“This is going to be a nightmare,” Chase said, his eyes on the road. The rain slipped down his Acura TLX’s windshield as they sped down the interstate.
The drìve to their Orangeside High reunion felt less like catching up and more like paying back a favor. The problem with Vincenzo wasn’t that he made everything interesting—it was that things stayed interesting long after he was done with them. Chase had learned that once. He wasn’t planning on learning it again.
Vincenzo drummed on the dashboard. “I love this stretch,” he said. “Clean. Endless. Feels like anything could happen.”
Chase smirked, eyes on the road. “Making a haiku out of traffic?”
“I was talking about myself,” Vincenzo said with a smirk, flipping his lighter open, the light flaring briefly against the glass. “Happy I dragged you out?”
“Keeping my expectation in check,” Chase said. “It’s going to be a long night.”
“You sound like my father,” Vincenzo said, tilting his head back, watching the trees blur past. “Speaking of long nights, I heard Samara’s showing up.”
Chase rolled his eyes.
“The ‘slay queen’ herself,” Vincenzo continued.
Chase’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t break me.”
“Of course not,” Vincenzo laughed. “Just… adjusted expectations.”
Chase exhaled sharply. “Are you so bored of your life you have to dig through mine?”
“People like real stories, Chase. Besides, reunions are about seeing what cream rose to the top.”
Cream, Chase thought. That’s what his family called people like him.
“Don’t look so sour. It’s a night for catching up,” Vincenzo said, shifting in the passenger seat. “Speaking of catching up—what’s with you suggesting my father’s latest heir?”
“I didn’t ‘suggest’ anyone,” Chase said. “Ernesto sent me there to look for problems. His adoption wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”
“Right, the Harrison Home,” Vincenzo said. “Bold move for the guy who’s only at Michael & Cole because of my good word.”
“I went in there to find red flags. What I saw… wasn’t that,” Chase said.
“What was it?” Vincenzo asked.
“I know this sounds nuts, but I saw a girl who could revive a dead tablet and this kid at the gym who moved too fast. The place felt like it had a spark.”
Vincenzo flicked his lighter shut. “That’s one word for it.”
“That’s what I told your dad.”
“A ‘spark,’” Vincenzo said flatly. “Forums love that word.”
“Maybe,” Chase said. “But those kids changed how I saw my life going. They reminded me of us growing up. Ernesto saw the same thing I did, call it whatever makes you want.”
Vincenzo groaned and looked back out at the treeline. “They’re just… investments.”
Chase smirked. “There it is.”
The gas light blinked on the dash. Chase sighed. “Still allergic to paying for gas?”
“I pay in results,” Vincenzo replied.
“Right… I’m pulling in.”
Vincenzo leaned back. “Stay with me, and everything runs on easy mode.”
That had become true in more ways than he liked to admit. Ernesto Del Viento didn’t care if Chase was happy. Only if he was useful.
“You’re doing it again,” Vincenzo said, glancing over.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking like the other shoe is going to drop.” Vincenzo smiled. “It doesn’t. Not while you’re with me.”
“That’s good to know,” Chase muttered.
“As long as you stay on our good side. Off my father’s radar.”
The station appeared ahead, a lonely island of fluorescent light in the rain. Chase pulled the Acura to a stop, the engine’s hum dying into the sound of the rain.
“I’ll pump,” Chase said, reaching for the door handle.
“I’ll socialize,” Vincenzo said, out of the car before Chase could argue.
Chase shook his head, watching Vincenzo head for the storefront. “Jesus, help the clerk.”
Inside, the lone attendant whose name tag read ‘Warren,’ was focused on his phone.
Vincenzo approached the counter with a warm, practiced smile.
“Evening,” Vincenzo said, eyeing the name tag. “Quick question for you, Warren.”
The clerk sighed, barely looking up from his phone. “If it’s the bathroom, it’s out of order. If it’s the price of jerky, blame the tariffs. If it’s the leaking propane, those are just snakes.”
Vincenzo blinked once. “Snakes? No. This is more… philosophical.”
“We’re fresh out of philosophy. Check the college bookstore.”
Vincenzo leaned on the counter, lowering his voice. “Do you ever think about what keeps this place from making headlines?”
The clerk looked up, more annoyed than worried. “You mean the roof leak or the broken Street Fighter 4 machine?”
Vincenzo leaned in. “Three feet of concrete,” he said, tapping the counter. “One careless spark.”
He pulled out his lighter. A small flame danced between them.
Silence.
The flame went out with a snap.
“That’s it?” Vincenzo asked, genuinely curious. “No reaction?”
The clerk shrugged. “If you’re gonna burn it down, man, just do it.”
Vincenzo’s expression shifted. “That’s the problem with you people.”
The bell above the door jingled.
Chase felt it then—not the bit. The intent.
Vincenzo had always pushed lines to see who reacted.
But this wasn’t that. Not since Calder.
click
The flame danced again.
“You think danger is fire.”
He tilted the lighter slightly.
“Fire’s just the cover.”
His eyes stayed on the clerk.
“Control is the point.”
The clerk shifted. “Sir…”
Chase stepped in, grabbing Vincenzo’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Chase said flatly. “Anton Chigurh, field trip’s over.”
Vincenzo turned, mock-offended. “We were having a philosophical discussion.”
“You were traumatizing a teenager,” Chase said, sliding a twenty across the counter. “Pump three.”
The clerk grabbed the bill. “This guy your buddy?”
“Public defender,” Chase said. “Currently out on probation for arson.”
Vincenzo flicked the lighter one last time, with a small smile at the clerk. “Relax. You were never part of the crew.”
Outside, the rain had thinned.
“One day you’ll pull that bit on the wrong person,” Chase said, capping the tank.
“There are no wrong people,” Vincenzo said. “Just people who don’t know their place.”
They climbed back into the car.
As they eased back onto the highway, Vincenzo lit a cigarette, his window cracked just enough for the smoke to escape. “I’m glad you agreed to join me on this. The Golden Son and SilverTongue back at Orangeside High.”
By the time they reached the edge of downtown, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
Chase parked under a stuttering streetlamp.
“You really don’t have to come in,” Chase said.
“I’m your social escalator,” Vincenzo said, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. “Besides, where would you be without me?”
Chase took a slow breath, looking at the glowing entrance. “You know, the last time I saw these people, they were more acne than personality.”
Vincenzo stepped out into the wet air, straightening his jacket. “Good. Let’s see what rose to the top.”