Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Come on, men.” Miles motioned for a couple of the prospects hanging out and giving the smaller kids rides on their shoulders. “Young Caleb here says I need to hire some muscle.” The double entendre wasn’t lost on any of the guys. “Anyone want to volunteer?”
“Oh, I’ll take that action!” Riot, who was still soaked to the skin, stepped up to the table. “Payback’s a bitch, Caleb.”
“You gotta hit the mark, Riot.” Caleb lifted his chin, that cocky smirk he was really too young to have firmly in place. “I’m bettin’ you’re just as bad as Mr. Miles there.”
“Oh, it’s on.” Three more failed attempts later, Riot was visibly frustrated while Miles shook his head in bemusement.
“Christ, Riot. I really thought you’d be better than this.” Miles looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
Riot turned to give the other man a hard stare. Which didn’t seem to faze Miles in the least. “You didn’t do any better. Besides, that little asshole knows how to get under my skin.”
The crowd had grown, drawn by the spectacle and the banter of the powerful businessman being repeatedly taunted by a twelve-year-old. I noticed several Kiss of Death members watching from the sidelines, trying not to laugh too openly at their business associate’s predicament. Others outright guffawed. Tiny and Griffin both were wiping tears from their eyes.
“You know what,” Miles finally said, straightening his tie and reaching for his wallet again. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars to just walk up and push the lever.”
Caleb leaned forward on his perch, a calculating glint in his eye. “Oh no. You want to cheat, it’s gonna cost you ten thousand dollars. We take cash and credit or debit. But for you, Mr. Miles, we’ll take a check. Pretty sure you’re good for it.”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd. I felt my mouth drop open, stunned by Caleb’s audacity. Surely even Tonio Miles wouldn’t…
Without hesitation, Tonio pulled a black credit card from his wallet and held it out to the volunteer. “Run it,” he said, his voice calm but his eyes locked with Caleb’s in silent challenge.
The volunteer glanced at me, uncertain. I shrugged, then nodded, a little too shocked to speak.
“Worth every penny,” he said as the volunteer handed him the receipt to sign.
Caleb’s smirk never wavered, even as Tonio strode around to the side of the tank, grasped the lever, and pushed it with decisive force. The platform dropped, plunging Caleb into the water with a satisfying splash. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause.
When Caleb surfaced, pushing his wet hair from his eyes, he was grinning. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Miles,” he called out, climbing back onto his platform.
Tonio nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. “The pleasure was mine,” he replied before turning to address the crowd. “I’m happy to support such a worthy cause. My family believes in giving back to the community.”
As he walked away, I caught his slight smile, suggesting he was well aware of how this public display of generosity would play with the onlookers. The businessman-slash-philanthropist image was intact, even as he’d indulged his desire to dunk the kid who’d gotten under his skin.
I watched the interaction with growing amazement. In less than ten minutes, Caleb had just secured more money for our toy drive than I’d hoped to raise all day. Halloween magic indeed.
The ripples from Tonio’s dramatic donation spread through the park faster than Caleb could dry himself off. People clustered in small groups, whispering and pointing toward the dunk tank where the soaked twelve-year-old had already reclaimed his perch, grinning like a shark that had just discovered an all-you-can-eat buffet. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him, his light brown hair plastered to his forehead, his clothes dripping, but his spirit clearly soaring.
“Ten thousand dollars,” Hannah whispered beside me, still stunned. “For a dunk tank? That’s more than most people’s monthly salary.”
“That kid is going places,” I replied, shaking my head in admiration. “Probably Supreme Commander of the New World Order or something.”
Knuckles joined our small group. “What’s this I hear about Tonio Miles dropping ten grand to dunk a twelve-year-old?”
“Caleb,” Chains said without further explanation.
“Ah.” Knuckles grinned.
“You missed quite the show,” I told him, leaning against Chains’ solid warmth. “Caleb played him like a fiddle.”
“Caleb plays everyone like a fuckin’ fiddle.” Knuckles shook his head with a chuckle. “But I’m willing to bet that little show was a tag team effort.”
“Why do you say that?” Hannah slipped her arm through Knuckles’, giving him a curious expression.
“You notice any other big shots around town hanging out down there?” We all looked at the dunking booth as Knuckles indicated where Caleb continued to taunt people nearby. He also called up a little girl of about six and let her push the lever for free. She shook her head and, instead, climbed up on the platform with Caleb. Then the two proceeded to heckle the crowd together. Granted, Caleb toned it down significantly and made it more fun instead of cutting. The kid really was in line for biker of the year. Except he wasn’t a biker. And yeah. I was laughing as much on the outside as I was on the inside because I noticed what Chains did at about the same time.