by Robin Kaye
“Hey, I didn’t think I’d see you here. I need to go over a few things with Annabelle about the gallery. I didn’t know she already mentioned it to you.”
“Huh?”
Annabelle answered the door and squinted at Ben. “It’s really hard to believe you’re the same person I worked with on Saturday. Tell me, does it feel like you’re dressing up to play cowboys and Indians?” She spotted Becca. “Bec, I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m so glad you’re here. It’s serendipitous.”
Becca laughed. “Have you been reading Mike’s books again?”
Annabelle ushered them in. “No, but I saw this cute movie on TV the other night. It was called Serendipity. I had to look up the word in one of Mike’s dictionaries. It’s a great word, isn’t it?”
Ben shrugged out of his coat. “And one perfect for the situation.”
Annabelle took his coat and groaned from the weight of it. “I guess this means you’re heading home tonight or in the morning.”
Ben nodded. “Have you two discussed my offer?”
Annabelle shook her head. “Becca was away this weekend. I was going to talk to her when things calmed down. I didn’t realize there was a clock ticking on the deal.” She looked down and rubbed her belly. “Well, except for peanut here.”
Becca held up her hands to stop them from talking over her. “Hold on. First of all, don’t be calling my niece or nephew ‘peanut.’ If it’s a boy, you’ll give the poor kid a complex.” She took Ben’s coat from Annabelle and hung it and hers in the closet. “Secondly, does someone want to clue me into this discussion instead of just talking about what I haven’t been privy too?”
“Ben’s offered to sell me a controlling interest of the gallery, but with the baby coming, I was hoping to decrease my work hours, not the opposite, so he mentioned that you would be a perfect candidate for a partner, and I totally agree.”
Ben sat down in Mike’s favorite chair and put his feet on the leather ottoman facing Becca. “I’m right. I’ve known you almost as long as I’ve known Annabelle, granted, not as well, but that will come in time. And between the two of you, you can handle the day-to-day operation. I’d be more of a silent partner.”
Annabelle shot him an incredulous look, and Ben smiled, holding up his right hand as if to pledge. “I swear. I have too many irons in the fire as it is, and with my grandfather’s illness, I have to take over a majority of his duties. Unfortunately, I can’t do it from here. I’m going to have to spend most of my time in Boise.”
Annabelle bounced on the couch with excitement. “Just think, Bec. If we owned the gallery, we could do a showing of your work, and it won’t be cheating.”
“Cheating?” Ben looked from Annabelle to Becca.
Annabelle nodded. “She’s got this thing about her family money. She doesn’t want to show her work if her family name, influence, or money got her the gig.”
Ben nodded. “Ah, sometimes being filthy rich is a real handicap, isn’t it? I guess it’s better than the alternative, but still, it does make one question one’s self-worth. I’ve been there, done that, got the tuxedo.”
Annabelle continued as if she never heard Ben. “But if we bought majority interest in the gallery, you could show your work, put it out there, and see what the critics say. I don’t care what your name is and neither do the critics. Plus, we’d be working together! It would be great. What do you think?”
Becca liked the idea—she and Annabelle had always dreamed of doing something like this, but now that they were related, it was different. “I’m not sure. You know what they say about going into business with family.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Becca, it won’t be like that for us.”
Ben cut in. “Besides, I’ll be around to referee any fights. It might even be fun. We can set up a mud-wrestling pit in the back.”
Becca ignored Ben’s comment this time and questioned him without even reacting. “Would it be the gallery as a business or the building, too?”
“We could handle it either way. I keep an apartment upstairs. I suppose I could rent it from the partnership and handle it that way. The building is paid for, so I can hold the note, too.”
Becca nodded and checked her watch. “Why don’t you email me a P&L, aged accounts receivable and payable statements, a current balance sheet, and I’d like to get the current market value of the building. Once I have time to look over all that, we can get together and discuss it further.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “I guess you’ll be in charge of the books if this goes through.”
