For Her Own Good

by Parker, Tamsen

  My headphones have been ripped off my head and the cord out of my laptop, so now my entire building is being serenaded by the baby-faced British rocker. Great. Also, my knuckles hurt and Tad is sprawled on my floor with a hand to his cheek.

  Oopsies.

  “What the hell, Starla?”

  “What do you mean, ‘What the hell, Starla?’ I think I’ve got more of a right to ask, ‘What the fuck, Tad?’ What are you doing here? Don’t you know how to use a buzzer or knock or pick up a fucking phone? Jesus Christ, you scared me half to death.”

  “Well, you’ve probably given me a black eye.”

  “I don’t feel bad about that at all. You’re lucky I didn’t do worse. How did you get in here anyway?”

  He shrugs. “I still have my key.”

  Note to self: get Holden to change the fucking locks.

  “And you thought it was okay to use it? We haven’t been together for years. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Tad is clearly expecting me to offer him a hand up, but he is clearly mistaken. I shut my laptop instead, so we can stop shouting over Rick.

  When I turn back, he’s on his feet, brushing his hands over his thighs. “Aren’t you going to offer me an ice pack?”

  “No. I’m going to offer you a nice tall glass of get the fuck out of my house, though.”

  “Such language. Doesn’t your daddy wash your mouth out with soap for having a potty mouth like that?”

  The wave of emotion that crashes over me is complex. I hate this fucking fucker for a thousand different reasons, and I have no idea why he’d know about Lowry. I’ve certainly never mentioned him in a board meeting. I wish I had some witty comeback, but I’m overwhelmed and then ticked off at myself because he clearly takes my silence for confirmation that I do in fact have a daddy.

  “Huh. I knew you were seeing someone.”

  Now I’m even angrier at myself. That dickhead was bluffing and I’ve as good as confirmed it for him. I wish I’d have punched him harder, shoved a knee into his junk. He’s not going to fall for a denial, but I can at least play it cool. “And why would you think that?”

  “Because you weren’t here when I stopped by this morning.”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve showed up uninvited and unannounced at my apartment? You are such a trash heap of a human being.”

  And thank god I brought my laptop to Lowry’s last night. Would Tad have tried to break into it? What the hell? I’ll have to be more careful. But what can I do about it if Tad wants to follow me or have someone follow me on his behalf? There’s not really a damn thing I can do and fuck if I’m going to stop seeing Lowry while this shakes out. Not only do I not want do, I don’t think I could.

  “You should know he’ll be here soon and I would advise you against being here when he arrives. He won’t take kindly to you violating my home and my privacy.”

  I feel like there are bugs crawling all over my skin. So gross, so fucking gross. And while my use of soon might be overstating things a bit because Lowry won’t be here for hours yet, he will be here and he will want to murder Tad. Well, he will if I tell him about this, but…I don’t want to. If I have to, I will, but I don’t have to yet. I can handle my own business. Like a grown-ass woman.

  Tad spreads his hands like he’s being the reasonable one here and I’m the overreacting shrew. “Starla, I came here to offer you my help.”

  I believe that not at all. “You’ve been badgering me for months and now you want to help me? Pardon me if I don’t buy that story for a second.”

  “You can believe whatever you like, but it’s true. I heard that Jerome Garrett has been sniffing around shares of Patrick Enterprises.”

  Jerome Garrett has been my father’s biggest rival for years. Had been? They were often competing in the same industries, with one of them always one step ahead of the other. My father mostly despised the man because they’d been so fiercely competitive. Not in the way that you have drinks at the club after one of you wins either. More like I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them clubbed the other one to death if they’d found themselves on the same golf course.

  “Why would he do that? He’s got his own empire to run.”

  “Probably because he smells blood in the water. Knows you’re weak. Let’s face it, if I’m an investor in Patrick Enterprises, who would I rather have steering the ship? Jerome Garrett, who has successfully run a multinational, multibillion-dollar corporation for over thirty years or little Starla Patrick, who can barely run a tiny boutique consulting firm for other nutjobs like herself?”

