The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

Caleb stood at the longest wall of glass, his back to the door.

“I’m busy, Edna,” he said. “Whatever it is—”

“Well, that clears up one thing,” Travis said. “You don’t have to call her ‘Miss.’”

Caleb swung around.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

Caleb nodded, forced a smile about as real as the one Travis was flashing.

“Yeah,” he said, “well, it’s good to see you, Trav, but—”

“But you’re busy.”

“Exactly.”

Travis shot a pointed look at the empty surface of his brother’s desk.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Caleb said, his phony smile fading.

“You’re always busy lately.”

Caleb folded his arms.

“Some of us are. And did you ever hear of knocking?”

“I did knock.”

“What about waiting to be acknowledged? Did you ever hear of that?”

“Acknowledged,” Travis said solemnly, as he walked slowly toward Caleb. “Fancy word for decidin’ whether or not you’re gonna see your own flesh an’ blood, don’t you think?”

“I’m not in the mood for the down-home routine, okay?”

“You’re not in the mood for much lately.”

“Okay. Enough. I don’t know how you got past Edna but you did. And I’ve already told you, I’m—”

“Busy. Right.” Travis sank into one of the chairs facing the desk. “Mind if I sit down?”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, man, this isn’t the time for fun and games.”

“Because?”

“Because—because I have a meeting with a judge in—”

“Bull.”

“Dammit, Travis …”

“Got a new client for you, bro.”

“I have more than enough clients already.”