“Sure I do, but I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my apartment.”
I laugh. “Seriously, dude? You’re gonna risk your whole relationship so you can keep your cinema room and gaming computer?”
“You forgot about the indoor pool and sauna,” he chuckles. Sam does have an amazing apartment. The whole thing is larger than most single-family homes. He bought it just out of Uni when some big marketing firm paid handsomely for his thesis advertising plan. Sam put down more than half the purchase price, and I’m not exactly sure how real estate works, but it’s gotta be nearly paid off.
“So, have her move in there,” I shrug. Relationships are about compromise, right?
“I suggested that. Apparently, my place isn’t right to raise a family,” he mutters sourly.
“Kids now?” I chortle. “Dude, no wonder you’re scared. I’d be shitting myself.” Why do women want to rush into everything? What happened to starting slow and placing the building blocks for a healthy relationship? If they’re arguing about whose place to move into, kids shouldn’t even be on the table at this point.
“Not helpful,” Sam grumbles. He shakes a few unruly dark curls—a testament to his mother’s Italian heritage—out of his equally dark eyes and turns back around, focusing on his computer screen. “So… I’ve found some stuff out.”
“About the treatment for Max?” I press.
“It’s not really a new treatment, per se, but more of an experimental drug they’re administering in Europe. They’ve had some success but not enough for it to be recognised around the world yet.”
“Something’s better than nothing. Did you know his doctors did the last round of chemo yesterday and they won’t be doing any more? It’s like they’ve already written him off. I can’t sit back and wait for him to die. We’re his best mates. We have to try something.”
“I’m with you, Drew. After I saw him the other day, I dug further, and it’s going to be hard. Because it’s experimental, there’s no insurance to cover the treatment. It’ll have to be out of pocket. The flight alone, to transport him in his condition, is more than six thousand. With that, the stay in the hospital, probably a hotel for whoever’s going with him, and the treatment, we’re looking at around one hundred thousand.” Sam shakes his head. “You know I’d sell my place for Max, but I’ve just refinanced to invest in Cam’s game. All my cash is tied up in that.” Here I was thinking Sam could float us the cash we needed. How’d I forget about Cam’s game? Probably because I’ve been too busy trying, but epically failing, to keep Darla off my dick and get through the work day in one piece.
Cam, a game developer, has been working on a computer game for the last two years, and I have no doubt it’s going to be fucking insane one day. What that guy can do with his imagination and a computer is ridiculous.
“I know, man. I’m feeling guilty as hell that I’m so shit at saving,” I say. How the hell are we going to raise a hundred grand? “Do you think his parents have that kind of money?”
“I really don’t think so. Cam was helping Rosalind with a refinance a few years ago, and she’s maxed the equity on her house. Frank probably isn’t much better off since he’s been teaching high school in America and he paid for Aubrey’s college. It’s fairly safe to say the Rosewoods are broke. Unless Aubrey can touch her trust. I think Max got his at twenty-five. Maybe petition to have Aubrey’s unlocked?”
“I know she would if it’s even an option.”
“We all do. She’d kill herself to save Max. She’s always been a good kid like that.”
“She’s not a kid anymore, man.” I shake my head, the image of her long, toned legs filtering through my mind again. I have no idea when she stopped being the little tomboy who ran around with Emma all the time and turned into a sexy, confident woman.
“It’s Aubs. She couldn’t have changed that much.”
“Just wait until you see her. I don’t lie. She’s not the same kid we watched grow up.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Sam scolds.
“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to start fucking with Max’s little sister. Why is everyone so paranoid?”
“Because we know you,” he laughs. “If it has a vagina, chances are you’re thinking about screwing it.”
“I’m not that bad,” I retort defensively. Okay, maybe I am.
“You really are.” I pluck a pen from the cup on the desk and hurl it at him. “And a bad shot at that,” he says as the pen sails past him and clangs against the window behind the desk overlooking the city.
“You’re a dick. I’m going to go figure out how to get together enough money to get this treatment for Max while you sit here and look at lace-covered tits. Call me later?”
“Yeah. If you think of anything, let me know. I’m sure between all of us we can figure something out. Check if the pub in Mornington will let us do a benefit. We all grew up there, and if we’re going to get help from outside our group, they’ll be the ones to do it.”
“Okay, I’ll call and get some information.”
Before I leave, Sam slips me a piece of paper with the name of the treatment and tells me to do some research. That’s not really where I excel, though. I’m the one who can plan and execute; Sam and Cam are the ones who are good at getting the fine details, but I agree to do my best.
As I’m pulling out of the parking lot, my phone rings and Max’s name displays on the front screen.
“Speak of the devil. I was just with Sam. What’s going on? Aubrey talking about how sexy I am?” I laugh and wait for his response.