by Liz Talley
“Shit,” he said to no one...because no one was there. Story of his life. “Ah, you’re pathetic. You effed up with Tess. Game over.”
His words echoed in the apartment and as he looked at the Chinese takeout box in his hand, he felt anger wash over him. So he lived in shitty circumstances now, and he’d blown any chance he had with a woman who had made him feel the way he hadn’t felt in years—whole.
But it was a new day. A new beginning. He had a job, a challenge and a daughter who needed him. No time for feeling sorry for himself.
He was Graham Naquin—over-educated, nearer to forty than thirty and possessing all his teeth.
He was in it to win it.
The world was his oyster.
He would kick ass and take names.
Because he refused to be the man who’d raised him. He might have been down, but he wasn’t out.
Graham Naquin was a fighter.
* * *
TESS SIPPED THE lukewarm café au lait and studied Gigi who glowered like a jail warden.
“Draw unemployment,” she said, her red eyebrows drawn together.
“No. I don’t want unemployment. I’m getting another job.” Tess stared at her computer, trying to figure how best to position the experience she had. It was damn hard writing a resume with a single company as your only employer.
“Where?” Gigi pushed her tight red curls off her face and sucked on the straw of her iced tea. Gigi hated coffee but loved Cuppa Joe’s with its bright red couches and black lacquered tables. Soft ’80s rock flowed through the speakers and modern art displayed at irregular angles decked the walls. It had a cool, comfy vibe, so they met here as regularly for Wi-Fi and coffee as they did at Two-Legged Pete’s for drinks with more kick.
“Not sure. I love design work and haven’t been able to do as much of it for the past few years because I’ve been working with clients. Maybe I’ll freelance.”
Gigi snapped her fingers. “Didn’t your father say this dude started a Mardi Gras float company way back when?”
“No, Graham told me the company he interviewed for was something he’d done before.... Wait, uh, maybe he did say he started a company, but I haven’t a clue which one. There are a lot of smaller ones.”
“Give me that,” Gigi said, tugging Tess’s laptop toward her. “Let’s see what we can find on him.”
Tess scooted her chair closer, wondering why she hadn’t already done that. She often used social media to scan the guys she dated, but Graham had said he wasn’t on Facebook.
Gigi typed away like a flame-tipped woodpecker on crack as Tess sipped her coffee and looked around at the world still turning even though hers had crashed that afternoon. How could people still laugh, still make jokes, still flirt across the room? Didn’t her sadness permeate their happy, shiny faces?
“Bingo!” Gigi crowed, sitting back with a smile. “You’re never going to believe this one.”
Tess tipped the computer so she could see the screen. “Holy crap. Upstart?”
“Yeah, that’s crazy, huh?”
Tess reeled with the news. Upstart, run by the effervescent Monique Dryden, had grown to become Frank Ullo’s staunchest competition...and Graham Naquin had been one of the founders?
Gigi started reading. “Monique Dryden started Upstart Floatmakers in 2003 with her partners Graham Naquin and Josh Laborde when the three post-grad students, on a whim, created a sci-fi float for the Krewe of Vader, a satirical sci-fi fantasy krewe started by Jimmie Ray Dietzel. The three friends’ collaboration led to a passionate venture—” Gigi wiggled her eyebrows “—which united a film student, an engineer and an art history graduate in like purpose. Building their floats using high-tech materials, cutting-edge light displays and fuel-efficient design has vaulted the ‘Little Engine That Could’ into the big leagues in float design.”
Gigi stopped reading out loud and skimmed the article, her lips moving as fast as her blue eyes. “Wow, he sold his interest in the company and moved to Houston to work for NASA.”
Tess looked away. She didn’t want to know any more. Something about Graham having a relationship with Monique Dryden made the coffee curdle in her stomach. She’d met Monique many times at fundraisers and the occasional Mardi Gras ball and had found the vivacious brunette to be smart and gorgeous. She’d always made Tess feel a giantess next to her dark, diminutive beauty.
