GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (19 page)

“There’s my Zen…”

“Let’s play a game…”

Silver swiveled in
her seat with a brand spanking new smirk on her face. It was marked down, on sale, so she could afford to sport the shit. Some would declare she should be ashamed, while others would perhaps give her a hearty high-five. She twiddled her fingers as she looked at the screen shots on her computer. The details were impeccable, and she raised her chin a bit higher, wearing her invisible crown of glory as the pioneer, the mastermind of
this
project. The timed frames were perfect, and the preliminary trials had gone without a hitch. The game was ready for testing and approval from the large marketing group hired by the company. She couldn’t take her eyes off the screen, knowing what lay in store and confident that it would be a success. She sat there as minutes passed—matured, captivated, courted and consummated by her own work.

“Silver.”

“Huh?” Shaken like an apple from a tree, torn away from her ‘pat on the back’ thoughts, she found Courtney standing by her in a bark brown skirt and frumpy pale pink sweater with small, pearly white buttons. She always wore pink and brown, which Silver found odd, but never questioned the matter. Besides, she had her own quirks and wasn’t exactly the queen of fashion her damn self, so she buried her style reservations and focused on other, more important things.

“Doesn’t your boyfriend play with a band?” Courtney asked bluntly.

Damn… I don’t get a hello, how you doing, fuck you, nothing. I don’t get shit. This crazy looking chick whose hair looks like a newborn kitten’s freshly licked out the damn snatch don’t even speak to me but twice a year, and here she is now handing out surveys about my private life… Okay, Silver, be good…

Feeling along the slender, leather arm of her chair, she contemplated for a moment or two, daring herself to not get sassy. She almost lost the bet…

“Yeah…”

“Well, my sister is getting married next week and the band they’d hired pulled out on them at the last second!” Courtney rolled her eyes as if it the situation had taken a great toll on her as well. “They need to get a replacement
fast
, but haven’t had much luck.”

…And this concerns me, because? Alright! I’ll be good again, damn! Now I’m having arguments in my own head. I’ve completely lost it.

“Oh, well, he doesn’t actually do weddings. They do mainly clubs and some charity events,” she said with a nod and half smile, hoping that would be the Courtney repellant needed to bid the pest adieu.

“Ohhhh, that’s… that’s too bad.” She hung her head, then looked back at Silver with a dopey-eyed expression. “I told my sister I’d ask.” She then turned towards one of her computer monitors and pointed, stepping closer to the blinking screens. Her paper-thin lips kinked in an all-knowing smile. “Hey, is that the new game you’ve been working on?”

Silver quickly leaned over to the main motherboard and hit the desk saver mode.

A big animated cartoon of a furry beaver holding a sign that read, ‘I don’t give a dam’ showed up, blocking all view and technical receivers. Courtney grimaced and crossed her arms. “I guess that’s my answer,” she mumbled.

The answer? Yes… the answer! Now see? Why didn’t I think about that when she first came over here?! She’s the answer to the problem!

Silver got to her feet, her mind devising grandiose ideas, twisting plots, and devious plans.

“You know what, Courtney? The least I could do is ask, right?” She slicked her index finger back and forth across her chin, quite enjoying the devilish mood growing within her. “I’ll explain the situation to Zenith and maybe he’ll be able to do it.”

“Oh, thank you! I’d really appreciate it.” She clasped her hands together as if wishing on a prayer. “And of course if he can do it, I absolutely demand that you attend as well. It will be so much fun! Can you ask
soon
, please? Not to pressure you but—”

“Of course I can, no problem. Just go on and do whatever it was you were doing and I’ll look into it.” Silver attempted a big, bright smile, but her nerves were suddenly getting the best of her. Nevertheless, she was eager to get the woman out of her area as soon as possible. No sooner had Courtney skipped away like little pink and brown Riding Hood, she plopped back in her seat and scrolled through Google, looking for the place Javier worked.

Ahhhh, here it is… SW&S… yeah, that’s where Zenith said he worked now…

She picked up her desk phone and dialed, leisurely pivoting back and forth in her seat.

“Hi, may I speak to Javier Delgado in customer care, please?”

Southern Wine and
Spirits was definitely entertaining ghosts…

Silver, a blast from the past, a woman he had barely gotten a chance to get to know was on the phone. As far as he was concerned, she was the love interest of a friendship gone sour, and she didn’t waste time in regard to any pleasantries or introductions. As soon as she identified herself, he sat back, fully expecting her to plead some bullshit on Zenith’s behalf. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She stated her case, clearly and quickly talking about some potential income to be earned by performing at a wedding in Long Island. Taken aback, he regretted not following his gut, which was to hang up as soon as he realized who it was and what she wanted. Yet, there was no sense in being hostile with the lady; besides, she had nothing to do with Zenith’s slimy, sneaky deceptiveness. Why should she pay the heavy price? It wasn’t her tab, despite being guilty by association.

“We don’t really do weddings though, Silver,” he stated after she’d finished her well-polished sales pitch. “It’s the kind of the thing we wanted to avoid, you know? Just isn’t our style, not our thing.”

