Chapter Text
"I dreamed about this place for months. Like, I literally had dreams about it." Staci says, chin held listlessly in his palm, fingers curled over his upper lip, gazing at the empty yard of the ranch house where the for sale sign had been staked all year.
"I mean, our offer was generous... I just wonder how much they got for it."
Rook grimaces, and Staci's eyes cut to him instantly.
Spacing his words out in a way that is nothing short of terrifying, Staci asks, "What do you know?"
The door to the ranch house opens and John Seed walks out onto the leaf flaked lawn. Rook is thankful for the diversion because he doesn't really want to tell Staci how low the owners ended up selling this place for, it would probably kill him — it almost killed Rook, and he doesn’t even like the long, low-to-the-ground profiles of ranch style architecture. It reminds him of motels.
Still, Rook kind of wants to call up the owners and ask if they were threatened.
"Oh, of course," Staci says, neutral toned. "It's John "Dream Killer" Seed. Honestly, it's my fault for being surprised."
John spots them as he's opening the door to his expensive, shiny, toy-sized car, and Rook reflexively raises his hand to return John's wave. Staci yanks his arm down and pins it to the console, but the damage is done. John is already striding down the driveway to where they’re parked at the curb.
Rook sees a tiny window of time between the immediate present and when John arrives at the vehicle, and he quickly turns to his friend. "Do you think he's in the mob?"
"I— I don't..." Staci hesitates too long, and they spend the entire window making different faces at each other and shaking their heads.
They both jolt at the tap on the driver's side.
"Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?"
"No!" Rook fumbles with the window button, and temporarily loses control of the volume of his voice."I mean, NO! You... You’re not interrupting anything, John, hi."
"You screamed no both times," Staci points out, apparently feeling spiteful. "Is that what you were going for?"
"Hi, Rook," John says in the sticky-sweet, possibly condescending tone that always makes Rook's blood run a little warmer around the back of his neck.
John's eyes flicker behind Rook. "Staci."
"John." Staci punches back, and Rook feels like a foreign object caught between two opposing forces. If he didn’t have his seat belt on, it’s possible he’d eject through the roof.
"Um," Rook starts, "Congrats on the house?"
John's attention snaps back to him, and Rook's not sure which is worse— being trapped in the energy field between them, or catching the full impact of John's gaze.
"Oh thank you, Rook," John says pleasantly, straightening his posture and looking over at the location with a smirk playing at his lips. "I bought it for the land. I'm looking forward to seeing it torn down."
Staci makes a terrible noise over the sound of frantic ice chips swirling in a plastic cup, and when he beats his chest and coughs, Rook isn't entirely sure the moisture in his eyes is from choking on his iced coffee.
"What— the layout is beautiful. Why can't you just send body parts to my house like a normal psycho?"
"Oh, Staci Pratt." John sighs, and Rook's skin prickles at John's tone as if the chill has to ghost through him to reach his friend. "I assure you I didn't buy this land to spite you."
"No, you just came over to rub your dick in our faces."
It makes John laugh, a little too enthusiastically, and lean away from the car with a hand braced on his stomach.
"You know Staci wanted this house, John," Rook speaks up, catching both men by surprise. "I mean, business is business, but this is kind of mean."
"This is kind of mean," John parrots, in a mocking, childish tone that has Rook's eyebrows floating to his hairline. "Oh, shut up, Rook. Don't take the fun out of real estate."
"You're the one taking the fun out of real estate," Rook accuses, in the heat of the moment, which Staci quickly latches onto.
"You're the fun sucker and the dream killer, and this is why everyone fuckin' hates you."
"That's kind of far," Rook says, turning away from John. "He probably doesn't have friends because he just moved here."
"I have friends." John sneers, and Rook is temporarily afraid of being throttled as John leans into the window. "You're the ones without friends. You're just jerking each other off all around town."
"That's just not true." Rook says, "I mean, we have Joey."
"Mary May, Sharky, Hurk Jr.," Staci ticks off his fingers. "We're jerking a lot of people off."
John makes a thoroughly disgusted noise, caught somewhere between an "Ugh" and a snarl, and, sensing escalation, Rook cranks up the ignition.
"Alright, well, nice seeing you, John!" Rook flashes a grin that's all nerves and gropes for the gear shift. "Please step away from the vehicle."
John's eyes widen and he takes a broad step back, momentarily caught off guard, before his face clouds with anger. "Oh, I'll crush you."
Rook hits the gas and coasts away at a controlled speed, because it's a residential area and children could be at play, but he Does topple the neighbor's recycling bin. Instinctively he brakes, but Staci whacks his bicep and swears until they’re moving again.
