Page 38 of Strictly Business
“Finn, please tell me you understand what’s at stake here. I don’t want this to be another one of your failed attempts to prove something.”
"I have to go, Mom," I huffed opening the heavy metal door to the gymnasium — the screeching sounds on the court echoing inside. "I'm meeting Colin."
"Colin MacFarlane? That boy from–"
"Yes, he’s in New York." Colin waved from the other side of the gym, a basketball under his arm. "Look, I have to go."
"Sure, honey. I'll see you next week for your father's birthday?"
I hung up without accepting the invitation as I reached Colin.
"Sheff, finally! Thought you were gonna bail.” It still surprises me every time I see him how much he's grown up from when we met fourteen years ago — I had just turned eighteen, and Colin was eleven. Colin's mom had enrolled him into the Big Brother, Big Sister program after his dad passed. She hoped it would bring him out of his shell. At first, he didn't seem interested. He would come to the meet-ups, and we'd chat a little, but it wasn't until he noticed my Iron Man key chain that he finally started to open up. Comic books were something his dad loved and they had bonded over them. Once I knew that, it was easy to get him to open up and we instantly clicked. But long gone was that little kid, only to be replaced by a six-foot-two Marine.
"I'm not even late," I chuckled tossing my gym bag on the bleachers.
"Well, after the beating you took last time–"
"You wish, Mac." From the corner of my eye, I saw him plant his feet. He thought I wasn’t paying attention, too preoccupied mentally preparing for our game, but his smirk fell from his lips when I caught the ball without blinking.
"You never let me have any fun," he chuckled.
“I guess it just comes naturally.” I tossed the ball back to him and pulled my hoodie over my head so we could get started.
My phone buzzes once, twice, three times in my pocket. Then again. There are only two people who text like that. I have a feeling I know who this is. Pulling it out of my pocket, my suspicions are confirmed. “Will you excuse me for a second? I need to take this,” I say to Uncle Jack.
“Best I can do is five minutes,” Uncle Jack chuckles opening the front door.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
The group text between myself, Nina, and Michaela continues to buzz with each message Michaela sends. This could have been an email, but apparently, she thought sending photos and instructions from Sasha was urgent enough to be a continuous text chain. Another one comes through detailing how the kids are supposed to check in on Sunday, where they should go and who to speak with, what the different color wrist bands mean, and…
“For the love of God, Michaela, stop texting!” I look up to see Nick helping Nina out of the passenger seat, her phone pressed to her ear. She tells Michaela to put everything in a single email and send it over when she and Sasha are finished walking through the details. When she hangs up, she mumbles something in Italian, only for Nick to hear.
“That’s your friend,” Nick snickers.
“That’s your cousin.”
“She’s got you there, Davis,” I say as they reach the front steps. We shake hands before I pull Nina into a quick hug. “I’m so glad you guys are here.”
“I’m not,” Nick says. “I voted to skip out, but someone said we had to be social.”
“I did too, but Mom vetoed me.”
“She wouldn’t let you skip to finish the getting ready for Sunday?”
“She’s letting me leave Saturday night, so I can be back in time for Sunday.”
“So, Michaela…”
“Will be fine,” I interrupt him. “Sasha can handle anything that may need attention with the event, I already spoke with her.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Uncle Jack opens the front door, “but, you guys are the last to arrive and your father is wondering where you are.”
“And, so it begins,” I murmur earning a pitiful smile from everyone.
Chapter Eighteen
FINN