That’s what you said last week.
I will. Promise.
Once Tessa rings me up, Layla snips off the tag. The dress costs far more than I would normally spend on any one item of clothing, but under Sean’s influence, I only shop locally now. Which means I pay thirty dollars more at this downtown boutique for a dress and pump money into my local economy to support small business owners.
But the fear was real in Tessa’s demeanor and hopeful eyes when Layla and I walked in and started eyeing price tags. It was so apparent she was desperate for a sale, which made me feel good about what I was buying and terrified for her that it wouldn’t last. As I check out, I get some background on how she had inherited her grandmother’s store when she died and rebranded it, sinking every dime into refacing the little shop. Tessa’s not much older than me, and I can’t help but feel for her as she catches herself oversharing, clear emotion leaking from her voice.
I make it a point to tell Sean about it, not for the credit of shopping here, but because I know he can do something about it. Christmas comes every quarter to a few select and local businesses in Triple Falls, mostly businesses owned by hood relatives to keep them afloat. That I learned by a full day of being in on the secret.
As promised, I got an answer to another lingering question. Tyler is the Friar. And I figured it out the day he and I were charged with passing out the checks to said businesses, something Sean didn’t want me to miss. By the end of the day, I understood why he let me in on it. He wanted me to witness first-hand the why of what they do.
I was a sobbing mess both during and by the end of it when the store owners burst through the doors with tears in their eyes. Every one of them had grateful words pouring from their lips as they accepted their checks.
But his part was to play the mask for the true culprit, Dominic.
Dominic and his sorcery behind the keyboard had everything to do with it. The source of the money? Large corporations and banks that siphon funds from unsuspecting shareholders and employees. Corporations and banks who could never report the theft for fear of getting examined more closely by the powers that be, the powers that govern and regulate.
That’s the beauty of robbing thieves.
More than once, I’ve asked Sean about his plans for my father’s company. Every time he’s changed the subject, refusing to acknowledge the question and I wouldn’t be surprised if, down the line, my father got a painful dose of justice.
That may be hitting too close to home and my boys are nothing, if they aren’t cautious. Not only that, but a substantial hit would also endanger the jobs of their friends and relatives.
I can’t, for the life of me, understand how they get away with it, but they do and have, and it’s been going on for some time. Sean argues that it’s been going on far too long on the other side of things. The government either fines the white-collar thieves heavily or some government official accepts a payoff to help cover tracks. No one gets prosecuted, and no one truly pays.
I wholeheartedly agree with his logic, which made me happy to be in on the secret.
Aside from that significant tidbit of information, Sean’s kept his mouth closed about hood business, still waiting on my decision. I’ve taken my time with it. They’ve kept me at arm’s length, refusing to answer any more questions until I put a voice to it and pledge my loyalty. Tyler is rarely home, if ever, and he, Sean, nor Dom will give me any details on the why of that. He’s still in the Reserves for four more years, that much I do know, so I assume he’s keeping up with participation. I have zero clue of what he does with the rest of his time. He’s rarely at the garage anymore, either. So, when I’m over, it’s just the two men in my life and me.
And when I’m with them, I’m being schooled constantly. Though I still haven’t voiced a decision, that hasn’t at all stopped them from voicing their opinions. Dominic is speaking up more as well. It’s highly entertaining waking up and walking downstairs to see them watching the morning news on every station as I hand them coffee. Both of them tense at the same moments and utter ‘bullshit’ at the exact same time. In lieu of football, they talk politics and are never in favor of either side. If I wasn’t studying the distinctions between them daily, I would sometimes think they are the same person.
But in a lot of aspects, they’re night and day, dark cloud and golden sun. And drawing the comparison between them has become inevitable. I stopped beating myself up about it after the first week or so.
I’ve never navigated my way through dating two men, and I’ve got more on my plate with them than I can handle. If I weren’t so blissed out daily, I would probably give in to the naysayer screaming “ho” in my head. I bat that bitch away like a gnat because I’m sure that many women, given a chance, would tap dance toward either of their beds, roll around in their affection and then vie for my position between them.