Hailee
It’s the weekend when Lucas finally has the time to meet for coffee. I’m half a block from the café and nervous that he’s going to have bags under his eyes and messy hair.
The last time I saw him at the press conference, it looked like he’d slept in a dumpster.
He wasn’t that receptive about hiring security when I pestered him about it on the phone. He tried to tell me he didn’t have the money, but ever since he landed the gig at Summit Bank, I know he makes an absurd amount.
He relented and said he hired security, and it’s not like Lucas to lie to me, even if it would make me feel better. I believe him.
But there’s no guard in sight when I go into the café. I want to be angry, but I’m too relieved to see my brother. He looks good. More than that, Lucas looks like himself. There are no bags under his eyes. His dark-brown hair is parted, and his matching eyes are alive and alert. They beam when he sees me.
“Hails.”
He stands up and wraps me in a big hug. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. You know how things have been.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I already got you an espresso.” He points to a tiny black cup on a saucer in front of me. I used to take straight espresso when hungover in college, but not so much anymore. I have a sip for nostalgia’s sake.
Lucas is wearing a light-brown linen suit. His undershirt is unbuttoned at the top. It looks like he has some kind of casual engagement this Saturday afternoon. It feels good to see him back to normal. I take a minute just to look at him. I’ve always been boastful of my big brother. I claim proudly that he’s tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention wicked smart, although he’ll deny it for some reason. Out of humility more than insecurity. He knows what he’s got.
“So, how’s the storm being weathered at Blackwell?”
“I’m not sure I have the energy to talk about it.” I take a moment to sigh. “Busy. I’ve got about four hours of work to do today. On a Saturday, can you believe it?”
“Oh no. Four hours of work on a Saturday,” he says in a teasing tone.
“I am not a finance bro. I don’t work on the weekends. That has been a hard and fast rule.”
“Whoa. Don’t accuse me of being a finance bro. I rent my clubs at the course, okay? You think you can catch me at a strip club? Never. Not once.”
“Fine. Workaholic. It feels dirty to open my laptop on a Saturday.” I look out the window. I wish we were sitting on the patio, because it’s a beautiful day. It’s finally cooled off. And by cooled off, I mean low eighties. But still, it’s nice in the morning.
“Get used to it.” He sips his coffee. “This story isn’t going away.”
“Can we talk about how true it is for a second?”
“Sure,” Lucas says, shrugging like there’s nothing to hide.
“What might you know that I don’t?”
“Well…that none of it makes sense to begin with. The new piece that was published did supply some evidence that some of this money was dirty. Some. Not all. It’s saying four billion was laundered and so far only seventy million can be legitimately traced from a government that was sanctioned.”
“Breaking sanctions is serious.”
“Yes. A lot of these crimes laid out are serious. It’s going to be fine. Especially once the press calms down about it. That’s the thing with a story like this. It hits the Wall Street Journal , and everyone goes nuts and starts yelling about audits and grand juries. But just wait. This will leave the press cycle in a few days, and then we’ll be dealing with one or two feds who just want to close the case and go home.”
“Feds? You’re talking like you’re in the mob.”
Lucas smiles, showing his perfect pearly whites. I even had braces while he didn’t, and he still has a better smile than me. Sometimes life isn’t fair.
“All I’m saying is that it’s fine.”
“What about security?” I ask.
“For myself? Look, I know Alex brought it up to you. I’m sure he scared you to get me to hire security. He’s just paranoid. The first time he takes me up into his penthouse, I notice that all these floor-to-ceiling windowpanes are crazy thick. And he tells me they’re bulletproof. He’s a thousand fucking feet off the ground. Who does he think is going to be shooting at him? He wouldn’t even tell me what it cost, but I’d guess millions . Alex isn’t normal. He lives in a different world, almost.”
“He is a billionaire.”
“Exactly. I don’t have billionaire enemies like he might. Besides, he hasn’t been acting normal to me lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know… Standoffish. Different. Like something is bothering him and he can’t fake it around me. Whenever I text him, he gives the shortest responses these days.”
I’m quiet, silently worrying if this started several days ago around the same time that we locked eyes across the press conference room.
Maybe he feels guilty for having not so decent thoughts about me. More likely he’s overwhelmed with the breaking news stories that’s threatening his company. I’m being self-centered. Maybe even… wishful. It’s not that I like him, but being the infatuation of a man as hot as Alex Blackwell would be quite the ego boost.
“He’s probably just busy with work.” I offer.