“All this is pretty interesting...almost coincidental,” Gigi said. “You sure he didn’t know who you were? This smells funny.”
“He didn’t. I never gave him my last name, and obviously my father didn’t care to mention his daughter Tess frequents Two-Legged Pete’s and takes home random hot guys. Graham didn’t have any more of a clue than I did. I’m certain about that. Besides, how would it have benefited him? My dad didn’t tell me what was going on.”
Gigi stared out the window at the world moving by in the late afternoon light. “Know what you should do?”
“I’m scared to ask,” Tess joked, trying to forget she was devastated, trying to find what little humor she had left after cleaning out her desk and passing her key to Billie.
“You should talk to Monique Dryden about a job. Bet she would love to sink her teeth into you.” Gigi gave a sharky lawyer grin.
Tess made a face. “That would be...I don’t know...too weird. Plus, it’s doubtful she has an opening.”
“Don’t know until you ask, do you? And how awesome would that be? You’d totally teach your dad and Mr. Fancy Pants Naquin a lesson.”
“But it’s—” Tess rooted around for the right word “—treason. I’ll stick with trying freelance design or something. I can’t work at a rival company.”
“Why not? It’s a job. Your father screwed you, and Graham Naquin literally screwed you. Don’t play the victim. Turn the tables on them.”
Gigi didn’t understand family the way Tess did. Her best friend’s parents had split in a bitter, contested divorce rendering their only daughter a bone to be fought over. Finally after winning joint custody, Gigi’s father moved to California and pretty much forgot about the daughter “he loved beyond himself.” The whole messy affair had left Gigi cynical.
“I’m not you, Gigi. Ullo is part of my family and I can’t hurt my family.”
Gigi just stared at her for a good ten seconds. Censure, and maybe disappointment that Tess wasn’t jumping to get revenge on her father and Graham, clearly visible on her face.
Seriously, how could Tess work for the company that had given Frank Ullo the most competition over the past two years? Sounded too in-your-face for Tess’s taste.
Then again, Gigi wasn’t totally off base. Working for Upstart would be a great way to prove to her father he’d made a colossal mistake, and Tess could prove to herself she could make it in this business without her father’s name. Would it really be so evil?
The hurt, bitter part of her said no. And the tied-to-her-family, devoted part of her screamed yes.
But loyalty to family went both ways, didn’t it?
Her father hadn’t felt compelled to keep it all in the family...so why should she?
Self-doubt gathered inside Tess. What if everything she thought she’d been was a lie? What if she wasn’t as good at designing floats or hustling krewes as she assumed she was? What if everyone else had pulled Tess’s weight, winking at each other over the boss’s daughter’s incompetence? What if she sucked?
Tess glanced at the computer. Hell, she couldn’t even write a resume. What was the difference between freelancing float designs and anchoring a desk at another company? Not much.
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to drop by Upstart with a resume...if I can get the stupid thing finished,” Tess said, gulping the last of her coffee, wishing she didn’t even have to think about resumes, family loyalty or the fact she forgot to grab her
favorite water bottle out of the company fridge. She couldn’t think past the hurt...and Gigi wasn’t helping by planting the seeds of rebellion within her.
Gigi smiled, obviously pleased Tess considered her diabolical plan for revenge. Blood in the water excited her, made her hungry rather than faint. “Bold, ballsy and very Tess-like.”
“What?”
Gigi shrugged. “We’re friends for a reason. You might smile and laugh more than I do, but we both have an innate need for justice, for righting wrong and bringing balance to the world. And we do what it takes.”
Is that what taking a job with another Mardi Gras float builder would be? Righting a wrong? Didn’t feel that way, but Tess did want to prove everything she’d done as an executive in her father’s company wasn’t because she was an Ullo but rather because she was good at it. She trampled the self-doubt and thought about how satisfactory it would be to work for the company Graham had abandoned. There was something deliciously wicked about turning that screw...a sort of a flagrant “suck it, big boy.”
