Chapter Twenty-five
Under the cold spray of water, Gavin cursed his body for being hard, for wanting her, for missing her. Nothing had changed in the week since they split.
He scrubbed his skin and swished water through his mouth. He wanted to forget her taste, her smell, her everything.
For so long he’d felt wrong and out of place. The family screw-up. With Terri, he’d felt right and needed in a way he hadn’t before. He even started to think he could contribute to the family business and she made sticking around in Seattle much more palatable. But he should have been gone. Needed to be high. Needed to not feel. And there was only one way to do that. Danger. Speed. Flying. Anything but remain in Seattle so the pain could fester and pollute his soul.
He left the shower and dressed quickly, his mind focused on the next trip, an escape to a nightclub in Mozambique. A secret hideaway where the rich and famous liked to party and the mainstream media hadn’t yet discovered. A swim-up bar, three dance floors, partygoers that were a mix of celebs from the continent of Africa and international superstars, and sick beats blasted all night long on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world until the sun came up. The perfect escape.
He sank onto the side of the bed and buried his head in his hands.
His head hurt. He let her get way too close to his family without doing a background check. The press would have a field day if they caught wind of her criminal past and the connection to his family. He should have been more careful but let his penis lead him astray.
Why am I such a fuck up? Always had been and always would be. Nothing had changed. I’m sick of fucking up. Fucking up took a lot more energy than people realized.
A general heaviness rested about his neck, shoulders, and in his body. His entire soul felt empty yet full at the same time. It didn’t even make sense, yet that’s how he felt. Full of emptiness.
Gavin pushed up from the bed and picked up the phone. He instructed the valet to take his bags to the car, and minutes later was on his way to his mother’s house. He’d already kissed his niece Katie and said goodbye to his siblings. The conversation with Ivy had been the worst. She didn’t want him to go and blamed herself for him leaving.
Gavin walked down the stone steps into the back yard of his mother’s house. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he caught sight of Constance near the roses. Somehow, she managed to make garden gloves and a floppy hat look chic. He smiled a little. She loved her roses, and since gardening was the only exercise he knew she indulged in, he recognized how much she enjoyed herself when outside.
He trudged down the tiered slope to her side. A female member of the staff stood nearby holding a shallow Nantucket basket filled with red roses, while Alicia waited quietly with a large round silver platter held flat against her thighs.
He nodded at each of the women.
“Mother, I’m leaving,” he announced. He couldn’t quite look her in the eye. Something he’d become good at—avoiding eye contact with her whenever he left home. He hated saying goodbye because he didn’t want to see the look on her face—the disappointment that always accompanied each time he said goodbye. He imagined her reaction would be even worse this time because he’d stayed at home for so long.
“Before you leave, we should take a moment to have a cup of tea together.” Snip. Snip. She placed two more stems in the basket.
“I’m not really—”
“Or would you rather coffee?”
He would rather fly out of there, quickly, but apparently, that wasn’t going to happen. “Tea is fine,” Gavin said with resignation, staring off over the landscape to the tranquil waters beyond the green grass.
The sun reflecting off the surface of the water reminded him of the time he and Terri took the boat out with his friends and he tried to entice her to water ski. After some resistance, he figured out she couldn’t swim. He hired a private coach for her, and after a few lessons, she grew brave enough to enter the water with a vest. They never did get a chance to go back out on the skis.
“Good.” Constance removed her gloves and Alicia came forward, holding up the silver platter. His mother deposited the gloves and pruning shears on it. “Please have Adelina prepare my afternoon tea, and let her know Gavin will be joining me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young woman walked away.
His mother smiled at him. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so I want to have a chat with you before you go. I’ll meet you in the sunroom after I freshen up a bit.”
She took off back to the house with the basket-holding assistant following her.
Whatever his mother wanted to talk about, he had a funny feeling he wouldn’t want to discuss it.
****
“Your father would have loved this room, don’t you think?” Constance held the delicate china cup and saucer in her hand and looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. She downsized to this house several years after his father died.
“Probably,” Gavin said.
“Have some tea. It’s a Caribbean herbal blend and really quite good.” She sipped from her cup and then placed it on the table in front of her.
Gavin sipped the warm brew and conceded she was right. He tasted mango and a hint of passion fruit.
He knew she had something else to say. He just didn’t know what, so he waited, like a criminal awaiting full disclosure of the prosecution’s evidence.
“Ivy told me you and your young lady friend, Terri, aren’t seeing each other anymore.” She crossed her legs, and that’s when he knew she was going into interrogation mode. “Why is that?”
“Didn’t work out.”
“She was wonderful company when she joined us for dinner and quite nice when we went out on the boat. She obviously has a fondness for children. During that outing, I think she spent more time with Michael and Katie than the babysitters.”
That was one of the special things about Terri. She obviously loved kids and didn’t mind getting down on the floor and playing with his nephew Michael or entertaining his niece, Katie.
“She seemed pleasant enough,” his mother added.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Are you saying she deceived you?”
