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Crushing Over My Best Friend's Older
Brother
Tara Brent

Published by Tara Brent, 2021.

 Copyright 2020 by Tara Brent - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part
of this document in either electronic means or in printed format.
Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of
this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the
publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

A special ‘thank you’ to my two wonderful beta readers, Darcy

Yarosh and Renee Williams. I am so grateful for the time and effort
you devoted to this book. ☺
Table of Contents
Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue
Chapter One
 Tiff
No one talks about the “happily ever after”.
Movies fade to black after a romantic kiss. And we just assume
everyone will be in love forever despite the bumpy start. Not that
I’m an expert, or married, or even dating, but I did launch the
biggest dating app in the world. But falling in love is tricky and
something hard to control. I like to be in control, but right now, it
sucks to be me.
My gaze travels over the facade of Maya and Jackson’s new
three-story home in Wards Ridge, New York. That is definitely a
mansion. My best friend Maya won’t admit it, but I have to lean my
head all the way back to see the roof. I’m not sure if I can top
Maya’s fairy tale love. Our love lives are not in competition, but I
want something good to happen for me.
That’s why I came up with the MeetCute app in the first place.
With Maya’s help, of course. It was my way of earning a living while
meeting men. I can be a frugal multitasker, even when it comes to
love. But this time, I have only one goal to focus on, and that’s
securing my financial future in the lap of luxury. I’m starting over
again.
“Tiff, come on in.” Maya swings open the front door, and I quickly
step in out of an overcast drizzle. Sigh, I hate rain but it’s spring.
Even with my hair braided down my back, I hate getting wet. Rain is
a black woman’s kryptonite. And I always keep two umbrellas in my
car.
“You look so good.” She inspects me with cheery approval. Maya
consistently props me up with her kind words. She gives me a big
hug as if we hadn’t seen each other since I returned from South
Carolina. Meeting my mother’s relatives was a disaster.
“Vince is here,” she says, walking toward the kitchen.
“That’s nice.” I smile, but I’m lying. Would it look too obvious if I
slipped into the bathroom and checked my makeup? Maya’s older
brother Vince is a neurotic, control freak who has no business
looking so hot. When we chat, Vince has a way of staring at me,
making me feel like I’m all that matters. But he’s in real estate with a
long client list, and he has to practice persuasion on someone. Plus,
we’ve never hooked up except for one kiss on New Year’s Eve during
happy hour at a local bar.
I would never think about him if it hadn’t been for that one kiss.
“Maya, I’m just going to step into the bathroom really quick,” I
glance around the hallway of many doors, play a hunch, and end up
in a closet.
“It’s in the kitchen.” Maya laughs. “Come on, and you can also
say hi to Lucas and Vince.”
Whenever I hear Lucas’ name, I smile. Soon, my mouth stretches
into a big one as my godson speaks his own language. We walk into
a huge kitchen with a cozy nook and plenty of surfaces, and Lucas
scoots across the floor at top speed, with Vince on all fours, hurrying
after him in his tailored shirt and navy pants.
“I got your foot.” Vince reaches out and wiggles Lucas’ heel.
“Where did it go?”
Lucas giggles as he moves as fast as he can to his mama. She
lifts him off the floor and hands the cutie to me. “Look, Lucas. It’s
Auntie Tiffany.”
Vince freezes on the floor in mid-crawl, and his eyes widen as he
realizes he’s been caught crawling around like he’s turning one, too.
“Hi Vince.” I smile as Lucas lays his head on my shoulder. “That
looks like fun.”
Vince hauls his ass off the kitchen floor, jumping up as if the
surface is sizzling. He brushes his knees though Maya would never
allow her toddler to crawl around on a dirty floor. Vince’s expression
is solemn as he nods a quick hello.
“Hello, Tiff,” he says in a deep voice, “good to see you again.”
I smile sweetly, trying to put him at ease. “You look like you’re
having fun.”
Vince stares blankly as if he’s been accused of something sinful.
“Yeah, I have to go.” He walks over to Lucas, cuddled in my
arms, and leans in. He looks as if he’s going to kiss me. I hold my
breath, knowing fully well that he’s about to press his lips to his
nephew’s forehead. I look away, but I feel awkward as tension
vibrates between us.
Vince leans away, and I sense his gaze examining my face like
he’s never seen me before. What is up with him?
