Page 64 of The Logic of Loyalty

One too many IOU’s makes it tough to maintain any rentals in a small ass town.

Paige

We are leaving at around 9:00. You can come after. It’s your turn for an evening with our boy.

Trevor

I’ll be there with bells on

Paige

Thank you for taking care of the brakes.

Trevor

I miss you. Let me come home. I want to hold you. Of course, anytime. I love you.

Paige

Carter and Becky?

Trevor

That was unexpected.

Paige

That’s what you say?

Trevor

I can hit him?

Paige

That’s better.

“That brings us to the final two items. First, we need to know why our ODFs are dropping. It’s bringing down our bottom line, and while we’re at it, we need to check labor efficiency.” Richard slams down the small packet of papers in front of Glenn Moore, a brilliant, quiet new transfer who has been relegated to errand boy by my father. I know him better as Asher. “Here’s the raw data. Get me those numbers, Glenn. I need them and a solution ASAP.”

Asher—or Glenn—doesn’t even flinch when the papers slap against the conference table. He takes off his glasses and pulls out a cloth from his pocket. The smooth, unbothered motion of wiping his lens fills the room with awkward silence. Someone muffles a cough as he switches to his other lens, meticulously cleaning it, too, before inspecting them and replacing them on his face. Once they’re perfectly placed, Asher slowly pushes the small pile away from himself using only his index finger. “Yessir, already done. I put them on your desk. Yesterday.” I smirk at the display, carefully hiding it behind a sip of my fifth cup of coffee. Asher is older than me, possibly closer in age to Bobby. He’s a broad guy who definitely doesn’t look as smart as I know he is. Someone disguises their laugh as another cough, but Richard is not entertained by the show of quiet power. He scoops the pile of papers and drops it into the trash.

“Alright, Mr. Moore, I’ll let you figure out what you’re missing in your own time.” Bobby’s deep chuckle follows my father’s words like the Yes Man he is, but he’s not the only one. A smattering of others let out uncomfortable laughter around the room. “You”—silence stretches, immediate and taut, when Richard stands directly in front of Bobby, his finger outstretched and nearly skimming his nose—“are my final order of business. In my office. Now.”

Bobby pales, but then straightens his shoulders in some sort of false bravado. “Yessir.”

“Meeting over. Get back to work.” They both stand and leave, but he’s only a few steps out the door when I hear my name. “Get Trevor out here.”

Yep. The fucker is finally calling me by my name.

I stand, buttoning and straightening my suit, making the same careful moves Glenn just took a moment ago. He looks when I stand, and we give each other a mutual, casual head tilt. I don’t acknowledge anyone else in the meeting before leaving the conference room.

My phone vibrates, and I swallow my laughter at the message on the screen. Not Paige, but still someone important.

Bethany

I am not making that for dinner. Absolutely not. You’re psychotic. We are not related.

Trevor