by Jayna King
“Mom, sounds like you’ve really come up in the world. I remember when Christmas meant a special trip to Denny’s for breakfast. We were too broke for presents most years.” I wasn’t going to point out that Mom had always had money for alcohol and cigarettes.
Mom stood up straighter and looked from me to Tatum and back again. “Donald and I take care of one another. He likes being able to provide for me, and I am a huge help supporting him in his…” She paused. “Well, I’ll let him share the big news. Tatum, sweetheart, since you don’t want to unpack, let’s go have your father make us a drink, what do you say?”
“Drink? Yes.” She looked at me. “I’ll be down in a second. Tell Dad to make me whatever you’re having.”
She followed me down the hall to my room, and I closed the door behind us.
“This could be a long week.” I said, reaching out a hand to her.
She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her body against mine. “It’ll be okay. We’re in a beautiful place, Tina and Dad have picked out a ridiculously expensive restaurant to take us to tonight, and at the end of the night, I’ll be crawling in bed with you.”
I kissed her. “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. One, I want you naked when you crawl in bed, and two, I want that drink. Let’s head downstairs and get this over with.”
“Deal. And me too.” She pulled away and walked to the door. “I want to get my presents to put under the tree. I’ll be down in a sec.”
“You brought presents? Wow, I didn’t even think about that,” I said, watching her to see how she’d react.
“If that’s true, you still have one day to shop, motherfucker.”
I shook my head. “The Baby Jesus would be horrified at that mouth, Tatum. You better take that back or Santa Claus will skip this house altogether.”
“All I’m saying is that you better be planning on playing Santa Claus this year.”
Thinking about the sparkling present in the little square box, I knew Tatum wouldn’t be disappointed. As I walked down the stairs, I knew I needed to find a time to tell Tatum the truth about my father. I didn’t want to spoil the holiday, though. Maybe I’d wait until we got back home, when she didn’t have the stress of Donald and Tina to deal with. Mind made up, I crossed toward the bar. I’d tell Tatum as soon as we got back to Vegas. It was settled.
This week would be ours to enjoy.
13 -- Tatum
I was pretty sure Reed had been kidding about not having brought any presents, but in any case, I was excited about Christmas morning—more excited than I’d been in years. Since Garrett wasn’t charging me rent, and since I hadn’t taken the plunge and gotten the new car yet, I had plenty of money to spend on presents, and I was quite pleased with my choices.
I’d bought a suitably impressive watch for my father, the only man who loved jewelry more than the women I knew. Tina’s watch was daintier, but studded with just a few glittering diamonds. Reed had been tough to shop for, though. He had plenty of money, and he certainly didn’t need anything I’d buy him. I’d decided on an experience, and since I couldn’t very well go ahead and buy plane tickets and make hotel reservations, I’d written up an IOU for flights to New York, admission to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Modern Art, as well as a stay at a cool boutique hotel near Central Park. I figured that with his interest in art, he’d enjoy the museums, but I seriously doubted that a tough guy would have made the trek to New York unprompted. I envisioned a romantic getaway for the two of us—perfect.
I carried my presents downstairs and added them to the ridiculously large pile under the tree already. It occurred to me that Reed and I absolutely had to explain the truth about our relationship before we opened presents, since a trip to New York was definitely not the sort of thing you’d get your stepbrother.
“We decided to start with champagne to celebrate your arrival,” Tina said, handing me a flute.
My father raised his glass. “To new beginnings and to people to share them with,” he said.
We all clinked glasses, and I headed over to the huge stone fireplace, taking a seat on the edge of the hearth. I was waiting. I could feel my father’s impending announcement, and I looked over at Reed. He joined me at the fireplace and sat at the opposite end of the hearth, just close enough that he could speak without being overheard by our parents.
“Should we let him go first?”
I nodded, and he smiled at me, reaching out to clink my glass with his a second time. “It’ll be okay, Tatum.”
Dad, as if he were posing for a photograph, turned to face us, put his arm around Tina’s waist, and took a deep breath. “Tina and I thought this would be the perfect time to make an important announcement. Tatum, you know I’d promised to stay out of politics.” He didn’t bother to wait for me to confirm what he’d said. “But there are times when a public servant must listen to the demands of his community. I have decided to run for mayor of our great city. I look forward to the support that Tina and I will get from both of our children. We’ll run as a family, and we will win as a family.”
I wanted to laugh and throw up, all at the same time. My father didn’t mean a single word of what he’d said. He was running because he craved the attention, and he didn’t care who got in his way. “Congratulations, Dad,” I said, proud for keeping my voice even and unemotional. “What a surprise.”
Tina looked at me, eyes slightly narrowed. “Tatum, I’m sure you can understand what a hard decision this was for your father to make. He hasn’t always had the full support of his family in the past, but he certainly needs it now. We have to put our personal feelings aside to do what’s best for the community.”
Oh my God, she was drinking Donald’s Kool-Aid. I realized that none of my objections would matter in the slightest, so I decided just to lie through my teeth. I could vent to Reed later. “Tina, Dad, I couldn’t be happier. I’m sure Las Vegas will get the mayor they deserve.”