“I have an appointment to see a property,” he says, pulling on his
suit jacket then fixing his cuffs, “It’s in two towns over, and so I
should’ve left by now to meet Jackson.”
“Will I see you for dinner tonight?” asks Maya.
“I’ll text you later.” Not looking back, he hustles out the kitchen
door.
I shrug my shoulders and look at Lucas as if he can answer the
question I’m thinking. He babbles a few words of advice. Then he
stares at me with total concentration before a drip of saliva balances
on his lips and falls in slow-motion onto me. I look down at the wet
stain that is slowly growing on my clean white T-shirt.
“Oh, Tiffany,” Maya winces, “I’m so sorry.” She grabs a paper
towel and dampens it with water from the sink.
“It’s okay.” I look at the spot slowly growing bigger as Maya dabs
at it. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have spent a hundred bucks on a T-
shirt. What did Oprah think when she picked this?
“Vince doesn’t mean to be rude.” She always makes excuses for
his abrupt behavior. “He has trouble relaxing, you know that.”
Instead of fixing the spot on the front of my shirt, it’s taken over
and doubled in size. I look at Lucas and tell him, “Now, I look like
the messy eater.”
“You can borrow one of my shirts.” Maya frowns, then she snaps
her fingers. “It’s only water, sort of. I can toss it in the dryer. It will
take a minute or two.”
Maya places Lucas in his chair, walks over to the corner, and
opens two folding doors that conceal a stacked washer and dryer. “I
had it put in because I hated dragging everything to the basement.”
Maya stretches out a hand for my shirt.
I glance over at the open archway into the kitchen and hesitate.
“You heard Vince,” she replies, “Jackson is two towns over to
show a property. No one is walking in unless you’re suddenly shy
around me.”
 In one quick move, I whip my T-shirt over my head. “I’m not shy.
I own bathing suits that show more skin.”
Maya catches my T-shirt in her hand. “I can go upstairs and get
you a robe to put on.” She tosses it in then slams the dryer door
shut. In a second, my shirt is tumbling, and the smell of lavender
scents the air.
I sit down at the table and make myself comfortable, not minding
my present state of undress in the slightest. Maya and I shared a
dorm room in college, and she’s probably seen this old bra before. It
could even be an old one of hers—we shared everything until now.
How am I going to start this conversation? And why am I so nervous
to tell my best friend the truth?
“Your parents must be happy to have you back home,” Maya
comments. “Are you planning to stay? You’re not planning on going
back to South Carolina?”
“Nope, I’m going to start looking for another apartment.” I smile
tightly, watching her fuss around the kitchen and pick up stray toys
off the floor. It’s easier to talk without her staring me in the eyes.
“My dad is already driving me crazy, but my mom is glad I’m there.
She told me the other night that I keep him distracted.”
“I could never move back into my old home again unless I really
had to,” replies Maya. “Max is thinking of moving back home.
Southern California is too expensive, and he might have a job offer
here.”
“That’s interesting,” I reply, and then my mouth seals shut. I sit
quietly while I lose the perfect chance to start the conversation I
really want to have with Maya. She’s a friend I know won’t make me
feel stupid for what happened. But I just don’t want to talk about it
yet. What I really want is to have a solution before I mention the
problem.
Maya walks over to the dryer and whips open the door, taking out
my T-shirt. She gives it a good shake and then grimaces when she
looks at the front.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up perfectly straight.
She gives me an anxious look and then shows me the damage.
The drool has become a large circle of yellow crustiness nuked
permanently to the front of my shirt. It makes a crunching sound
when Maya tries to pick it off with her nail, but the spot won’t
budge. It’s my favorite T-shirt, but the problem is I wasn’t planning
to drive back home until much later. Once I’m out of my parent’s
house for the day, I am gone.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, scratching it harder, “I guess it wasn’t
water.” She glances at Lucas, who laughs at mommy’s baffled
expression.
I sigh. “I hate being a pain, but I won’t be home until later.”
“You are never a problem.” Maya heads for the kitchen door. “You
can borrow one of my tops, and I’ll wash this one.”
“I’ll have it here for the next time it happens.” I’m joking, but
Maya has a pained look as she hurries out of the room.
I sit down and look around the kitchen as I wait. I like the
subway tile and the huge center island. They hardly need the
breakfast nook, but it’s sweet enough to curl up in there with hot
soup and a book.
