I try not to choke after hearing those words. I'm quite positive Bennington Hauser would not want to know even the slightest thing about what his daughter and I were up to with regards to whiskey.
I'm not even amused at the idea of leading this conversation into double-entendre territory. I can't risk it. I have to play ball if I'm going to figure out a way to help Parker.
"I learned a long time ago that if you're going to do something, do it to the best of your ability."
"And that includes building your brand on other people's whiskey?"
"I'm good at finding the hidden jewels out there. Less so at brewing my own." I raise my glass to him. "I find it's generally good practice to play to my strengths and keep others around to compensate for my weaknesses."
Bennington nods sagely. "Smart." He studies me for a moment, and somehow I'm convinced he's also scanning the room around us, even though his eyes never waver from my face. "My daughter had an interesting proposition for me tonight. I wanted to hear it from you, though."
"What proposition is that?" Dear lord, this conversation is going to be the death of me. All I can think of if I close my eyes is Parker's hips spread across mine, my cock disappearing into her tight, sweet body.
Jesus, can I not think about that in front of her father? He might be a selfish bastard but damn it, it's just all kinds of wrong to be thinking about the man's daughter that way while he’s standing two feet in front of me.
And I really don't want to have to duck into a bathroom and adjust my pants. I'm not fucking twelve anymore.
"She proposes I offer you a retainer. Guaranteed contract for services provided, paid out in monthly increments."
I frown, wondering what the hell Parker is thinking. I can't afford to go on a contract for a set amount. I'd lose my ass the first time the bar tab went over the contracted amount. "I'm not sure that's feasible. I appreciate her thinking of me but—"
Hauser holds up his hand. "The events would be much smaller than this. Much more intimate. Contract would be very generous terms and provide guaranteed income for you for limited engagements."
"What's the catch?"
"No catch. It will all be spelled out in the contract terms."
I can't help but feel like I'm making a deal with the devil. "I'll have my attorney take a look at it."
We shake on it. I wish I could say that I feel like I've just sold my soul, but he's a smooth operator. Knows how to put someone at ease and that's an impressive skill set to be able to pull one over on me, especially when I'm looking for it. "Parker has a hell of a good head for business."
"That's about all she's good at since her mother died."
His comment sounds off the cuff and catches me off guard. It's the kind of comment you make to family friends, not future business associates. "I'm sorry to hear that."
He shrugs and takes a sip of his whiskey. "I've been a little too indulgent with her. Letting her come down here instead of going to Yale. Letting her pick her internship instead of insisting she work for Carlisle Industries. Montgomery Carlisle's name on her résumé would have opened any door in the Beltway for her but instead, she's down here, learning about whiskey."
"Well, sir, I for one am grateful for the opportunity to work with her. She's asked some great questions that have prompted me to reevaluate how I'm doing things and the analytics she’s developed combined with her ideas for a marketing plan is game changing. She's an incredible asset."
He scans the room before he looks back at me. All of a sudden I'm reminded of standing for inspection in front of the First Captain my plebe year. Like all my sins were exposed for all the world to see. "She's a real prize. I get compliments all the time on her accomplishments. She's fantastic to have at events like these because everyone wants to talk to her. She's really terrific."
There's something there, beneath his words. I can't put my finger on it, but I tuck the conversation away to replay it later. He's most likely just a father bragging about his daughter. But something doesn't feel right about this entire exchange.
"And here's the man of the hour. Eli Winter, I'd like you to meet Davis Harcourt, Parker's fiancé."
It takes every ounce of restraint not to knock his teeth out of his head. And the moment he opens his mouth, I realize it's going to take a lot more patience than I may have. Davis isn't nearly as smooth as his future father-in-law. In fact, he's exactly the kind of smarmy and condescending douchebag that I hated in my previous life.
"Winter. Didn’t I see an article that said you were in the Army?"
The way Davis says it sends the hair on the back of my neck standing straight up. "I was."
"You'd think a man with your background would be less…prone to seeking media attention."
I shrug and do my damnedest to keep my expression blank. I don't know what he knows, but he knows a hell of a lot more than nothing. And that makes him dangerous. To me. To my business. To the people who are counting on me to make this business work. "I'm used to dealing with the media. I had a lot of practice in Iraq."
Davis smirks and doesn't even try to hide the asshole. "I bet you did. You should be careful. Skeletons have a way of finding their way out of the closet."
"You really ought to follow your own advice," I say mildly. Fuck this guy in his three-thousand-dollar suit and peroxide smile. The damage is already done from my skeletons. Nothing I do can change the outcome from any of them. But Davis has a lot more than me to lose. "No one cares about a bar owner in a college town, but a junior congressman should probably be more careful with who he hurts in his life." I smile coldly. "The arm you grab today may be connected to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow."
His smile doesn't falter but his eyes give away the quiet slice of my direct hit. "Indeed."
And then I'm alone as they both step away, wondering just what he meant and why I suddenly feel like all of this is running too close to the edge.
