“I don’t have any plans this evening, so I wasn’t in any hurry,” I tell her. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”
“I heard Jonathan Best flew in to see you this afternoon. How did he know you were at the Lakes Spa?”
“He texted and asked what I was doing. I certainly didn’t invite him. I thought he was in Las Vegas. But he showed up about five minutes after I told him.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t think he flew in just to see me, Mother.”
“He showed up at the Lakes Spa without an appointment and talked to you and Alex. Are you planning on eloping in Las Vegas? Are you going to destroy all the work I’ve done to position you in our community?”
I’m relieved to realize she believes Jonnie wants me to have the wedding at his hotel. It hasn’t occurred to her that he would be pursuing me. Of course it hasn’t.
I shake my head. “No, I’ve told you a big wedding isn’t what I want. And an elopement isn’t even what I want. I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t want any of this, but you’ve made it clear you don’t care. So I guess we’re all planned for next month. You and the wedding planner have done everything. All I have to do is show up and shut up.”
I try to walk past her to the kitchen and find myself some sort of dinner, but she steps in front of me. “I don’t like it when you talk that way.”
“What do you want from me, Mother? Neither Alex or I want this wedding. You and Herbert have just made it impossible to do anything else.”
I give up trying to get to the kitchen and instead head up the grand staircase to go to my room.
“You will go through this. Do you understand me?”
When I turn back to look at her, she’s seething. It’s like she’s sprouted devil horns. Her face is beet red. “We’ll lose everything if you start thinking with your...” She points at my waist. “Your vagina and not your head.”
I want to laugh. I’ve never heard my mother utter the word vagina before. She’s over the edge, and I can’t help but push her a little more.
“No, I don’t understand at all,” I tell her. “I don’t understand why I have to give up my personal life for a business. Stevie is planning to marry Genevieve. Why not make him do this? Or better yet, why not find another way? No one should have to do this!”
I storm up the stairs, and she yells after me. “Stevie is not going to marry Genevieve. I promise you that. She’s white trash, and I will not allow that in our family. I don’t care who you sleep with on the side, but you will marry Alex.”
“Are you drunk?” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Genevieve is beautiful and kind. Not ugly like you!”
“Mark my words, he will marry Mary Elizabeth Fairchild.”
“I hate you!” I yell, slamming the door to my bedroom. I’m almost thirty-one years old, and I’m behaving like a child, but that woman makes me so angry.
I dump my purse and bag on my bed and kick my shoes off into the corner. I’ll pick those up later. I fall face first onto my bed.
My cell phone rings. I glance at the caller ID and am perversely disappointed it isn’t Jonnie. Instead it’s Alex calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey. My father confronted me about Jonathan being at the Lakes. Does your mom know?”
“Yes. She was at the door waiting for me when I walked in. She wanted to make sure we weren’t going to elope in Vegas like Christopher. If she knew the real reason he came to see me, she’d blow a gasket.”
“Did you at least have sex with him?”
“No!”
Alex is quiet. Too quiet.
“Alex, what did your dad say?”
He expels a big breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is shaky. “He knows about Charles and told me I’m not allowed to see him. He told me after we marry, I can sleep with other women, but I can’t sleep with any men.”
“I’m sorry.” This could ruin Alex’s personal life as well, it seems. Maybe now he’ll see my perspective and be willing to scrap the whole thing. “Maybe we need a different plan—one that allows you to see Charles and keep your inheritance. Maybe we don’t get married. It’s a risk, but honestly, what can they do? They’re not about to just let the companies go, right?”
He sighs. “I hate this,” he finally says. “But you know that won’t work. You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I know you deserve better than being married to me. You deserve somebody who wants that stinky smelly fish.”
I laugh halfheartedly because I know he’s trying to cheer me up, but I’m still not sure he’s taking my perspective seriously.
“If I had any other option, I’d take it,” he says with a sigh. “But you know I don’t.”
He sounds resigned, but now that we’re getting down to the wire, I’m not sure what they can do to make us. I can’t see my mother with a shotgun…
“We could both refuse to do this. We could sit down with an attorney and work through how the company would be structured after the merger to make them more comfortable with us not marrying.”
I hear glasses clink and liquid splashing. Alex is going to get drunk and go on a bender. That will really improve things.
“Please don’t drink,” I say softly.
