"Come here Nick, you little pussy." Griffen could still hear his hot slurs. "Want to keep writing your stories like a little girl?" Then the smack, so hard the pencil and paper flew out of his hand.
"No, dad, I don't need it. It's homework. Please stop."
"Fuck you, you pussy, our only way out of here is football. Get the ball and get back to practicing. And get my drink while you're at it you little shit."
Griffen shook his head. How could he stop the painful memories?
Griffen felt the bile rise in his throat when he saw a story with dark splatter marks all over it — the paper crinkled where the liquid that made that imprint had dried. He swallowed, remembering it was blood. He'd managed to keep his dad's brutality a secret for so long, hide the bruises, make the excuses.
He and his mother were pros at it, especially when hiding the wounds from each other. Griffen wanted to protect her, but he couldn't beat the bastard. So all he could do was hide from her what his dad was doing to him and let her hide her wounds right back.
But Jack knew. He handled it for so long by having Griffen stay at his house. But it all came to a head one fateful night during their junior year. They had just won the state championships. They had the world in their hands. Jack was varsity quarterback, throwing to his best friend. They were going to meet up with Teri and Susan to go to a party celebrating their big win. Jack had snagged a bottle of bourbon from the restaurant and it was going to be a great night. They just needed to stop by Griffen's house for a minute so he could grab a clean shirt.
"There you are you piece of shit." His dad was staggering already and stank. "I watched the game. Watched you fuck up, you little shit. You jumped your route. Almost blew the whole championship."
"Mr. Tate, you're tired," Jack said calmly.
"Fuck you. My son should've been the quarterback. That's where the money is. You spoiled little shit — you have to have everything. You're not even going to play in college, you brainy little asshole."
"Mr. Tate, please, Nick's a great tight end."
"Bullshit. He's a pussy." Griffen's dad was swaying on his feet now. "Just like his mom, worthless."
Griffen could still feel the heat, the anger, boiling through his body.
"Don't you fucking talk about my mother, don't touch her." He ran to him and tackled him with all the force of his shoulders and hatred. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch."
"Oh, the little shit grew some balls." It was like he enjoyed it. His dad pushed him off and kicked him in the stomach until he felt like he could taste his liver. His dad punched him so hard, cursing him and spraying hot, drunk spit in his ear. Griffen heard something out of the edge of his brain. He knew they were words but it was so hard to hear through the pummeling fists and kicks.
"Mr. Tate, stop it. You'll kill him."
But Griffen didn't feel pain now, just warm blood across his teeth. This is how it ends he'd thought. He felt more shame than pain.
"Griffen, get up, stop him!"
But Griffen was so warm, he'd been here before and he knew the best thing was to curl in a ball and wait for the end.
Then he heard it, "Mr. Tate, I said you need to fucking stop." Suddenly, the kicking stopped. Griffen rolled on his side and enjoyed the moments of relief. Then he started coughing till blood came out. The sight drove Jack wild. "You fucking bastard." Jack plowed toward Griffen's father, pushing him straight off the deck. His father fell on his back and huffed but Jack was on him, punching his face, his body, everywhere. "You touch him or his mom again, I'll fucking kill you." Griffen's mother came home and saw them at that moment. The blood drained from her face, from her body.
"Mom. Police. Please," Griffen had gasped out.
Griffen fell into blissful unconsciousness and never saw his father alive again.
Griffen raised his left hand to run his fingers across the jagged scar by his left eyebrow — the only physical reminder of that awful night. He only missed a week of school but he wondered if he or his mother ever recovered emotionally.
There was protection from abuse orders, ordered probation, but eventually his dad died a quiet and ugly death, drunk and shivering by the banks of the Ohio River, almost two years later. The important thing was Griffen knew that Jack had saved his life and he'd done nothing for him in return. And now he was fucking dead.
What a world. Jack was the greatest person he'd ever known, while Griffen's dad was a fucking monster. Yet they were both the same thing — dead.
