21. Miles
Miles
The sharp sound of tires crunching on gravel cut through the ocean’s roar, jolting me from my reverie. I leaned against my car, the salty tang of the sea air filling my nostrils and the vast Pacific stretching before me.
He actually came.
It’d been a few days after the summer soirée and the whole town had found out what had gone down between Pops and Vincent.
I’d noticed Pops had been off his mark for a little while now, but for him to do what he did at the party? I was hoping I could either fix things or find some reasonable explanation.
Serena wasn’t answering my calls. At first the phone would ring and ring and ring, but now it was straight to voicemail.
That fucking stung.
Erik exited his G-Wagon, looking as exhausted as I was, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, obscuring his expression, his hands shoved deep in his sweatpants.
“I can’t believe you did it,” I told him. I could barely look at him.
Erik shook his head. “Miles ? —”
“You knew what it would do to my family. You knew what it would do to me.” I couldn’t believe he did it. Betrayed me like this.
“I also knew what it was doing to my family. To this city.” His voice cracked just enough to make me flinch.
I shoved off the car. “So you just decided you were judge, jury, executioner now? Huh? You decided you knew better than me?”
“I went back to Whitmore Ventures last night because you left your jacket in my car,” he said quietly. “I walked in and saw Omar.”
I was breathing hard as I watched him, and he had the nerve to look upset.
“He was with Mayor Johnson. Doing lines in your father’s damn office. Didn’t even lock the fucking door. You didn’t see it, man. But I did. And in that moment, everything made sense.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You—no. You’re twisting this.”
“I’m not.” Erik stepped forward. “He was coked out of his mind, Miles. With the mayor. You wanna pretend it was one mistake, one bad night? Fine. But I’ve been watching him spiral since Woody died… And so have you.”
“I haven’t ? —”
“You have.” His voice rose. “You just didn’t want to admit it because then you’d have to stop playing the loyal son.”
“He’s still my dad, man.”
I didn’t come here to fight with Erik. I wanted to apologize. Maybe even come clean about Serena and me. That was the plan. Not this.
But Erik was right.
I didn’t want to admit this. Admit that my father was weak.
Pops wasn’t Pops anymore. He’d stopped showing up to meetings. Stopped shaving. Was staying out late and stumbling home smelling like liquor and smoke. Some nights, I heard him arguing with Ma so loud I thought the neighbors would call the cops.
“You’re standing there defending the man who nearly killed my father, and you expect me to what—nod along? You got more fucking balls than that, Miles.”
“I’m not defending ? —”
“You are!” he roared. “Every excuse, every ‘he didn’t mean it’—that’s defending, Miles! You know I love you, man, but if it was me in your position, I would want you to keep it real.”
“Keep it real? That meant telling Lush Chronicles ? People are already blacklisting us, man—our phones are ringing off the hook, Ma can’t even go to the fucking store.”
Erik’s head dropped.
“He’s not some monster. He’s my father,” I said, desperate now, but then anger filled me. “Is this that ‘King tough love’ you trying to show? That perfect family bullshit you always hide behind? My family doesn’t roll that way.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed.
“My family’s having issues, and all you do is judge.
Like your dad isn’t cold as fuck at times.
You think your mama’s love means shit when you have to earn it every second of your life?
Nah. That’s not a family, that’s a fucking brand.
My family might be messy, but at least we give a damn about each other behind closed doors.
So don’t sit here looking fucking down on me like your life ain’t fucked up too. ”
Something shifted in Erik’s face—something small, but real. That one landed.
“That’s your whole family. Just one big, shiny lie wrapped in designer clothes and fake-ass smiles. Maybe if y’all were real, more fucking people would like you and not just tolerate you.”
“So that’s what you do? Tolerate me?”
“Yeah. I guess I do.”
“So that’s what we on?” Erik finally said.
I nodded. “That’s it.”
“Then what the fuck am I here for?”
I’d been hoping that after over twenty years of friendship with Erik, of growing up next door, of him being my boy that he would offer some type of kindness for this situation. I believed we could figure this out.
“You’re my best fucking friend, man.”
“I didn’t want to be the one,” Erik whispered. “But someone had to.”
I looked away, jaw tight, tears pressing behind my eyes. I refused to let them fall.
“I slept with Serena. Right before the party.”
For a second, Erik froze, every muscle tense, his breath held in his chest.
Then his whole body jerked violently, as if the words were blows landing on him, each one a painful jolt.
“The fuck did you just say to me?” His voice dropped, quiet and dangerous.
I held his stare. If I backed down now, I’d lose whatever dignity I had left. “You heard me.”
He moved so quickly, I barely had time to react before his chest knocked into mine. His hands were already balled into fists, knuckles white and tense.
“You touched my sister?” he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
I didn’t even get the chance to explain, to tell him I loved her, that it wasn’t just some random shit. His fist connected with my jaw with a sickening thud, a sharp, shocking pain that made my eyes water.
I stumbled backward, the metallic tang of blood filling my mouth.
“I love her,” I whispered, as I dabbed at my lip.
“Don’t you fucking come near Serena. She’s not like those other hoes you sleep with, and I’ll be damned if you ruin her.”
“You don’t care. All you care is that you get the company. Admit that shit, Erik.”
