Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
ALEX
“This place is effing fire, man!” Chris said, eyes alight with unrepentant excitement as he glanced around. “Can’t wait to get in the pool.”
“Effing fire?” Alex sneered, staring at Chris, annoyed by his excitement. “Is that something you heard the interns say?”
Shrugging, Chris wiped sweat from his forehead with stubby fingers that made Alex think of little sausages.
“Maybe,” Chris said, grinning like an idiot, his round, chipmunk face red and damp, flushed from the sun. Limp strands of wispy hair clung desperately to his head. The yellow T-shirt he wore was too tight around his gelatinous gut and clashed with the red Bermuda shorts riding up between his thighs. Alex wasn’t surprised to spot a glob of something dark and crusty on the shirt. Chris was a slob. Always had been .
Disgusted by Chris’s disheveled appearance, Alex looked away. He couldn’t stomach Chris’s overenthusiasm. His energy, which was more infuriating than infectious. The guy was like a human Golden Retriever. Always trying to please. Always obeying commands. Fetch. Stay. Roll over. Alex gave the command and Chris carried it out. He didn’t ask questions, which Alex appreciated. He liked Chris’s submission and subservience.
But Chris was weak. Easily manipulated.. Most likely to panic when shit was hitting the fan instead of remaining calm, staying rational, thinking things through.
“Listen,” Alex began, voice lowered as he stepped closer to Chris, staring at him, but also keeping an eye on Phil, Mia, and Grace, standing at the outdoor bar beneath the covered terrace. “This is not a fucking vacation.”
Chris’s face fell. “Yeah, I know. I just?—”
“Stay out of the fucking pool,” Alex warned. “We are here for one reason only and it’s not to lay out on the beach and get a fucking tan.”
Nodding like a bobblehead, Chris said, “Sorry. I understand, I just thought?—”
“Don’t think,” Alex hissed. “Just do what I tell you to do. There’s too much at stake. Practice your backstroke some other time.”
Chris nodded.
Alex sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you heard from Jason?”
Checking his watch, which was also a phone, Chris shook his head. “Not yet. ”
Alex scratched his chin. Over at the outdoor bar, Mia, Grace, and Phil were drinking champagne. Laughing. Talking.
It bothered him that Phil misnamed his firm, putting Jason’s last name first. It felt obvious. Something he’d done on purpose. But Alex wasn’t sure if Phil’s mistake should bother him. Maybe he should let it go. Why should he care if Phil didn’t know the name of his firm? Because maybe he didn’t. He didn’t know Phil well. Not anymore. Hadn’t seen the guy in fifteen years. Maybe Phil hadn’t bothered to keep up with Alex’s life, the way Alex had made sure to keep track of Phil.
“Want me to call Jason?” Chris asked.
“He should be here soon,” Alex said, annoyed by Chris’s suggestion, his attempt to be useful. “Maybe his plane was delayed.”
Alex stared at Phil, nodding at something Grace was saying as he swilled champagne.
The last time they’d spoken had been that day in Phil’s dad’s office. A dark, cavernous space, filled with large leather furniture, priceless antiques, million-dollar art, and the smell of unrestrained power and undeserved privilege. Alex had been excited. Ecstatic, bursting with a strange giddiness. He wanted to laugh out loud, but he masked his emotions. Kept his face stoic and solemn for the benefit of Mr. Richart, who was stern and irritated.
“What if he’s not?” Chris asked. “Here soon, I mean. What if Jason doesn’t show up.”
Alex glared at Chris. “Then we’re effed.”