Chapter 5 #3
I watch Davis scan the page, his expression going from annoyed to shocked to horrified. He looks up at me, then back at the email, then up to me again. “Jesus…”
“Yeah, it’s pretty gross. Also, Myspace was like Facebook, except shittier. It was dwindling in social relevance at the time, but I guess Jenny figured it was better to be safe than sorry.”
Davis scowls. “I know what MySpace—This actually happened to you?”
“It does what it says on the can.”
“Ada…”
The kindness in Davis’s voice, not to mention his use of my actual name, makes me want to disappear. “Don’t go all soft on me, Mall Cop. We’re frenemies, remember?”
He keeps looking at me like I’m a drowning kitten. “I’m so sorry—”
“Jesus, it’s fine! My hair grew back. But as far as my revenge scheme goes, you now know the ‘why.’”
“I guess.” Davis looks back down at the email. “What happened to the dude who put gum in your hair?”
“Nothing.”
“But—”
“He was the fullback in the First XV. Rah-rah-fucking-rah.”
“What about the chick with the Mysp—”
“She posted it using shell accounts and denied the whole thing. Got voted head girl the next year, actually.”
“Fuck off!”
“I shouldn’t have told my parents. Getting teachers involved only made everything worse. After that, I kept my hair short and my mouth shut.”
“Dude, I’m so—”
“Thank you for your sympathy. Now, will you help me or not?”
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
“Great. You will be rewarded for your assistance.”
“I don’t want money.”
“And I won’t be paying you. Although you will be providing financial assistance to someone else.”
That gets Davis back to looking at me the way he usually does. “The fuck?”
“Cece. You’ll be making Stabbies—fine, Afterglow—a part of your angel investment program.”
“W-What? I don’t… What are you talking about?”
I groan as I reach for my margarita. “It’s getting late, Davy-D, so how about we don’t play this game? Your Financial Service Providers Register number is 25799-L3331270, correct?”
“How did you…?”
“Publicly available information, Davo. Keep up. So your number is linked to two businesses. Dynamic Finance, which is your day job, and the Ten-Eleven Fund, which was founded three years ago by yourself and Blake Anaru. Who I assumed was a dude until I found…” I unlock my phone and scroll to the right picture, “… this delightful pic of you two doing a double beer bong.”
Davis flinches at the sight of himself and a stunning Māori girl chugging beer at what looks like a university party. He leans back, stunned. “Blake’s the real founder, I’m just—”
“The shadow partner, sure. But it’s still your business. A business that specialises in microloans for female-owned establishments, which is very admirable of you two. Still, Blake being an extremely hot woman led me to think you might be banging—”
“We’re not.”
“—until I found her socials, which are extremely heavy on the rainbow flags and rock climbing. So my new guess is you’re high school besties.
Actually, that’s not a guess. I found your yearbook online, and if you didn’t put ‘BA + Davy = frenz 4 life’ under your picture to throw me off the scent seven years in advance, I’m gonna go ahead and close the file on that one. ”
Davis reaches for my half-drunk margarita and drains it.
“Fair,” I say, placing my fingertips on the table.
“In summation, Blake’s gay, you’re a dork, I clocked you to hell and back, I approve of your business, and in exchange for a little recreational security work, I’ll help you to help make Stabbies a success through your fund.
Which will lead to Cece’s undying gratitude toward you, Davis Michael Sanderson. ”
“Jesus, you’re crafty.”
“Is that a yes?”
He narrows his eyes. “It won’t work. I tried offering Cece a loan before. She wouldn’t look at me for a week.”
“Ah, but this time you’ll have me on your side, and as you’ve just acknowledged,” I tap a nail on my notebook cover. “I’m a crafty bitch.”
“I’ll think about it.” Davis’s head tilts, puppy dog style. “I would like to help Cece.”
“I know you would, bud.” Help her straight down the wedding aisle. Poor man’s been floundering like a fish on concrete, but now I’m here, and everything’s going to work out. “We done?”
“Seems that way.” He gets to his feet.
“What?” I demand, as he continues staring at me.
“You seem different.”
“Because you know I got bullied? God, Davis, move on already.”
He gratifies me with a laugh. “Nah. You’re just all… fired up. Like how Cece said you used to be.”
“Okay… Anyway, keep me updated on the finance stuff, and keep an eye on me whenever I’m in here with anyone who looks like a giant chode, yeah?”
“Yes.” Davis cocks his head again. “Y’know, if the gum guy is going to be at the reunion, I could call him or something. Tell him to stay away from you. If you want?”
The warmth spreading across my chest is easily masked by a palm plastered to my forehead. “Oh, Davis Sanderson, you’re so braaaaaave!”
My new mercenary shakes his head. “Later, Demon.”
“Later,” I say, reopening my notepad. “I’ve got work to do.”