Chapter 3
Sinclair
"Holy shit, a gig?" Saint crows. Arpad walks toward Damian and holds out his fist. "Where are you guys performing?"
"Oh, nothing major." Damian fist bumps him. "It’s only a concert at the Roundhouse."
There’s silence, then Baron bursts out, "Wanking twatarses, did you say the Roundhouse?"
"The Roundhouse, huh?" I frown, referring to only one of the most prominent venues in London.
I stalk toward Damian and punch him in the shoulder.
"Oy, be careful, that’s an artiste’s arm you’re talking about now." Damian chuckles, "It’s not too shabby, eh?"
"It’s brilliant." I smirk. "Do you know what it means to have your first gig as a band at the Roundhouse?"
"It’s wicked!" Saint declares.
"Bloody dynamite." Arpad nods.
"It’s a coup." I tilt my head. "How the hell did this happen?" I step back take in my friends. "You guys seeing what’s happening here?"
"No." Edward shakes his head. "The hell are you talking about?"
"You," I jerk my chin at him, "you’re off to find God—"
"Correction," Edward folds his arms across his chest, "I already found God. That’s why I decided to serve him. But first, I’m off to the Himalayas to clear my head."
"Only you would talk about going on some kind of spiritual quest like it were a walk in the park."
"We all have our ways of dealing with the aftermath of the incident differently." Edward draws himself up to his full height. Out of all of us, he is the only guy still growing. He’s my height now and chances are that he’ll outgrow me too.
"The bloody incident." I shake my head. "We’ll never be rid of its effects for as long as well live. Perhaps that’s why we seem to be splitting off so quickly, huh?"
"Who’s splitting?" Arpad cracks his neck. "I’m just taking my yacht for a gander."
"And fighting storms while you’re at it," I add
"Storm chasing happens to be my way of dealing with—" he jerks his chin, "you know—"
I do. "So, while Damian’s off becoming a rockstar, Edward becomes a priest, Weston’s gonna become a doc—"
"A heart surgeon," he corrects me.
"A surgeon," I agree. "Saint and I have decided we’re going to make money."
"What’s new about that?" Baron, pops a toothpick between his lips. "You two have been hustling tricks on the stock market since…"
"After the incident," Edward supplies.
"Bloody incident." I set my jaw. "If not for that, we’d be—"
"Bedding girls, getting into Oxbridge, ready to take on our trust funds, and probably spending it as fast as we could. All except you, of course."
I snort, "Unlike you privileged assholes, I happen to take pride in wanting to be a self-made billionaire."
"Billionaire, huh?" Edward raises an eyebrow. "That’s what turns you on, money?"
"You bet." I laugh. "What else is there in life, except the green stuff? Money is power, Ed."
"Your mind is more powerful." Edward’s lips quirk. "Your health is what empowers you, and your faculties..." he taps the side of his head, "as long as you have them about you, you can do almost anything."
"What the hell!" I thump my chest. "Not even a priest, and you’re already pontificating?"
"It comes naturally to him." Baron smirks. "Bastard’s a born talker. No wonder he’s found his true calling."
Edward glares at him, opens his mouth to speak, then glances away, "So, this money-making scheme... What do you and Saint have in mind for it?"
"7A," I retort.
Baron chortles, "What does that stand for? Seven Assholes?"
"You said it." I smirk. "It stands for whatever you want it to be. Seven Alphas. Seven About-town. Seven Arsewipes." I raise my shoulders, "You name it, it fits."
"And what is this 7A about?" Weston prompts.
"Investing in the stock market." I drum my fingers on my chest. "That's how we're going to become billionaires on our own steam."
"We are?" Damian scowls.
I nod. "Saint and I, we’ve used our combined knowledge, garnered from the time we’ve spent studying the stock market, to come up with an algorithm that can project how the market is going to move. It will give us a head start in planning our own positions."
"An algorithm, hmm?" Arpad scratches his chin. "You know, people have been trying forever to get in on that."
I nod.
"And you’re sure this algorithm is going to work?" Edward looks between us.
Both Saint and I glance at each other, then I turn to face our friends. "It’s a good starting point. Like everything, it will learn and adjust as we deal. And get smarter."
"And make you more money?" Weston teases.
"That’s the plan." I hold up my hand and Saint high fives me.
"So," I glance about the room, "you wankers in or out?"
"In the company?" Edward asks.
I frown. "What else have we been talking about all this time?"
"I’m in," Arpad nods, "provided I get shares in the company."
"Five percent," I retort. "You get five percent of the shares."
Arpad laughs, "We split 7A seven ways."
"Ten percent." I thrust out my chest.
"Fourteen-point-two-nine percent for each of us." Arpad folds his arms across his chest.
I glare at Saint who jerks his chin.
I scowl at Arpad. "Done. We Seven will co-own the company, invest equally, share in the profits," I glance around the room, "and the losses." I peruse the faces of each of my friends in turn. "How does that sound?"
"Count me in," Damian calls from his perch on the barstool. "Considering I have no idea where my career’s headed, this one’s a solid bet for me." He adds, "Not that I trust your instincts or anything, you get me?"
"Of course, not." I jerk my chin at him, then turn to the others. "Well?" I ask. "What about you guys?"
"It's worth a shot." Weston shifts closer.
Baron blows out a breath, "Much as I hate to admit it, when it comes to making money, you two are the best brains in the business, and I deal with only the best."
"Of course, you do." I hold up my palm and Baron high fives it.
"And you?" I turn to Edward. "What do you think?"
"I’m on my way to becoming a man of God."
"Men of God have to live too. You can be a silent partner; the proceeds from the investment can be put into your trust fund, to be used as you deem fit."
Edward’s brow crinkles. He rolls his shoulders, "I’m not su—"
"Imagine all the good you can do with it, Father?"
He hesitates.
"All those souls you can save," Saint interjects. "And you know it’s going to take money to do good, don’t you?"
Edward blows out a breath, "Much as I hate to admit it, you are right. I could do much with it, to support the right causes." He glances around the assembled faces, then nods toward me, "I’m in."
"That’s bloody brilliant." I hold up my hand and Edward high fives me.
"On to the real stuff, then. We have to celebrate, yeah?" Damian hops off the barstool, then comes over to join us. "Tomorrow night is my gig. I assume you guys will be there?"