Erik shook his head.
“I can’t fuck with you, Miles. Not like this.” He turned around and walked off, snatching open the door of his truck.
“I didn’t hurt her!” I shouted back. “I care about her! More than you or your family! Y’all don’t even fucking know her!”
“I’ll always love you like a brother, man. But I can’t… I can’t.”
Erik didn’t respond. He spun the car around, tires screaming, and fishtailed back onto the road.
A few hours later, my phone rang, the harsh buzz cutting through the silence of my apartment like a gunshot. I stared at the screen, the name “Unknown” flashing in front of me. I hesitated, then picked up.
“What?”
“Miles Whitmore?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Officer Lawson,” he continued, his tone dropping into something darker. “We’re calling about your father.”
The air in my lungs seemed to vanish.
The rest of what he said was a blur, drowned by the thundering rush of blood in my ears. “Accident” was the first word I caught. My stomach dropped like a stone. “Car wreck.”
“I thought I was going to have to come find you,” Victor said as he stepped into my makeshift office that was now in the King Developments headquarters. “This is your office? Not the nicest view.”
While Serena had the biggest office in the building, I’d been relegated off to an old side room they’d been using for storage. I knew Serena did that shit on purpose.
I shut the door behind him and double-checked the blinds.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said.
He chuckled. “It’s been a while. We should catch up.”
“We’re not friends,” I said flatly.
I wanted Victor out of here as quickly as possible. Erik had been right all those years ago. Victor wasn’t a good man. He was a fucking criminal. But sometimes to survive, you had to do things. It wasn’t like the Kings gave a fuck if the Whitmores lived or starved.
I just walked around the desk—if you could call a scratched-up table a desk—and sat down.
“I got the money. I just need you to do your thing.” Victor sat in the chair across from me, and pointed at the computer.
Despite what Erik and others thought of me, I wasn’t going to be fucking stupid this time. If I let Victor come back and tell me what the fuck to do with my own business, what had I worked for all these years?
“There’s a problem.”
Victor raised a brow. “There always is.”
“The consolidation of King Developments and Whitmore Ventures isn’t done yet. If I pull in outside capital now—especially silent capital—it’ll trigger questions. Paper trails, audit flags. Serena will sniff it out before it clears.”
Victor stared at me. “So? Aren’t you the man in the relationship?”
Don’t let him piss you off.
I needed to stall. For as long as fucking possible till I could get out of this mess.
“Tell me why you actually need me here,” I said.
Victor frowned. “I already fucking?—”
“I want to know the truth. Front and back, Victor. That’s the least you can do.”
His lips thinned, and he narrowed his eyes at me, staring hard enough to burn a hole between my eyes. Then finally the man sighed.
“It was one of my sites down in LA. The poor piece of shit’s name was Luis Calderón.” Victor worked his jaw. “It was an accident. Next thing you know, cameras, people asking questions, private investigators?—”
“Private investigators?” I asked.
“Listen, all you need to know and do is hold my money so these blood-sucking ticks and the court systems don’t get what I rightfully earned for myself. Just like I helped you when your daddy pissed away all your money. It’s quid pro quo.”
I just needed him to say more.
“Victor—”
“I’m done talking.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not moving a cent until I know people won’t be paying attention. If I move too fast, I burn all of us. We need to take it slow.”
Victor’s face darkened. “I made things clear to you, Miles.”
“I understood perfectly.” I sat up straighter in my seat.
“I heard about what happened at the gallery. We don’t want to add me into the mix as well. If I go down, you don’t think they won’t look into me? I keep records, Miles, my boy. Good-ass records. Audio. I’m sure your wife wouldn’t want to be blindsided by this terrible news.”
I gritted my teeth. “Stay away from my wife.”
“Your pretty wife won’t get touched if you do what I say.” He slammed his hand on the desk in front of me. “You think I trust anyone? You think I walked into this town without an insurance policy?”
I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to breathe. Victor was a desperate man—but even desperate men slipped.
“Audio, huh?” I asked, keeping my voice flat. “That new?”
“Gotta keep up with the times.”
“I’m not backing out of our deal. Just give me some time. Can you do that?”
Silence.
“Or,” I added, “you can move now and risk all the bullshit coming down on you.”
Victor leaned forward. “You think you’re clever?”
“No.” I smiled. “I’ve learned running a business you gotta do the hard stuff.”
“You’ve got one week.” Victor stood, fixing the front of his suit. “And if all this shit goes up in flames? It’ll be you who did it. Remember that.”
The door shut behind him.
My smile dropped.
One week.
I could do a lot in a week. Burn a business to the ground, resurrect another from the ashes, lie through my fucking teeth if I had to.
But I was going to need someone to help with Victor. The question was just who?
I left the office, the door slamming behind me. The elevator was too slow, so I took the stairs, two at a time, my brain already spinning through names, favors, old debts.
Stepping onto the street, I saw Victor a few feet from his car, his hand on the door handle. He paused, sensing me. With a mocking wave, he slid into the driver’s seat, and then the blacked-out Mercedes pulled off smoothly.
I scanned my surroundings, and a cold dread washed over me.
Across the street, Erik sat in a parked G-Wagon, the streetlights glinting off the polished surface of the SUV.
Fuck.