“You’re right. I’m ballsy and I right wrongs. I should have a cape.”
Gigi laughed. “Get a green one. Matches your eyes.”
Tess rolled those green eyes. “Besides, a job is a job, and right now I need one. So I better get this resume finished so I can pound the pavement tomorrow. Hmm...never had to do that before. I’m liking the challenge of having to really earn my way. Is that crazy?”
“No. It’s normal. There are very few people who have a job waiting on them when they graduate from college.” Gigi shoved her glass aside and rummaged through her purse. “Hurry and finish. I want to get to The Columns for happy hour. I need a date for a company party and I want to hit up the after business crowd before they go home to their Labradors.”
“Or wives.”
Gigi pulled a lipstick from her purse and made a face.
The last thing Tess wanted to do was go to a bar, even as nice as The Columns was. She wanted to go home, eat some comfort food, watch Seinfeld re-runs and sulk about the shit sandwich life had handed her. No, not life. Her father and, to a degree, Graham. Okay, in fairness, Graham had only hurt her feelings when he hadn’t called like he said he would...and being awarded her job didn’t help matters. But, hey, she was Gigi’s wingman just like Gigi was for her. Maybe after an hour she could leave. “Fine, but I have to go by FedEx first. No more free copies for me.”
Gigi gave a humorless laugh. “Like the rest of us.”
“Whatever,” Tess said, wondering why her friend saw her as different merely because she’d worked for her family. Did that make her privileged? Lazy? Entitled? She had never thought so because she’d worked hard, but maybe the world thought her life had been too easy. And maybe it had been. Maybe being truly on her own would be good for her.
But her heart told her differently.
She’d loved who she was three days ago. Well, except for Graham’s knock to her ego. But even that she’d gotten over. Mostly. Her life had been gravy...and now it was soured wine.
“Put on lip gloss and brush your hair. Don’t forget you’re available, too. Wouldn’t hurt to find a little something-something to take your mind off tall, dark and deceitful.”
“My mind was never on him,” Tess lied.
Gigi gave her that look, the one that plowed through the bullshit. “You actually used the line ‘I found the one’ after that night with Graham Naquin. He was on your mind.”
“I had forgotten about him until today.” She lied again because it was easier that way.
“Whatever you say, hunny bunny. He’s a job stealer anyway.”
“Technically he didn’t steal my job. According to Papa Dearest it was never mine to begin with.”
“So you say. Still, it’s time to find someone who will make you feel better.”
A man instead of ice cream? It would be better for her thighs, although she didn’t want a man at present. Better to stay home and get her shit together...but there was that whole loyalty thing.
Tess shooed Gigi away. “Go fix your makeup or something. I can’t think while you’re nipping at me. I need to put the finishing touches on this resume before I can go out with you.”
Gigi huffed, but did as suggested, flouncing away, sliding a smile at a cute guy in a Brooks Brothers suit and pink tie. Tess refocused on her resume, wishing it looked a little fuller. But she was who she was.
And who was that?
She’d thought she knew. She’d been beloved daughter, tolerated sister, good friend and devoted VP of operations in the family company...but now?
Tess felt like she’d been dropped into a maze. Every turn presented a barrier. No job. No man. Anger at her father...and Graham. Self-doubt. She’d never had such barriers that required her to backtrack or climb over hurdles to reach her goal.
But Tess knew something about herself—she may have lived a charmed life, but she wasn’t going to lie down and flop about, bemoaning her state. She’d find a new job even if it meant going to the competition. Nothing wrong with a modern woman taking control of her life, leaving conventions behind.
And maybe she’d even get a new man...or not.
All she did know was that Graham needed to be a memory, and Frank Ullo needed to learn his daughter wasn’t a doormat.
