1
Beckett
New York, New York
"M r. Kade, you have an urgent call from the Upwood Police department on line one. They said that they've been trying to reach you on your cell phone, but couldn't get through."
I look up from my computer, wondering why my assistant, Helen, is interrupting me with a call I don't want to take.
"Upwood? Where the hell is that?"
Helen fidgets with the doorknob, looking like she wants to disappear. She has worked for me for almost 2 years now, the longest any assistant has lasted with me before, but she still looks terrified every time I speak to her.
Like the majority of my employees.
Even though I'm younger than most CEO's, I'm not one of these new-age business owners that believe in being best friends with their employees. I pay them above average salaries, offer amazing benefits packages, bonuses, and paid leave. But we are not going to be doing team building exercises, or sitting around chatting in the middle of the workday.
I make sure that there is a definitive line between us, and keep everything professional. We are all here to pour our hearts into our work, and that mentality is what has made this company grow more every year.
"I-I'm not quite sure, Sir," Helen says, finding her voice again. "The man on the phone said it has to do with your brother, Charlie."
"Fuck," I mutter, waving for her to leave as I pick up the phone.
I already have a really damn good idea what this call is going to be about, and I take a deep breath before answering the phone, wondering what the hell my half-brother and his redneck girlfriend have done now.
"Beckett Kade," I bark, turning my chair around and rubbing my temples. I figure that I can at least look at my nice view of Manhattan while these cops give me more bad news.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Kade. This is Sheriff Vaughn at the Upwood Police Department. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but I've got a serious situation down here with your brother, Charlie Kade."
I let out a breath, ready to tell him that Charlie is no longer my problem. I gave up being a bail bondsman for him five years ago after he disappeared again.
People have to actually want help to change themselves, and Charlie was way too happy to continue destroying his life, time and time again.
"Sheriff, I appreciate the call, but whatever Charlie has gotten himself into this time, he can call one of his associates , or his girlfriend Maria to bail him out. I don't have time for this shit today, or any day," I respond gruffly, already getting up and reaching for my suit jacket.
Sheriff Vaughn lets out a heavy breath on the other end of the line that makes me pause.
"Mr. Kade, I've looked at your brother's RAP sheet and this isn't what you probably are expecting. This isn't something that he can just wiggle his way out of this time. After his arraignment they're going to be taking him from my precinct here in Upwood in a few days down to the state prison two hours away. He wasn't just caught with some drugs he was using, he had enough on him to prove distribution to sell to our whole damn town. He's not getting out of this. Even with your help."
My hands drop away from my suit jacket and I stand frozen as I stare out of the window.
Charlie always had a problem with drugs from a young age, and it was no wonder considering his mother's affinity for popping pills like they were damn Tic Tac’s.
He started out by skimming off of her stash, before he and his stoner friends moved on to other drugs they would buy on their own. He was caught time, and time again with drugs, but the one thing he never was known for was dealing them.
I rub a hand down my face knowing that I can't ignore whatever is going on with him. I still don't plan on spending a penny to help his self-destructive ass, but I do need to get some more information before this gets out in the news.
"Can I speak to him?" I ask, regaining my composure.
"Yes, Sir. I can arrange for him to contact you if you give me about 0 minutes," Sheriff Vaughn responds.
"Right. I'll be here," I agree.
Ten minutes later, Helen puts through the call for me from the Upwood City Jail, and I stop pacing my office, sitting down to take the call.
"Beckett?" Charlie asks, his voice sounding hoarse.
I get straight to the point, not feeling like bullshitting with small talk right now, "How the hell did you get yourself into so much trouble living in a tiny mountain town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?"
I did some quick research on Upwood and I can't even imagine how he ended up there. The last thing I heard was that he was in New Jersey trying to stay clean, and working some Warehouse job with his equally dysfunctional girlfriend, Maria Alton.
"I moved here last summer. Maria's dad lived here, and he got really sick, so we came to stay with him. We helped him out since she's his only kid, you know? But he passed away just two months after we got here. He left us his house, so we decided to stay here," he explains.
"So when he died you and Tweedledum decided to turn her inheritance into a fucking trap house?" I snap, not bothering to hide my disgust.
Charlie had always had a special way of taking something good that was just handed to him, and turning it to shit.
He has done the exact opposite of what I've done with the opportunities I was given. It was one of the main reasons I convinced my father not to give Charlie any stake in our family business when he got sick seven years ago from cancer. Charlie would have not only mismanaged what he was given, but he would have burned it all to ashes.
"Maria..she left me, Beckett," Charlie mutters. "She ran off with some friends one weekend last Fall saying she was going out to Florida for a week. Haven't heard a word from her since. She barely was here anyway. That's her, always in and out."
"Perfect pair," I mumble, tapping my pen on my desk, growing more agitated listening to this annoying retelling of his life the past few years. "The Sheriff says the D.A. there doesn't screw around with drug dealers. He can put you away for 5 years plus for what they found on you without breaking a sweat. The legal system has given you enough chances, and you only seem to be escalating things every time you get a break."
He goes quiet for a moment, before responding, "You don't understand Beckett. I thought-I-I just needed some quick cash! This guy down in Charlestown who I was buying from, he told me if I would keep his stash here that he would pay me-"
"I don't have the time or desire to sit here and listen to more excuses for your piss poor decision making, Charlie!" I roar, pounding my fist on my desk. "I'm done spending my money to put you in expensive rehabs, or bail you out of your stupid mistakes. You're 27 years old for God's sake, not seventeen! And nothing has changed with you in a decade."
He grows quiet, and I know he must be seething on the other end of the line. He hates my lectures, and I'm sure a big part of him even hates me .
But one thing I've always done, and always will do is tell the truth.
"I'm.. sorry ," he grumbles, sounding like the word is painful to utter.
"Well we can agree on that," I say, sitting back in my seat.
"Listen, I know I don't deserve your help Beckett, but there's something I need to ask you. Something really important," he says, sounding strangely nervous.
My eyes narrow and I go to speak, but he cuts me off.
"It's not bail money, or a lawyer! I know I've fucked up big time. I'm going to be a man and take what I have coming," he says, shocking me into silence.
I shake my head feeling genuinely confused. This is not how it usually goes with us.
He screws up and calls me so I can pay his bail money and get him a shark criminal defense attorney (that bills an outrageous hourly fee even for breathing) to help him. I then send him to a rehab that costs as much as some people make in a year, just for him to do well for a few months, before falling off the face of the earth again.
It got even worse after he met Maria, who was more than happy to blow through the rest of his inheritance with him. It's the same song and dance we've done for years.
For too long.
But now he isn't asking for my help with the same old thing?
"So what is it that you want?" I ask cautiously.
"It's not something that I need you to take care of this time," he says, an uncharacteristic sadness lacing his voice.
"It's someone."