“Yeah… He’s always busy with work.”
“But not a story like this. Alex has been in the news plenty of times for being a beautiful billionaire. But his company is thought of as boring. It flies under the radar. Until now, at least.”
“You’re probably right.”
I tap my glass with my nail. I want to learn more about Alex, but asking about him might raise Lucas’s suspicion. “I’m working with him more since this story broke. Can you tell me more about him?”
“What do you mean?” Lucas narrows his eyes at me, and I dodge his gaze by taking another sip of espresso.
“You went to MIT together.”
“We weren’t dorm mates. Don’t get me wrong. Alex was as mysterious then as he is now. I know nothing about his family or how he grew up. Our relationship revolved around discussing software, mining, banking, and international politics. We shoot the shit about those things but not much else.”
“Does he have more friends?”
“He’s buddies with James Callaway. Another billionaire. We’ve all played poker together at the Excalibur Club. I don’t think their relationship goes much deeper than ours does, however.”
“Hmm,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. Alex’s hide is as thick as it seems. “Enough about our jobs,” I say, like Alex is simply work to me. “I don’t want this to count towards my four hours today.”
“Okay.” Lucas nods and looks lighter now that the subject of work has been wiped off the table. “Are you seeing anyone?”
My shoulders sink. But I let them fall extra for dramatic effect. “Why is that all anyone ever asks me?”
“I’m sorry. Protective brother.”
“Right. Yet somehow, I think even you want the answer to be yes now.”
“I trust your taste.”
“Ford wasn’t the best taste.”
“That fucking guy.” Lucas starts shaking his head, suddenly enraged. “Why are the sweetest talkers in the world often snakes? I should’ve never let him near you.”
“I can look after myself.”
“He’s a son of a bitch.”
“Yet you work for him.”
“For now. Besides, that’s just banking. You’ve got to learn to deal with those types.”
“I think we both could use a career change.”
Lucas just shakes his head. He’s more committed to the corporate world than I am. I feel like I got stuck in a net, while he boarded the boat himself.
“Anyway, Ford’s a sleaze ball that can turn on the charm. Enough said.”
We’re both quiet for a minute.
“You talk to Mom lately?” I ask.
“Last night. She and Ted are going to San Diego to celebrate their three-year anniversary.”
“I heard.” We both like Ted. If it weren’t for him, I’d be back in Virginia to be closer to my mom. I went to school in Maryland and Lucas in Massachusetts. We were both always going to end up in New York. We go home pretty much every holiday, but that’s become less common as he’s had to work.
Is this the slippery slope? You work one 4 th of July, and then suddenly you’re at your desk on Christmas Eve. I don’t want to think about it. We both need out of our jobs. I’ve asked Lucas to keep an eye out for me. He has a bigger network than I do, being that he’s the extrovert.
“By the way, have you heard of any job openings in sustainability by chance?”
“Oh shit.” Lucas’s eyes light up. “I forgot to email you. A forestry company we work with is hiring a new reforestation planner. They’d travel to their logging claims once they’re cleared and oversee replanting. It doesn’t pay crazy, but it sounded up your alley.”
“Yeah,” I try to say with enthusiasm. I am pumped, truly. But there’s this little idea nagging at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s the idea of not working for Alex. “Great. Can you send me their information?”
“I’ll email you right now before I forget again.”
The two of us talk about home and the old mutual friends there that are having kids and getting married.
We leave the café a half hour later. Lucas is running late to some important lunch, but it’s only a few blocks east and in the same direction as my apartment. We walk together, quiet now.
I should schedule an interview with this forestry company pronto. All I need is to get laid, and I’ll forget about Alex’s burning blue eyes.
There’s dread in my stomach from the idea of working on a nice Saturday. It’s a dagger in my side.
Alana and Sophia had texted me earlier saying that they were going on an excursion to the New York Botanical Garden. Now I’m stuck working. I’ll be sending emails to other weekend workers and watching girls in cute skirts skip down the sidewalk to go do fun things. Okay, I’m being a bit dramatic. But my brother’s workaholic gene missed me.
I talk to fill the air and quiet my dread. “When do you think you’ll be able to see me next?”
“I can’t really commit to anything with all that’s going on. I’ll text you. This is my stop.”
We pass a patio, and a couple of middle-aged men in suits catch Lucas’s eye and wave.
“Lucas!” one shouts.
My brother and I pause while the men stand.
“Good to see you, Rob. Marty.” They come over to us, and Lucas shakes hands with them both in turn. “I don’t believe you’ve met. This is my sister, .”
