Page 24 of Shamelessly Loyal
“Memorize, kiddo. Don’t save it in anything. I’ll answer any call that comes in, but if I’m not free, just leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”
Dialing the number, I made a mental note to delete it from Pretty Boy’s phone before giving it back—I had with Tally’s—I hit the green call button and put the phone to my ear.
“Roadkill Cafe, you kill it, we grill it. How can I help you?” Fletcher’s sardonic tone made me laugh. The man was never serious, and at the same time, it would be a mistake to think him a fool. He might not have Adam’s moody delivery or his brooding stare, but Fletcher disarmed everyone by playing the fool.
Thankfully, he’d never treated me to his idiot persona. Then again, I wouldn’t have treated him as one. He was genuinely nice to me. One should always treat sincerity like the gift it was. That and trust. He’d as of yet not revealed my requests to Adam, so I kept my fingers crossed he would be as quick to assist this time.
“Hey, Fletcher,” I greeted him. “I wish this was a social call, but I need a favor.”
A long, exaggerated sigh escaped him at my statement. “Well, as long as it doesn’t actually involve me cooking, we can definitely work something out.”
I laughed. “Nothing so prosaic as an actual roadkill meal.”
“Thank fuck. What do you need, little cousin? Shall I fuck up Adam’s medical records and have him get a series of shots for a venereal disease?”
The image his offer painted made me laugh. “Tempting.”
“Right? Okay, good. I didn’t want to torture my second-favorite cousin, but for you—my favorite? Name it.”
Snorting, I shook my head. “I need help getting some invitations and identities that will pass a swift background check, but also let me and—”
I spared a look at Pretty Boy, who sat so close the heat from his skin seemed to shimmer in the air. It was radiant. He braced an arm on the back of the sofa behind me.
“And a friend,” I continued after the brief pause, “to get in without alerting anyone to the fact we’re the ones going in.”
“Okay,” Fletcher sounded thoughtful. “Color me intrigued. Where are we going?”
“Whorehouse Creek Casino.” No amount of practice would help make the unattractive name less grimace-inducing.
Fletcher released a slow whistle. Adam’s cousin didn’t say anything right away, though the sound of keys tapping on the other end of the phone told me he was already working.
“Kiddo,” he said, his sober tone a warning. “This is not a good crowd.”
The description could be applied to any number who traveled in our circles.
“Not a good one at all. I’m going to get this set up and make sure you have reservations. Who is taking you into this place?”
I spared a look at Pretty Boy, eyebrows raised. He nodded once. “Emersyn’s brother.”
Dead silence greeted that response. Not even keys tapped.
“You verify this guy’s story?” A careful way to ask me if I needed him to do a background check. “Just say the word and I’ll take care of it.” Or if I needed help.
“I’m good,” I promised. “We can trust him. Then I can send you photos of both of us.”
Another beat of pure quiet. Was he reconsidering his offer? The phone muffled for a moment, faint conversation audible, but only because I could make out voices, not the actual words.
“You know the routine,” he said when he came back. “Upload the photos to the cloud server. I’ll have everything couriered to a box for you—since you said Em, I’m assuming Braxton Harbor?”
“Yes, please.” It would go to the same box I’d sent Emersyn to in order to claim money.
“I’ll ensure we have all the usual provisions,” Fletcher continued. That would take care of the luggage. “It will all be waiting for you. Now, is this fraternal relation to your bestie right there?”
Even before I gave him the affirmative, I knew what he wanted. “Yes, he is.”
“Fantastic, please put him on the phone.”
I could argue. If I put my foot down, there was a chance Fletcher would let me get away with it. However, at the moment, my primary goal was to get this information, and I didn’t need his loyalty to Adam suddenly usurping this request.