Griffen's heart twisted and split in his chest. This box was all he had left of Jack. Jack was everyone’s golden boy, the hero, and he lived up to that image when he saved Griffen’s life that night.
Yet Griffen had abandoned Jack when he'd needed him most. He ran away from the painful memories of his dad, only to create new terrible ones of his own by deserting the only true friend he’d ever had – his brother, even if not by blood.
You don’t deserve happiness or love, Griffen thought to himself.
Dad was right, you’re not good for anything, and you proved that when you failed Jack — ignored him and left him to die, because your crappy book and money were more important to you.
All Griffen had left were these trinkets, these stories he and Jack wrote together, and an unending supply of guilt to remember Jack and all he’d done for him.
You fucking failure, he thought. It should be Jack here crying over this junk, not you. He’s the one that should be alive making Althea happy and laughing with Johnny. All you are is an intruder, that’s good for nothing besides fucking and misery. You break everything you touch. Just like your old man did. Jack is just one more in a long line of lives destroyed by us Tate men.
Griffen opened his mouth on a roar and upended the lockbox with a furious thrust of his arms. The contents flew everywhere and immediately Griffen regretted it. He took a breath and started to fill the box back up.
Get your shit together. This is all you have left of him, don't fucking ruin it.
As he grabbed the last few baseball cards, something plastic and metallic caught his eye. What the hell is a flash drive doing in here?
Jack must have placed it there recently since the technology didn't exist when they were in high school. Griffen pocketed the flash drive and wiped a shaking hand across his face. Whatever was on it was Jack's before he died and he would never have put it in here if it wasn't important.
He breathed in, locked the box, replaced it in its hole and left.
Griffen groaned in frustration. He'd spent most of the last hour trying to explore the contents of the flash drive, with little to no luck. It was heavily encrypted, with multiple forms and layers of security that were way beyond him. Luckily he knew someone who could help.
"Hey Trey, what's up?"
"Griffen? What's up, man? Aren't you in Pittsburgh or something?"
"Yeah. I'm here for a couple weeks. I have an exciting challenge for you."
"Hmm, your challenges usually involve avoiding the business end of a gun at some point. Is this Mexico all over again?" Trey asked with a laugh.
"Hopefully not," Griffen chuckled out. Trey had helped him on his second book, as well as secret consults he did to support other investigative journalists behind the scenes. Some situations had ended up a bit hairy, but Trey liked danger, so he wasn't worried. "I've got this flash drive. I can read some of it but the rest is so heavily encrypted I can't make a dent."
Trey was the best analyst he'd ever met. A hacker when he was younger — he'd been picked up for it as early as 14, a prank that led to one of the most major overhauls of a leading operating system in history. He'd cleaned up his act and gone legit but still had the spirit of a rebel. Not unlike Griffen.
He was the perfect person to get to the bottom of this mess. Third in line of some seriously respected geniuses — great minds behind some of the first computers, Griffen suspected he was loaded with family money. Yet Trey preferred to hole up in Brooklyn
, generally operating on the right side of the law.
"Where'd you get it?"
"It belonged to a friend of mine that died."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. He hid it in a lockbox only we knew about."
"Why?"
"I think he knew it would be safe there."
"Was he another writer?"
"No. He was an associate professor in the CMU Robotics Institute."
Trey whistled, "Impressive. Sounds cool. Send it on up, man. I just wrapped up reverse engineering some virus software, I'm definitely ready for something a lot more fun."
"Cool, I've made arrangements to send it up with a courier. Mail makes me nervous. You'll get it tonight."
"I gotta ask — anything illegal, dude?"
"No. Not illegal. At least I hope not...but definitely confidential."
"I feel you. Let's do this." Griffen could almost hear his smirk over the line.
"Yeah," he answered seriously. "Let's do this."
Griffen looked at the time. Eleven a.m.
He moved back from his laptop and rested his elbows on his knees, trying to get his head right. The only thing that made sense right now was Althea's face. He pictured her smooth skin and soft curves and had to see her.
