Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One

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Bad Boys of Red Hook [2] You're the One Page 8

by Robin Kaye


  “Why the hell are you locking the—” Pop stopped and stared at Payton. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Payton, this is my father, Pete Calahan. Pop, this is my fiancée, Payton Billingsly.”

  Pop’s bushy white eyebrows rose and he grinned like a used-car salesman. He took her hand and pulled her into a hug. “Welcome to the family, Payton. I was beginning to think you were a figment of Logan’s imagination.”

  Payton was not a hugger. She stiffened and awkwardly patted Pop’s back.

  Pop either didn’t notice her discomfort or didn’t care. “When did you get in? Logan never even mentioned you were coming.”

  Logan threw Payton a lifeline. He took her hand and pulled her toward him. “That’s because I didn’t know. She’s just full of surprises. Aren’t you, Payton?”

  She looked from him to Pop and probably saw no resemblance because there was none. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Calahan. But I don’t understand. Logan’s last name is Blaise.…”

  Pop shot him a what-the-fuck look and then turned the full wattage of his smile on Payton. “Mr. Calahan was my father. Call me Pete or Pop. Whatever you like.” He looked around the office. “Where are your bags?”

  “At the hotel. I’m staying at the Plaza.”

  “Nonsense, you’re staying with us.” He reached over the desk, slipped his hand into the top drawer, and took out a cigar.

  Logan snatched it before Pop could pocket it and then broke it in half. He tossed it in the trash.

  Pop looked as if he bit back a curse. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  “You’re not allowed to smoke.”

  “I’ll just buy more, you know.”

  “Then I guess I’ll just break more.”

  Pop turned to Payton. “Is he always this bossy?”

  She had a strange look on her face. “No, never.”

  Pop shrugged. “Look, Payton. There’s no reason to waste your money. We have plenty of room. You two can stay at Bree’s place if you’d like to have some privacy.” He tossed his arm around her shoulder. “So, tell me, do you have a nickname or something?”

  “No, why?”

  “Your name is kind of a mouthful, isn’t it? It’s not easy to shorten either. What would they call you? Pay?” He shook his head and rubbed his chin. “Nah, that doesn’t work. Ton? That doesn’t fit either. You’re way too skinny for that. What’s Logan’s pet name for you?”

  “He doesn’t have one. He calls me Payton.”

  “Oh.” He shot her one of his X-rated smiles with an eyebrow waggle. “So it’s one of those names. I understand.”

  “Logan?” Payton’s frown lines were so defined, if she kept it up, the next thing he knew she’d be running out for Botox injections. “What is he talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Pop, Payton and I were just talking.”

  “Right. That’s why you locked the door. I wasn’t born yesterday, son.”

  “Pop.”

  “I’ll go. Let’s have dinner. I’ll have Skye fix something special and have Wendy serve it upstairs.” Pop didn’t wait for an answer; he opened the door and before he had the chance to leave, Nicki ran in.

  “Logan, I got an A on my math test! Do you believe it?” She shoved the paper at him, wrapped her skinny arms around his waist, and looked up, resting her chin on his chest.

  He held the test paper in one hand and he slid his arm around Nicki and her backpack. “Of course you got an A. You’re a smart kid and you’ve been working hard.”

  “I only got an A ’cause you’ve been helping me with my homework every night.”

  “I just explained it a different way. You did the hard part yourself.”

  Nicki’s eyes slid to Payton and then back to him. “Who’s that lady staring at us?” she whispered into his chest.

  Logan gave her a squeeze and a smile before turning her to face Payton. “Nicki, this is my fiancée, Payton. Payton, this is Nicki.”

  “I’m his little sister. Right, Logan?” She looked at him with so much trust it was frightening.

  “Right.” At least for now.

  Pop slid Nicki’s backpack off her bony shoulders and caught the sweatshirt she shrugged off and was about to toss on the floor. “Can I go to the kitchen and get a snack from Skye?”

  Logan thanked God she didn’t ask any more questions. “Sure, kiddo. But only if she’s not too busy.”