Annabelle laughed. “That works for me. Lord knows, I’m no good with numbers.”
It was obvious that Ben had something personal to talk to Annabelle about so Becca stood. “I’ve got to get going. Ben, I’ll look for those numbers in the next week or so?”
Ben stood too. “I’ll have my accountant get right on that along with a rough deal memo, which goes over the percentages and what-have-you. It’s all up for discussion though.”
Becca slid into her jacket. “Of course. Okay, have a safe trip or whatever. Annabelle, I’ll talk to you later.” She was out the door and rushing home. She wasn’t sure why, though she did want to get back to the sculpture she’d started. She loved this part of the work—at least that’s what she told herself. Missing Rich had nothing to do with it.
Rich threw himself on the bench, pulled his shirt up, and wiped off his dripping face. Mike had been riding him the whole game. Rich rubbed his side. He’d been elbowed so much, he was pretty sure he’d have a bruise. At least Mike would too; Rich knew how to play dirty, hell, he played basketball at the military academy, which was populated by rich kids, who because of their parents’ money, served their time there instead of jail or juvenile hall where they belonged. Rich gave it as good as he got, but stopped before it turned into a hockey game.
Nick and Mike collapsed beside Rich. Vinny, who didn’t make it that far, lay on the wood floor huffing like a freight train. “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
Nick nudged Vinny with his foot. “You’re not too old. You’re too fat. It’s all that good cookin’.”
He pushed up on his elbows, his stomach sticking up more than before. “I gotta go on a diet or somethin’.”
Mike looked over at Vinny. “When was the last time you had a physical? Come to the office, and I’ll give you a full workup and put you on a healthy diet.”
Vinny groaned, and he got off the floor. “Nothin’ personal Mike, but there ain’t no way I’m dropping my drawers and coughin’ for you, bud. Uh uh. No freakin’ way.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Fine, if you won’t see me, I’ll give you the name of someone else.”
Rich pushed himself off the bench and offered Vinny a hand. Vin grabbed it, and Rich had to throw all his weight back in order to get Vinny off the floor. “You might want to take him up on it. At least the diet part.”
Vinny took his towel from around his neck and snapped it at Rich.
“Christ, Vin. Cut that shit out.”
They all lumbered into the locker room to shower and change and then tossed the ball back and forth between them on the way to DiNicola’s. Rich spun the ball on the top of his finger only to have Mike knock it away. That was the last straw. Mike had been in his face since they hit the courts, playing dirty, trying to push him around, and Rich had pretty much ignored it, until now. Rich took both hands and shoved him, hard. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“You’re my problem.” Mike shoved Rich right back. “I don’t like the way you’re taking advantage of Becca. She’s not just some convenient piece of ass.”
Vinny and Nick stepped in and separated them, which was probably a good thing, since Annabelle would have killed Rich if he’d beaten the shit out of her husband like he wanted to.
Rich half-heartedly tried to shake Vinny off. “You better take that back or so help me, I’ll make you eat your words. I love Becca, you asshole. And you better hope to hell she does
n’t hear you talking shit like that about her.”
The three guys were silent, just staring at Rich open-mouthed.
“What?” He pulled his arm out of Vinny’s beefy grip.
Mike picked up the forgotten ball and tossed it to Rich. “Dude, why didn’t you just say you loved her?”
Rich tossed it back to Mike, a bit harder. “I told her. I didn’t think I had to tell you. Where do you get off? When you were dating Annabelle, I didn’t give you shit after I delivered the hurt-her-and-answer-to-me message. Your Big Brother technique sucks.”
Mike tossed the ball back and shrugged. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry. If it means anything, I’m pulling for you and Becca to work out. I don’t want to have to go through this ever again.” Mike rubbed his chest like he had a bad case of agita. “Fuck, I really hope the baby is a boy. If it’s this bad with my sister, what would it be like with my own daughter?”
