Two of the Crows vegged out on the couch, clad in their boxers and rocking popcorn bowls on their stomach.
“Hey.” Jeremy lobbed a stray shoe at Bentley’s head. “Clean this place up. There’s a party tonight.”
I’d forgotten about the party. Half the student body was coming out to celebrate with their new masters.
We continued past Bentley and Gael, sensing their eyes on the back of my head.
I didn’t care what Jeremy said, these guys would be no different from the Bedlam Boys. Judging by how easily they stabbed people and started brawls that resulted in hospitalization, they’d be worse in their own way.
We went up the stairs, going into a room at the end of the hall. The place clearly came furnished. I couldn’t see a bunch of guys with neck tattoos and leather jackets choosing the floral wallpaper or the egg chair propped in the corner next to a tea nook.
“Sit.”
I claimed the desk chair and scooted aside for Jeremy to come around and pull papers from the drawer.
“Here you are,” he said. “Checked by our lawyers. Signed by Dad.”
The next thing out of the drawer was a pen.
“Sign.”
I took the pen and dropped it back where it came from.
“I’ll need time to review this. Do you have your father’s lawyer’s number? It’s easier if I tell him the changes I want to make directly instead of doing it through you.”
Jeremy frowned, cutting a wrinkle down his smooth brow. “There won’t be any changes. The deal is take it or leave it.”
“Nevertheless, I’d like his number.”
“Dammit, de Souza, stop—”
“Why is this a problem? Is there something in the contract you know I’m not going to like?” I tossed the papers across the room. “That saves me a lot of trouble. Bye now.”
He snatched my arm, grabbing me in a painful grip. “Stop!”
“Hey! Get the fuck off me!”
Jeremy dropped my arm immediately. “Sorry,” he said, smiling disarmingly. “I shouldn’t have done that. Won’t happen again.”
I edged away from him, rubbing my arm.
“I am sorry,” he repeated. “Look.” Jeremy took out his phone, tapped a few buttons, and handed it to me. “Caleb Graham. He’s my dad’s lawyer. He’ll walk you through the contract line by line. You can stay in here as long as it takes to see this is all on the up-and-up.”
He tiptoed around me, hands held above his head comically. “Can I get you anything? Call out for lunch?”
“No,” I said after a beat. “I’m fine.”
“Great.” Jeremy closed the door behind him.
It took me a minute to pick up the contract and dial the number. A deep voice picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, this is Caleb Graham with Graham and Associates. How can I help you?”
“Hi, this is Rainey de Souza. I don’t know if you—”
“Miss de Souza, good to hear from you.” His tone brightened. “I faxed the paperwork over this morning. Is everything in order?”
I eased into the seat. So far, so legit.
“That’s what I’m calling you about. I’d like to go over the contract with you line by line. Is now a good time to talk?”
“Excellent time. What are your concerns?”
Caleb and I talked for hours. We were on the phone for so long, my stomach forced me to take Jeremy up on his offer of Chinese takeout, and the guys started blowing up my phone, demanding to know where I was.
I didn’t reply with full knowledge I’d be punished later. This wasn’t about me and the Bedlam Boys right now. It was about me and Gran. As much as they’d come to consume my life with their rare kisses and raw, dangerous power, this was one part no one got to touch. I had to do what my grandmother would’ve wanted me to do, and she wanted this farm in our family. I could not let anyone get in our way.
“As you can see,” Caleb said, “it’s standard boilerplate, Miss de Souza.”
“Mostly,” I agreed. “A lot of this is pretty standard, except for a few things. It says I have to give Jeremy or Micah Ellis weekly verifiable information about the Bedlam Boys, insert names here, up to and including their actions or their parents’ actions against construction, mining, or the development of a new town.”
“Yes?” Caleb prompted.
“What are we calling verifiable information? If I overhear a conversation that they want to beat the Crows into a bloody heap their own mothers won’t recognize, how do I prove that’s a credible threat before they... do it?”
“Ah, well yes, I see your point. Stated threats are hard to verify before they’re carried out. While of course the Ellises need to know if there is a threat against their lives, we’re mostly focused on serious opposition to the creation of a new town. For example, if you overhear Mr. Creed say he’s holding a secret town hall meeting to oppose the venture. That’s something we can verify and take steps to address.”