belief all good guys were one hundred percent good and all bad guys an equal one hundred percent bad. Life taught him nothing was ever that simple.
“The only thing permanent is who you are in here,” Stan said with a hand on his chest over his heart.
“I hate you.”
His brother grinned. “I know. All the psycho-babble and inspirational quotes are a bit much, huh?” With a shrug, he said, “Side effect of getting sober and staying with the program. I’ve literally got sticky notes all over my place with affirmations and encouragement.”
The Ikea set doing double duty as a work desk and the kitchen table was as comfortable as a doctor’s waiting room. He’d bought it after a ten-second glance at an ad on his phone while scrolling Twitter. It was sturdy but poorly sized for a guy like him.
Stan wasn’t quite as tall, but that didn’t mean he fit on the unforgiving chairs either.
They sat in a bubble of awkwardness. While neither of them was comfortable, they were trying way too hard not to show it.
After two donuts and a black coffee, Arnie was through playing host. He sat back and fixed Stan with a look.
“So what’s this news you come with?”
It took his brother an inordinately long time to wipe his mouth, take a slug of coffee, and look Arnie in the eye.
Oh, boy. Not good.
“I said I’d keep an eye on my mother,” Stan muttered with distaste lacing his words. “And I have. She’s up to something.”
He paused for a few seconds. It looked like he was gathering his thoughts, and then Stan surprised the holy crap out of Arnie.
“Nothing with her is as it seems, so instead of driving myself batshit trying to figure out her agenda, I, uh, took a different route.”
Stan’s grin had a menacing vibe. Arnie almost laughed. Giselle had no idea how much her only child disliked her.
There was a God, after all, he thought with no charity whatsoever for his onetime stepmother.
“It turns out the smarmy legal viper she’s been leading around by a leash is over her and her antics.”
“Bruce Wells?”
“One and the same,” Stan confirmed with a nod. “I told you I thought he was ripe for the picking. I bet if put the right way, and with a decent incentive, he’d sell her ass out in a New York minute.”
“How much do you think he knows?”
“No fucking idea, but I am one hundred percent certain he knows what’s currently got her pantyhose twisted.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep. I, uh, sort of bumped into him at Chelsea Piers.”
Arnie guffawed. “The golf club?”
Stan’s laugh had a snarky quality. His brother had preternatural golf abilities. If the drinking hadn’t gotten him, he might have been another Tiger Woods. It had also been years since he picked up his clubs, so learning he was back at the driving range was illuminating.
“We smacked around a few buckets and shot the shit. He’s a piece of work, that one, but he’s got a nagging ethical streak. Rethinking his priorities.”
Arnie sniggered at the way Stan pronounced the p-word. They both remembered their favorite caregiver, Nanny Colleen, who endlessly nagged them about priorities and what she called gentlemanly behavior.
“So you’re thinking about turning him. Is that it?”
“He’s already turned.” Stan snorted. “He just doesn’t realize it yet.” He looked at Arnie and winked. “Told me there’s something big going down soon. Said she’s turned into a royal bitch. Pretty sure she has an investigator. Anyway,” he continued in a lower, more serious voice, “he implied whatever she’s doing is, in his estimation, a step too far, and he wants no part of it.”
“Sounds illegal,” Arnie murmured. “Oh man, you don’t know how bad I’d like to catch her red-handed. Paybacks are a bitch, and after what she did to Dad, I think some revenge satisfaction is long overdue.”
A wave of regret seized him. Not for Giselle. For Stan. Arnie felt bad that the guy had to go through life with the female anti-Christ for a mom.
“ Hoping to lure him to a knock-knock. One of those super-secret, invite-only strip clubs. He strikes me as the kind to get off on public tits and ass. Hopefully a few lap dances and a trip to the champagne room for a rub and tug, and he’ll tell me whatever I wanna know.”
“Jesus, Stan. I didn’t realize what a gigantic motherfucker you could be.”
They slapped and clasped hands, laughing the whole time. Arnie smirked. “Maybe you want to consider going through NIGHTWIND training.