Vinny groaned. “It’s hell. The first time Mia looks crossways at a guy, it’s off to the convent with her.”
Rich dribbled the ball. He’d never thought about it with any of his other girlfriends, but the idea that Becca would be with someone else was enough to send bile up the back of his throat. He’d never thought he was the possessive type. He was wrong. Becca was his. He just wished like hell that she knew that. Shit, no wonder he’d always avoided serious relationships. All this bullshit had him questioning why he bothered, then he remembered the way he felt when he wasn’t with her, how he couldn’t stop thinking about her, the great sex, the way Becca looked at him that made him feel like freakin’ superman, how she challenged him, made him laugh, and the way she touched him without realizing it. That’s what made it all worthwhile. At least he hoped to hell it did because if it didn’t work out, he wasn’t sure he could let her go. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, or maybe he was just afraid to. “Christ. Come on, I need a drink.”
Vinny watched his boys toss the ball around just like old times while they made their way to the restaurant. Only back then, he was in much better shape and could take on any one of these bozos. Today, when he had to hold Rich back, he was thankful Rich wasn’t too angry. He really was getting too old for this shit.
Mike seemed to have gotten his head out of his ass about Richie diddlin’ his little sister. And poor Rich looked as if he just got hit upside the head with Cupid’s sledgehammer. Vinny could almost see those cartoon birdies flying circles around his noggin. The poor guy had it bad, and as much as Vinny wished him well, he wasn’t sure about that Becca chick. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. Though, really, how different could she be? Okay, she grew up rich, but she didn’t live that way. Not if she was livin’ with Richie Ronaldi she didn’t.
Vinny opened the back door of the restaurant and took the ball away from Nick and set it on the shelf inside the door.
Nick walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Nino. We’re gonna be in the back room. You want to put together dinner for two for all of us to take home? Make mine a big one. I skipped lunch.”
Nino grimaced. “I suppose you want me to pack up some of my meatballs for that dog of yours too.”
Nick grinned. “You know how much Dave loves his doggie bags.”
Nino tuned on the whole crowd. “All of you, get out’a my kitchen.” He turned his eye on Vinny. “Eh, when you’re off, it’sa my kitchen, so don’t give me no shit.”
Vinny held up his hands. “Did I say anything?”
The four of them headed straight for the bar. Vinny poured beers and set a bottle of Jack Daniels and glasses on the bar tray. “Come on.”
He led the way, sat at his personal table, poured two fingers of Jack into each glass, and passed them around. When he was finished, he raised his glass. “Saluté.”
All the guys raised their glasses. Everyone seemed to have recovered from their game, except maybe Rich, who looked stricken, but Vinny didn’t think it had to do with the game or even with Mike giving him a hard time. He saw hints of a problem from the moment he’d joined them, but now that he wasn’t playing b-ball, he had nothing to distract him from whatever the problem was. “So Richie. How did that big dinner thing go with your dean?”
Rich downed his Jack and chased it with beer before answering. “Great. Becca went with me, and she impressed the hell out of the dean and his wife.”
Vinny sat back and rested his beer on his too-big belly. He should have poured himself a light beer. Too bad he couldn’t stand any of them. “So you got what you were after then. You proved you’re a stable kinda guy, in a serious relationship, and that you’re not gonna end up doing something—what was it you did at Dartmouth? Oh right, you were screwing the dean’s daughter. Yeah, that’s enough to get your ass fired.”
“Hey, I wasn’t fired. I resigned. I wanted to come home.”
Vinny watched Rich cave under the pressure of three sets of knowing eyes.
“It’s true, but I’ll admit that the dean did everything possible to make my life miserable. Still, you don’t need to make it sound as if Darcy was fifteen. How was I supposed to know she was off limits? It’s not like she wore a sign around her neck or anything. She never mentioned who her father was, she didn’t have the same last name, and she certainly didn’t look anything like him.”
Vinny nodded. “I guess it’s an easy mistake to make. So you got it all now, eh? A nice girlfriend you’re in tight with, a stable job. Everything you ever wanted.”