CHAPTER NINE
As Althea watched her mother walk toward the cab in her front driveway her heart sank. It doesn't matter how old you are or what you do with your life, sometimes you just miss your mom.
As if sensing her mood, Vivian turned around and smiled. "Come here, baby." She pulled Althea into her arms, her mother's Annick Goutal perfume wrapping around Althea as her huge purse knocked her on the butt. "I love you honey. So much. But I worry about you, too, you know."
"I'm okay, Mom."
Vivian pulled back and held her at arms length, answering, "Are you, honey? I'm not so sure. I know you never really come back from what you went through, especially with such a demanding job and a baby, but you need to try."
"Mom, please, I don't want to talk about this right now."
"I know," she sighed. "You never want to talk about it. We've tried to be patient, just waiting for you to come around, but you still seem to be deeply in pain. Sort of stuck. You were always so responsible, so in your own head. I loved Jack, like a real son, not a son-in-law. He brought you out of your shell, but then you went right back into it after he died."
Althea felt tears prick at her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. Don't be silly. I want you to have some fun and just let go for a bit."
"How?"
"Start by letting yourself enjoy this time with Griffen, okay? You know I think sex is pretty much the main reason for everything, but that's not all this is about. It's about doing something for yourself for once. Letting yourself enjoy something without feeling guilty or like you are betraying someone."
Althea smiled weakly. "Okay. I promise. And I love you, too."
"Good!" Her mother sealed the deal with a smack on Althea's rump. "Now go get you some!"
"Eww, Mo-om!" Some things never changed. Althea waved goodbye as her mother loaded into the cab and it pulled away.
Althea stared at the cursor blinking dumbly at her from her computer screen. It felt odd to be back in the office after another evening of spending several hot hours in Griffen's hotel room, only a few blocks from the stuffy desk at which she sat. There was just something about writing a motion in a contract dispute that was so much less stimulating than being alone with Griffen. Althea's mind began to wander to how he'd greeted her at his hotel door and her office started to get unbearably warm when she was rescued by the phone's loud ring.
"Hey gorgeous."
"Hey stud, I was just thinking about you."
"Hopefully they were not safe for work thoughts."
"Of course. With you, that's pretty much a given, right?"
"Well, if thinking of me is not safe for work, how about I steal you from there for lunch today."
"I like the sound of that. Give me an hour to get my filing out and then I'll definitely play hooky with you." Or any other games that might strike my fancy, she thought, shocked by her own mischievous glee.
"Perfect. I'll meet you outside your office at twelve-thirty. And gorgeous..."
"Yes?"
"I'll be counting the seconds."
"Oh please, you smooth talker. Bye." She smirked but knew she was beyond eager to see him again.
Griffen was nothing if not good for Althea's productivity. As soon as she knew she had a midday escape with him to look forward to, she wrapped up her motion and filed it in no time. Looking at the time on her computer, she put it to sleep, checked herself out in her compact mirror, grabbed her purse and darted out the door.
"Tracey, I'm going to lunch. I'll be gone at least an hour. Maybe two," she breezily said to her secretary on her way down the hall.
"Client meeting?"
"Uh, no. A personal lunch." Althea bit her lip. She adored her secretary, but Tracey had the biggest mouth in the firm.
"What? Yinz is leaving the building for lunch? Get 'aht of here!" she exclaimed. "Who with? I’m dyin’ to know!"
Tracey also had the thickest Pittsburgh accent Althea had ever heard and used so many colloquialisms from Pittsburgh's distinctive dialect that at times Althea struggled to understand her at all.
"Oh, just a friend that's visiting town."
"Whoever it is, I'm thrilled, hon. It's about time you did something besides work and PTA meetings."
She was right. Althea never went out for lunch, never did much of anything other than work and rush home to Johnny.
"And if yinz feel like any more personal lunches, let me know. My nephew is a real cutie, you and he'd get along like a house afire."
