I watched him, surprised at this. “So what’d you do?”
“Hired him as a roadie. He sets up equipment, cleans up after the show is done, all that. I bought him a car and paid for an apartment for three years out.”
“He cheated you out of millions of dollars. And you hire him?”
“Oh, we keep an eye on him. But he’s honest, now. He was living over his head, trying to keep his greedy-ass wife in Birkins and Bentleys.”
“Why, though?”
“Why do that for people who hurt me?” he asked, clarifying; I nodded. “I spent years hating my family. Listen to the early stuff Bright Bones put out, you can hear it. That’s years and years of hate and anger and daydreaming of revenge. But it was fuckin’ exhausting, living like that. And then I found Tommy dead, and that just…” He shrugged, swallowing hard. “That changed me. And I read somewhere, while I was down in Rio, that the best revenge you can get on people who hurt you is to not let them see you hurting, to just succeed where they tried to make you fail. I took it a step further, figuring maybe the best revenge is to kill ’em with kindness. And that shit burns, Laurel. They don’t expect it. They don’t know how to handle it. It really chaps their ass, and watching ’em squirm is funny shit.” He gestured at the happy family out by the pool. “This? This is gonna be the best one yet. Jeremy saved my ass, for real. He’s a legit angel from heaven, and the hell he and Bex have overcome to get where they are is just unbelievable. Inspirational shit, I’m tellin’ ya. That motherfucker out there clawed his ass out of the hood and into not one but two Ivy League universities, and graduated top of his class from both—and that’s a man with bullet holes hiding under that suit. Legit. He could be at the top of a Fortune Five Hundred company, if he wanted, yet he keeps slumming it with my ass. I tried firing him so he’d get a real job, but he kept showing up, so…” A shrug. “Guess I’m stuck with him, fortunately for me.”
“When are you going to tell them?” I asked.
“Right now.” He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sharply. “Jer, Bex! Come here, a sec.”
Jeremy tossed the last inflated pool float into the water, over his oldest daughter’s head like a game of ring toss, and headed in.
Bex glanced at Emmanuel. “Manny, cuida a tu hermana, sí?” She pointed at Violet, the youngest, who was splashing gleefully on the top step, wearing bright orange floaties on her arms, and pink Rainbow Brite swim goggles on her face.
“Yes, Mama,” Emmanuel said, sitting at the edge of the pool, lazily kicking his feet in the water.
I brought out the folder of paperwork and set aside the unfinished portion, set a pen on top. Jeremy and Bex leaned on the other side of the kitchen island from Titus and me. Titus still had his sunglasses on; he slid them off and tucked the arm over the neck of his tank top. Spent a silent moment looking from Jeremy to Bex.
“You got something to say, T?” Jeremy said. “You’re worrying me.”
Titus laughed. “Nothing to worry about. I just want you to do something for me.”
Jeremy nodded, answering immediately, without hesitation. “Anything.”
Titus turned the stack of papers around, slid them across the island. “Sign these.”
Jeremy frowned. “T…”
Titus arched an eyebrow. “You said anything. What I want is for you and Bex to both sign those. Don’t read ’em, don’t ask questions, just fuckin’ scribble your names on ’em where Laurel has the fun little sticky note arrows.”
Bex shook her head. “What do I gotta sign for?”
Titus sighed. “Did I not just say don’t ask questions? Jesus. For smart people, you sure are havin’ a hard time with this.”
The dime was dropping, I could tell.
Jeremy slowly took the stack of papers and pulled them closer, picked up the pen, and signed his name, handed the pen to Bex. For the next minute or so, all was silent except the scratch of the pen and the rustle of turning papers.
Done, Jeremy pushed the stack of signed documents back toward Titus. “There. Now what’s this about?”
My throat felt oddly tight. I ignored it.
Titus glanced at me. “Got the keys?”
I nodded, produced the two brass keys from my purse. Placed them side by side on the counter in front of Jeremy and Bex.
Jeremy stared at them as if they’d attempted to come to life. “Titus. The fuck is this?”
Titus shrugged. “Those are your house keys.”
Bex blinked rapidly. “Our house keys.” She glanced around at the kitchen. “Keys to…to this house?”
“Well yeah,” Titus said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Duh. Your house. This house—it’s your house.” He tapped the papers with a thick, ring-heavy forefinger. “You just took ownership of it. You own it, free and clear, forever.”
Jeremy was swallowing hard. “Come on, man. Quit playin’.”
Titus just smiled. “You know I don’t play, Jer.”
Jeremy swallowed again, blinked hard, turned to look at his kids—Emmanuel had finally forgotten to be cool and was in the pool playing with his youngest sister on the top step, while the other girls splashed each other and took turns trying to do a bigger cannonball.
He looked back to Titus, and now a tear was trickling down. “Our lease is up on Monday.”
Titus nodded. “Yeah.”
“You know we were saving for a down payment.”
Titus nodded again. “I know I pay you enough you could afford this yourself.” He did a head-tilt-shrug movement. “But I know a few other things, too. I know you been paying down your student loans, and I know you send several grand a month to Bex’s family in Venezuela, and I know you pay for your mom’s dialysis. You two won’t ever spend on yourselves, so…” he shrugged, gestured with a broad sweep of both long arms at the house around us, “here we are.”
Bex was sniffling. “My cousin was in a car accident, and he was the main earner for my family, so—”
“Bex, I know.” Titus smiled at her. “You two been living in that little three-bedroom ranch with all these crazy-ass kids for too long. You deserve more. Now, you got more.” He pointed at Bex’s belly, which looked like it was about to pop any second. “With five kids, three bedrooms ain’t gonna cut it. Now each kid gets their own room. Have you checked out the shower yet? It’s got, like, fifty different settings. Gonna need that Harvard degree to figure that shit out, bro.”
Jeremy and Bex were exchanging looks. “How can we ever thank you, Titus?” Jeremy said, his voice quiet, low.
“Don’t.” Titus was watching Luisa with special intensity as she did a running belly flop. “Just enjoy it. You do enough, for me, and for others.” He glanced at Jeremy. “Don’t think I don’t know what you do Sunday mornings, bro.”
Bex glanced at Jeremy. “What? What do you Sunday mornings?”
Jeremy hissed. “Goddamn, man. I was keeping that on the DL.”
Titus laughed. “He’s going back to his old hood and fixing up houses. He puts bars on windows, replaces carpet, fixes stairs, puts in new windows, new appliances, shit like that.”