Plugging the flash drive into the computer, Tess downloaded her resume and renewed her determination to prove to the world she could kick ass and take names.
Tess Ullo was a fighter.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRAHAM PULLED UP to the curb in front of the house in which he’d once lived. Looked the same. Felt different.
The Orleans brick with the intentional plaster smears and the beige stucco had once seemed so modern, so very much “them.” But now it looked pretty much like what it was—a new townhouse in a decent area of Metairie, crowded in like the others. Pansies lined the sidewalk. Graham only knew they were pansies because he’d planted the same flowers in that spot years ago. He wondered if Josh planted them now.
The door opened and Emily flew outside, dark pigtails flying, smile as wide as sunshine.
“Daddy!” she screamed, her sneakers slapping against the sidewalk.
Graham scooped her up, squeezing tight. Two chubby arms curled around him. “Hey, pumpkin. Jeez, you’ve grown a foot since I last saw you.”
Emily tilted her head and grinned, one tooth missing. “I’ve been taking vitamins.”
“Oh? That’s the reason?” He gave his daughter one last squeeze and lifted his head to see Monique approaching. “Hey.”
She gave him a cool smile...as always. “Hey. As you can see she’s beyond ready for dinner with Daddy Graham.”
Daddy Graham?
“Yeah,” Emily said, waving a five-dollar bill. “Daddy Josh gave me some money for the arcade. I’m gonna play skee ball.”
“Daddy Josh?”
Monique brushed manicured fingernails across an imaginary horizon. “That’s what Em calls Josh. Easier that way.”
“Really?” Graham said, eyeing his former fiancée, wondering whether this new term had come from ease or a vindictive way to twist a fork in Graham. Monique enjoyed creating drama. It’s what made her brilliant as an artist...and nearly impossible for Graham to live with.
She lifted a shoulder and gave him a half smile. “For Emily.”
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked, her forehead crinkling as she glanced at him. Her brown eyes looked worried even as her rounded cheeks were flushed with excitement.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Graham said, giving Monique the “we’ll talk about this later” look. “Let’s get going.”
“I don’t have to sit in a booster anymore,” Emily said, eyeing the sedan Ullo had delivered to him that morning. “I’m big now.”
Emily h
ad grown in the past four months. She’d always been such a tiny girl with brown velvet hair and fluffy fairy skirts. As a mature seven-year-old, she wore a T-shirt with silvery looking stuff on it and trendy teenager-looking jeans. Her sneakers had sequins on them, and the hair bow was noticeably absent. A small glittery purse hung at her side.
But he had no idea if she needed a booster seat or not—another mark against him as a father. He’d never thought to check that kind of stuff. Monique had always handed him the car seat or the diaper bag or the medicine. He didn’t even know the pediatrician’s name anymore.
This was why he’d had to come back to New Orleans.
This was why he’d had to ignore the ignoble feeling within him when he’d found out about Tess yesterday and make himself indispensable to Frank Ullo and his company.
“So you’re the new Frank Ullo, huh? Never even crossed my mind something like this could happen,” Monique said, eyeing the Toyota Avalon before lifting her gaze to him. “Highly ironic you’re working for my competition. It’s almost Machiavellian.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” he said, opening the rear door. Emily climbed in, looking around the leather interior, poking at buttons. “I told you as much when we talked last month. It’s a perfect opportunity for me, doing something I’m good at. It puts me back in New Orleans. Back in Emily’s life as her father. Her only father.”
Monique narrowed her dark eyes. “Feels like you’re punishing me. Upstart was yours, too, at one time, and you’re making this personal when it’s not. You’ll take food from the mouth of your child, merely so you can look good.”
“You really believe everything is about you, don’t you, Monique?” The dislike he had for Monique would forever overshadow the passion they’d shared. She always held a piece of herself back, setting barriers she protected with a crushing disregard for others. She was a faucet, hot or cold, but never both together.