“Yes,” Gavin bit out.
“About…?”
He didn’t want to have this conversation, but he knew better than to fight. “Who she is. Everything. She would have embarrassed the family.”
“I see.” Constance clasped her hands on her lap. “You’ve been working at the company and both Cyrus and Xavier reported that you’re doing a fine job. Why are you leaving?”
Outside the window, Lake Washington stretched beneath the sun. “It’s time to go.”
“So I suppose you’re going back to your race car driving and space jumping activities?”
“It’s called B.A.S.E. jumping, Mother.” He smiled a little.
“Whatever it is, I know it’s dangerous.” She examined her fingers. “I don’t approve of your activities, Gavin. I never have, but I’ve let you live your life because I understood. Even though every single day I said a prayer that you stayed safe no matter where you were or what you were doing.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.”
Her gaze met his. “I will always worry about you. You’re my son.”
He saw the sadness in the depths of her eyes, and gut-wrenching guilt filled him that he was the cause of her pain, again. A never-ending misery created by his selfish behavior.
The air stilled between them.
“What do you think you’re doing when you risk your life like that?” Constance asked.
“Having fun. It’s an adrenalin rush.”
“Makes you feel high?”
He shrugged. “A little. Better than drugs.”
“Is it?”
“Nothing’s happened to me yet.”
“Just some broken bones and scarred flesh.”
He swallowed. He took another drink of the tea and the
n set the cup on the table, the dishes rattling a little as he did.
“You know what I worry about?” she asked, staring down at her fingers. She still wore her engagement and wedding ring, as if she weren’t a widow and had a husband who came home to her every night. The sight pained him and he looked down into the dark tea.
She continued. “I worry that one day, I’ll get a call and they’ll tell me that you fell off a mountain or drowned or…” Fear vibrated in her trembling voice. “I worry that I’ll get a call that I’ve lost you. That my son is dead.”
He remained silent.
“I don’t want you to go, Gavin.”
“Mother, what you’re asking me—”
“I don’t want you to go.” She said the sentence firmly, with the authority and confidence of someone who knew their every wish would be acceded to. “You’re a grown man, and you don’t have to listen to what I say, but I’m asking you not to leave. Your father wouldn’t want you to go. He would want you to stay, because he would never condone you putting yourself in danger the way you do.”
Gavin stood up. “Mother, I have never disrespected you.”
“And you won’t start today. Have a seat and let me finish.”
He didn’t move, but then just as she instructed, he lowered onto the chair.
“Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”
He did as she asked.
“Stay.” She spoke softly, head tilted to the side. “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. You’ve punished yourself enough.”
Tears blurred his vision. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“I lost your father. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
His throat closed up, an invisible band tightening around his neck, making it hard to breathe. His head dipped and his breathing became ragged. The memory of the accident came back with the force of a cannonball shot from a cannon, almost knocking him sideways.
He gripped the edge of the sofa.
That last night, he and his father should have left the party at ten, but he dallied in the kitchen, flirting with one of the servers until she gave him her number. When his father found him, he gave him a good tongue lashing. They argued in the limo, with his father insisting he was throwing his life away on women and having a good time. Demanding yet again to know why someone so smart had dropped out of college.
He’d yelled and cursed at his father, wanting to be left alone to live his own life. In fact, he’d said those very words. “Leave me alone. Let me live my own life!” Then he’d turned away to stare out the window of the limo, fuming, arms folded across his chest.
He didn’t remember much after that. A crash. Glass breaking. Metal crunching. His father’s body on top of his.
“He covered me,” Gavin said hoarsely.
“I know, dear.”
He lifted tear-filled eyes to his mother’s face. “Then why don’t you…h-hate me?”
“Because he did exactly what I would have done. He saved the most precious thing in that vehicle. My son.”
Gavin’s nostrils flared as he tried to fight back emotion and swiped the tears that spilled from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he noticed his mother’s wet cheeks.
“I miss him,” he said thickly.
“Me, too,” she said softly. “Not a day goes by that I don’t miss that loud, obnoxious, controlling husband of mine. I think about what he’d be doing. How proud he would be to see what wonderful adults you all turned out to be. To see his grandchildren and the growth of the company his family founded. I know he’s smiling and he’s proud. Of all of us. That includes you, too.” She opened her arms. “Come.”
Gavin walked over to her and fell to his knees and dropped his head in her lap. She stroked his head. “My baby, my poor baby. It’s okay. It’s okay, son.”
More tears squeezed from his eyes. After the funeral, he’d deprived himself of tears. He didn’t deserve to grieve because his father would be alive if not for him. If he hadn’t lingered in the kitchen, they would have missed the drunk driver.
If, if, if…
“He gave his life for me.”
He choked out the words, squeezing his eyes tight against the memory of being pinned under Cyrus Senior’s limp, damaged body. Covering him. Protecting him.
The tears continued to fall. Years of pent-up grief. Regret. Guilt. His head remained buried in his mother’s lap and his arms tightened around her.
