen a Brazilian butt lift in his entire life.
I stop, fold my arms, and stare at him. My sister is on the phone, ignoring him; she hangs up and turns around, and he reanimates, responding to a muttered question of hers with an enthusiastic nod. Then, this mouth breather starts staring at her boobs the same way.
Computer expert? This guy has to be her drug dealer for her to put up with this level of bullshit. God.
He shoots a nervous look my way as he finally notices me. I lift an eyebrow, and he shifts nervously before turning and trailing her back into her room.
Yeah, he is straight creepy. And something about all of this is really weird. What are they up to?
I grab some sleep, work the stiffness in my shoulders out in the gym, shower, and then grab a late supper of leftovers. I’m planning to spend a big part of the evening going over the server logs to try and sort out who was online and active during the transfer. I don’t know if I’ll come up with anything definitive, but I need to at least make the effort. Just in case.
I’m just settling into work when Maria shoves open my door and comes strolling in without even knocking. She’s in pajama bottoms and a lacy tank top and looks about 16. Bare feet on my carpet. Yay .
“Jesus, Maria, what do you want? It’s almost midnight, and I have work to do,” I grumble at her at once. “Should have locked that damn door.”
“Why the hell is everyone around here always so uptight? Ugh! I’m bored. My computer guy’s gone home, and I have nothing to do.” She sits down on my bed with a high bounce that pulls my comforter out of place.
Chrissake. “How is this my problem? Go take more mirror selfies or something.”
“Please, that shit is so dated. What are you doing?”
I lift an eyebrow. She never actually gives a shit about the kind of work I do. As long as her computer is working and she can buy her endless wardrobe and makeup collection through it, she normally doesn’t give a shit about Internet technology. I doubt she even fully understands what I do, which is probably the real reason why she had some creepy keyboard jockey in to handle whatever has been wrong with her computer instead of coming down the hall and asking me.
“Checking the family server logs. I have to track down whoever robbed us.”
She scoffs again, staring at me with an amused smirk on her face that I don’t like at all. “Well, I guess you’re hoping it will make any difference. But I’ve got to tell you, rumors are already flying. I’m not sure you shouldn’t just give up and wait for all of this to blow over.” Her lips curve in... that’s not a smile; it’s a smirk. Not even a playful one.
“What the hell are you babbling about?” I demand, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
She bounces on my bed a little, hands clasped between her knees. “You should really check out the family chat more often. People think you were the one who stole that five million.” She has the audacity to actually fucking smile. “They think you just pulled a fast one and socked it away somewhere.”
“Maria,” I sigh as I turn around in my office chair, “that makes absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.”
She blinks at me, and her smirk wavers just a little. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the heist was my idea in the first place. If I wanted to go take five million from some random billionaire and put it in my own bank accounts, I could just go and do that. I didn’t have to even let Mom and Dad know what I was doing. So, why the hell would I make them aware of it, fake messing up, and then walk away after torpedoing my own reputation?”
She just... blinks again. I can see the wheels turning in her head, but they don’t seem to be catching on anything. “So, how come people are starting to think you did it?”
“Because that’s how rumors work. They’re not exactly based on logic; they’re based on what’s interesting and makes for a more exciting story.” I’m not actually all that worried about any rumors going around. I will check the family chat, see what the hell is going on, and make any clarifications that I need to. And Maria and her assumptions can go to hell.
Maria frowns and then shakes her head. “Look, you go say whatever you want to say. I’m just telling you what people are saying. Besides, would you rather have them think that you’re dishonest and took the damn money, or would you rather have them think you’re stupid as fuck and let five million bucks slip through your fingers?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Are you fucking kidding me? Get the hell out of my room.”
She looks at me like I just grew a second head. “Wait, you’re kicking me out for telling the truth?”
“Your shitty opinions don’t constitute ‘truth,’ kid, and if you want me to spend time with you, you don’t get to disrespect me. Get the fuck out.”
She stares back at me defiantly. I keep eye contact implacably. And slowly, she withers. Her gaze drops away from me, and she gets off my bed. “You don’t mean it,” she challenges half-heartedly.
“Out,” I say firmly. “Actions have consequences. I’ve tried to tell you this before. Go whine to Mom if you have a problem with it.”
She sulks her way out, and I lock the damn door behind her. I have no idea what possesses her to come bother me so much these days. It’s always when I’m wrapped up in something important, too. It’s like she senses I need to focus and comes waltzing in to ruin it.
I huff a sigh and splash water on my face before I try to untangle the mystery of who has robbed us for another night. Any weird rumors circulating around the family, I can deal with, but whatever Maria’s current bullshit is, I don’t want to deal with it. I don’t care if she’s Mom’s favorite. I’m not obliged to babysit her, especially when she disrespects me.
As I start going through the server history, my mind slowly turns back to Arya. How happy I was to see that she’d shown up despite everything. How good it felt to spend an hour in her company without a lot of yelling and glaring. There’s a growing possibility that she’ll want to go ahead with everything and give me a chance to redeem myself, not just with my family, but with her.
Of course, she’s really, really pissed off at me. And I can’t blame her. But now, she has the name of the spy in her midst. Once she brings that information to her parents, maybe it will actually help her. Hey, a guy can hope .
I wonder if I’ll dream about her again tonight.