Reed stood up and shook my father’s hand. “Congratulations, Donald.”
Dad nodded and looked at Reed. “It’ll be very important that both of you keep your noses clean. Any … problems … will be magnified in the press and could reflect poorly on me.”
I knew Dad wasn’t talking about me, and while I could hold my tongue when it came to my own shit, when he turned his holier-than-thou bullshit on Reed, I couldn’t hold back. “Well, Dad, I’d think it’ll be a great asset to have such a successful business owner in the family. Maybe Reed can even run a promotion—free tattoos for every bribe?”
The room went silent, and it felt like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees.
“Tatum, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, young lady.” My father took a deep breath. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to work together to make a better Las Vegas.”
I was trapped in a political advertisement.
Tina turned and picked up the champagne bottle, topping off glasses. She didn’t make eye contact with me, and I could feel her anger simmering beneath the surface. She was doing a pretty good job of being an unflappable politician’s wife, though.
Reed sat down right next to me on the hearth, and he leaned into me, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. “Ready?” he said under his breath.
I shook my head, replying in a whisper. “Not now. Let’s wait until after dinner. Let things cool down a little.”
He pulled his arm back and scooted a few inches away. “Whatever you say. It’ll be okay, Tatum.”
I felt better just having him next to me. “So where are we having dinner?” I asked, switching the subject to a neutral topic.
Donald looked at Tina, waiting for her to answer, but she turned and left the room, clearly not ready to make nice yet.
“Tina made all the arrangements. I think we’re at a French place tonight.”
“Do we need to dress up?” I asked, hoping for a respite to calm myself down.
Tina came back in the
room. “We were going to dine at Mirabelle, but they’re closed. We’ll be at Le Bistro this evening.” She had come back remarkably composed. She looked me up and down. “And I suggest you change into something a little more appropriate. Both of you.”
I shivered, even though I was sitting by the fire. So that was how it was going to be. I stood up, perfectly capable of being as hoity-toity as she. “I shall retire to don something more appropriate.” I drained my flute, refilled it from the bottle, and went upstairs without another word.
I was staring out the window in my room, looking at the ring of lights surrounding the expanse of the lake, when I heard a quiet knock at my door. “That better be you, Reed.”
The door opened. “I managed to snag another bottle of champagne.”
“God, has your mother always been so awful?”
He shut the door and crossed toward me. “She’s always been awful. This is just a new sort of awful. When I was growing up, she’d have been drunk, high, or gone. It’s like she’s put on a new personality along with her expensive clothes.”
“I probably shouldn’t have said what I did, but he was implying that you’re somehow going to generate bad publicity for him. Last I checked, you aren’t the one who did time in prison.”
“No,” he laughed. “I was arrested a couple of times, but your dad has me beat in that department.” Reed wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me back against his warm body. “Tatum, it’s going to be okay.”
I sighed, feeling myself relax a little in his arms. “I know. If you weren’t here, I’d get in the car and leave this minute.”
“We can go if you want.”
“No. I’m not going to let our parents ruin the holiday. Dad’s going to do what he’s going to do. I can’t control him or Tina, but I can rise above it. I’m going to put on a pretty dress, drink as much champagne as possible, and watch their faces when you tell them we’re together. That, and the fact that I get to fuck you again later, should make me feel better.”
Reed laughed. “In bed, naked, right? That’s the deal.”
“Absolutely.” I kissed him. “Now get out of my room. I’m going to get gorgeous, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“You going to wear underwear?” Reed asked, refilling his glass and leaving the bottle on the nightstand.
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” I answered with a smile.
Roughly half an hour and another glass of bubbly later, I fastened the ankle strap on my only pair of Jimmy Choos, stood up, and looked in the mirror. Since New Year’s Eve was still a week away, I figured I could shop for another dress to wear. Tonight I needed to look amazing. The black knit dress I wore revealed more than it concealed. It was snug in all the right places, and the muted shimmer of the fabric highlighted my curves in a way that was impossible to miss. Well above mid-thigh, the dress showed off every hour of hard work I’d put in at the gym. Even Garrett had been unable to find fault when I tried it on for him.
I’d teased the crown of my hair and pulled it back into a low ponytail, the sleek look a perfect fit for the dress. Tiny diamond studs made the outfit perfect. Gorgeous, festive, and very, very sexy.
As I walked down the stairs, I took my time, knowing that my legs looked fantastic. A low whistle came from the fireplace, and I looked over to see Reed, naked desire on his face.
“You like?” I asked.
“Goddamn, girl,” he said shaking his head. “You don’t clean up too bad.”
I looked him over. He wore fitted black pants, a white button-down, and a tailored, dark gray vest. He looked polished and badass all at the same time. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Tina and Dad started down the steps, so I refrained from describing what I wanted to do to Reed when we got home.
Dad looked at us. “You look nice. Hungry?”
I looked sideways at Reed. “Starving.”
I would rather have sat up front with Reed, but since my dad had claimed the passenger seat, I waited for Reed to open the back seat car door, first for his mother, and then for me. His hand at the small of my back gave me chills.