Footsteps approach the doorway, and I’m relieved. It’s starting to
get chilly in here and my nipples are popping. I stand up with my
hand outstretched, ready to take Maya’s shirt when Vince rushes into
the room. For a long second, I’m not sure how to react when I see
him. He looks equally confused as his eyes widen and cannot pry
themselves off my chest. His jaw drops and he’s making a sound
from deep in his throat, but it could be Lucas gurgling. With my dark
complexion, no one is ever going to notice a blush, so I don’t even
bother to care anymore. But Vince’s face takes on a bright pink glow
as he starts to gasp for air.
I glance down, not quite remembering which bra I grabbed
today. Support concerns me more than looks since I’m on a dry
spell. It’s the lacy cocoa one that’s almost transparent, and
imagination isn’t needed to know what I look like without it. My hard
nipples are poking out against the sheer lace, and this man must be
wondering why I’m half-dressed in his sister’s kitchen.
With a firm tug, I yank a dishtowel off the wall hook and hold it
up to my chest. Lucas shouts and points at Uncle Vince, who’s a
shade of red that’s brighter than a birthday balloon. Vince doubles
over, and maybe, we need to call the paramedics? Maya walks into
the room, holding a long-sleeve T-shirt, and immediately halts to
study the scene. She recovers before we do and hands me the shirt.
“What are you doing here?” She frowns at him, completely
confused. “I thought you had left.”
“I forgot my tie.” Vince breathes in deeply then lets out a slow
breath.
Maya and I glance over at the breakfast nook, and a green
striped tie is lying neatly across the table. Stretched and flatten in a
perfect line as if it were freshly pressed. But Vince doesn’t move to
get it. He remains doubled over, his chest almost touching his knees,
as we wait for him to get his tie and leave. Lucas points at his uncle
Vince and laughs as if this is all for his amusement.
“Do you want your tie?” Maya asks sternly.
Vince shakes his head and then slowly starts to back away until
he’s out of the door. Maya and I exchange a look when we hear the
front door slam.
“I guess he changed his mind,” she replies to my thoughts. She
leans over Lucas and smiles. “Who’s a silly uncle? Uncle Vince is a
silly uncle.”
I slip the shirt over my head quickly and admire the tie-dye print
as I sniff the fabric softener in the fabric. “He’s always acting odd
when he sees me. This time, he had an excuse,” I reply, “but you’d
think he would be used to me by now?”
“Oh Tiff, don’t take it personally.” Maya lifts Lucas up into her
arms before sitting down. “Vince is skittish around women. I thought
he was interested in the security guard in Jackson’s old building until
he used the f-word.”
I lift a brow, and she replies. “Friend.”
I shrug, “I always thought he would marry first.” I stare at Lucas,
who has a lock of Maya’s hair in his mouth. “He seems wired to
commit.”
“You mean, be committed once he’s driven the rest of us crazy.”
She smirks. “Vince is too picky when it comes to women. He’ll never
meet the female version of himself.”
 I smile, and the conversation drops off to silence as Maya pours
apple juice in a sippy cup. There are other things to discuss besides
her brother, and I’ve avoided what I came here to ask, so I dive into
the deep end without a preamble when she sits down with Lucas.
“I want to start a new business.”
Maya looks over as Lucas sucks peacefully on his juice. “Okay,”
she shrugs, “Doing what?”
“I thought we could start another social media app. Something
geared toward people starting families. A site that’s heavily
moderated with curated content.”
“We?” Maya laughs as she shifts Lucas onto her other side. “Did I
hear you say the word we?”
I sigh. “I know you’re busy with your family but aren’t you a little
bored at home yet?”
Maya glances at the door and lowers her voice. “You know I love
my life right now, but I’ve got FOMO so bad. I went to the
supermarket over the weekend, and the cashier called me ma’am. It
wouldn’t have been so bad except I didn’t have Lucas with me.” Her
eyes widen. “Tiff, do I look like a ma’am?”
I laugh. “He probably wanted to call you a MILF, but didn’t
because he would’ve been fired.”
Maya smiles, pleased with the ego boost. She has nothing to
worry about with her blond hair, big eyes, and hot husband. My
intention wasn’t to convince her she’s unsatisfied, but I really need a
friend right now. There are more details to discuss, but I’m
practicing taking little steps.
“It’s a shame,” she says, “I was going to suggest Vince help you
find an apartment.”