“It’s okay, son,” she whispered. She rubbed his back, mouth close to his ear. “You don’t have to run anymore.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Gavin jolted upright in bed.
Temporarily disoriented in the dark room, he swiped the dampness from his sweat-slick face and groaned in disgust. It was the same dream as always. It started with he and Terri enjoying dinner, then dancing, then running along the pier, her laughter drifting back to him on the wind. Then all of a sudden, they were in the condo on the sofa. They locked eyes as he thrust into her, reveling in the raw sensation of her vibrating around him. The curve of her lush behind rested in his hands, and he thrust hard, going as deep as humanly possible to gain the fulfillment only she could give.
He rubbed sleep from his eyes, shoulders bent under the weight of his inability to forget. The fortified master suite doubled as a safe room and could damn near resist a nuclear explosion, but couldn’t protect him from thoughts of Terri Slade.
Almost four months had already passed since he last saw her, yet she continued to invade his thoughts. It should be easy enough not to think about her since he spent over thirty years of his life not knowing her, hence not thinking about her. If only he could go back to that time and empty his mind of every moment they spent together, every sexy smile she sent his way, every touch of her soft hands.
Sometimes, he could block her out—at least during the day—when he stayed busy learning about Johnson Brewing Company. At promotional and networking events he attended with the sales team, she occasionally left his mind. But nighttime was nearly impossible to avoid thoughts of Terri. At night his subconscious wrested away control and placed her prominently in the foreground of his head.
He rubbed a hand over his semi-erect penis and groaned.
Since he’d decided to stay in Seattle, he bought the house he’d been renting and expelled his entourage from the premises with one way tickets to their destination of choice. Now that he had a permanent residence, he needed a woman in his life. Until then, he should get ready for work. A few months ago, he officially went on payroll and became a productive member of the team, and today was a big day.
He rolled off the bed, thinking about the morning meeting, nervous but excited about the possible outcome. Nine months ago he’d known practically nothing about Johnson Enterprises, but now, he better understood the ins and outs of the beer making and restaurant industries and the role the family business played in those markets. Recently, he pitched an idea to Trenton first and then approached Xavier and Ivy. The last person to convince was Cyrus.
Gavin dressed quickly and grabbed a travel mug of coffee on his way out the door, calling a goodbye to his housekeeper, Edie.
Soon, he was at the company headquarters and seated in a meeting with his siblings. The nervous excitement tightened in his gut, but knowing his siblings backed the idea made him confident. He sat up straight, seated across from Ivy. To his left sat Cyrus, and across from him Xavier.
Trenton took the floor to go through his presentation, a very basic one using an easel and bright graphics on sturdy paper. Each time he came to a new point, he lifted off a sheet to reveal the details.
Gavin’s eyes made the rounds of the table, and he couldn’t help but smile. His mother was right. Father would be proud if he saw them today, and he wanted to honor his father’s memory and make him proud.
“In conclusion,” Trenton said, “customers want to do business with a person. Talk to a person. Social media has allowed them insight into the lives of people they do business with.” He
lifted off one of the sheets and pointed to the numbers on the graph. “Gavin has millions of followers on Instagram and Twitter, and we need to take advantage of the opportunity those ‘fans’ represent. What we need to do is create a brand strategy around him by playing up the action and adventure angles of his life. We make him representative of our beer and incorporate him as part of our advertising campaign.”
Cyrus rubbed his jaw. “The idea worked for Jim Koch at Samuel Adams. Doesn’t mean it’ll work for us.”
“Not only Jim Koch. When you think about The Most Interesting Man in the World, what immediately comes to mind?” Trenton looked around the table, but didn’t wait for the answer. “Dos Equis. Dos Equis increased sales by more than twenty percent when they launched that campaign.”
Ivy leaned forward and directed her comment to Cyrus. “It’s not just beer. Consumers like being able to identify with a specific figure that represents a brand. The Marlboro Man and the Energizer Bunny, all figures who, the minute you see them, bring the brand to life.”
Trenton rested his palms on the table. “What we plan to do, is use the same strategy to launch a brand for Full Moon beer. Gavin’s social media accounts will become less personal and more business and we’ll merge them with our corporate accounts. By including the personal component, we offer customers that feeling of familiarity that’s so important to establishing a solid connection and separating us from the other beer companies out there.”
Unconvinced, Cyrus shook his head. “What makes you think this is going to work for us? We’ve managed to do very well so far by simply producing good beer—without a mascot.”
“We knew you’d say that, so we ran some tests. Ivy.” Trenton nodded at their sister.
“Trenton prepared a few ads for Twitter and had Gavin tweet them, using geographic targeting to send customers to our restaurants in Baton Rouge. The lines were out the door and one of the restaurants ran out of beer.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows raised. “Ran out of beer?”
“Yes,” Ivy confirmed, her eyes bright with excitement. “Food sales at both locations went through the roof. They had to call in extra wait staff.”
The Rules Page 17