That everything I've worked for over the last five years is about to go up in blood-soaked flames, resurrected from the desert of Iraq.
* * *
Parker
* * *
I'm not drunk, but I wish I were. My stomach twists every time I look at the draft article on my phone. I slip out of the party, needing space to figure out what the hell all of this means and what I'm supposed to do now.
"You look like you're having a real shit evening, as shit evenings go."
Meaghan strides over on her four-inch heels and sinks onto the bench next to me. The garden is a peaceful spot for this unwanted reunion. Surrounded by hydrangeas and rose bushes and a thousand species I can't recognize, it's still nice to see my once-upon-a-time partner in crime.
"It's up there on the list of top ten bad evenings." I glance over at her. "I didn't know you were going to be here."
She shrugs and sips her drink. I wonder how many she's had. Or how early she started drinking.
She'd always been a bit wild, but after we got caught running away things got really bad with her. I thought things weren't great for me, but Meaghan…yeah, she had it a hell of a lot worse. Her mother is a special kind of evil, and unfortunately Meaghan has started taking on some of her mother’s more unsavory personality traits.
Which is just one of the reasons why we aren’t really close anymore. Not like we had been, once upon a time.
"I'm not going home this summer," Meaghan says.
"Say what? How? When?"
This is news. And when I say news, I mean earth-shattering, major life-altering event-worthy news. "I want out. Away from my mom and her psycho boy toy. Away from all of it."
"How, though? She's not going to just let you go."
Meaghan smiles and for once, she looks like my friend used to, before the drinking and the drugs started taking her away from me. "I'm getting her to put me in rehab here. Outpatient program for a year. She's going to fund every last dime and in the meantime, I'm going to figure out how to do this adulting thing." She looks at me apologeticall
y. "Which means I'm going to need your help because I want to actually start taking classes instead of paying someone to take them for me, and start being a grownup, and I really have no clue where to even start."
I shift on the cold stone bench. "Are you serious? You're going to leave home? And your mom is going to just…let you go? But…"
The night we tried to leave, we were sixteen. We had a pocket full of cash, our cell phones, and no fucking idea where we were going or what we were going to do. We'd crashed at our friend Bodhi's pad in Alexandria and thought we'd made the break.
That was the night I found out just how bad Meaghan's drug problem was. And how determined our parents were to keep us under control. There were going to be no Girls Gone Wild videos getting made with us as the stars.
"I know I screwed up," she says quietly. "Bad. And I lost you as a result." She looks down at her perfectly manicured hands. "I've missed you. I don't know what this thing is we've been doing the last five years but it's not friendship. I want our friendship back. The real one. Before everything got screwed up."
I sit for a moment, frozen in time and space as her words sink into my rational brain and into the part of me that misses my friend dearly.
"Please say something because otherwise, this is going to get even more awkward than it already is."
I smile and thread my arm in hers, resting my head on her shoulder like I used to once upon a time, after my mom died and my world ended. "I've missed you," I whisper.
"Me too." Her cheek presses against my head. "So what's this I hear about you working at a bar? Why didn't you go work for Montgomery Carlisle?"
I sigh and hand her my cell phone and show her Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Carlisle Junior in all their glory. "Ew! What is that?"
"That's the reason why I'm not working for him."
"Is that his…junk?"
I breathe out deliberately. "Yep."
Her reaction is not what I expect. She covers her mouth with her hand and laughs. And then I'm laughing at the absurdity of it because in hindsight, it's really just sad.
“Working at The Pint is the best thing that's ever happened to me. It’s…amazing. It's fun and they actually care about each other there."
"So it's like Cheers?"
I smile because I'd forgotten that we used to skip school and watch Cheers marathons our freshman year. "I think it's better than Cheers. You'll have to come in and check it out."
"I might need to talk to the owner about a job."
I smirk, thinking of her fending off Mr. Blowjob reporter from the other night. "It's definitely got some unique challenges."
"So if things are going so well, how come you look so upset?"
My phone’s screen is blank now. I don't want to show her the hit piece that Davis sent me. I haven't figured out how to tackle this problem.
"It's complicated," I tell her. Because while I love the idea of having my friend back, I'm also a cynic. I want to trust her. I want her back. But we have our history and trust takes time to rebuild.
But this? This is about Eli. Eli who dared me to take a leap, to not stay trapped in my life.
I can’t process what I've read.
I don't even know how to ask Eli about it.
What do I do if the story is true? What do I say?
I stare at my phone, trapped, once again, between terrible choices.
Chapter 26
Eli
* * *
I don't see Parker again for the rest of the evening. I'm too busy to do more than occasionally scan the room quickly for her.
"Dude, we've got a fucking problem." Kelsey grabs my arm and I follow her into an empty hallway. "Your girl's boy toy? I heard him talking to our girl."
I'm already braced for the worst, but the look on Kelsey's face suggests it’s worse than I expect. "So?"
"Any reason why your name should be mentioned in the same sentence as war crimes?"