  Nicki pulled the door open. He was just about to tell her to mind her manners when she stopped, and grinned. “It was nice to meet you, Payton.”

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  Nicki headed out and then looked back over her shoulder. “Logan, you got lipstick on you.”

  “Great.” He wiped his mouth again and cursed under his breath.

  Payton stepped closer. “You never told me you had a sister.”

  “I know. Look, Payton, we need to talk.” He took her hands in his and when his father didn’t move, he glared at him. “Pop?”

  “I’m leaving. You two take as long as you need. Do you want me to have Simon send in something to drink?”

  Payton smiled at him like she would a waiter. “Yes. A Chambord and champagne would be lovely.”

  Pop nodded and then shot Logan his trademark do-you-believe-this-shit look. “I’ll get right on that.”

  “No.” Logan dropped Payton’s hand. “Pop, you keep an eye on Nicki. I’ll get the drinks.” He pinned Payton with his gaze. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  She inspected the chair and brushed off the seat before she sat, crossing her long legs.

  He followed his father out.

  Once Pop cleared the hallway, he scowled. “She looks awfully fake to me. And what the hell does she have on her eyes?”

  “False eyelashes.”

  “Why?”

  A vision of Skye with her thick dark lashes popped into his head. “Beats the hell out of me.”

  “I think a figment of your imagination would have been an improvement over the real thing—that’s if anything on her is real. She looks like one of those blow-up dolls you find in the back of those nudie magazines you and Storm collected.”

  He tried to dredge up some righteous indignation. “Pop, that’s not fair.” The look of disbelief he got in return told him his well of righteous indignation was running dry. He stopped speaking. The last thing he wanted to do was catalog Payton’s enhanced parts.

  “You haven’t brought her here all these years because you’re ashamed of where you come from.”

  “Not true. I didn’t bring Payton here because I knew she wouldn’t fit in. I’m not ashamed of a damn thing.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, I am. Payton…she’s, well—”

  “As cold as the Jane Doe I found in that psycho’s freezer?”

  “I was going to say cultured. She’s never seen how the other half live.”

  “The other half? Try the other ninety-nine percent.”

  “Whatever. She’s a nice woman, so give her a break. Okay, Pop?”

  “Fine, you’re going to do what you want, but you’d better think long and hard before handcuffing yourself to a woman you don’t love.”

  Pop walked away before Logan could ask how he knew. What, was it written all over his face or something? Yeah, probably in Payton’s lipstick.

  Logan slid under the pass-through behind the bar. “Simon, I need a split of our best champagne.”

  Simon laughed and reached into the cooler. “It’s easy to pick out.” He handed Logan the bottle. “We only stock one kind.”

  “Right.” Logan looked at the vintage and grimaced. He really needed to take over the wine order. He reached up to grab the Chambord and then popped the cork on the champagne.

  “So, that blonde is your fiancée?”

  “Payton? Yes. She surprised me.”

  “You’re not the only one. She said something to Rocki. Must have pissed her off, because she’s been pl
aying Shostakovich and Prokofiev ever since.”

  “What’d Payton say?”

  “I don’t know but it must have been something bad. Rocki doesn’t often pull out the pissed-off Russian composers, you know?”

  No, he didn’t. He hadn’t spent enough time at the bar to know what Rocki played. He was surprised she knew classical music. She didn’t seem the type.

  Logan poured Payton’s drink, going heavy on the Chambord hoping to cover the taste of the less-than-stellar champagne. It didn’t have a prayer of working. She’d grown up tasting wines; even with the damage her closet smoking did to her taste buds, she’d know the difference.

  He grabbed a bottle of tequila, poured a shot, threw it back, and then poured another.

  “Looks like Rocki’s not the only one your fiancée pissed off. But then if you love her, you’ll get through it. It’s amazing what love can overcome.”

  Logan downed the second shot. “I guess you would know.” He checked the end of the bar and found Simon’s girlfriend, Elyse, working over a beer and a plate of chicken wings. Simon and Elyse were almost as bad as Storm and Bree.