“Nice to meet you both,” I say, and we all shake hands.
They look similar. They’re about six feet tall with short hair. Rob has a bulbous nose that looks like it belongs on an angry football coach. Marty is a bit more handsome, but with broad shoulders and hands the size of dinner plates; he also looks like he belongs in the Marines, not banking.
“My brother was just walking me home after coffee. You enjoy your lunch. Lucas?” I say his name to get his attention. I’m about to kiss his cheek goodbye, but I freeze because his expression is distant.
He’s staring past me to the street, his brow drawn in concern. I’m about to move my head to look where he’s looking when he flings his hands to my shoulders and shoves me.
“Get down!” he shouts.
I’m confused, falling hard to the sidewalk, and then I hear them. A deafening string of gunshots. There are too many in too close a succession to even count. I hear them hitting the bricks near the alley behind us.
I’m lying on my stomach, too scared to even care that my clothes and hands are touching the gum-stained sidewalk. People are screaming. I feel my brother shielding me, his chest over my back.
I’m able to look up to see where the shots came from. They were so close. Twenty feet. I see a man in black pants and a black leather jacket. He wears a motorcycle helmet with a big orange visor that makes him look like a bug.
There’s a gun smoking in his hands, and it’s pointed at us . He’s smacking the gun’s side with his hand. It must be jammed.
There’s a motorcycle behind him, and its rider, whose head is hidden in a helmet too, yells at him to get on the back. The gunman doesn’t waste any more time. He stops messing with the gun and throws himself onto the motorcycle. In just another second, the street is filled with the roaring sound of them zipping away.
“Holy shit… Holy shit,” Marty or Rob says breathlessly.
Lucas springs to his feet and turns me over. He looks at my face while I’m still lying on my back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Lucas leans back and looks right and left. “Is everybody okay?”
A half dozen diners on the patio and another two pedestrians who were walking all hit the deck with us. They slowly examine themselves and nod.
“Holy shit,” Rob says. “Did I wet myself?”
Marty stands. “No. You knocked over your water. Watch the glass.” He points to shards on the sidewalk. The gunfire had been so loud, I didn’t even hear it break.
“Oh, thank Christ.”
We all just stand and pant for a few seconds. We can already see a couple pedestrians on their phones across the street, presumably calling 9-1-1.
We all end up turning around towards where the bullets went. They shot at us from an angle so that the inner wall of the alley was behind us. Bullets chipped the bricks. Some of the holes they left aren’t too noticeable, while in a few spots whole chunks are blown out.
“Damn, they missed high,” Marty says.
He’s right. The marks are all very high up the wall. The bullets must’ve gone ten feet over our heads.
“That was a machine gun, wasn’t it? I mean…” Rob says, panting. “I guess he couldn’t handle the recoil.”
We’re all silent again, absorbing the shock. Other pedestrians have stopped and are checking to see if everyone is alright. We’re all wide-eyed. Marty, Lucas, and I have all taken the same pose of standing with our hands on our hips. It’s Rob who says what we were all thinking.
“They were aiming for us, right?”
“Yeah,” my brother says quietly.
“Thank God the thing jammed,” Rob continues. “I don’t think he would’ve missed when we were piled on the ground.”
I cringe and close my eyes. I block that image out of my brain. I was nearly shot.
Shot? It doesn’t sound right. It’s like I’m suddenly living someone else’s life. It’s a dream. This doesn’t happen to me. This has never happened to me. Everything looks bright yet dull at the same time. I’m seeing the world through adrenalized eyes.
I calm myself down by walking it back. I wasn’t the target. I’m alive. They failed. My brother and I are going to stay alive. Now my brain moves onto the only question I care about. I finally find my voice.
“What are your roles in the company? Are you higher-ups?” I ask Marty and Rob. They both look at each other as if confused by the questions’ relevance.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Higher than my brother?”
“Yeah.” They smile, and Rob lightly punches Lucas’s shoulder. “We’re bigger dogs than your brother.”
We all chuckle a little. Happy to have something to laugh at. Happy to be alive.
But I’m just happy it doesn’t seem like my brother was the intended target if these two were bigger fish at the firm.
Okay. I feel like I can breathe.
“I can’t believe I thought I pissed myself,” says Rob. Giddy on survival, he and Marty start laughing. Lucas and I have locked eyes. Even if we weren’t siblings, we would still be able to read each other’s thoughts.
This is bad.
And it’s far from over.