I don’t mean to cringe, and I’m even sorry that she saw it. “I
want to live at home while I launch the business. No point in renting
a place and then living at the office.”
“Smart move.” She smiles as Lucas’ eyes start to shut. “Let that
buyout money earn us interest. I’m really glad you’re back in New
York, Tiff. I miss not seeing you almost daily.”
“You’d see more of me if we have a startup together,” I push
gently, but I’m determined. “And you could bring Lucas to work.”
Maya’s face lights up, and that’s it. I’ve figured out the right angle.
“He could be our silent partner with his chubby cheeks.”
She grips my arm. “We’ll need a business plan.”
Grinning, I pat her hand. “I’ll email you the one I started
tonight.”
Chapter Two
 Vince
Moaning in pain, I drive away from Maya’s house after my
unexpected encounter with Tiffany. Every time I see her friend, I try
not to say something that will make me sound like a creep stalking
her. I wipe my hand over my face and stop for a red light. This has
to be the worst encounter so far. Almost as bad as the time I kissed
her on New Year’s Eve. And I used tongue. At midnight, she was
standing next to me looking sweet and sexy in a slip dress, a fuzzy
sweater, and sparkle flip-flops. Smiling up at me, Tiff had said her
feet hurt, and that was adorable, so I kissed her.
But this time it wasn’t my fault. Why was Tiff standing in Maya’s
kitchen with her shirt off? She’s so fucking gorgeous, and seeing her
body was like having a mind-blowing vision. I fidget and concentrate
on the road again instead of my awkward hard-on. I’ll call Maya later
and discretely find out if they noticed anything. My imagination
presents me with an image of my wood poking a tent in my pants. I
don’t think they noticed. I don’t want to be that raunchy old guy
eyeing my younger sister’s friend.
Rain had been threatening to fall, but the sun is out by the time I
reach Whittier. I check the time on my Rolex, and I’m early, so I stop
at the diner on Chase Street. Tugging my collar open, I consider
finding a clothing store, but I can survive for an hour or two without
a tie. And like that, Tiff is in my thoughts again, but this time I can
control myself. I toss a quarter in the meter and seek coffee inside.
“Vince? I was going to text you.” Jackson sits comfortably in a
booth with a cup of coffee and his phone. Not good. What’s he doing
in here? I glance at my watch again.
“Just a coffee. Black,” I tell the waitress, and she nods. I’ve only
been in here a few times, but she seems to recognize me. Any
stranger is news in a small town. I slide into the booth across from
Jackson.
“I needed a coffee before I meet with the client,” I explain as if I
shouldn’t be in a diner. “It’s quaint in here.”
 Jackson frowns in amazement. “Quaint? I didn’t know you did
quaint. The coffee is hot and cheap...”
The waitress places a cup of black coffee in front of me and
leaves.
“And fast,” he continues. “How often do you come to Whittier?”
He’s fishing for something but is he asking for himself or for
Maya. Jackson was my best friend before he became my brother-in-
law, so we know each other too well. Before he married Maya, I was
the one doling out tough-love advice, but he has taken on a new
role as a ball-buster. He’s become an expert on honest living now
that he has a wife and kid.
“Whittier is a quaint town,” I emphasize, “and it’s only a matter of
time before the city crowd discovers it.”
Jackson shakes his head and watches the waitress wipe down
the counter that stretches along the opposite wall. The woman is
probably the same age as my late mother when she passed away
and has probably lived in this town her entire life. If she knew we
were in real estate, she’d probably pour the coffee over our heads.
“She could retire to Florida if she were interested in selling,”
whispers Jackson.
I shake my head and then almost burn my mouth on my coffee. I
glance at my watch again and then at my phone. Stretching, I lean
forward and eye the street through the large glass window. I glance
at the door behind me. Near the top of the wooden frame is a bell
that must ring when it opens.
“Are you waiting for someone?” asks Jackson.
I swing back around and quickly debate on what to say. “I’m just
wondering if I should have parked my car on the street.”
Jackson smirks and shoves his phone into his inside pocket. “You
know you’re talking to the original bullshitter.” He glances at the
waitress standing behind the counter. She’s busy talking to the cook
who’s looking out the serving window. “You look like you’re waiting
for someone, but why would someone deliver an envelope here?”
The blood drains from my face, and suddenly I can feel a draft
on the back of my neck. “I haven’t heard from them since that day,”
I speak in vague terms, but he knows who I’m referring to. “I’m as
clean as you are now.”
