Part 21 (1/2)
Caden
”When you coming back, son? I need a firm answer. They're ready to interview you. Whenever you're ready, so are they. You're spending way too much time over there and if you don't hurry home, your opportunity is going to move on without you.”
I'm out in front of the hotel standing on the sidewalk, having escaped from the room and Rose so I could call Cash. He's been blowing up my phone the last two days in a variety of ways including missed calls, texts, and voicemails. I had no idea the old man was so savvy with a smart phone. He even tried to Face-Time me.
I've avoided him, which is stupid. I'd rather spend time with Rose than face my reality. I need to man the f.u.c.k up and do what's right.
Blowing out a harsh breath, I run a hand through my hair. I need to get this s.h.i.+t cut. It's driving me crazy, always falling in my eyes. ”I'm not exactly sure.”
Cash wheezes. Or maybe he's sighing. I can't tell. ”I'm telling ya, you need to get your a.s.s back here. The position needs to be filled and he's going to find someone else for the job, which would be a d.a.m.n shame because you're perfect for it and you know it. You've got an eye like no one I've ever met. They would kill for your expertise.”
”Put me down for Monday, okay? Let them know I'll be there first thing in the morning or whatever works best for them.” If I can't go back to New York with Mitch.e.l.l, then I'll have to find my own way home.
This means I have approximately forty-eight hours left with Rose.
Not enough time. I don't want to leave her. Worse, I don't know how I'm going to tell her I'm leaving her.
”Sounds good. Just know that this position can't wait for you.” He keeps telling me this and I know he's right. ”It's the opportunity of a lifetime. A lifetime, kid. It'll help you go legit. Keep you out of the s.h.i.+t.”
”You've done all right for yourself,” I point out.
”I don't know anything else. I got in so deep, there's no way I could get out. Next thing I knew I was forty. Then fifty, then sixty ... h.e.l.l, I can't even make myself retire. I'm addicted to this game. It's ridiculous.” Cash pauses. ”But you, you can pull yourself out of this. You're young. You're smart. You can do something with your life and actually become something.”
That's why I'm going to the interview. Cash talks like the job is mine already, but we don't know that for sure. I still need to interview and prove myself. It's still hard for me to believe I've been handed this opportunity. An established and respected jeweler with a store in Brooklyn needs someone with a good eye who can evaluate and price jewelry. Considering I've been stealing copious amounts of jewelry for years and can price the s.h.i.+t out of it-both on the black market and legitimately-this is right up my alley.
And Cash knows it. The second he heard about the position-he's friends with the owner, talk about ironic-he knew I was the perfect candidate. I'm flattered he even thought of me.
”I'm going to call Mitch.e.l.l right now and see when he's going back home,” I rea.s.sure Cash. ”I'll call or text you when I find out more details.”
”If you gotta fly commercial, book a flight. I'll front you the money.”
His offer makes me feel like s.h.i.+t. ”I can pay for it. I have money.” I don't want to be his charity case.
”The offer stands. If you need it, tell me. I want to help. You can always pay me back,” he says firmly. ”Keep me posted when you know more.” He ends the call and I immediately look up Mitch.e.l.l's number and call him.
”Tell me you're finally coming over.” This is how Mitch.e.l.l greets me. He's already slurring his words. It is way too early for him to be drunk. ”We're having a party tonight. In your honor.”
”Give me a break. And I don't want to go to your s.h.i.+tty party.”
”You're an a.s.shole. A stupid a.s.shole. This s.h.i.+t will be amazing tonight. There will be alcohol. There will be scantily clad women with s.e.xy British accents and c.o.c.k-sucking lips. Oh, and there will be all the drugs you could ever ask for. All of it. Maybe drugs you never even knew existed.” Mitch.e.l.l laughs. ”G.o.d save the Queen, man. I f.u.c.king love England.”
Sounds like an absolute nightmare. I decide not to even acknowledge what he just said. ”So when are you returning to the States?”
Mitch.e.l.l makes an irritated sound. ”Is that all you ever want? To know when we're leaving? Are you that anxious to get out of here?”
”I have an appointment I need to go to on Monday.”
”And that's my problem how?” Mitch.e.l.l laughs and I hear a female voice in the background, asking him if he wants another round. Great. He's entertaining.
”I'll find my own flight back home,” I tell him irritably. I don't need this s.h.i.+t. ”Talk to you later, Mitch.” He hates it when I call him that. Thinks the nickname sounds too blue collar. Such an elitist p.r.i.c.k.
”Wait, wait, wait, Kingsley. I'll get you back home.” He pauses and I hear ice clink in a gla.s.s, so I can only a.s.sume he's having a drink. He smacks his lips together before he says, ”I'm flying out Sunday night.”
”Sunday night?” I turn and watch the front doors of the hotel, hating the hinky feeling I have that Rose is somehow lingering nearby. But she's not. When I left her in the room she was on the phone with her sister and planning on going in to Fleur this afternoon. ”Is that confirmed?”
”Yeah, yeah. Confirmed. Around seven, though I'm not exactly sure about the departure time. I don't want to leave too early or too late.”
”Makes sense.” I breathe a sigh of relief. ”Thanks a lot for helping me.”
”Not a problem. But hey.”
”What?”
”I have one condition, my friend.”
My sense of relief flies right out the window. I hate conditions. ”What is it?” I ask warily.
”You need to come to my party tonight. You must. I'm insulted you haven't stopped by and visited me at Mum and Dad's.” Mitch.e.l.l laughs at his fake British accent and I wish like h.e.l.l I could tell him to f.u.c.k off and hang up on him.
But I can't. We've been friends for a long time, and yeah, he drives me crazy with his partying ways, but I can't treat him like s.h.i.+t. ”Can't make it. I have plans,” I answer.
”Cancel them.”
”No can do, bro.”
”Don't 'bro' me. Since when do you decline attending a drug- and s.e.x-filled party? You found G.o.d or something?” Mitch.e.l.l asks incredulously.
He is the worst ever, I swear. But this is how our relations.h.i.+p has always been. We give each other constant s.h.i.+t. Plus, he knows most of my secrets. If he really cared, he could call the police and have me apprehended in a second.
But he never has. He's always turned a blind eye to what I do. He's always been there for me despite the constant amount of c.r.a.p he dishes out to me.
”It's nothing like that.” Should I tell him the truth? He won't stop badgering me until I do. Yet my confession might make it worse. ”I'm ... seeing a woman.”
”Oooh.” Mitch.e.l.l sounds like his ten-year-old self. When we used to give each other s.h.i.+t over girls and other dumb c.r.a.p. ”Well, bring her with you. I can't wait to meet the fancy piece of a.s.s you're f.u.c.king around with.”
I'm p.i.s.sed. Did he really just call Rose a fancy piece of a.s.s? ”Don't talk about her like that,” I snap.
”What the h.e.l.l, man. Are you seriously into this chick?” Mitch.e.l.l is full-on laughing now. ”Who'd have thought it? Mister Renegade Thief always on the go, falling for a girl? Have you lost your b.a.l.l.s or what?”
”You're an a.s.shole,” I mutter. ”And I'm not coming to your s.h.i.+tty party.”
”Then I guess you're not coming home with me on my plane, either,” he says cheerfully, clearly enjoying this conversation.
”You wouldn't.”
”Don't test me. Come on, Caden. You know I get upset when you don't show up to my parties. You bring the good time.”
I used to bring the good time. I drank plenty of booze and did all the drugs and the women, but I pulled myself off the party scene a few years ago. The more alcohol and drugs I consumed, the more reckless I became, and I didn't need the trouble.