Page 69 of A Quick Buck

“Fuck, what else did I do?”

“You’re not well known for your kindness or your sobriety.”

“What if, uh…” Noah fidgeted. “What if I wanted to do something to make it up to them? To him and Frida?”

“You actually want to do something nice for someone else?”

“Yeah, so?”

Alistair peered at him curiously. “And what are you expecting to get out of it?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you want to do something nice for them?” Alistair tilted his head. “I’m wondering what your reasoning is.”

As those bright blue eyes drilled right into him, Noah scrambled for an answer. “Maybe, uh, I just wanna not be a huge raging dick weasel anymore?”

Alistair laughed. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“Yeah?” Noah relaxed.

“We will have to come up with something.” Alistair stood from the table.

“Okay, thanks.” Noah got up too. “Uh, where are we going?”

“Upstairs. That green piece of fabric you’re passing off as a shirt is hideous. You’re changing.”

“Whatever. I look hot.”

“You’re changing,” Alistair repeated. “Then I have a few errands to run before the party.”

“Errands? Like, what kind of errands?”

“The kind that don’t concern you,” Alistair replied sweetly. “Crybaby and Junior will take good care of you, I promise.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Where is ol’ Junior anyway? I haven’t heard his stupid mouth all morning.”

“He’ll be along shortly.”

“He got sick too, didn’t he?”

“I’ll let you figure that out, hmm?” Alistair kissed his cheek. “Now. Come on.”

With Crybaby’s vigilant presence at their backs, Alistair took Noah up to Noah’s room to find more modest clothing. It was slightly less awful than before—a hot pink polo shirt and jeans with sandals—though Noah still longed to show off more of his body.

Then again, this kinda looked nice.

While he changed, Alistair left him to get ready alone. Noah took his time putting on his new outfit and styling his hair, but he paused as he reached for his usual cologne.

He was remembering what Mace had said, that big bastard, and he reconsidered what product to use.

There was an expensive cologne Uncle Patrick had given him last Christmas, Die Booth’s Aura, a rich and masculine scent he never used. It reminded Noah of leather, and he’d always thought it was a scent for someone older.

Then again, he was looking kinda old right now in this lame ass polo shirt.

No, not old.

Mature.