“I’m pretty clean,” he replies, watching my expression closely.
“Since the baby and the wedding, we don’t hang out like we used to,
Vince. I have to stay out of it for Maya and my son. I can’t have that
around me anymore.”
The chill is replaced with a flush of anger. “This is so ironic.” I
shake my head. “You sound like me last year.”
The bell above the door chimes and Jackson keeps his gaze on
me. No doubt he’s waiting for me to turn around. But I have to look.
I wave to the man, waiting by the door as the waitress grabs a
menu and greets him.
“New client, Vince? You’re really expanding into the Whittier
market.”
“My business is legit,” I tell him coolly. “Same as yours.”
Jackson stands up from the booth. “Let’s keep it that way, Vince.
I’ve gained a lot in the last year, and I don’t plan on losing it for
anyone.”
Jackson pats my shoulder as he walks toward the door. He looks
over at my client seated on the other side of the diner, studying a
menu. Jackson has always had a no-bullshit manner, so it’s odd
being on the receiving end of it. He doesn’t seem to remember that
I will always look out for my sister no matter who she’s married to.
As soon as the door closes, I get up from my seat and join my client
at his table.
He places down his menu as I sit down. “I saw you,” he says,
“but you looked preoccupied, so I thought it was better not to
disturb you.”
I nod. “That was my business partner, and I told him you were a
client. Thanks for trying to be discreet.”
He tilts a brow. “I’m guessing I wasn’t discreet enough?”
I don’t reply though I should’ve said something. It wasn’t
Kenneth’s fault that my brother-in-law liked cheap coffee too. My
lawyer Kenneth Payne returns his attention to the menu as the
waitress appears to take his order. He’s twice my age, so that makes
him roughly seventy with thinning gray hair and glasses. His
breakfast order of dry toast and an egg reflects the dictates of a
doctor rather than taste.
“Are you interested in breakfast now?” asks the waitress.
I nod. “Sure, scrambled eggs and wheat toast buttered.”
We don’t speak until she walks away. “So, do I have to appear in
court?”
He shakes his head quickly. “We’re not prepared to go to court
yet. If we do, you won’t get the result you want. I’m just threatening
an appearance before a judge.”
The waitress returns to the table and sets down a coffee with
creamers on the side. She looks at me as if I might say something,
and she speaks first. “I didn’t think you were going to stick around.
Do you want another cup?”
I nod and try not to frown. “I’m not in a hurry.”
She ignores me. “Yours is coming right out, sir.”
Kenneth eyes her as she perches herself behind the counter to
wait.
“When did I become the irresponsible one?” I ask nobody in
particular. “I raised my sister and brothers. I earned money to keep
us in our home. I’m the oldest. But when my sister marries, I’m
obsolete.”
“You’re not used to taking advice from other people,” Kenneth
states flatly. “I have many clients like you, and then after the judge
hands down their verdict, they want to listen. Do yourself a favor
and listen to me now?”
The waitress returns, which gives me a moment to consider what
he’s said. I don’t like taking advice from other people. I’m usually
the one sorting out their messes. It’s hard to listen to my brother
Dane’s sage advice after his car has been towed to Staten Island,
and he needs to borrow four hundred in cash. And there’s Max who
thinks I should sell our family house but also needs a place to stay
when he moves back from LA.
I look down at my plate, and she’s given me a full breakfast with
sausage and hash browns. Kenneth’s plate is loaded down as well,
and I’m confident he’s not taking his doctor’s advice.
 “The food here is tasty,” he says between bites. “How did you
find this place?”
“I drove by and stopped. I’m not into Starbucks.”
I take a bite of my toast, and it’s not the dried-up piece of
cardboard I was expecting. It’s moist with butter that tastes like
authentic dairy and not grease. The eggs are farm-raised, the same
kind we ate as kids, not pale yellow and flat. These are fluffy with a
hint of pepper. We sit in silence, eating as the waitress pours us
another cup of coffee. I’m definitely coming back here.
“I’ve told you how to win in court,” Kenneth downs his fresh
orange juice and motions for another. “You want the judge to think
you’re law-abiding.” Kenneth glances at my open collar. “With a
stable home life.”
I finish chewing. “Maybe I can borrow my sister’s kid.”
Kenneth frowns. “It’s not prudent. Judges are very astute and
hard to scam. You don’t need to show up with a child, but a steady
girlfriend or fiancée would help convince them of your lifestyle. A
single man in family court...”