I swallow hard. "Possibly."
She sets her jaw, and in that instant I can see Sergeant Ryder standing in front of me, no nonsense and all business and fiercely protective of those who she sees as hers. "Well, we're fucked, then, because the words war criminal and article and your name were all mentioned in the same sentence. Want to tell me what it was about? Before it blows up all over CNN?"
"There’s nothing to talk about. No one cares about war crimes in a war that few people even remember we're even fighting."
"They do when a defense contractor’s daughter is working for a man who could be held responsible for them." She braces her hands on her hips, and I can see her calculating. I need her to stand down.
"This is my problem. I'll figure it out. Go get these folks to spend more money on expensive whiskey." I grip her shoulder, needing to get away and start developing courses of action. "Trust me?"
She’s clearly not happy but keeps her displeasure to herself, offering instead a mock salute. "Roger that, sir."
The trust in her eyes as she turns back to the party is sobering. She doesn't question whether I've done something wrong. Doesn't care even if I did.
It's humbling, the loyalty she just demonstrated.
I head back to the bar, glad-handing the wives of sponsors and chatting up future customers but there's a stone in my belly now, a tight knot of dread weighing me down.
I’ve always thought I was prepared for this day. I knew it would come. I've spent years building ties to the community, to my suppliers and distributors, hoping that when it came, they would look past the allegations and remember that I'm still the same person.
But civilians are funny about things that happen at war. You never know how someone will react to the idea that bad shit happens in war and no, sometimes, commanders don't know everything that's going on in their unit.
I honestly can’t say how any of my suppliers are going to react if this breaks big. I always imagined it would break as a long read that no one actually read. That I could face the jury of public opinion when people were otherwise occupied thinking about the latest celebrity gossip.
I pour a shot of Laphroiag and add a single drop of water. The smoky taste pulls me out of the dread, but now my go-to whiskey stirs other memories. Memories of Parker's thighs spread before me, her body warm beneath my tongue, mixing with the whiskey.
The whiskey is mild, sliding down my throat, easing the knot just a little.
There's nothing I can do to change the past. And this isn't just about me anymore.
I suppose my history is surfacing because I'm somehow tied to Parker.
I could lose everything if this blows up big enough.
Not just the bar.
But what the bar means to me, to Kelsey, Deacon. Noah. Josh. All of my merry band of misfit toys.
And Parker. I've only just stepped out of the darkness into the light with her, only just started to believe that maybe there's more to this life than taking care of soldiers.
The thought of losing her…the knot in my chest is back and no amount of Laphroaig can break it free.
I see her across the crowded room.
And she knows. I can see it in her eyes, in the disappointment and uncertainty looking back at me.
Because I can do nothing less, I follow her from the room. To the garden that leads away from the guests and the party and the silken splendor of the world she has been trying to so desperately escape.
She doesn't stop.
"So that's it? You're just going to walk away?" I can't keep the anger from my voice. At least it masks the hurt.
She stops but doesn't turn around. "How would you like to explain this to me? In any way that makes sense?"
"You're not giving me much of a chance to explain anything by walking away."
Her voice is quiet. "How? How can you explain away something like war crimes?"
* * *
Parker
* * *
I've never seen a man like Eli go white as a sheet but he is deathly pale. His mouth forms a grim line benea
th his beard.
I can barely stand there.
“I did not commit any war cimes.” His eyes flash dangerously. There is darkness in those words. Danger and defense. "I was in command of men that did."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is between ordering a war crime and stopping one.” He drags his hands through his hair. "But you wouldn't know that. You're so hell-bent on seeing what you want to see, you condemn first, ask questions later."
"That's not fair. I don't understand your world. The Army. The life you led before you came here."
He turns away, arms folded over his chest. "You know me. Is it too much to ask that you trust me enough to ask a question first? To get some goddamned clarification first?"
"Clarification over what? Prisoners were shot. Your men shot them."
* * *
Eli
* * *
It's so easy to judge, isn't it?" I'm daring her to look at me, to see me, not whatever bastardized version she's read about. "You don’t know what it's like to make life-and-death decisions. To know that by ordering that investigation, I cost some of my men their lives because I took combat-tested soldiers off the streets."
"So that excuses this?"
"I stopped it! I fucking stopped it as soon as I found out. I didn't even hesitate to report it higher." I'm standing in front of her now, daring her to look beyond the words on her screen and see me. But she doesn't. Maybe she can't. Right then, I don't care. "You're just running away again. It's easier to walk away and never look back than to unpack some uncomfortable truths about the people in your life."
"Maybe I am. But maybe this is something worth running away from."
"And maybe, what we've got is something worth standing and fighting for."
She smiles at me and it's filled with a lifetime's worth of sadness and disappointment. "Maybe we did. But that trust thing you talk so much about?" She pauses, rubbing her hands over her upper arms. "You don't get to demand it without giving it."
After I Fall: A FALLING NOVEL Page 17