"You're crazy, Dean Cole."
"I am," I agreed. "And yet, this crazy train is in motion. You can't stop it."
"I love you."
"Forever starts now, Baby LeBlanc. With you."
THANKSGIVING DINNER WASN'T TERRIBLE.
Or maybe it was terrible and I hadn't noticed because Rosie LeBlanc told me that she loved me, several times, and I was going to put a diamond on that finger. It was an impulsive decision, but then anything worth doing usually was. When you think about it, anything passionate-lust, love, violence, hatred-is spontaneous. Why not this?
I would have been perfectly happy marrying her on that night we took the elevator up together and I had Kennedy and Natasha by my side. I simply didn't know it was a possibility. Now that I knew, I was going to put that shit on lock as quickly as possible. Vicious was wrong. He always said I loved the variety too much to settle for one girl. But the truth was, I never loved any of the women in the catalog enough to stop browsing. Once I found what I needed, I dropped the habit of Tinder and threesomes and fucking strangers in sordid bars so I could get off on the danger because casual fucks didn't make the cut anymore. And unlike alcohol, I didn't miss it one bit.
Anyway, yeah, dinner was okay.
We ate, talked, did the usual family shit. Rosie's parents still nagged her about moving back to Todos Santos, even after I confirmed that I wasn't a total douchebag. That didn't seem to pacify them, but at least her dad stopped looking at me like I was sodomizing her on an hourly basis.
After dinner, Jaime summoned all four of us and we took Vicious's Jeep north to L.A. Face-to-face board meetings were always in an office. We couldn't risk losing our shit in public, which happened more often than not when the four of us shared the same space.
Things got intense in the vehicle before we even broached the topic that brought us all together. I was behind the wheel because I was the only guy who hadn't had a drink. Vicious sat next to me, looking glum. He must've had a general idea what we were going to ask him for-put two and two together, I'm sure-and Trent and Jaime were in the back, talking football.
"How's Luna doing?" Vicious asked Trent sometime during the last seven miles on Interstate 5. Everybody shut up immediately, and Trent cleared his throat, looking between Jaime and me in the rearview mirror.
"Not terrific."
"How come?"
"She doesn't eat. Doesn't talk. Doesn't walk."
"Does she know how to walk and talk?" I'd give Vicious one thing, his voice wasn't hard or rough. Plain conversational.
"She does," I intervened. "I saw her walking last time we were in Todos Santos in August."
"Wanna know my angle?" I saw Trent from the rearview mirror scratching his head on a heavy sigh. "I think she's depressed. I'm not sure what's happening yet, but we're having it checked out."
"Trent's mom is in Chicago." Jaime's eyes met Vic's in the mirror. "She is helping him out with Luna for the time being, but his dad can't leave here. He has his own mother to take care of."
The complexity of life met me in an odd place. We were going to grow old someday, too, and I wondered how the hell I was going to be there for my own folks. Because I definitely wanted to be there for them. Which reminded me that I still had to visit my dad tonight after this was all over in L.A.
We parked in Vicious's parking space and went into his office. Everything was minimal, cold and impersonal, just like him. When we switched branches a year ago, I refurbished the whole thing and put in new furniture and a bright green wall just to piss him off when he came back.
Now every time he saw the color green, he thought of me.
Vicious and Jaime took a seat on the black leather couch overlooking Vicious's glass desk. I plopped down on the desk, tucking my hands into my pockets. Trent stood in the center of the room, his hands folded over his chest. We all looked at Vicious. And Vicious looked pissed off.
"Well?" He lifted one eyebrow, even broodier than usual. "Go ahead and fucking ask for it. You've been dying to, and you can't wait to see my reaction, right?"
"You need to switch branches with Trent." My voice was cut and impersonal. I was always the one to go against Vicious. I think Jaime was helpless when it came to this fucker, and Trent harbored the real dark shit none of us ever experienced, so he ought to slaughter him if they talked about it directly and Vicious refused his request.
"Not gonna happen." Vicious hitched a shoulder, lacing his hands behind his head and making himself comfortable. He flung one of his legs over the other and looked about as chilled as a motherfucker could be under the circumstances. I leaned forward, a nonchalant smile on my lips.