  Rage and embarrassment burn my sinuses, but I’m not going to cry in front of this dickhead. Even when we were together, he never knew what to do with me when I was upset. He sure did pick up on my sore spots, though.

  “You are an investor in Patrick Enterprises and I don’t think it would be in your best interest to have Garrett take over. You’re one of my father’s people, and I can’t imagine that one of his first orders of business wouldn’t be to get rid of you.”

  “Maybe so, but I’d be leaving with a pretty sweet golden parachute—not to mention if I sell out sooner rather than later, I’ll get a nice chunk of change.”

  Five years ago, I would’ve said Tad wasn’t capable of such a dick move, but now I’m not so sure. Or is he bluffing? How do I know? Although I’d never admit it to him, I’m not cut out for these corporate games of cat and mouse and double-crossing and whatever else these mostly old white guys do while they fuck around with other people’s money. It’s not an exhilarating rush like it was for my father—it scares the shit out of me that I am playing with people’s futures. I don’t want that. But I also don’t want Tad doing it, because at least I’d try to be responsible. Whereas this fucking guy…

  “What do you mean ‘sooner rather than later’?”

  “You really are just a pretty face, aren’t you?”

  He’s lucky I only punched him in the face. Now I’m wishing I would have kneed him in the balls or stabbed him with my scissors or otherwise done more significant violence to his person.

  Tad revels in my ignorance for a few more beats, smirking.

  “This could get ugly. Very ugly. You think my little taunts hurt your feelings? In this kind of corporate warfare, there are no holds barred and Jerome Garrett is one of the most vicious people I know. He’s going to go after your mental health, he’s going to go after your sex life, he’s going to after anything about you that could be used to embarrass or discredit you. When he does, the stock of Patrick Enterprises will tank, and he’ll be able to snap up a controlling share on the cheap.”

  “It would be almost impossible for him to—”

  “Didn’t you listen to your father at all?”

  I close my eyes against the image of my father sitting at his desk in the evening while I was still small, before my traitorous brain had ruined everything. “We’re in the business of the impossible, Starla. Someone says you can’t do something? That means you’re going to.”

  It had taken me a while to realize that he stopped saying that to me when I was about fourteen. Probably around the time he realized I wouldn’t “snap out of” my depression. Around the time I started to feel like he’d given up on me. He’d started saying it again in the past few years and my relief was palpable. He possibly thought I was worthy. That I hadn’t entirely failed. I only felt the desolation of how much I’d let him down, shamed him, when it stopped. So, fucking yes, I listened to my father, but Tad won’t let me get a word in edgewise.

  “Even if you didn’t, Jerome Garrett sure as fuck did. ‘We’re in the business of the impossible’? It won’t be easy, but he could make this happen.”

  Fuck. I’ll have to run some numbers and look in some of those piles of reports and figure out exactly how difficult it would be for Garrett to get a controlling share of Patrick Industries. I hold 49 percent of the stock, he’d have to basically form a coalition of every other stockholder to override m
e. One would assume that would be nigh on impossible, but shit. Shit. I need to study up and then I had best make a decision.

  Before anything else, though, I need Tad out of my apartment because I sure as fuck can’t think clearly with this douche canoe messing with my head.

  “Perfect. Thanks for the heads-up. Do you need anything else? Didn’t think so. Get the fuck out before I call building security and have you escorted out of here.”

  Again with the “whoa, crazy lady, take it easy,” hands, and he’s backing toward the door. He steps into the hallway but doesn’t close the door until he sends a parting shot: “Tick tock, Starla. Better make a decision quick otherwise your father’s legacy could end up trashed and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

  It’s so tempting to throw something at the door, but he’d probably enjoy that and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. What I do want is to talk to Lowry. My watch says it’s three forty-five, so he should be on his way back to his office from the gym. First, I’ll compose myself because even though I want the comfort of his voice, I can’t take him digging. I’ll surely spill all my troubles, and then he’ll back away slowly because that isn’t the kind of disaster he signed up for. I take a few breaths and then make the call, having to wait only a couple of beats before he picks up.