“Yeah, I remember hearing that before but see, here is the thing, you’d be helping out a great deal and I’m certain
money
is your thing, right? I’m not askin’ for a kidney or for you to sell your soul to the Illuminati for fame.” She chuckled, though he was far from amused. “They’ve got nowhere to turn on such short notice. You’d probably get any reasonable asking price you wish for, too. That means it’s good coinage any way you toss it.”

Javier thought country road long and solid steel hard for a moment. He sure as hell needed that damn money. Answering customer service calls and auditing COD batches was just not enough to get all the things he needed, let alone wanted. He jumped from job to job to make ends meet, anything to help fuel his dreams and keep his share of the rent and bills paid.

Some of the promoters for their gigs were pieces of shit, trying to shave off extra earnings and screw them over like bulbs in sockets. When equipment failed in the studio, he’d covered the bulk of the bill. When the guys needed something they couldn’t afford to do a gig, like extra money for late night babysitters, he was expected to help out. The shit added up, and he understood it, especially since he got a slightly larger cut than the rest of the band members for doing extra grunt work. All in all, money flew out, but returned in his pockets at a much slower rate. An extra chunk of change never hurt, and besides, he imagined it would be an easy gig.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally conceded.

“No time. She needs an answer like yesterday.”

“As long as Zenith won’t be there, then you can count me in.”

“Now that’s not fair, Javier. I’m supposed to be attending this wedding now, too, and he’s supposed to be my date. You two don’t have to interact or talk, though.”

He wasn’t convinced the woman was telling the truth. When he’d asked her the name of the damn bride moments earlier, she said she didn’t fucking know. Something about the way she spoke, her tone and inflection, grabbed his paranoia and plugged into it with an iron-clad grip.

She’s just as sneaky as that son of a bitch she’s fucking, but this is about money… so I guess I should stay focused.

No matter, right or wrong, present or not, he had nothing to say to Zenith. Trust was as important to him as the love of God. Trust was a pact; they’d been through too much together, and the bastard had thrown them overboard the first chance he got.

“Nah, I don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to see him at all. Either promise that he won’t be there or I’m not doing it.”

“That’s just childish, Javier. Now, I could just lie to you and promise that he wouldn’t be there, have you show up anyway and see him, or be upfront right here and now and tell you the deal. You’re going to have to dance around your pride, man, and do what’s best for your wallet. You and Zenith are taking this shit too far. Y’all are two grown men, fighting like babies. Take the damn pacifier out your mouth, replace it with your microphone, and grow up and get this cash.”

“Wait just a goddamn minute. Isn’t it
you
who wants something from
me
?! Calling me names is a step in the wrong damn direction.”

“I’m not calling you names just to be rude or harsh. I’m stating facts. I like you, Javier. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh.” He chuckled angrily. “It’s personal all right.”

“Okay, fine. You think Zenith lied, he says he didn’t. You think he knew all along that he had a deal in the works, he said he didn’t. You don’t believe him, fine. He tried to call you, you ignored him. Then you two argued over a brief text message exchange before you blocked him. That’s fucking juvenile, but it has nothing to do with me. I’m just trying to help out a friend in need. It’s a win-win situation.”

Zenith had been right. They’d talked extensively about her before the explosion. He was madly in love with the woman—shared funny stories about her, too. Yup, it was true. Silver was a trip. What audacity she had.

“Fine. We’ll get in and get out.” The thought of the new drummer he’d hired sitting there in front of Zenith’s face suddenly appealed to him. He grinned wickedly. In his head, he relived the evening when the fucker got to banging on his door after trying to get his key into the changed lock. Zenith must’ve gotten rejected by Pop Evil; things didn’t go as planned and he thought he could just crawl back on his belly like the snake that he was… Hell motherfucking no!

Yeah… this should be good.

“Yeah, tell ’er we’ll do it.” He gave a chin check as he tried to spin around in his cheap plastic seat, almost toppling it over. “Give her my email address and number so I can work out the details with her. You know, like what songs she wants, things like that. We don’t have a lot of time to practice with this short of notice so I ain’t no miracle worker, but we’ll do the best we can.”

“Great! I will pass the information along. Text me your email address, Javier. I don’t have it.”

“Yeah, alright. Peace.” He disconnected the call and sat there surrounded by ringing phones and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Someone had made a new batch, but he would have preferred a stiff drink right about then. His smile vanished when he thought about the matter a bit more…

The new drummer is good, but he doesn’t have anything on Zenith… and that motherfucker is going to know it, too. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Shit!

Picking up a company ink pen, he chocked it across the room with vigor.

“Owww!” someone screamed out. “What tha hell?!”

He quickly ducked down in his cubicle, avoiding eye contact, hoping no one had seen him do the horrid deed. A few seconds passed, and the coast seemed to be clear.

Damn, maybe I AM childish…

Slowly lifting his head, he picked up his cell phone.

“Flip, I need to contact the lady to finalize everything, but we gotta gig this upcoming Saturday, a wedding.”

“But you said—”

“Yeah mothafucka, I know what I said! But it pays good so this one time we’re breaking the rules. Be at my house to practice at six tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts…”