Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(38)

“So… rather than putting their money straight into the company accounts to keep them flush… I took a gamble and used it to buy a bunch of stock in a new form of e-currency. I figured I’d purchase early, wait until the values increased, then flip my shares for a huge profit. That way, I’d be able to pay back Mom and Dad but also save my company. Problem solved. A perfect solution.”

“Clearly not, Duncan!”

“It was supposed to be the new bitcoin,” he says defensively. “Every shareholder was projected to quadruple their initial investment. If things had gone as planned, I would’ve made more than enough to keep ManScents in the black. But… the market took an unexpected turn…”

“How much did you lose?” I ask flatly.

He hesitates.

“Duncan.”

“All of it.”

My eyes lift heavenward.

Jesus.

“So… now you need another loan to make up for the loan you threw away on a shady trading opportunity,” I ask the ceiling, unable to look at him directly.

“…Not exactly.”

My eyes lock on his again, and I see he’s looking even more squeamish.

“Duncan. Please tell me this story doesn’t get worse.”

His jaw clenches. “The banks wouldn’t approve me for a loan. You’d already turned me down once. I lost the money from our parents. Basically, I was out of options.” His eyes press closed. “So, I did something stupid.”

“Stupider than investing hundreds of thousands of dollars in virtual currency no one uses except nerds on the internet with too much time on their hands?” I snap.

“Yes,” he says flatly.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, him searching for words, me holding back a few choice ones using all my remaining willpower. I could throttle him with my bare hands, at the moment.

“Just tell me.”

“There are other ways of getting a loan,” he murmurs finally. “The problem is, those ways usually involve some pretty scary guys who get even scarier when you don’t pay them back on time. Plus interest.”

I feel my heart start to pound. “To be clear… are we talking about loan sharks?”

“That’s one word for them.”

“As in, the big mafioso-type dudes who break your kneecaps with a baseball bat if you screw them over?”

“Well, I don’t know if they use a baseball bat, but—”

“Christ, Duncan.”

“I know! I know. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I screech. “Like you’re a total idiot? Because you are.”

“I know I fucked up, okay? Trust me, it’s pretty hard to ignore that realization when there’s a guy taking a literal sledgehammer to your windshield as you watch from the bushes around the corner from your house, practically pissing yourself in the hopes they don’t spot you and decide to aim for a softer target.”

My face pales. “Would they really come after you? Hurt you?”

“These guys are not people you mess with, Lila. Not if you want to live to see thirty.”

“I guess that explains the black eye, and why you high-tailed it out of California.”

“I couldn’t stay at my place — they were staked out there all the time, waiting for me.” His voice gets softer. “I’m glad Susie left, to be honest. She’s safer with Al.”

My eyes round with alarm. “And me? Touching as it is that you’re worried about the girl who left your ass… Am I safe, if they followed you to Boston?”

“They didn’t,” Duncan assures me, but his eyes are shifty like the time he tried to convince me to give up my half of our lemonade stand profits in exchange for his commission fee from drumming up business in the form of two elderly neighbors.

“Duncan.”

“Really, sis, there’s no way they could’ve tracked me here. And even if they did, I’m positive they won’t come after you. Almost positive.” His eyes return to mine. “But, just to be on the safe side, if you see anyone lurking, following you, that kind of thing, don’t stick around to make small talk.”

“It’s kind of hard to avoid someone when you have no idea what they look like.”

“Giant.”

“Could you be any vaguer?

“Big, muscular Italian-looking guys in their mid-thirties.”

“Oh, super helpful!” I droll sarcastically. “That only describes, like, half the population of the North End.”

“Trust me, these guys don’t look like your typical Bostonians. The two that have been tailing me are pretty distinctive — always wearing black suits, each about six feet tall, one with an ugly birthmark on the side of his face, the other bald as a cueball. Usually driving a black-on-black SUV with California plates, though I doubt they’ll be using the same wheels they did back home.” He pauses. “You see them, you even think you see them, do me a favor and run. Run like hell. Hear me?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Duncan! I cannot believe you brought this to my doorstep!”

“Don’t worry! I’m going to fix it. I told you.” He takes a deep breath. “They won’t come after you. It’s me they want.” He looks a little queasy at the thought. As if he might prefer them wanting me instead of him after all.