Page 59

“I feel like shit, too, honestly.” My leg is going to town under the glass table, and I swing my ankle over the knee and bear down, forcing the thing to stop bouncing. I tell myself to calm down, slow down. Business with Maxim always requires a bit of finessing. “It’s been a day.”
“I hear Nick pulled through.”
Nick—an employee of Maxim’s I’ve met only once, in a dark and abandoned parking lot in Castleberry Hill, who wore an oversize puffy coat and a Braves cap pulled so low, there’s no way in hell I could ever pick him out of a lineup. That night I passed him ten thousand in cash, and then I did what Maxim ordered and tried to forget Nick ever existed.
It was a lot easier than I thought it would be.
Now it takes every bit of my will to hold on to my poker face. “I thought you and I were never to speak of that name again.”
“This is my house, Cam. Regular rules don’t apply here.” Maxim flicks his gold lighter at the end of a fresh Marlboro and gives a mighty suck, blowing the smoke from lips like sun-aged leather. “Did everything go as planned?”
The question ignites in my gut, but I manage to nod without pause. “The fire started in the outlet.” I don’t have to mention which one, or that it was next to the cooking grease. I’m positive Nick reported back to the boss. “Faulty wiring, apparently.”
“And the alarm?”
“Malfunctioned.”
Maxim lifts a brow. “See? I told you Nick was good. So that’s done, then. You can move on.”
Move on. If I weren’t so totally miserable I would laugh.
Pain seeps across my chest, and as much as I want to ram it with a fist, I can’t. Maxim would see, and he’d know there’s something I’m not telling him—that Nick’s job wasn’t all that clean, that despite my performance with Flavio and George the inspectors are already throwing around the wordarson, which means the insurance payout I’m counting on to dig myself out of this hole isn’t looking like the sure thing Nick promised when I forked over that ten thousand.
And then there’s Maxim. No way he’ll give me another loan, not without the promise of that insurance money, and definitely not on top of the $100,000 I already owe him, plus a three point vig. That’s 3 percent interest, tacked on at the end of every week, and onto an amount that is cumulative—meaning it adds up fast. By the time the loan comes due, at the end of the month, it will have more than doubled. Naked ladies and criminal connections are not Maxim’s only source of income, or even his primary. Maxim is a loan shark, a highly successful one.
“The insurance adjustor assures me I’ll have a check in my hand by Monday morning at the latest. When that happens, your palm will be the first I slap.”
I try not to think about what Maxim will do when he finds out I’m lying, but it’s impossible. He will send one of those goons guarding the hallway to find me, along with a weapon heavy enough to knock out a kneecap, or a saw that will cut through muscle and bone. A chef missing a finger or two can still cook, but all things considered, I’d really prefer to keep all ten.
Maxim squints into the smoke. “So what’s this, then? A social visit?”
The irony punches me in the gut. “Not even close. I’m here because I don’t know where else to go. Because I have nowhere else to turn. You’re my last hope, Maxim, and I know how weird that sounds but—”
“Spit it out, kid.”
“There’s a guy at the house with Jade and the kids. He put a gun to her head and he forced his way inside, and then he tied her to a chair and he...” I shake my head, unable to think about what else he’s done. “Myfamily, Maxim.”
I put the accent onfamilybecause I know Maxim’s. I’ve met his wife, I’ve cooked for his kids, I know all his grandkids’ names and the order in which they were born. Those family values he’s always touting? I am praying they translate to mine.
He leans back in his chair, studying me as he takes a deep, long drag that takes all day. Less than an hour until the bullets start flying, and Maxim here is taking his sweet time. The tobacco crackles as it burns its way up the tube.
“That explains why you’re so jumpy, at least. How much does he want?”
“Just over seven hundred thousand. I’ve managed to piece together some cash, but it’s not much. I’m still way short.”
I sound calm, but on the inside I’m at full-on panic. Maxim is my last resort. If he says no, I’m out of options. I’ll lose Jade, the Bees, and it’ll be all my fault.
“How much are you short?”
“I need $685,296.”
Maxim whistles between his teeth—a sound I don’t take as a good sign. It’s the most I’ve ever asked from him, way more than I would normally dare, but the thought of life without Jade, without the sound of little feet tearing up the hardwood floor upstairs as they get ready for school... I can’t even process what that would be like, or why up to now I’ve been okay with missing out on so much of their lives. They’re sound asleep by the time I drag my ass home from work, long gone by the time I roll out of bed. I grumble whenever the noise from their morning routine wakes me, but I never get out of bed to give Jade a hand, or kiss everybody before they take off. Why not? What the hell is wrong with me?
He flicks a quarter inch of ash into a silver ashtray. “Let’s say I float you this cash. Seven hundred thousand to save your family. How would you pay me back? Your restaurant business isn’t exactly booming these days.”
“I’ll put up all my shops. Every last one of them, including the real estate. I own every building but Bolling Way, and I already told you the insurance money for that comes Monday at the latest. That’s only a few days from now. When that happens, every penny I owe you from both loans plus interest will be in your hand by the end of the day. And in the meantime, you can hold the pink slips for all my shops as insurance.”
He waves a crepey hand through the air. “What do I want with a couple of overpriced restaurants halfway to Tennessee? I don’t go outside the perimeter, you know that. And I told you when you bought that Inman Park property, it’s on the wrong side of DeKalb Avenue, which means you can call it Inman Park all you want but really it’s Reynoldstown. Bolling Way is the only one of your properties I’d be even remotely interested in, and you don’t own it.”