Ruckus (Sinners of Saint #2)(97)

"So, you want to retire? Be a philanthropist at the tender age of thirty?" Jaime asked.

Vicious dragged his laptop so we were all looking at a Wikipedia page without a picture. Jordan Van Der Zee.

"Fuck no. I'm still going to work, but maybe two, three times a week. The rest of the time, I will indulge. The rest of the time, I will act like the god I was born to be."

"Bad high." Trent pointed at Vicious, rolling his eyes. "You talk like Napoleon on crack. Why are we looking at this man, Vicious? And more importantly, did you forget that I wasn't born into money? I can't spontaneously decide to quit."

"You're already a millionaire," Jaime barked at Trent, and that meant that he was actually considering Vicious's idea. Whatever Vicious was offering, Trent was against it. Jaime pro.

This made me the deal-breaker.

"Millionaire or not, I'm not interested in retiring at thirty," Trent spat every word, his eyes narrowed slits. "I don't have a wife, and I don't have a girlfriend. I have a daughter, and right now, she's going through a ton of issues. I need a distraction, an outlet. And fuck," he kicked the coffee table underneath him, and the thud rang in our ears, "am I the only bastard around here who enjoys working?"

"You can still work," Vicious stressed, pointing at the screen. "This dude is buying out all of the investment companies around this area. He started with San Francisco three years ago and worked his way down to SoCal. Multi-fucking-billionaire. Forbe's darling boy. Savvy as hell, and, let's not forget-his deep pockets like us. A lot."

"We know who Jordan Van Der Zee is." I put a lid on his speech. "You're not the only one to pick up a business magazine once every full moon, Vicious, but thanks for the useless info."

I went to Harvard. So did Van Der Zee. Not at the same time, obviously. He was much older. But he was a legend there, because he was one of those rare self-made people. You know, worked his way up from a scholarship in an Ivy League university, interned, busted his ass, and became a mogul in his own right. I watched a documentary about him after I graduated from business school. Dude came from a Dutch working-class family. His father was a shoeshiner, for God's sake. "Do you wanna sell out your shares? Is that it?" I probed.

"I want to sell most of them, and I suggest you do the same. Let's sell out, keep fifty percent of the shares between us. We're at a point where we can negotiate a very good deal. If Trent still wants to work, he can. I do, too."

"I'm not retiring," I said.

"Me neither." Jaime's voice was unconvincing.

Vicious looked between us all and smiled. "Then why don't we expand Los Angeles and all work here?"

"Let's start with the obvious reason-he'll want to buy us out with fifty-one percent shares." Trent leaned his massive shoulder against the wall. Vicious tsked.

"That would be the obvious thing to do, right?" Pretty much. It was Business 101.

We all stared him down impatiently. Vicious grinned.

"But as I said, he is savvy. He wants to control us enough, but doesn't really give too many fucks about FHH. He'd buy fifty sharp."

I knew then and there that the fucker had already drafted a contract with him. He sounded too cocky to make this sort of assumption. The looks Trent and Jaime gave me told me that they knew it, too.



       
         
       
        

"This shit can take months, even years to negotiate," Jaime argued.

"Van Der Zee had already asked if we wanted to meet him." Vicious continued, and all eyes darted to him.

Passing him the blunt as I coughed on a chuckle, I asked, "How long have you known that we were going to ask you this?"

"Enough time to make adequate plans."

"Fucking fucker came to you first, how come?" Trent grabbed the blunt and inhaled, his eyebrows bunched together. Vicious tipped his head back and blew rings of smoke to the ceiling, his eyes hooded and evil.

"I'm in California. He's in California. I handle the legal shit here. Who cares? You'll get what you want, Trent. Time to wipe that miserable expression off of your goddamn face."

We all looked between each other. I was smiling, and I didn't even know why. No one promised me that Rosie wanted to move back to Todos Santos. In fact, she loved New York, which was why she lived so far away from her parents. But the ability to give her that option made me unreasonably happy.

"I'm in," I said.

"For the right contract-and money-me, too," Jaime added.

Trent blew out air, laughing. "Luna's gonna be a Cali girl."