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”“The reason your scholarship stopped was the man funding it was arrested for murdering his business partner. The only lesson to learn from that is don’t rely on money from a crook.”“Bullshit.”“You don’t believe me?”“I don’t believe you.”“I can prove it.”“Prove it. Right here. Right now. Or get the fuck out of here.”“Check your email. There are links to everything you need to know.”“Jamal. Bring me my laptop.”A few minutes later, Max was getting ready to log into his email account.“Not that one. MaxCares2010, password ‘goodFather123.’ The F is capitalized.”Max reached out for his pistol. Martin stared him in the eyes. Jamal was holding his pistol and had it pointed at Martin.“Max. I know everything about you. I know everything about what is happening around you. I know that Jamal’s real name is Edgar.”“Mother Fucker!”“Max. I know you. I know you’re an honest man. You might sell drugs, but when you make a promise you deliver. You need to read what’s in that email. What you find in it. Eric sighed. With Millie, it was always now or never. He cinched his bag on his shoulder then quickly went over.As he turned and stepped past Millie as she stood by the door, he came to a sudden stop as if his sneakers had landed in a puddle of super glue. As he stared ahead at Millie’s guest occupying the sofa, the weight of an anvil dropped his jaw. “Yana,” he said.“Hullo, Eric,” the blonde bombshell replied, grinning as she leisurely bounced her long muscular leg over her knee.Gawking, he could barely spit out a complete syllable. “Whu-... whu-... whu-...”Yana laughed and sighed. She reached into her purse. “I bring you back this,” she quipped.Eric’s left eye twitched. His right eye focused on the pair of purple men’s underpants she dangled between her long fingernails. “You came here to return those to me?” She nodded, a wickedly sharp smile splitting her crimson lips.“You couldn’t have just…” Eric paused and shrugged, “... left them in the mail slot or something?”She.
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