Kenneth shakes his head and then smiles at the second glass of
orange juice set down in front of him.
“I haven’t dated in years,” I grumble, thinking about my most
recent dry spell. I had flirted with the security guard at Jackson’s
building until I found out she was twenty-one.
Kenneth glances up from his swiftly emptying plate. “A close
female friend who is willing to appear with you should suffice. I’m
not suggesting that you lie. I’m only suggesting that you appear
committed.”
My last ex-girlfriend was maybe three years ago, and when we
finally broke up, she made it clear that she would never see me
again. She had expected a ring for her birthday, and I had given her
a smartwatch that calculates calories burned even while she slept. I
still remember her face when she opened the box. And ducking
when she threw it at my head.
“Do you know anyone that could help you?” he asks.
My shoulders sag. “I’ll ask around.”
 The waitress leaves the check on the table, and when I finish, I
pay at the counter. I don’t know anyone I can ask unless I go online
and find a former girlfriend on Facebook. I shut my eyes as my head
feels light and picture the ensuing chaos. I belong nowhere near a
dating app. Of course. The thought springs into my mind. I could
ask Tiff for her help finding someone. I think I can trust her not to
tell Maya.
I return to the table but remain standing. “Kenneth, I’ll give you
a call.”
He nods. His mouth full of hash browns. The waitress smiles at
the tip I left on the counter as I walk out the door.
“Come again,” she calls out as the door shuts.
Enough time had passed to meet the client at the property. I had
two more showings after this one and then back to my office in
Bridgetown. In five minutes, I’m standing in front of the old Chase
Street Mansion, and it’s a shame. An ancient brick structure from the
1930s that had been a showcase from the gilded age has been
abandoned to rot. A new developer was interested in the land, but
not the house. The old place will be torn down for new and
improved multi-use condos like the ones filling up Bridgetown.
For some reason, the old mansion reminds me of myself. I will be
forty in five years, and though I have built a solid business, I have
nothing else to show for how I’ve spent my time.
“Vince, is that you?”
I spin around, and Ned Shaw walks toward me with his hand
extended. Shit. He’s someone I never thought I would see again.
And I can’t imagine why he is here.
I pump his hand once and quickly let it go. “Good to see you,
Ned, but I’m waiting for a client, so I can’t talk.”
“Yeah, your client is my son and daughter-in-law.” He laughs hard
at my shocked expression. I didn’t realize he had a son. I thought he
sat in the old man’s bar all day gossiping.
“He started flipping houses when he graduated from college,” he
explains, “I told him about you.”
“Told him what?” I demand.
He smirks. “Come on now, Vince. We’re businessmen. Right?”
 “I sell real estate,” I reply shortly, “I know you’re aware of that.
So what business are you in now?”
Ned shakes his head at my attitude. “I’m helping out my son as
an investor.” He lowers his voice. “Always jumpy and suspicious.
That’s why you never got caught, not like poor Cyrus and Brandi. I
hear they applied for parole.”
I yank my business card out of my suit pocket and hand it to
him. “I have a tight schedule today, so we better start.”
Ned smiles and then flicks the card with his fingernail. “Fancy
card, Vince. I told my kid that he should go into real estate like my
buddy Vince.”
The hateful look in Ned’s eyes stick my feet to the ground. It isn’t
safe for me to enter the house with him alone. Two of my agents
should’ve been here, and I should’ve been in the office, but Chase
Street is a pricey listing with an enormous commission attached.
I lift my chin and narrow my eyes. “Let’s start the tour.”
Showing fear around a small timer like Ned Shaw will be the end
of me. Crooks swarm to fear like mythical killer bees chasing a
skeptic. I pull out my phone and send a text to Jackson before
unlocking the house. We have a code for trouble. I take chances but
rarely a risk.
“It must have been a grand house back in the day.” Ned runs his
hand along a wooden column. “Parquet floors, stained glass, French
windows. You’d have to be rich to live in a house like this. But what
would we know about being rich? We’re working-class men.”
“Why don’t you take a look around,” I say, putting more distance
between us.
“I don’t warrant a tour, Vince?” Ned scowls. “My son has the
money for this place.”
