Chapter 9

Faye

The dynamic between my sister and the Foxx men is curious and unexpected at best. Troubling, if I focused too hard on it. They aren’t the kind of family that you just fall into. They’re Kentucky royalty. Businessmen who have a stronghold on one of the most lucrative markets in the US. They should only be acquaintances, connected by the fact that we’re from the same town and are neighbors to Lincoln Foxx. They attended my mother’s memorial, but so did most of the town. I barely remember the people I spoke to that day.

As I watch Griz turn over Maggie’s arms, examining her bruises with tenderness, I have to wonder: why does he care? He squeezes her hand while he whispers something that forces her eyes to the ground, looking apologetic. It isn’t just familiar; it feels familial. And we were never part of their family when I was around.

“Faye,” Griz calls out to me, looking up. “I want you and Maggie to come to dinner tonight. I need to hear what you’ve been doing with yourself all these years.”

“Griz, that’s really nice of you, but I have plans tonight.”

His mustache twitches, maybe his version of a smile. “Alright. Sometime soon, then?” he says with a wink.

Lincoln cuts in, “Faye was just telling me how she’ll be leaving soon.”

I clear my throat, refraining from rolling my eyes. “Must have misunderstood me, Foxx. My residency at Midnight Proof is at least until the end of January.” I punctuate it with a sarcastic smile. “I’ll be here for a little while.”

Griz glances behind me at Lincoln and then at Maggie. The tension here is thick, for layers of reasons that I can’t figure out how to unpack. “I’m guessing you’re not here to do a tasting?”

Lincoln shakes his head, asking, “Is Ace in his office?”

“The lounge,” Griz tells him, tipping his head toward the door. I haven’t kept tabs about what has been happening, but if I dug a little, I’d find that even if Griz isn’t in the day-to-day business of Foxx Bourbon, he still knows everything that goes on around here. The old man squeezes Lincoln’s shoulder. “Make sure you bring a good bottle for dinner later, yeah?”

Lincoln gives him a nod and a clap back on the shoulder, as Maggie walks off toward the building.

“Faye, this isn’t a group meeting. I’ll make sure Ace comes to find you when we’re done,” Lincoln says as he steps up next to me. I don’t look at him or acknowledge the statement. I’m uninterested in what he or his brother need . What I am interested in is why Ace Foxx is employing my sister and rubbing elbows with a man like Blackstone.

“Faye has a hard time accepting when she’s not wanted somewhere,” Maggie says over her shoulder, and then takes the stairs two at a time, putting plenty of space between us.

Her words burn. She doesn’t want me here and neither does Lincoln, but I’m not here to make either of them feel more comfortable. I’m here to do a job and whether she likes it for not, to make sure she’s going to be okay when I leave again.

I push through the group of people coming down the main staircase of the tasting room, and it would be impossible not to appreciate the opulence of this place as I look around. From the wrought-iron light fixtures that resemble the Foxx Bourbon logo to the smell of bourbon that wafts throughout the massive space. When I reach the top floor, the office area is empty. It gives me a second to look around and get my bearings.

“What part of ‘this isn’t a group meeting,’ didn’t you understand?”

For as long as his legs are, I’m still a good ten feet ahead of Lincoln as I ignore him and look around the private floor. The walls are embossed with a collage of photographs that lay out the story of Foxx Bourbon. Four generations of Foxx men who turned backyard moonshine into one of the most sought-after bourbon brands in the world.

“Ignoring me won’t get you what you want,” he says in a resigned tone behind me.

Coming to a stop at the end of the hall, I look to my right at the empty corner office. Lincoln stands in front of me with an annoying smirk on his face.

“There are plenty of ways to get what I want, Foxx,” I step closer to him, biting my lip. “Should we consider all the ways men can be easily manipulated? Or would you prefer I demonstrate?” I run my fingers along my collarbone, thrusting out my chest just enough to garner his attention.

“Does this work for you?” he asks, unimpressed.

I look down at his crotch first, and then back up to his face with a hinting smile. “You tell me. Feeling a little intrigued about—” I cut off my words when I look at the large black-iron ‘F’ intertwined with the outline of a fox hanging in the center of the wall, seeming like an odd placement.

“I said it’s a closed meeting,” he says again.

But I move around him and tilt the logo up. The wall slides open. Jackpot . Just as I walk through, I hear Maggie say, “You asked me to find more buyers. So that’s what I did. There were no parameters to that request, Ace.”