  “Well, this is a nice surprise.”

  Yes, that’s what I needed. My shoulders sink down from my ears at hearing his gentle burr, the way he sounds genuinely delighted that I’m calling him unexpectedly.

  “Maybe I’ll have an even better one for you later. Are you still coming over?”

  It’s not flattering to sound insecure, but that will raise fewer red flags than having a meltdown, which at this point is my other option. Maybe he’ll think I’m being flirty. Sure, let’s go with that.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “And hey, I was thinking if you don’t have plans next weekend, maybe we could go see Jade, and you could get a little, um, demo. If you want. Maybe even a lesson?”

  There’s a jostling sound I can’t quite discern and then I hear Lowry offering someone an apology.

  “Warn a man before you say something like that, will you? Nearly knocked a person into a bush.”

  That’s not funny, but… Okay, yeah, it’s kind of funny. Only because no one got hurt.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know asking if you wanted to watch one of my kink partners spank me and maybe get in on the act yourself would be so…discombobulating.”

  “Now you’re doing it on purpose. Lucky for you, I was expecting it that time.”

  And I am expecting a very good time tonight and perhaps an even better one next weekend. Tad Harding can go jump in a sarlacc.

  Chapter 23

  Lowry

  The house we drive to doesn’t stand out in this part of Jamaica Plain. One of the grand Victorian homes that’s been split into condos and apartments, it’s well-maintained and painted a dark grey with aubergine shutters and doors. Does it matter? No, because this is where Starla’s brought me and this is where we’ll go.

  Starla’s been quiet on the way here, fingers knotted together in her lap, and I’m not sure what she’s nervous about. Is she always an anticipatory bundle of nerves when she comes to see Jade? Or is it because I’m here? Is she worried I’ll be turned off by this? Is she worried I’m going to embarrass her? I might do the latter entirely by accident, but I’m almost positive I won’t be the former. I’ve had to keep my mind firmly on running through diagnosis codes to keep from being uncomfortably aroused the entire way here.

  Once I’ve found a parking spot less than a block from the house, I go round to open Starla’s door and offer her a hand out. She’d said when we were discussing the details of this meet-up that, for her, going to see Jade isn’t a thing that happens solely within the few hours that she sees her. It’s a headspace she enters before the play even starts, and I can see it.

  It was in the way she asked me to drive—she almost always takes the wheel if we’ll be in the city. She’s more confident in the crowded streets, and the road rage doesn’t seem to seep into her in the same way it works its tendrils into me.

  It’s in the way she’s dressed as well. The weather hasn’t warmed up yet, but instead of the black nylon and down coat that goes down to her knees, she has on this very pretty blush-pink, not-exactly-peacoat. It’s not boxy enough to be a true peacoat, and it looks—I don’t know, is twirly a description you can use for coats? With big buttons and a bow at the belt and slightly puffy sleeves, it’s nothing short of darling. Of course the black beret and houndstooth gloves don’t do anything to take away from that impression either.

  She clutches my hand as we walk up the sidewalk, and I’m at a loss for words. Squeezing her hand is almost always a good idea, though, so I do and she looks up at me, shy. It pokes at something in my chest. No, not something, I know damn well what it is. It’s my heart.

  I’ve seen Starla vulnerable before. It was something I prided myself on; her trusting me enough to tell me how she was really feeling even if it was unpleasant, even if it was downright scary or embarrassing. I hope that all holds true, because Christ. Her eyes are almost impossibly wide and the way she tips her chin and a smile flits across her face is… Ach, may as well be stabbed in my chest and die right now because I’ll never see a more perfect look in all the rest of my days.