Is it clean money? The mansion has potential but the renovations
will cost a lot of money. I stamp my foot on the hardwood floors and
it sounds solid but an inspector will have to come in. The stained-
glass window on the second-floor landing looks intact. A prism of
light shines through the window, covering a stucco wall in a pattern
of miniature rainbows. It’s a shame. Someone will probably knock
that window out and dump it.
 “What does your son plan to do with it?” I ask.
Luckily, Ned enjoys talking about his son’s accomplishments as if
they were his own. I can’t help thinking about my own father and if
he would be proud of me for what I did. I’d like to think he’d
understand that I did it to keep the family together after he passed
away. We weren’t staying together unless drastic measures were
taken.
The front door creaks behind us, and I grin when Jackson walks
in. But when Jackson sees Ned, he frowns at him and then at me.
Chapter Three
 Tiff
Ultimately, I have to go home. It sounds like a hardship, but it
wouldn’t be if I were only talking about the physical structure. The
people inside, aka my parents, are the ones filling me with angst and
dread. Dad was delighted when I moved back home. I thought he
was going to bust out dancing across the foyer when he saw my
bags by the door. But Mom has been judgmental toward my choices
since my first training bra. If it were up to them, I’d live at home
forever. I’m Daddy’s little girl by default. I’m an only child.
“Hello,” I call out as I walk further into the house. “Where are
you?”
“The patio,” my mom calls out, “I’m here with your father.”
Mom and Dad are sitting on the patio, splitting the Times and
sipping smoothies. Dad makes a sad face when he sees me and then
wrinkles his nose at a glass filled with a thick green liquid.
“Your father won’t drink his smoothie,” my mother states firmly.
“He expects me to go back into the kitchen and fix him something to
eat.”
Dad pouts like he’s suffering. “I want something on a plate that I
can eat with a fork.”
I sigh, lifting the smoothie to my nose and taking a tentative sip.
“It’s not bad. Maybe if you drink it now, Mom will give you solid food
later.”
His face morphs into a grimace, and I don’t dare laugh. Dad is a
large man in height and width with apple cheeks and a tapered
haircut. In some ways, he still resembles his high school track photo
with his skinny legs. He definitely still has that broad smile.
“You have hypertension, William.” Mom’s gaze doesn’t leave her
paper. “You can’t eat like a teenager with no regard for your health.
I should make you take a walk.”
Dad scowls, and I have to laugh. He grips my hand and
whispers. “Pick me up a burger when you’re out.”
My eyes widen, and I can’t figure out how he knows where I’m
going. “A what?” I ask.
 He sneaks cash into the palm of my hand. “Two cheeseburgers
from the Mickey D’s.”
Relief eases my tight lips into a grin. He’s so happy to have me
back that I don’t have the heart to tell him that I want to move out
again. But I will when my new business strikes gold. I place the
money on the armrest of his lounge chair. I know Mom was paying
attention when she smirks.
“Maybe if you drink your smoothie,” I whisper, “I’ll get you a
veggie wrap later.”
Dad frowns at the smoothie and starts reading the paper again.
“You’ve dropped down in rank.”
I sigh. “I guess it’s a good thing there’s only three of us.”
“Your cousin Pamela is coming for a visit.” Mom doesn’t look over
or she would’ve seen my scowl. “She’s staying for a little while.”
Red floods my vision when I think about how I lost my share of
the buyout money. It’s gone, or at least, I don’t have it anymore.
Pamela and Robin are sisters. If Dad knew what our shady cousin
Robin talked me into he’d be furious. But I should’ve spotted a Ponzi
scheme the second that girl told me she had some sizzling money
advice. Why did I listen to her? She better not talk to me at the next
family reunion.
I run to my room and quickly grab my tote bag and head toward
my car. I shout my goodbyes before Dad can ask if I’m passing by a
store that sells chicken. He tries to call me back. No doubt to
request take-out mac-and-cheese, but I have to leave. Work is a
drive from Bridgetown, and being late is not an option. I had to sell
my BMW when I moved back to pay last month’s bills.
My used Toyota hits the street and I’m moving fast to get to work
on time. I took finding a job for granted until I couldn’t even get an
interview. I found out fast that my college degree made me
overqualified, and my lack of job experience made me under-
qualified. Cash was running low, so when I finally heard a yes, I
didn’t judge. All I said was when do I start?
A noise in my car starts low and ominous from the passenger
side. I thought my car had stopped making that grinding noise after
I stopped using the cheap gas. Idling at the intersection, a low
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