Page 14 of Mr. Red

I lift one side of mouth in pity. “I hate Ryan.”

“Ditto,” agrees Paige.

“Whatever. Dinner will be up in five.” Lana turns back to her sauce.

Forty-five minutes later, we have dinner plated, have watched half a movie, and have one bottle of wine down. We all agree to open another bottle. Paige is pouring us glasses and then has the bright idea to have a dance party, running for the speaker.

A song with a fun beat starts blaring, and all three of us jump up on the coffee table. My coffee table seems like a strong piece of wood, but will it hold all three of us? Who knows.

We’re all swaying our hips, hands in the air, singing in a tone meant for dogs. After two minutes, Lana bumps my hip in a smooth sway, making me lose my footing, and I fall to the ground on my side. At least there’s an area rug trying to break my fall.

A tiny throb shoots through my hip, but we’re laughing so hard the pain doesn’t register. Lana is standing on the coffee table crouched over me, trying not to laugh. She can’t contain it, which leaves her making a snorting sound. It makes us all laugh harder. Paige has given up and is laughing through tears while she’s lying on the floor next to me.

It's too hard to get up with my body caught in the middle of Paige and the coffee table leg. I continue to lay on the floor, my stomach tight, tears in my eyes, and cheeks aching. The harder one of us laughs, the more we all start laughing. It’s an endless, psychotic cycle. I’m pretty sure ten minutes have gone by before we can catch our breath.

“I always thought I had good coordination,” I pant.

“Apparently not,” Paige contends.

“Lana, take it easy with those damn hips!” I tease, and we all start giggling again.

Chapter 10

Matt

I had a busy day and am winding down at a sports bar and restaurant with a baseball game on in the background. Baseball and football are my favorites, but any type of sport is fine. I dove into sports when I was younger as a way to try to impress my dad, hoping he’d notice me one day. I ended up finding purpose in sports. The noise is nice in a nostalgic kind of way.

I glance down at my watch. I bought it as a present to myself with my first million. A reminder of the status I’ve been able to reach. A reminder I still have more to accomplish.

I should be focusing on my reason for being in Washington in the first place—expanding the business. Instead, I scroll through pictures on Scarlett’s social media page. Ineedto find out more about her. I shouldn’t be looking. I should be trying to find a deal on a building twenty-four seven so I don’t miss out, but I can’t stop thinking about her.

Her pictures are professional. There are a lot with the guy from the front desk at the gym, though. Is he just a friend? He’s always touching her. There are also a lot of pictures with the same two women. It’s good to see she has a life outside the gym.

Goddamn, the gym and the session this morning.She was close enough I could smell her and check out her toned body. You could tell she was in her element; I saw some of her guard come down. She acted like she wanted things professional, but she had some tells I don’t think she could control. Her blue eyes dilating, leaning into me when we were standing close, looking at me for no reason.

Oh yeah, she’s into me.

The corner of my mouth lifts. It's going to be fun getting to know Miss Scarlett. This is the most excited I’ve been about a woman in a long time—maybe ever. I’ve been so focused on business, no one has been able to keep my attention for long. Between her name and our “coincidental” encounters, she has me by the balls.

Scarlett’s picture is replaced by my business partner’s name lighting up on my phone. “Hey, Grant. How ya doing, man?”

Grant and I met in college. He’s from Washington state, but wanted to go somewhere new for college. He decided Texas was a good choice. Obviously. Long story short, we put our heads together and have made loads of money along with being best buds.

My parents didn’t have much money. My dad got his shit together once I made it to senior year in high school, but he spent every penny of their savings before he got sober. I was on my own if I wanted a better future for myself.

I got my real estate license the summer before college, and I sold houses while I was in school. By the time we teamed up I could put up some money, but Grant did most of the heavy lifting when it came to properties on auction. Once I made some sales, I was able to match his contribution.

From there I focused on finding properties, and Grant took care of the financials. We would purchase anything, as long as the numbers made sense. Sometimes flipping, sometimes wholesale, sometimes rentals. I was used to doing labor or picking up construction jobs on the weekends to help my mom, so I knew how to do most of the work myself on a flip, and we have an inspector give us the go-ahead before we rent out to anyone.

“What’s going on, bud? You make any headway yet?” he asks.

“I like how I was the one to go toyourhometown. Couldn’t do it yourself, huh?”

“Fuck off. I’m not the one who wanted to expand—you are. You’d better make sure you have your shit figured out if you want to do this.”

Although Texas has been wonderful, I want more. I started in Washington because Grant is from this small town and has a few contacts to help me get started. There’s no state income tax in Washington, which is a plus. I convinced Grant by focusing on renewable materials since he dabbles in ways to be environmentally-friendly. If I can pull this off, we’re going national.

I’ll be looking into a small apartment building with eight units first. I’m keeping options open with land that might work for an RV campsite.

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