Page 56 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“Around there,” he replies, never letting me know any more than I need to know.

“What does Prez want to do? Does he need me at the club?” My eyes search the darkness. I thought I heard something.

“The clock hasn’t struck twelve for you yet, but I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone clicks as Crash ends the call. I switch it from vibrate to ring. I need to know if some shit goes down. Crash would flay my ass if I missed a call.

Opening the door to the truck, I reach into the back and pull out the gift box. Tucking it under my arm, I return to the party.

Brandy and Izzy seem to be having the time of their lives, laughing and carrying on.

As I sidle next to her, I hear the clinking of a spoon on a glass. We all turn to see Brandy’s father, Gerald, getting ready to make some kind of speech.

“Thank you to everyone for coming to our twelfth annual Christmas Party. We’ve been fortunate to be where we are and to be surrounded by our friends. Pattie and I want to let you know how much we appreciate you coming, and we hope this season of giving opens your hearts to new ways to support the community.”

Another clink, clink, could be heard.

“Well said, Mr. Arrington. In the spirit of giving, I would like to make a donation to the San Francisco Opera in the amount of ten thousand dollars.” He turns to look at Brandy. “I know how much it means to you, Brandy, so I’d like to do it in your name.

“Of course, that’s if Marcus doesn’t mind,” he continues, then snaps his fingers. “Wait, I have an idea. Maybe he could match my donation. Wouldn’t that be something?”

The crowd cheers as if it’s already decided.

“Or…” A triumphant smirk crosses his face, and then he drops the bomb. “If you don’t have that kind of money, you could have your motorcycle club front it.”

How the fuck does he know? Then I close my eyes and nod to myself. Of course, he overheard my conversation. He must have pieced it together. My fist clenches at my side. I really want to put this rich dick in his place.

“Brandy, what is Holt talking about? You met Marcus at the opera. He’s in a motorcycle club?” Mr. Arrington looks questioningly at Brandy.

“Um…” Brandy is like a deer caught in headlights. “I met him at my job.”

“Yes, the opera.” Mr. Arrington nods.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly? You work at the opera house, don’t you? And is he in a motorcycle club?”

Brandy glances around the room, all eyes on her, unsure what to say.

I step forward. “Gerald, may I suggest we move this conversation to somewhere more private?”

“It’s Mr. Arrington to you. Brandy, my study. Now!” His voice cracks like a whip.

I move to go with her, but she turns and places a hand on my chest. “Stay here. Let me talk to him alone.”

I look into her eyes, debating on whether I should listen or help her explain. “Okay.” I concede.

She turns and follows her father down the hall.

Holt walks over to me smirking. “Oh, no. Did I say something wrong?” His voice rings with amusement.

I want to punch him right in the face. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Nothing a google search couldn’t figure out. Death Heads was an easy find.”

My jaw clenches.

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