Chapter 6
TJ
SLADE
Standing in the corner of the empty first floor storefront, the view looking west over the Belltown neighborhood in downtown Seattle is great.
Why do I ever doubt Slade? He seems to have a sixth sense for finding the perfect spots to open restaurants.
Generally speaking, that means they’re also good places to rehab into apartments, condos, or office space.
The sun is starting to set over the horizon and I can just picture sitting in a booth, looking out at the busy street, on a night like this. I imagine the sounds of the restaurant and people walking by the trendy new concept that Slade wants to open.
Groaning, I admit to myself that Slade is right yet again. This building is a gem. While he’s only been to Seattle a handful of times, I spent my life here, before I hit the road with Teal Tigers. I know this city, even if I don't live here full time anymore.
Fucking Slade nailed it. The location, the architectural style, all of it.
This is why I trusted him, sight unseen, to work with Jake and make the offer two weeks ago while I was in Jackson. I knew he wouldn’t waste my time or let me down.
Looking through the dirty window, I take in the surrounding businesses. It’s been over twenty years since the first time I performed in the seedy bars and venues that once littered almost every corner of the area. There are still plenty of bars, but none are the type that would have given us a gig.
No. This place has definitely gotten trendy.
We were some unknown punks back then and getting slots to play was a grind.
The places here now are the ones that would have taken one look at a twenty year old me, and said absolutely not.
My shaggy hair was a shade or two lighter and a few inches longer back then — a tribute to Washington’s original blond grunge icon, my idol.
My white tank tops, or cut off flannels, showed off the cheesy barbed wire tattoo I thought was so edgy on my bicep.
My pierced eyebrow only added to the fact that I looked like trouble, even if I was far from it.
Hell. I wonder if these places even do live music anymore.
I’m sure they have a curated streaming playlist, ironically with some of my old songs.
I guess the joke is on those places that turned us away when we first got started.
They aren’t here anymore, and I own yet another building in this neighborhood where I enjoy fixing up these properties.
The sound of footsteps, plodding along the worn, old hardwood floors, has me turning to spot Jake and Slade walking over to me.
Slade is wearing his ever-present, confident scowl. His dark hair is parted to the side in a way that reminds me how controlling he is about everything in his life, from the way he plates his dishes to how he runs his kitchens right down to how he folds the cuff of his over-priced selvedge jeans.
“You love it, don't you?” he says smugly, holding a finger up and circling it around the room.
I put on my best concerned look. “Well it doesn’t really matter since I already let you two make the offer.”
I hold his gaze but he doesn't flinch. He's always so damn serious. Finally I give in and roll my eyes. “Yes, you were right. I fucking love it.” I point over my shoulder with my thumb back toward the street. “I forgot just how nice this area is now.”
Jake slaps me on the shoulder and I immediately remember that my younger brother makes me feel small with his linebacker build. "You know, if you made it out and hit up a bar more than once a year, you’d have realized how much it’s changed.”
“Did I come here to get ribbed all night by you two, or for you to show me the rest of the plan for this place?” I scoff playfully.
Slade cocks his head to the side, still with a smug smile before reaching out and plucking a piece of dust off my shoulder. “Nope. I just wanted to hear you say I was right. I need to get going.”
“Do you always have to be so dramatic and cocky?” I mutter, prompting Jake to snicker.
Slade just shrugs. “Does it even matter? Anyway, I’ll see you when you're back for the party.”
I shift to the side to let him head toward the door. Jake watches Slade walk away before turning back to face me, tipping his chin. “You got a sec?”
I lean against the exposed brick wall, folding my arms across my chest.
“Yeah, what's up?”
“You coming to dinner at Mom and Dad’s tonight?” He gives me his normal shit-eating grin, damn well knowing the answer.
“Yeah, you know I wouldn't miss it. I need to be back in Jackson tomorrow though. I’m supposed to meet Sutton for lunch.”
He shakes his head. “I swear you're going to become an honorary Sterling brother.”
I lift a shoulder. “You're not getting rid of me that easy.” Jake smiles back softly and we share a knowing look.
Somehow, fate brought us together. The foster parents that took me in my freshman year of high school took him in only a year later.