  The song “Fools in Love” played on his mental soundtrack, drowning out the angry Russian sonata. “Pour me a Guinness, will you?” He put the tequila and the Chambord back on the top shelf. “I have to face the music.”

  Simon took a chilled mug from the cooler and poured the dark brew, sliding it down the bar to him. “Better you than me. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” He grabbed the two drinks. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

  * * *

  Nicki ran through the kitchen door and stopped short. “Did you see her, Skye?”

  “Hi, Nicki.” Skye tossed a fryer full of wings in her special sauce, and plated them before turning to her little friend. “How was school?” The last thing she wanted to talk about was Payton Billingsly.

  “Great. I got an A on my math test. Logan helped me.”

  “Good for you.”

  “He said I can have a snack if you have time.”

  Skye looked over her orders. “Harrison, can you take over? I’m going to take a break with Nicki.”

  “Sure, Skye.”

  “Come on, Nicki.” She reached into the walk-in and grabbed the snack she’d put together earlier. “I thought you’d be hungry, so I made us a snack to share.”

  Nicki wrinkled her nose. “Is it healthy?”

  “Yes. It’s very healthy. Why would I serve you something unhealthy?”

  “’Cause it tastes good?”

  “I made us my favorite and I can attest to the fact that it tastes great.”

  Nicki harrumphed and dug the heel of her sneaker into the tile floor. “You sound just like Bree.”

  Skye had a feeling she’d like Bree when she finally met her. “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but she’s coming back. She promised.”

  “Of course she is.” Skye placed the plate of celery sticks filled with peanut butter and topped with raisins, and apple slices with cheddar cheese, on the worktable, and then pulled out a stool. “Come on, at least try it before you talk Harrison into making you fries and gravy.”

  Harrison ducked his head. “Hey, I just cook the orders; I don’t okay them.”

  Nicki sat beside Skye and picked up a piece of celery before licking the peanut butter and raisins off it.

  “You’re supposed to eat them together.”

  “I don’t like green food.”

  “Try it. It’s good—really.”

  Nicki took a bite and her eyebrows rose with apparent shock.

  “Told ya.”

  Nicki covered her mouth with her hand. “Have you met Logan’s girlfriend yet?” She spoke around a mouthful of celery.

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” And if she stayed behind closed doors, she hoped to avoid the woman altogether. That was her plan anyway.

  Harrison put out a plate of potato skins. “I didn’t meet her, but I saw her. She’s hot with a capital H.”

  Nicki finally swallowed her food and shrugged. “I guess she’s pretty, but she doesn’t look very nice.”

  Smart kid. Still, it wouldn’t help for her to agree with Nicki. “Looks can be deceiving. You should give her a chance.”

  “Pop doesn’t like her.”

  “How do you know?”

  “From the look on his face. And I can tell Rocki doesn’t like her either.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she’s playing angry music. You know the old-fashioned stuff without words.”

  “Classical?” She tried to hear over the hip-hop Harrison favored.

  Nicki nodded and bit into a piece of apple.

  “Try it with the cheese. The flavors work well together.”

  Nicki took a tentative bite and must have agreed because she stuffed the rest of the piece of cheese into her overfilled mouth. Her table manners were horrendous.

  “Slow down, Nicki. You’re going to choke.”

  Nicki looked down at the plate and then back up to Skye. “Sometimes I forget that now I can eat whenever I want. Logan says I’ll start rememberin’, but it takes a while.”

  Harrison grabbed a celery stick off the plate. “Nicki’s only been with Pete for four or five months. She’s his new foster kid.”

  “That’s how I got brothers. Storm, Logan, and Slater are Pop’s foster kids too—they’re just like me ’cept they’re boys, and they’re really old.”

  “You’re all foster kids?”

  “Uh-huh. Storm says we’re the lucky ones because Pop is a forever kinda guy.”

  Skye nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “Do you want a piece of apple, Skye?”

