The Bad Idea

➕ Bonus Chapter: The Ransom Letter

Eli

We got a suspicious letter in the mail today at the car repair shop, addressed to Mike. I took it home before the old man had a chance to see it... Pulled it right off of Ricky's desk and into my pocket.

With Mike's heart condition, I wasn't taking any chances.

This thing wasn't just a letter, it was more like a fucking ransom letter. It was typed up instead of handwritten. It even had a red wax seal on it. I knew something was wrong with it the minute I spotted the damn thing, which was why I swiped it. It stood out amongst the rest of the bills. I wasn't one for opening Mike's mail, but I had to make sure things were okay... As it turned out, I didn't regret it.

Once I read it, the letter bothered me enough to take it home until I decided what to do about it.

"Meet me this Friday out by the center pond at Balboa Park at noon . Bring the goods, or else it'll be your head. Signed, L." Aubrey read out loud. "Eli... What does this even mean?!"

Aubrey was sprawled across our couch in the middle of the studio, about eight different fucking pillows all over him while he read the carefully folded letter above his head.

I hated pillows on couches, for the record. I never used to have any. Aubrey insisted we needed twelve goddamn pillows for this couch because 'cozy movie nights...'

I didn't know how it made that much of a difference, but those pillows were the bane of my existence. He was happy with them though, and I was a total sucker over Aubrey Martin and making sure he was happy. So I allowed them.

Anyway, the pillows were still pissing me off right now just by existing.

"Eli!" Aubrey yelled again, grabbing my attention from the kitchen where I'd been pouring my milk for a second bowl of dinner-cereal that night.

I looked over at him and his expression fell.

"Is Mike in trouble...?" He leaned over the back of the couch cushion to get a better look at my expression from the living room. "I'm serious, how are you not freaking out about this, dude? And if Mike doesn't have this letter... What happens if he doesn't show up?!"

"It's fine, everyone knows Mike's done time. I don't know why this fucker thinks he can mess with Mike and get away with it..." I scoffed, closing the milk carton back up. "I'll put the letter in his office tomorrow morning, reseal it somehow, pretend like I didn't see it... But I'm sure as hell showing up to Balboa Park on Friday --"

Aubrey frowned. "Mike's done time...?"

I stifled a laugh, "You couldn't take one look at that man and know this?!"

Aubrey flipped me off, rolling his eyes with a pretty smile. "No... Because I don't judge."

I rolled my eyes, teasing him back. "Pfft, right..."

Aubrey scowled, his eyes glaring. "...Excuse me?!"

"You used to judge the hell out of me with Todd..."

"No!! I didn't! What?!"

Aubrey stood up, an avalanche of pillows sliding to the floor behind his legs.