Chapter 4 - Uncle Adrian Smiled Too EasilyAdrian arrived at the house at five seventeen that evening carrying pizza.
He had always entered family tension like a man walking onto a stage he believed belonged to him.
Tall, athletic and dressed in an expensive bomber jacket, he smiled when Rachel opened the door.
“Peace offering.”
Rachel did not smile back.
“For what?”
Adrian lifted the pizza box.
“For showing up unannounced.”
Marcus appeared behind her.
“What do you want?”
Adrian's smile thinned.
“Good to see you too, big brother.”
Jordan was halfway down the stairs when he heard Adrian's voice.
He froze.
Adrian saw him.
For less than a second their eyes met.
Marcus noticed.
“Jordan,” he said, “stay upstairs.”
Adrian laughed.
“Come on. He's not five.”
“This doesn't concern him.”
Adrian set the pizza down.
“You sure?”
The question chilled the room.
Marcus stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Then explain why you've been calling my son.”
Adrian's hands slid into his jacket pockets.
“He helps me sometimes.”
“With what?”
“Errands.”
Marcus stared.
“You sent my sixteen-year-old son to my bank?”
“Our bank.”
“My personal branch.”
Adrian shrugged.
“There's an ATM.”
“And Westbridge Storage?”
“I'm clearing old business records.”
“Hawthorne?”
“Property we both own.”
Marcus's voice lowered.
“And why did Jordan lie about all three?”
Adrian's expression finally shifted.
He glanced at Jordan.
Jordan looked away.
Rachel saw the exchange.
“Adrian.”
He turned.
“What?”
“What have you asked him to hide?”
“Nothing.”
Jordan made a small sound.
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
Marcus heard it.
“Jordan?”
The teenager descended one more step.
Adrian spoke before he could.
“Your son's embarrassed because he knows you overreact.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Do not make this about my parenting.”
“I'm making it about you treating a sixteen-year-old like he's under interrogation.”
Rachel's voice became hard.
“He has been lying.”
“So? Teenagers lie.”
Jordan flinched.
Marcus caught it.
Adrian had just minimized the very thing Marcus was trying to teach Jordan to confront.
“You need to leave,” Marcus said.
Adrian laughed.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“I drove thirty minutes.”
“You'll drive thirty minutes back.”
Adrian picked up his jacket zipper, then glanced at Jordan again.
That look lasted too long.
Marcus moved so he stood between them.
Adrian raised his palms.
“Fine.”
Rachel opened the door.
Adrian stepped onto the porch.
Then he looked past Marcus.
“Jordan, don't beat yourself up over one mistake.”
Marcus replied, “He can hear that from his parents.”
Adrian stared at him.
Something old passed between the brothers.
Resentment.
Competition.
A history Jordan only partly understood.
Then Adrian smiled.
“Still have to control the room, don't you?”
Marcus closed the door.
For several seconds no one spoke.
Then Jordan ran upstairs.
Marcus started after him.
Rachel caught his arm.
“Wait.”
“For what?”
“You're angry at Adrian.”
“I am angry because Adrian is using our son.”
“We don't know that yet.”
Marcus looked toward the stairs.
“I know my brother.”
Rachel released him.
“And that's exactly why you should wait five minutes.”
Upstairs, Jordan locked himself in the bathroom.
His phone buzzed.
ADRIAN: You almost said something.
Jordan typed:
Leave me alone.
A reply came.
Bring the envelope tomorrow.
Jordan:
No.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Then returned.
You took my money, Jordan. Don't act innocent now.
Jordan stared at the message.
He had accepted two hundred dollars over several months.
Twenty here.
Forty there.
Gas money, Adrian called it.
Jordan had liked having cash his parents did not monitor.
He had never asked enough questions.
Now the money felt poisonous.
Another text came.
You want Marcus knowing you were smoking before he caught you too?
Jordan's heart hammered.
Adrian had caught Jordan smoking weeks earlier behind the garage.
He had promised not to tell.
At the time Jordan thought it was kindness.
Now he understood.
It had been leverage.
Jordan opened the bathroom door.
He intended to go downstairs and confess everything.
Then he heard voices.
Marcus and Rachel were in the kitchen.
“He's my brother,” Marcus said.
“That doesn't mean you know everything he's capable of.”
“I know Adrian feels cheated over the properties.”
“He has always felt cheated.”
“My father left me control because Adrian couldn't keep money in his pocket.”
Rachel lowered her voice.
“That doesn't mean Adrian forgot.”
Jordan stopped on the landing.
Marcus continued.
“He still thinks Hawthorne should've been sold years ago.”
“And if he's involving Jordan?”
Marcus's answer came after a pause.
“I don't know what I'll do.”
Jordan's courage vanished.
He returned to his room.
Downstairs, Rachel took the pizza Adrian had brought and carried it toward the trash.
As she lifted the box, a small object dropped from beneath it onto the floor.
A storage-unit access card.
Marcus picked it up.
Printed on a white sticker was:
WESTBRIDGE — UNIT 214.
Rachel stared.
“Adrian left that?”
Marcus turned the card over.
On the back, written in black marker, were two initials.
J.M.
Jordan's initials.
Marcus looked toward the staircase.
And upstairs, Jordan finally opened the manila envelope.
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Inside were deposit slips, photocopied signatures and a document bearing Marcus's name.
A document Marcus had never signed.
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