Although I aged out of the system, they ended up adopting Jake before he graduated.
We bonded almost instantly the day we met and have considered ourselves brothers ever since.
“So what did you really want to talk about?”
“Oh, just your favorite thing. Taxes and finances.”
“Fuck me,” I groan, running my hand through my hair, pushing it back. “Do we have to do this now?”
Jake knows I hate talking about this stuff.
He’s three years younger than me, and for the life of me, I will never understand why he wanted to get a business degree.
But by the time he was looking at law schools, the band’s second album had taken off and I had more than enough to put him through school.
“I know you don't like talking about money and business around Mom and Dad,” he says, pulling out a folder from his messenger bag.
“Fine.”
Our last family, they were the first people that ever chose to have me in their life, the first ones that made me feel wanted. I owe them so much, and Jake feels the same way, calling them ‘Mom and Dad’.
But he’s right, it’s not that I don't want them to hear because they’d ask for money or something like that. I’ve offered to buy them a new house, cars, whatever, dozens of times and they always turn me down. If they ever did ask me for anything, they’d get it. No questions asked.
I just don’t want anyone to know that much detail about my business. Outside of Jake, no one knows what I actually have.
Thanks to his brains and very pricey Stanford law degree — which might be the greatest investment I've ever made — we've built layers and layers of trusts, corporations, and other entities. All of it was done to help maintain my anonymity in the business world.
He spreads the contents of the folder across the makeshift, sawhorse work table. He looks up, then back at the papers.
I squint and raise an eyebrow at him. “You know I’m not going to read this shit, right?”
He shrugs. “I know, but don't say I didn’t offer.”
I step forward and stand beside him, looking at the mess of statements, tax forms, reports, and god knows what else. “We’re two days into January. Isn’t it a bit early to start this?”
“Wow. It’s only taken you a decade to catch on,” he teases.
I glare back at him, but he's right. I’ve been successful, not because I’m great at numbers or tax law, but because I’ve surrounded myself with good people.
People that I trust, mainly Jake, but also people like the Sterlings and the Chapmans.
The rest has been a combination of good timing and having a feel for my hometown, but also a whole lot of luck.
“So what'd you want to show me?”
“Well, we're still waiting on a few things to come in, but it's no surprise, yet again, that you had another record year.”
“We had another record year,” I correct him. He’s just as much a part of this as me, even if he likes to deny it.
“Right.” He nods and smiles softly at me before tilting his head toward a paper with a few colorful charts on the table. “That summary would show you that, if you want to look, for once.”
“Can we cut to the chase?” A smile crosses my face when I look back up at him. “You know she’s making him wait to eat until we get there.”
His shoulders rise and fall with a laugh. “That’s pretty much it. I did increase your charitable donations for last year. Partly because your ass can afford it and I know you like giving. Partly to offset more of your gains. We should do even more this year though.”
“Great. Sounds good to me. Did you just give more to the same places?” Part of staying anonymous is also being hands off.
This is where I let Jake have a lot of free rein.
I trust him to pick the right causes to give to, but even he’s limited in how involved he can be with how much time the real estate and other investments take.
Maybe I was on to something trying to hire Grace to help with this.
It would be great to have someone more focused on just this aspect.
“Mostly. Picked a few new ones, cut back on some of the older ones. We can always pick some new places to give to this year. Figured we share the wealth a bit. Well, I guess your wealth.” He tosses me a smart-ass wink.
“Cool. Well if that’s it, let’s get going. I’m starving.” I pat him on the back and turn toward the door.
I’ve got a long twenty-four hours ahead of me, and as much as I love seeing Jake and my former foster family, I can’t wait to get back to Jackson.
Normally, I don’t care which one of my places I’m staying at — whether it’s here in my hometown, out on the river in Bend, or down in Jackson — I feel comfortable in all of them.
But lately, Jackson’s felt more and more like home. Maybe it’s because I’m finally putting down roots there. I’ll admit that making friends with Tanner and Sutton has been nice. Or maybe it’s because a certain tall, energetic woman is there.
Even though I haven’t seen her the last two weeks, I’ve seen her van around, and I just can't shake her from my mind. Everywhere I go in town, I find myself hoping I’ll bump into her or even just get a glimpse of her.