  “I…” I clear my throat is what I do, because there’s something trapped in my gullet. As soon as her face falls, though, I press on, choking be damned. I can choke later. “I’m looking forward to this. Bit nervous, though.”

  She laughs in a skittish way, short and edgy, like how a crystal chandelier sounds when someone slams a door. Lovely but fragile.

  “Mmm, yeah, samesies.”

  Despite our nerves, I feel as though there’s also a warmth flowing through us. Good intentions and a genuine…affection isn’t strong enough. I knew a long time I ago I loved Starla. From each strand of dark hair on her head all the way down to the polished nails of her sweet, small toes. That has to count for something, right?

  One of the stairs creaks as we head up to the porch and the front door. It’s funny the things Americans consider very old. And sure, this house isn’t new, but it’s not exactly Elgin Cathedral or Spynie Palace, both of which you can find not so far from where I grew up.

  Starla presses the bell with no hesitation, and there’s not a long delay before a figure comes down the stairs. The infamous Jade. Is she infamous, though? When Starla talks about this woman, she gets this dreamy, peaceful look on her face. Which inspires some envy on my part, I won’t lie. Does she look like that when she talks about me as well? A man can dream.

  The door swings open and a woman who is nearing my height stands there, looking rather stylish in some wool trousers, a dark red sweater that clings to her, and a paisley silk scarf tied round her neck. She and my ex-wife might get their clothes at the same shops.

  Except that Maeve would never look so soft. Not the way that Jade looks at Starla, like it’s a delightful surprise that she’s turned up as opposed to this being a very carefully orchestrated meeting.

  “Come in, come in. It’s cold out. And you with your bare legs, what a silly girl.”

  Starla blushes and I wonder if she’ll argue with Jade. Her legs aren’t bare, not technically. She’s got on tights. But Starla doesn’t say a word, just flushes, her cheeks getting pinker than her coat.

  Once Jade’s herded us inside the foyer, she rests her hands on Starla’s biceps and leans down a bit so she can look her in the eye.

  “Starla, darling, so good to see you. Come here.”

  Obediently, Starla drops my hand with a fleeting squeeze and steps into the embrace Jade has on offer.

  I am definitely not jealous, not at all, of the way Starla presses into Jade, wraps her arms around the taller woman’s waist and snuggles her head against what I can only think of as Jade’s bosom.

  Jade circles her arms
around Starla and holds her for long seconds, rendering me utterly superfluous. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. What am I here for, anyhow? Starla doesn’t need a chaperone, and these two are obviously capable of taking care of themselves. Each other. But that’s not the point. The point is for me to learn, to see what it might be like to do all of these things with Starla without so much fumbling first. I should be grateful I’ve been invited at all, and I am.

  When their embrace has finally ended, Starla steps back and takes my hand again.

  “Jade, this is Lowry. Lowry, this is Jade.”

  Jade holds out an elegant hand; slender fingers meant to play the piano or harp, though large enough to span more than an octave. I give her a firm, but not hard, shake. I am in no way trying to compete with this woman. I have no right to. After all, she’s been here for Starla after I abandoned her. Which, if Jade chose to play that card, it’s one I can’t beat. I do my best to look at pleasant and open as possible as I dip my chin in greeting.

  “Pleasure. Starla’s told me a lot about you.”

  Jade eyes me in an assessing way, and I suspect she’s well-practiced at taking the measure of people with naught but a glance. I can’t tell from her expression whether she finds me wanting.

  “And I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Doctor Campbell.”

  Oof. Not Lowry, not even Mr. Campbell. If she’s trying to remind me that she knows exactly who I am and precisely how I met Starla, she’s done a bang-up job. Yes, I know very well and my conscience reminds me of it frequently. She needn’t worry about me forgetting.

  “Be nice, please.”

  Starla’s soft request turns both our heads, and Jade releases my hand. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

  Starla nods and Jade responds with a huff and a pouty roll of her eyes. “Fine, then. But only for you.”