  “No thanks, I’ve had enough. You go ahead; just take smaller bites.”

  Pete pushed his way through the kitchen doors. “There you are, Nicki.” He put his hands on the little girl’s shoulders. “You left your sweatshirt and backpack in the office.” He dropped them on the table and smiled at Skye. “Thanks for getting Nicki a snack.”

  “It’s not a problem. I always enjoy our visits.”

  “I was wondering if you could make us a special dinner tonight. Logan’s fiancée is here. I asked Wendy, and she said she wouldn’t mind running it upstairs.”

  “I’d be happy to. Just let me know what and when.”

  Nicki bounced on the stool. “Hey Pop, can we have dessert too?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get you out of Skye and Harrison’s hair. We can take the rest of that snack upstairs. You can eat and do your homework at the same time.”

  “But, Pop—”

  “No buts. You need to get your homework done before dinner. We’re having company, so you better be on your best behavior.”

  “I know, I know.” She slid off the stool and shouldered the backpack that looked almost as big as she was. “Bye, Skye. Thanks for the snack.”

  Skye wasn’t prepared for it, but Nicki threw her arms around her and gave her a big hug. “I like you way better than that Payton lady.”

  Skye hugged Nicki back—it had been so long since anyone hugged her, she’d forgotten how nice it was. “You don’t know her. Give her a chance. She might surprise you.”

  The look on Pete’s face told her it wasn’t likely, and she had to agree. If Logan really loved Payton, she hoped she was wrong. In the last week and a half, she realized she’d misjudged him. He didn’t fit the stereotype—at least not until Payton appeared.

  Her chest tightened at the thought. She wasn’t sure why—she hadn’t had any of Harrison’s fries and gravy, so she knew it wasn’t heartburn. She didn’t have time to examine what else it could be. Nicki released her. “Okay, I’ll give Payton a chance, but I’m not gonna like it.”

  Skye shook her head trying to remember what they’d been talking about. Her mind kept circling back to Logan’s weird transformation she’d witnessed earlier. Giving Payton a ch
ance. She did her best not to laugh at her own wayward thoughts. “Get used to it, Nicki. There are a lot of things you’re going to do that you’re not going to like. Just try to keep an open mind. Do it for Logan. They’re engaged, so he must really love her.” Skye found Pete shaking his head. He gave her a whatcha-gonna-do shrug.

  Nicki gave her a final squeeze and ran out of the kitchen.

  Pete grabbed Nicki’s sweatshirt, threw it over his shoulder, and took the plate. “Nicki thinks a lot of you, Skye. Thanks for being so good to her. She’s really missing Bree. It’s good she has women like you and Rocki to talk to.”

  “No thanks necessary. If it’s okay with you, I was thinking of inviting Nicki and D.O.G. over to play this weekend. I thought we could take the dogs to the park for a while, and then come back and make a batch of dog cookies.”

  Pete’s smile probably sent hearts pitter-pattering in his younger days. “Only if you promise to make a batch of human cookies too.”

  “I think I can manage that. What kind do you want?”

  “Whatever kind you want to make. Just make sure they’re not heart healthy. This diet is going to kill me. Oh, and you have to keep them our little secret, okay? Logan’s turning into a regular food Nazi.”

  Skye watched Pete leave and found Harrison doing the same thing. “What?”

  Harrison took an order off the computer and shrugged. “Pete’s a hell of a guy. I heard he caught Storm stealing a boat before he fostered him, and Logan was into building pipe bombs when Pete took him in. Just look at them now: Storm’s designing multimillion-dollar yachts, and Logan’s making wine instead of bombs. Pete has a real way with kids.”

  “What’s Slater’s story?”

  “He’s one of those computer geniuses who made hacking into secure systems look like tiddlywinks. If there was security involved, it was like waving a Red Bull in front of a caffeine addict. He’s almost done getting his master’s in computer science at one of the top computer-programming schools in the country. I think he’s finishing up an internship with Microsoft now.”

  “Amazing.”

 

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