“You better be careful in those heels, Tatum. I wouldn’t want to end up having to carry you,” he said, and I was flooded with the memory of my legs wrapped around him as he carried me to his bedroom.
Tina stayed far over on her side of the car, and I felt no desire to cozy up to her, either. My dad dominated the discussion on the ride to the restaurant, regaling us with the boring details of how he’d taught his broker a thing or two when he recommended some significant alteration to the way his portfolio was being managed. I didn’t care, and I tuned him out. Poor Reed just let him ramble, knowing better than to try to enter the discussion. Tina interjected a few comments about how they were going to use the extra money to fund charitable work. She was really taking the whole philanthropist thing a little too far. If she really gave a shit, she wouldn’t be wearing Christian Louboutins, I thought, looking at the tell-tale bright red soles of her shoes. At least my Jimmy Choos had been on sale.
We turned onto Country Club Drive, and right away, I could tell some big event was going on. The streets were lit up bright as day, and the line of limousines outside the Hyatt Regency meant some big gala must be in full swing. It took us nearly twenty minutes to go just a few feet to get to Le Bistro, across the street from the Hyatt. Reed pulled up near the burgundy-colored awning, prepared to drop us off and go park, but a harried valet attendant came to the door. Reed took the cash my father handed him—as if Reed wouldn’t have known to tip the valet—and we headed inside.
“Did you make reservations?” I asked Tina as Reed held the door for us.
“Oh, yes,” she said, evidently having decided to be pleasant. “Brooke handled it. She went to school with the sous chef here, and she managed to get us in.”
Barely able to make it in the door because of the crowd, we were immediately whisked away to a perfect table for four. We were in the corner—out of the way, but able to see the entire room.
The service was good, but it was obvious the staff was overwhelmed.
Though most of the patrons were elegantly dressed, a large group next to us wore jeans and T-shirts and was working on a hefty bar tab if the empty bottles and glasses were any indication. One of the young women reached into her bag and pulled out a big digital camera. She took off the telephoto lens, set it on the table, and started showing the pictures she’d taken to the guy sitting next to her. All things considered, they weren’t the best of neighbors, and by the time our third course arrived, most of people in the large group were decidedly drunk.
“Reporters, I’m guessing,” I said with disdain. “Must have been covering the event at the Hyatt. Poor people can’t even go to a party without someone shoving a camera in their face.”
Dad gave me a disapproving glare, and I felt Reed’s hand on my thigh.
“Sorry,” I said, not really meaning it but resolving to keep the peace.
Dad had finally asked about my job, and I was telling Tina and him about the work I’d been doing, when I realized half of the people at the table next to ours were staring at us. Or rather, staring at Reed. I tried to ignore it, as the person who seemed the most interested was the young woman sitting closest to us. I figured she thought he was hot—and she was right.
I resumed my description of the office and my work, when I realized more of the reporters were staring, and the interest had spread to a couple of the other tables. Something was going on. I wondered if maybe my father had already announced his candidacy and I’d just been too busy to see it in the local news.
But that shouldn’t matter in Tahoe. Why would the people here care if Dad was running for mayor of Las Vegas? And why were people staring at Reed? I shook my head, perplexed, as the woman with the camera leaned over toward Reed.
She held out a newspaper the size of a tabloid. “That’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, handing him the paper.
Reed looked
at it, eyes wide. He glanced my way, and I could tell immediately that something was very wrong. “Please,” he said to her. “My family is just trying to have a holiday meal. Please leave us in peace.”
“I knew it,” the woman said. “It is him. That’s Reed Randolph, Gordon Gentry’s son.” She sounded triumphant, and before I knew what was happening, our corner of the restaurant was illuminated by camera flashes.
Hand in front of my face, blinded by the lights from the cameras, I looked at Reed, unable to summon the words to ask what was going on.
He held up his hands, as if he could ward off the attention. “Tatum, I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry.”
Disbelief flooded my body. “What? Is it true?” I stood up, looking around the room, seeing customers reaching for their phones, reporters making calls, before looking back to study the face of the man I’d been falling in love with. “How could you do this, Reed? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I felt like I wanted to cry, scream, and punch someone—all at the same time. I left the table, feeling the tears about to spill from my eyes, knowing I was about to be photographed having a meltdown, knowing my picture would appear on websites and tabloid covers the minute people knew Reed and I were romantically involved. The only thing that would improve the story of a long-lost son of a famous rock star was for the son to be sleeping with his stepsister.
Running for the ladies’ room, I made it into a stall before I burst into tears. Eyes still adjusting after the camera flashes, I was flooded by flashbacks of reporters with cameras in my face when I was sixteen. I felt like I was having a panic attack. I struggled to slow my breathing, knowing the chaos that awaited me outside the bathroom. Certain there was no easy way out for me, I paced in the little stall … two steps, turn, two steps.
“Calm down,” I whispered. “Calm down. You can figure this out. You’re going to find someone to get you out of here—out a back door or the kitchen or something. You can do this.”