Lincoln is at my back as I waltz into the room, interrupting their discussion as I try my best not to seem too impressed by the clandestine grandeur of this hidden space. I hate that this surprises me. It shouldn't. The Foxx family is known for their impeccable taste and the richness in what they deliver. That’s felt throughout the entire expanse of property and simply elevated in here. The dark walls, a quad of leather chairs, and a couch hug the farthest wall. There’s some kind of carnival machine in the far corner across from a poker table, and behind that, a fireplace that’s as tall as it is wide.

Ace stands eerily still, waiting for someone to say something about what exactly it is that I’m doing here. Anyone who lives in or has passed through Fiasco knows Atticus Foxx isn’t someone you cross, let alone threaten. He’s the oldest brother and the one in charge, but they are each commanding and intimidating in their own ways.

“Faye Calloway,” he says calmly as he glances at his brother. “It’s been a while.”

I stand taller and keep my attention focused on him, mimicking his cadence and tone. “It has.”

The way he’s wearing almost a full suit, while the rest of the people here are in jeans and polos or t-shirts, is a conscious decision. There’s nothing casual about Ace, which means I need to approach things differently with him than I have with Lincoln.

He smiles, looks down, and then surprises me when he says, “Quite a show you put on the other night. You went a different way for a career than I expected.”

I smile at the condescending remark. Whether he means it that way or not, I have no problem in setting the record straight. “See, Ace, I never thought I’d need to explain this to grown-ass men. But you and that one over there”—I nod to Lincoln. He crosses his arms and glares at me—“should know that most women nowadays don’t lead their lives based on the expectations of men. Maybe if you realized that, then you might walk around less surprised by our choices and more aware of yours.”

He folds his hands together and answers that with a brief smile before he moves on. “You have quite a fan base.”

I watch him, because I know he’s referring to Blackstone. I can only hope that he didn’t run his mouth and tell Blackstone all about how he knows my real name, or worse, how much of a departure my current career path is from the one I had trained for.

I see Lincoln allow a half smile escape, matching his brother’s smugness.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Ace says, shifting his attention to Lincoln. “You and Blackstone, that is,” he says glancing back at me.

“Brock Blackstone and I are...” I pause and smirk. “Friends.”

Lincoln lets out a clipped laugh.

I glance at him, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the poker table. I tilt my head to the side. “Something you want to say, Foxx?”

“How did you end up working at Midnight Proof?” he asks in response, trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing, playing in the same circle as him and his brother.

“I had a multi-show agreement set with Hadley through my agent,” I lie. “But I moved up my arrival when I got a call that my sister had been arrested?—”

“Yeah, that wasn’t from me,” Maggie grumbles, like an in-trouble teen. “I never called her.”

Ace looks at her. “Did this have anything to do with...?”

I look between the two of them. “With what, exactly? What is she involved in that you would even need to ask her that question?”

Maggie flicks her attention to me. “Not your business, Faye.”

But Lincoln chimes in, his fingers rubbing together like he’s trying to distract himself. “Your farmland is leased by Foxx Bourbon.” He looks at me and adds, “The corn that’s grown and harvested is a part of our business now. We lease that land from your sister. All of it above the line, and she’s well compensated. Your cornfield helps make our bourbon.”

I know that’s not all. “That’s nice.” Brow pinched, I look at my sister. “Interesting how you’re signing leasing agreements without my consent, but we can cover that another time.”

She flips me off, her middle finger thrust up like it’s an actual answer.

I ignore her. “What else?”

Ace smiles and picks off a piece of lint from the forearm of his shirt that I doubt is even there. “That’s the only part you get to know.”

“Ace,” Lincoln interjects. It surprises me that he’d push his brother here. Fine by me.

He doesn’t know this, but I’ll eventually find out anyway.

Ace sits down in the brown leather club chair, his leg spread wide. Both arms drape across the sides, his wrists hanging over the ends. He isn’t married; no ring on his left hand, as his fingers lightly grip the rim of his bourbon glass. It wasn’t hard to recognize that he’s married to this business. They all are.

The way he manspreads in his chair isn’t intimidating; instead, I find it rather amusing. Some men need to take up space in order to feel bigger. Especially when they feel threatened. He lets out an exhale just as his mouth tips up in a confident half smile.