They fall into silence as they roll through the tree lined street, maple leaves shuddering and golden in the afternoon sun.
"Well," Staci says eventually, "Everyone's allowed one bankruptcy in their lifetime. I guess it's best to get it out of the way early."
Rook sighs. John has been buying up every piece of available real estate for the past six months, at prices you’d expect from murder houses with asbestos ridden attics, and it doesn’t look like he plans on slowing down anytime soon. It’s pretty hard flipping houses when there are no houses to flip.
Longterm, they’re probably screwed. In the short term, however, Rook is cautiously optimistic.
"We're fine. We've still got the duplexes, we can just rent them out ourselves if we have to. Eli's coming down to look at them today. We're exactly on track."
Rook stops at the next intersection and realizes Staci hasn't said anything in a while. When he looks at him, Staci's got his head in his hands, face first.
Then comes Staci's muffled voice. "You haven't talked to Eli today, have you?"
Rook shrugs. He talked to Eli two days ago, ironed out all the details for the renovations. They've been working with Eli the whole time they've been in business and he's always come through for them, no matter what.
Rook's afraid to ask. "What happened to Eli?"
"He's getting audited."
Rook blinks. "What?
Staci picks his head up and says again, louder: "He's getting audited by the IRS."
Rook nearly jumps out of his skin when a horn blares behind them, and then again when he recognizes the car in the rear-view. The driver flips his hand out his car window and gestures for them to move.
"He's a villain," Staci says, sounding exasperated as he clutches the armrest and Rook lurches them through the intersection.
John tailgates them for five more miles, and Rook can't help but agree. John kind of is a villain.
"So, I think it's fair to say yesterday was the worst day of our careers." Rook begins, carrying a cup holder of iced coffees into the half-demolished kitchen.
It's 8 am on a Saturday and Staci's already at the location, which isn't necessarily out of character, but considering the fact that Staci's holding a sledgehammer, Rook approaches him with a side of caution.
Some of Staci's curls are powdered white with popcorn ceiling dust, and his face is grim when he selects a cup from the cardboard tray. "Not even trying to put a positive spin on it, huh?”
Despite the fact that Staci often criticizes Rook’s attempts at optimism, today he seems disappointed.
"I found a new contractor." Rook says.
Staci's expression goes open and hopeful, before quickly shuttering with suspicion— as is his way with good news, as if being too excited too soon will jinx it. "And?"
Rook hesitates, eyeing the sledgehammer tip resting on the floor and Staci's fingers still curled around the handle. "He's... Related to John."
"What?"
"Well, he's his brother," Rook says quickly, and it has the immediate effect of fuel on flames, if the indignation on Staci's face is anything to go by, and Rook backpedals quickly. "His name is Jacob, he’s older than John, he assured me he doesn't get involved in his brother's business, and he can start tomorrow, and... He came recommended by Eli."
"Eli defrauded the government!"
"Well, I mean," Rook stumbles, and then just starts saying whatever comes to mind— a defense mechanism, if you will. "That hasn’t been proven yet. And, anyway, what have taxes ever done for you personally, Staci? If anyone should get to defraud the government, it's Eli."
Staci makes a noise that is oddly reminiscent of John's snarling "Ugh", but doesn’t disagree.
"Well, we're fucked." Staci lets the sledgehammer clatter against the half-broken up tiles, and he looks tired as he slides the bandana off his head and lets his hair fall loose around his face. "If John Seed's brother is the only contractor we can get— we are fucked."
"Come on, Staci, would you trust me?" Rook says, making his voice whiny, "I met with him. He honestly seems like a good guy. I really don't think he cares about his brother's business. And Eli used to work with him! They were in the army together. He’ll be using most of Eli’s crew to hold them over until Eli’s assets are unfrozen. We should at least give him a chance."
Staci sighs, not sold on this, but not freaking out either. Rook counts it as a win before Staci even says, "Okay."
Rook beams and Staci promptly grinds it down with his gaze.
"I want to meet him." Staci conditions, "Why did you meet him without me?"
"Eli introduced us when I went to the Veteran's Center to get our blueprints." Rook says, "You can meet him today when he comes for the appraisal."
With the structure of a game plan in place, Staci wiggles his straw to stir up the sugar and syrup collecting at the bottom of his drink, while Rook looks at the tiles Staci had started breaking up, the water damaged cabinets torn off the walls.
"Wow," Rook says, both impressed and mildly disturbed. "You really got us started."
Staci makes a noncommittal noise around his straw, following Rook’s gaze with vacant eyes. "I should’ve stayed in college."