RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 4

"McCoy, my boy—you know I love you," Brandon said, his hands moving while he spoke as his attention was on the golf course. "It's just... Well, your performance isn't up to date as of lately. We've been making a lot of losses—with business and whatnot."

Landon placed his pineapple cocktail back on the circle table and sighed. "I know, Miller. I'm trying my best. Jackson is just..." Better, he rather not admit. "I need me some more time."

They were in the private dining area of La Cumbre Country Club in Santa Barbara, California, overlooking the plainfield with palm trees. It was noon on a quiet Saturday with not much happening, and not too many golfers either.

The sun hammered down intensely, with barely any wind to stifle the heat. Mostly wealthy elders came today, everyone chattering up soft conversations in the dining area while they ate; their silverware clattered with each brush. And although they were no bother, Landon wished his sponsor would've picked somewhere more reserved and private for their meeting instead of a packed golf course.

Brandon shook his head when a golfer missed their shot. That was when he finally gave Landon his attention and said, "Look, as your friend—I'd give you more time. But as your business partner and the man who has been funding you for the past fifteen years, and who holds the contract to your retirement plan... I'm afraid it's time you retire."

Landon let out a frustrated groan. "I ain't retiring."

"It's for the best," Brandon reasoned. "And if you ask me, I think it's time you settle down and spend some of that millions you've been hoarding. Get yourself an Omega woman—start a family. Go to Europe. You're not getting any younger."

"I ain't asking you, and I ain't retiring," Landon insisted.

"Well, you don't have much of a choice"

Landon couldn't believe it. He worked his ass off to become a racer and now they wanted him to retire with just fifteen years into his career?! He wasn't old. He couldn't possibly accept this. He remembered working three jobs at once to afford to enroll in motorsport programs in his teenage years. It wasn't like he came from a poor family, everything was just so damn expensive. Apart from no one wanting to sponsor him at the time, he had to pay outta pocket to participate. If it weren't for Brandon and his starter company, DriveEase, who dealt with motor equipment back then, he would've never seen the daylight of what it was like to become a professional.

He owned Brandon his career, but he also made the man's career. If not for him, DriveEase would've been a no-name company, and Brandon would've probably gone bankrupt. It was baffling what money did to the man in fifteen years time. If only Landon hadn't been young and dumb to sign away his life career—and all bloody future decisions to Brandon and his company, none of this would've happened.

Maybe there was a way to fix this? Obviously begging wasn't working, what if he...

"What if I beat Jackson?" he asked, hopeful. "Ain't that rookie what this is all about? What if I beat him?"

Brandon wrinkled his nose, seemingly deep in thought before concluding with a nod. "You can't beat that son-of-a-bitch."

"Dammit, Miller," Landon slammed a fist on the tabletop, spilling a spoonful of his cocktail. "What if I can?"

Brandon let loose a dragged-out sigh and replied, "Tell you what... You got about..." He watched the older man check his phone before he continued, "Ah yes—two races coming up for the next three months. Forget about next week's race—you're losing that anyway."

"What—you don't know that," Landon quickly came to his defense. "Don't you have any faith in me? I've been your money-making machine for the past fifteen years!"