“Your sister has been using her talents to find buyers of rare bourbon that we sell on the secondary market. Maggie is exceptional at what she’s been able to do for us.” My sister being exceptional at something she puts her mind to isn’t a stretch. Maggie’s always been smart.

I glance at my sister as she smiles to herself. She looks proud, which until right now, I hadn’t realized how rewarding it is to see when someone feels good about what they’ve done.

“With how Maggie operates behind a computer screen, there’s no way anyone would be able to tie her to Foxx Bourbon. Let alone any kind of exchange that would result in violent activity.”

“Even if some of the people you associate with tend to be violent?” I fire back.

Maggie interrupts, “Oh, come on. Faye, are you serious right now?”

Calmly, Ace says, “Maggie spends time at the tracks—and even more money. Thinking that might explain her bruises.” When my sister looks back at him, he continues. “It might be a good time to transition our agreement, considering your recent arrest.”

Maggie barely lets Ace finish, her pride evaporating. “What kind of transition?”

But it’s Lincoln who answers this time. “The one where you're not getting into trouble, Maggie. The kind of transition that won't bring your sister back to Fiasco and violence too close to my front door.”

Ace doesn't so much as glance at her again. Instead, he keeps his attention on me. “Faye, we should discuss my associate. I’m interested in knowing how you might be involved with someone like him.”

“Another time,” I answer. I’ve already said too much.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, distracting me from the conversation. Speak of the devil .

BLACKSTONE

I’m hosting a private gathering at the end of the month that I think you might enjoy, Rosie.

This was what Cortez had been banking on happening. An invitation that will allow access to Blackstone, but beyond that, I’m not privy to the details of what the FBI is hoping to gain.

ROSIE GOLD

Would I be performing, or is this a personal invite?

BLACKSTONE

Is there a difference, Rosie?

A shiver works down my spine at what a private event would entail. When I look up, Lincoln’s jaw is tight, one arm holding his phone while the other braces on the pool table. But he’s the least of my concerns now. Blackstone is the focal point, and I want to keep it that way.

I’ve already sent half naked photos and teased a somewhat dangerous man in an effort to obtain access and information. And now, I’ll be walking right into the fire.

“Excuse me,” I say, brushing past Lincoln, through the long corridor and out the way we came. I send a text as soon as I hit the stairs.

FAYE

Got the invite.

Cortez doesn’t even text back. My phone starts ringing.

“We need to discuss our next steps,” he says before I even say hello.

“More like I need to understand what I’m looking for while I’m there.”

He clears his throat, speaking more quietly. “Meet me for a drink at Bottom of the Barrel tonight. I can’t tell you all of it, but this is good, Faye. Dammit, it’s really good.”

When I turn around, Maggie is standing in front of me with her arms crossed.

“Alright, I’ll see you there around eight, then.”

She raises her eyebrows as I end the call. “Making plans? That must be nice for you.”

“Don’t get pissed off at me. You had every chance to talk to me this past week, but you decided to act like a child and pretend I wasn’t there. So no, I don’t feel bad for you getting into trouble with...” I search for the right words for what she’s been doing. “...your employer or whatever the Foxx family is to you. I’m not digging you out of whatever hole you’ve dug for yourself.”

She pauses and then smiles at me, like I should have chosen my words more carefully. “You know a thing or two about digging holes. Don’t you, Faye?”

My eyes dart to Lincoln, who’s walking closer now, looking right at me.

“Fuck off,” I bite out as I snatch my keys hanging from her back pocket.

“That would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? Bury shit, leave, tell everyone to fuck off so you can just do whatever you want with your life,” she calls after me.

I stop in my tracks and turn back to her. “Shut your fucking mouth, Maggie.”

“Why? Did I hit a nerve?” She sniffs a laugh. “Well, our mom cried for months.” Shaking her head, she grits her teeth. “Months. And you didn’t visit her. You barely called. And then it was like you never existed. So yeah, maybe everyone else around here is so enamored with the fact that you’ve come back, to what? Save your poor, fucked-up sister? Strip off your clothes so people will pay attention to you again?—”

“That’s enough,” Lincoln says from behind me, standing close enough for me to feel his warmth. I don’t expect it. And I hate that I like it.

She rolls her eyes. “Nice.” Her gaze flicks to Lincoln and then back to me. “You’re here less than a week and already under a man. Maybe you’re more like mom after all.”