Rich shrugged. “Yeah, yay me.”
Nick rocked back on his chair, and Vinny shot him a look that had all four chair legs hitting the floor in a split second. Nick took a sip of his beer. “What’s the problem?” He checked his watch. “Look, my wife is waiting, so I don’t have all night to listen to you whining before getting down to the issue.”
“I’m not whining. It just doesn’t feel right.”
Mike set his beer down on the table with a thunk. “You having second thoughts about Becca?”
Rich shook his head. “Hell no, I’m having second thoughts about my career. The dean came to me and said he was impressed with my work and with Becca. What should it matter who I’m sleeping with—not that Becca’s not the best thing that ever happened to me. But I’m not a better professor because I’ve got her. I mean, maybe I am. But how would you feel if Annabelle was one of the reasons you got a job?”
Mike nodded. Nick tossed his Jack Daniels back. After exhaling and taking a slug off his beer he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What do you want to do? Frankly, I’ve always been surprised that you’re teaching at the college level. I thought you wanted to teach kids. Kids you can make a difference with. At least that’s what you talked about when we were young.”
“You mean when I wasn’t stripping cars?” He and Nick both laughed even though neither looked as if he were having much fun. Rich shrugged. “I guess I got into psychology looking to do just that, but when I was working as a doctoral candidate, I started covering a few of my professors’ classes and enjoyed teaching. I’m good at it. I don’t actually remember ever thinking, ‘I want to be a college professor.’ I just fell into it.”
Nick rocked back in his chair. “Do you like it?”
Rich shrugged. “I guess. I like teaching, I like the research, I hate the politics, and I wish I was making more of a difference in my students’ lives. But I guess you can’t have everything.”
“Nothing says you have to stay a college professor. You could teach middle or high school, or, with your background in psychology, you could be a school counselor. Hell you could even open a private practice, couldn’t you?”
Rich shrugged again, and Vinny had a feeling there was more to this story.
Nick continued, oblivious to the signs. “I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. You can make a huge difference in kids’ lives, but it doesn’t pay as well or have the same caché as being a professor at an Ivy League university.”
Rich looked into his glass as if he wondered who drank it. “I g
uess. I never considered that.”
Nino came through the swinging double doors carrying four grocery bags filled with food. “Dinner to go. From soup to what they say—nuts? You explain to me who eats nuts? I guess you could put them on your gelato. But still, why not antipasto to dessert?” He set the bags in front of each of them and smacked Nick upside the head. “That’s for feeding that dog of yours my good meatballs.”
“Eh, I pay for them. And you gotta admit, Dave has very discerning taste. He won’t eat anyone else’s meatballs. Only yours, Nino.”
Vinny sat forward. “Nick, cut that shit out, or Nino’s gonna make sure you wear the meatballs home.”
Mike got up first. “I better go feed Annabelle—she’s eating for two, and lately if her blood sugar falls, she gets cranky.”
Nick grabbed his bag, too. “Hmm—Rosalie always gets cranky if her blood sugar goes down. It has nothing to do with the pregnancy. It’s probably just a family trait.”
Nick and Mike took off for home, and Vinny sat watching Rich finish off his beer. “Something else on your mind, Rich?”
“It’s just that Becca met my dean and his wife, and it turns out that Emily Stewart is the head of some art foundation and wants to see Becca’s work.”
Vinny nodded. “Yeah, so that’s good, right?”
“It’s great. This is the first chance Becca’s had to show her work to someone who isn’t swayed by her highbrow family.”
Vinny leaned back and rested the beer on his belly again. Shit, he really did need to lose some weight. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Today the dean told me how much he liked Becca, and I was thinking that’s good, because Becca’s great. But then he said something like her old money and high social standing makes me look better, and with her by my side, I can go far. It shouldn’t matter if Becca’s got a mint full of money or not. It’s not my money. And why should her money make me look better?”