Chapter 136: Easy Money

Andrew had found another job.

Delivery driver.

It was honest work.

Unfortunately, not much of it was honest.

"Two hundred?"

The woman standing in the doorway stared at Andrew as though he’d personally insulted her.

Andrew looked down at the large designer handbag still inside its protective plastic.

"That’s the price."

"For this?"

"Yes."

She pulled the bag out and examined the gold-colored clasp before turning it over.

"The stitching isn’t even straight."

"Then don’t buy it."

"I’ll give you eighty."

Andrew stared at her.

The woman pointed at the logo.

"Look at this. The real one doesn’t look like that."

"If you could afford the real one, I wouldn’t be standing here."

Her eyes narrowed.

Andrew held out his hand.

"Two hundred."

"One hundred."

"One eighty."

"One twenty."

"Lady, I’m delivering it. I’m not running an auction."

She eventually paid one fifty after several more minutes of complaining, although Andrew suspected she’d known exactly what she was buying from the beginning.

Nobody ordered a supposedly four-thousand-dollar handbag for two hundred dollars and expected it to be authentic.

At least, nobody sensible did.

Andrew returned to the vehicle and marked the delivery complete.

A noble but tedious job.

Quite a departure from the work he’d once done on Sebastian projects, when he’d worn expensive clothes, walked through corporate offices and spent enough time beside Dominic Sebastian that people had learned to treat him carefully.

Now he delivered imitation handbags, shoes with suspiciously familiar logos and clothes whose labels probably wouldn’t survive their first washing.

Still, money was money.

He started the engine.

During one of his afternoon routes, Andrew spotted Alexander Vance.

He nearly drove past without noticing.

Alexander wasn’t alone. A man Andrew didn’t recognize was helping him secure a large piece of furniture in the back of a vehicle outside what appeared to be a small gallery.

Andrew slowed as he approached the intersection.

A sideboard, perhaps.

Whatever it was, the piece had clearly been restored. The wood had been polished to a warm sheen. Still, the design itself was unmistakably old, the kind of furniture that had probably already lived through several owners before someone decided it deserved another chance.

His gaze shifted toward the name displayed on the vehicle.

Second Life Workshop.

Andrew remembered the name.

Later, during his break, he searched for it.

The website was simple.

Second Life Workshop specialized in restoring old furniture and architectural pieces that might otherwise be discarded. The site showed photos of completed work, a short explanation of the Workshop’s purpose, and information for potential clients interested in restoration.

Then Andrew found the owner’s name.

Alexander Vance.

He stared at the screen.

Of course.

Apparently, running Vance Holdings wasn’t enough for Alexander anymore.

He needed another business too.

Andrew continued scrolling until he found the Workshop’s location.

He took a screenshot.

After work, Andrew borrowed his neighbor’s motorbike.

Again.

Moving to a different neighborhood had brought certain advantages. More people were around to borrow things from.

His former roommate and the dilapidated sedan had moved closer to his workplace, leaving Andrew to find alternative transportation.

The motorbike belonged to Calvin Brooks, who had stopped pretending Andrew’s repeated borrowing qualified as a favor sometime around the fourth request.

"Twenty."

Andrew frowned. "You charged me ten last time."

"You’ve been borrowing it too much."

"That’s not how rentals work."

Calvin held out his hand.

"It is when it’s my bike."

Andrew reluctantly gave him the money.

He rode toward Second Life Workshop.

By the time he arrived, normal business hours were ending.

Andrew didn’t approach the building.

He passed once, then returned later and stopped far enough away that nobody would have any reason to question him.

The place was quieter than he’d expected.

An old property converted for business use, judging from the exterior. Andrew could occasionally see people moving around inside, although he couldn’t tell exactly how many remained.

He took several photographs from the public road.

The building.

The sign.

Vehicles coming and going.

He stayed long enough to get a general sense of the place before putting his phone away.

Alexander had money.

That wasn’t news.

But Second Life Workshop had something Vance Holdings didn’t.

It was smaller.

Newer.

And very obviously important to Alexander.

Andrew started the motorbike and left.

"You took forever."

Calvin was waiting outside when Andrew finally returned.

"It hasn’t been that long."

"You said an hour."

Andrew handed him the key.

Calvin looked at his phone.

"Almost three."

"Fine."

"Another twenty."

"What?"

"You kept it longer."

Andrew stared at him.

"You’ve suddenly become a rental company?"

"I’ve suddenly realized you’re desperate enough to keep paying."

Andrew muttered something under his breath and reached for his wallet.

Calvin watched him count the bills.

"What were you doing anyway?"

"Looking at a place."

"What place?"

"A business."

Calvin’s expression changed.

"What kind of business?"

Andrew hesitated.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Instead, irritation got there first.

"One with a lot of expensive goods sitting around."

Calvin looked at him.

Andrew realized his mistake approximately one second too late.

"Easy money?" Calvin asked.

"I didn’t say that."

"You practically did."

Calvin held out his hand again.

Andrew frowned. "What now?"

"Next time, forty."

"You just doubled it."

"You’re using my bike for whatever stupid thing you’re doing. Apparently, my risk went up."

"You don’t even know what I’m doing."

"I’d like to keep it that way."

Andrew stared at him.

Calvin continued holding out his hand.

Andrew slapped another bill into it.

He really needed to learn when to shut his mouth.

Second Life Workshop wasn’t the only place Andrew had been watching.

Dominic was considerably more difficult.

After the incident at the art gallery, Andrew had been served with a restraining order. Dominic had called the police after finding him where he wasn’t supposed to be, and whatever sympathy Andrew might once have expected from his former boyfriend had disappeared remarkably quickly after that.

He wasn’t allowed near Dominic.

He wasn’t supposed to contact him.

So Andrew didn’t.

Not directly.

That didn’t mean he’d stopped paying attention.

Whenever Dominic appeared publicly, Andrew noticed.

Gallery announcements.

Photographs.

Events.

Anything available without requiring Andrew to go anywhere near him.

He saved those too.

Alexander had moved on.

Dominic had moved on.

Apparently, everyone had.

Everyone except Andrew.

He sat on the edge of his bed that night and scrolled through his phone.

First came photographs of Second Life Workshop.

Then Alexander.

Then the gallery.

Then Dominic.

Andrew stopped at one of the photographs.

For two years, Dominic had told him he loved him.

Andrew had believed that meant something.

Then Alexander walked away, Dominic’s life began falling apart, and somehow Andrew became one more thing Dominic decided to throw out while cleaning up the mess.

Now Dominic had his gallery.

Alexander had his Workshop.

They had businesses, money, and people still willing to stand beside them.

Andrew had a rented room, counterfeit handbags in the back of a delivery vehicle, and a neighbor who’d just doubled the price of borrowing a motorbike.

And somehow he was supposed to accept that.

His thumb moved back to the Second Life Workshop photograph.

He enlarged it.

Then he looked at Dominic’s gallery again.

Two places.

Two people.

Andrew stared at the screen for a long time.

Which one deserved his attention first?