Page 46

Jack

My uncle’s penthouse offers sweeping views of Houston and across the Gulf of Mexico. Over the years, I’ve only been here a handful of times. He has another traditional home outside of Houston, but I don’t think he visits that property often.

I decided to go ahead and fly out. My logic was that maybe with some time and space Sophia would calm down.

When I return, I’ll talk to her. Then Ava and I will talk to her together.

I don’t get where the anger is coming from, but with space, she’ll calm down and accept it.

She likes Ava. It shouldn’t be an issue.

The doorman downstairs greets me like he knows me.

He addresses me by name and doesn’t pick up the phone to announce me until after directing me to the penthouse elevator.

A male nurse with thick, short, black hair meets me in the foyer.

He wears scrubs and black orthopedic looking tennis shoes and a gold chain necklace that glints in the light.

“Good morning, Jack. Let me go see if Mark is ready for you.”

“Thank you.”

He slips behind two imposing dark walnut doors. He must have been the one who answered the doorman’s call.

A low classical melody plays through the foyer. Uncle Mark loves both classical and jazz, but classical music in the home strikes me as formal, even for someone like Mark Sullivan.

The door cracks open, and the nurse slips out.

“You can go in now. If you wouldn’t mind, please slip off your shoes? We’re keeping his room as sterile as possible.”

“Of course.” He turns to go. “Ah, is he going to be okay?”

“We are optimistic regarding his treatment plan.” That is meaningless to me. “We caught the cancer early.”

I narrow my eyes and stand taller. “Is that what he told you to say to me?”

The nurse smiles, and I get the sense I amuse him. He never gave me his name, but he knows who I am. He crosses his arms and stands with his legs spread in a defiant stance.

“Today’s not a particularly good day for a visit. But since you’re here, he’s agreed to see you. He finished a chemo round earlier this morning. At this moment, he’s well on his way to getting good and stoned. If you want to have a coherent conversation with him, you should go in now.”

Right. I toe off my shoes and twist the knob. I can feel the man’s gaze on my back and glance over my shoulder. His arms remain crossed, and he looks like he has something to say.

“Is there something else?”

“No. I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

The plush maroon carpet in the bedroom fits snugly beneath the door.

Heavy drapes block most of the sunlight, leaving only inches of window unblocked.

The bright yellow light shining through the narrow gaps provide the only source of light.

It takes a moment for my sight to adjust to the dimly lit room.

“Don’t just stand there. Come in.” There’s a false bravado to his tone, or perhaps that’s how I choose to interpret his feeble voice.

My vision adjusts to the dim light. Uncle Mark sits propped up in a large wingback chair with a furry throw over his legs.

I choose a chair near his throne. He’s wearing what looks like deep purple silk pajamas, and I can’t help but think the only thing he’s missing is an ascot, or a silk scarf to wrap around his throat and tuck in neatly at the top of his pajamas.

There’s an ashtray on the small table to his left, along with a gold circular trash can.

The walls of his bedroom are dark. I can’t discern the hue, but there’s definitely texture.

An ornate golden four-poster bed reigns supreme in the room.

Enormous museum-worthy canvases hang on the walls.

I’m not an art guy, but they look expensive.

All are hunting scenes from hundreds of years ago, from back when they hunted with crossbows.

“Jack, I’d rather you didn’t see me like this.”

“Like what? In silk pajamas? You’re looking pretty good to me, old man.”

“Hush your tongue.” His eyelids close and slowly raise. He swallows.

“Do you need some water?”

“It’s right here.” He gestures to his side table. There’s a gold tray with a crystal glass and carafe. “I’m not an invalid. If I need it, I’ll get it.” He folds his hands in his lap over the fur throw. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Wanted to check on you. Heard a rumor you were under the weather.”

“I’ll be fine. If it gets serious, I’ll let you know.” He closes his eyelids. I sit back in the chair.

“I hope you know you can lean on me. We’re family. You don’t need to go through this alone.”

“You’re like the son I never had.” His eyes are closed, and his voice is scratchy. He should drink some water. “I’m very proud of you. So proud. I’ve had my worries, but you’ve done well.”