And there it was — another try at a fix up. But this time it didn't make Althea want to grind her teeth. Maybe these baby steps were working. "You never know, Tracey. Thanks."
"I'll cover your phone and keep an eye on your email. Go have fun," Tracey said with a wink.
"Sounds like a plan. See you soon!"
Griffen was waiting outside the door of her building, as promised, and damned if he didn't look hot, as usual. She smiled and took a moment to enjoy his low-slung jeans and navy blue Henley shirt with sunglasses tucked into the unbuttoned neck. "Wow, I feel over dressed," she teased.
"No problem. I love you dressed for work." And from the looks of the way he was eyeing the knee-length pencil skirt and fitted top she was wearing, he certainly did.
"Where do you want to go for lunch?" Althea asked.
Griffen smirked and pulled out a picnic basket from behind his back.
"A picnic? How great! That should also leave plenty of time for you to have your wild way with me. Isn't that what nooners are?"
"I didn't know anyone still said that, but I'm certainly game for one if you are, but first, I want to feed you. In public."
She laughed. "In that case, follow me. Let's eat it at the fountain."
"Perfect. How much time do you have, I don't want to miss out on that nooner."
"I got my filing out and no meetings this afternoon — so a couple hours."
"The fountain it is then," Griffen said as he led the way.
They walked side-by-side straight to Point State Park at the edge of downtown, where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers met to begin the dramatic Ohio River. The confluence of the rivers formed a natural triangle featuring a giant fountain that drew onlookers all day to marvel at its high plume and series of water shows.
Downtown was at their backs, sprouting with huge skyscrapers but all they saw was the mighty rivers meeting before them, crisscrossed with more bright yellow bridges than you could count. And all this was cradled on both sides by hills and cliffs. Griffen felt lucky to be in this spot with this lovely woman next to him. He'd run from this place and all it represented but now he felt the pang of realization that part of him had mi
ssed it.
"Beautiful," Althea whispered.
Griffen pulled her onto his lap and looked in her eyes. "Yes, so beautiful."
He silently thanked the Fairmont Hotel for being so close to her office. It had been his idea to take her to eat in public, but the sight of her had him already eager to steal her away for a quickie as soon as possible, even though they'd only been apart for a few hours.
Griffen took out the basket of goodies the hotel had put together for him. They took a seat on the concrete benches ringing the fountain, choosing to sit closest to the point where the three rivers met.
This feels like we're a real couple. It shocked him how nice that thought felt to him. He looked over and kissed her softly at first. She tasted too good, he began to deepen the kiss and stroke her tongue with his. She backed away and looked around nervously. When she must have registered that no one she knew was nearby she kissed him again. She was always so delicious and receptive that he had no idea how much time passed when he finally broke the kiss and looked in her eyes.
"I should probably feed you instead of feasting on you all afternoon, huh?"
"You did invite me to lunch, I would hate to feel like I was getting ripped off," she said with a wink and squeezed around his waist with her arms for good measure.
"I'm nothing, if not a man of my word." Griffen adjusted her in his lap and began to feed little bites of salami and parmesan atop freshly baked bread into her mouth.
"Mmm, that tastes good, and you are much sexier than a fork. I could get used to this."
"Good," he said and licked a breadcrumb from the corner of her luscious mouth.
Griffen watched her beautiful eyes as they looked up to take in the view. It was objectively spectacular. As any good Pittsburgh boy, he'd seen it countless times, but sitting here with this perfect woman in his arms, it was as though he were seeing it all for the first time. Mt. Washington rose up above them to the left. Covered with trees, their leaves not yet changing into the bright fireworks of colors that autumn would soon bring, leading to the top ridge and its luxurious apartment buildings, spectacular churches and sightseers looking down at the city below. On their right the sports stadiums and boats dotted the landscape, but it felt to him like they were completely alone.
Three Rivers (A Gateway to Love Novel) Page 13