Page 5 of On the Line

“Make it happen.” I have full confidence in his abilities. It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he’s throwing my money around.

I set my phone on the coffee table and bend down to feel Graham’s forehead. He still feels hot and clammy. “Hey, Derek is going to come and hang out with you until Auntie Jules gets back, okay? I have to go into the office.”

“Okay,” Graham says, his eyes never leaving his episode of Spider-Man. He’s lying on the couch on his side with his iPad propped up on the coffee table and a garbage can sitting right between him and his show. Hopefully, if there’s any more throwing up, he can aim it in the can. I already got him cleaned off as best I could and took a record-breaking fast shower myself.

“I’m going to run upstairs to my place to grab a tie.” Converting our childhood home into a two-family house—where my sisters and Graham live on the first two floors, and I have my own place on the third floor—was one of the smartest things I’ve done. “I’ll keep the door open so I can hear you. If you need me, just call. And if you need to throw up again, make it—”

“In the trash can. I knooow,” Graham says.

He must be starting to feel better if he’s already getting back to his normal smart-ass self. Audrey blames that part on me, saying I’m a bad example. Which always leads me to remind her that if she hadn’t gotten knocked up in college, I wouldn’t have to help raise my nephew after I already raised my two little sisters. She always appreciates that reminder.

I’m walking back down the stairs and tightening the knot on my tie when I hear the doorbell. Derek is less pissy about being here than I expected, probably because I tell him to get himself a nice dinner tonight and expense it.

Whereas many of my colleagues complain about not being able to find good assistants, I’ve held onto Derek for the last four years through a combination of paying him well and rewarding him when I ask him to do stupid shit that shouldn’t really be part of his job, like today.

Because he’s good at what he does, Derek even booked his Uber to take me back to the office, so I’m sitting back down behind my desk before Colt arrives.

“I’m about to sign the biggest endorsement deal of my life,” he says, his huge frame filling my doorway as he walks into my office, “and you don’t even have Derek here to help us celebrate? He should at least be here offering me a beer or something!”

“He’s taking care of my sick nephew. I’ll take you out for celebratory drinks another time.”

“What’s wrong with Graham?” At this point, Colt’s been my teammate, client, and friend long enough that he knows my family.

“Stomach bug.”

Colt has virtually no experience with kids, so I assume his grimace as he sits down in the chair across from me is in response to the thought of a kid throwing up. “And you made Derek go babysit him?”

“Yes, well, I pay him accordingly. And it’s just until Jules can get back from a jobsite.” I pick up the stack of papers on my desk and slide them across my desk toward him. “You ready to sign?”

“No,” Colt says, the sarcasm evident in his voice, “I’m having second thoughts about all those zeros.”

* * *

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl as Derek’s name lights up my phone. It’s easy to see the screen since I’m curled up on my side on my bathroom rug with a wadded up towel serving as a pillow. I reach over and tap the phone to answer it. “What part of don’t contact me before noon was unclear?” My voice is more of a moan than a bark.

I’d texted Derek around two in the morning when I woke up sick. I told him I wouldn’t be in and that unless someone died, I’d better not hear from him.

“So, about that text ...” Derek says.

“What time is it right now?” It’s still dark out, but I can see the orange-pink light of sunrise starting to filter through the seam between the shade and the frame of my bathroom window.

“Almost seven.”

“Why the fuck are you calling me this early?”

Derek takes a deep breath. “Josh Emerson was killed yesterday in an avalanche.”

“What?” I sit up so fast the whole room spins. I curl into a sitting fetal position, with my forehead resting on my knees. My stomach is still flipping over, though not as badly as it has been for the past several hours.

“He was skiing out of bounds in Sun Valley,” Derek says, then gives me the very few details he was able to find out so far.

“Shit.” There is nothing else to say.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“Print out a copy of his trust. I’ll be in as soon as I can fucking walk.”

“Do you want me to contact his family?”

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