I’m not sure what to say to this. I’m fully aware he’s stoned, maybe too stoned to be fully aware of what he’s saying, but this is the first time he’s ever said anything like this to me. My eyes sting as unfamiliar emotions surge.

“Working with Victor. Smart. Good business.” From his perspective, Victor is just one of several distributors.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Oh, he’s really pleased. Said good things about you.

Likes you a lot more than Wayne. I always wanted you to take over, you know.

That’s what your dad wanted. It might have looked like I didn’t want that, but it’s always been my goal.

But I had to have other options. Raise others who could take your place.

You can never be sure of one. That’s like putting all your money in one stock.

Diversity. Take aim at the pack, to be sure of one.

That’s how you do it.” His eyelids are half-closed, and his index finger gestures as he rambles.

The room pivots. I clinch the armrests for stability.

“And you worried me, you know. Sometimes I thought you might… I blamed that damn boarding school Justin sent you to. Naval Academy not any better.” He lifts one wrinkled, bony hand a few inches and lowers it.

“But it all worked out. Even if the government got their hooks into you for a bit there. Sniper. Who would’ve thought? ”

My body temperature plummets. I lean forward in my chair, closer to him, to better hear his muffled words.

“You know, I never meant to bring a heroin addict into your lives. I handpicked her, thinking she wasn’t your type. I thought you liked blue-eyed blondes. Ava, she’s Cassandra’s opposite.” He exhales loudly through thin, pale lips.

The room’s temperature is low, and my fingers are chilled. In the deep recesses of my mind, an inner voice tells me to turn my phone on, to record this conversation. But I can’t seem to move.

“If you hadn’t found those listening devices, I would’ve never had to hire her.

But she’s been useful. Helped Sophia. She’ll be ready to go back to school.

I know you were worried about that. Pat’s probably right.

She is good at what she does. But now you want to date her?

” Two bony fingers rub his temple, but his eyes remain closed, almost like he’s sleep talking.

“Told you…it won’t work. I mean, I like her.

I do. But she’s strong willed. She’ll want more.

And how do you explain to Sophia…Trust me, there are plenty of women.

The contract ends this weekend. She’s been paid.

” His droopy eyelids close. “Let her go.”

“You hired Ava?” He’s unloaded a lot, but that’s all my shocked brain centers on.

“So did you.”

“Does she report back to you?”

“Don’t get mad, Jack. I need to know what’s going on with you.

Before I let you take over my company, I have to be sure.

” Did Ava listen in on my conversations?

Thank god Ryan and I met at a gun range for most of our debriefings.

I am numb. Void of emotion. “Wayne… that was unfortunate business. Who could’ve known he’d snap like that? ”

Alex told me that Wayne had said they had promised him the CEO role, but I’d assumed that was because of the role he played in our company. But now…

“Did you hire Wayne to kidnap Sophia?”

“What?” His eyelids flutter, then fall closed.

“No. I would never. I mean, I knew about Cassie and him. Everybody did. But no. He was just a backup. Who could’ve ever predicted he’d come up with that cockamamie scheme?

Insanity. I just… underestimated him.” Shockwaves rock through my body.

My lips are numb. I can barely swallow. But, somehow, my training kicks in.

“But you…” I close my eyes and breathe in. “The deal with Victor. You structured it and he executed it?”

“International. That’s where the growth…” His voice fades.

“How many other deals out there are structured like the Morales deal?”

His head lolls to one side and his lips vibrate as he exhales and inhales, his mouth ajar. He’s asleep.

Holy. Shit. What have you done, Uncle Mark?

What kinds of deals have you been structuring, and for how long, and why?

Does he even realize what’s going on? We’re smuggling drugs into the US.

He’s always been about growth but, drugs?

And Ava? She not only took money from me, but she also took money from him.

She spied on me. For money. It’s all for money.

She wants money. That’s probably what my uncle wants too.

He justifies it as growth, but the underlying reason for growth is money.

Everything comes back to good old-fashioned greed.

And I am once again the fool.