“The love of my life is going to move on to another guy, and I’m going to be screwed,” he whines.
I could say the same thing, but despite what Alex says, he’s too focused on Charles and his financial situation to care about me.
I blow out a breath. “Alex, you know I love you right?”
“And I love you, too.” He sniffles.
“We’re going to figure this out,” I tell him.
We talk a short time longer, and when we hang up, I know I need to talk to Jonnie about what happened today and apologize. I want to help him understand my situation. After what happened today, though, I’m not sure that’s still an option. I text him.
Me: I’m sorry.
No rotating bubbles.
No phone call.
No response.
Chapter 13
Jonathan
After my confrontation with Maggie at the spa, I am shaking with anger. But more than that, despair washes over me. I know she cares about me—I can see it in her eyes—but if she’s not willing to fight for us, what can I do?
I know it will ground me to be around people who want me around, so I’m glad to be on the way to my parents’ house. I grew up with everything I could have wanted and then some. My father has retired now, but he was the chief legal officer for a large national bank headquartered here in Minneapolis. He worked hard and made good money for many years.
My mother stayed at home. She was in the Junior League, ran the PTA at my school, and came to every sports game and fundraiser I had. My younger sister has Down syndrome and is the center of my parents’ universe, even though she lives independently in a group home now. But I’m the apple of their eye.
As we pull up to my childhood home, I know I don’t get back here often enough. I make a point of talking to my family on Friday evenings, and we see each other once a quarter—that is, when they’re not exploring the globe. Last year they visited India and enjoyed the Taj Mahal and saw the Northern Lights from Iceland. This year they’re heading south to a Costa Rican sloth sanctuary and will jet over to New Zealand for wine tasting.
I have a key, though I didn’t bring it. But when I try the front door, it opens easily. “Hello? Is anybody home?” I call.
My mother steps out from the kitchen, looking like 1955 in a dress with an apron. She must have been doing dishes because she begins to dry her hands.
“Oh, my goodness. Is that you? What brings you home?”
“Unfortunately, I’m not here for very long, Mom, but I thought I’d stop and say hello. I wasn’t sure if my schedule was going to give me time to come by, so I thought it would be better to surprise you than have to cancel if I couldn’t make it.”
She pulls me into a warm embrace, and
I can feel my anger and frustration ebbing away—at least for the moment. My mother is the best. She was the first woman I loved, and I know she loves me regardless of anything I could ever do wrong.
“Jim! Jim, look who’s here,” she calls. “Come quick!”
The squeak of the footrest folding into the recliner sounds from the TV room, and my father appears. Mom still hasn’t let me go.
“Well, look who’s decided to come on home,” my father says.
My mom holds my hand as he steps in and hugs me. “Great to see you, son.”
We move as a group to the living room, and I take a seat with my mother next to me, still holding my hand tightly, as if I’m going to evaporate.
My father sits across from the dark marble coffee table with a goofy grin. “What have you been up to?”
“Shangri-la stuff mostly. We’ve managed to get rid of the big kinks, but a few small ones remain. I think we have you down to come check it out yourself next month?”
He nods enthusiastically. “We’re looking forward to it. Can’t wait.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “I have a feeling I’m going to be lucky on this trip.”
I smile. “I bet you are, Dad. I think we set up a couple of shows, and of course, we’ll give you some time to play cards. You looking to play Texas Hold’em or blackjack?”
“Seven-card stud. I’ve been practicing on an app on my iPad.”
I chuckle, he’s an odds guy, and I’ll bet he does well. “Can’t wait to see that.”
My mother rolls her eyes. “I’m taking the bank cards with me when I go shopping. At least if I go crazy, we’ll have some nice things to show for it.”
“I’m not going to go too crazy,” he grumbles good-naturedly. “I’m looking forward to taking you to the cleaners, though, son.”
I laugh.
“I would love a big windfall.” My mom giggles, making eyes at my father. “If anybody deserves it, you do.”
I love that after more than thirty-nine years of marriage, they’re still in love.
“What brought you home?” Mom asks.
“I had a little bit of business here. Just a quick trip.”
“Can I fix you a snack? Make you some dinner?”
I glance at my watch… It’s early evening. The flight home is just over two hours, so I can head home tonight.
“I can give you a couple of hours. We can do dinner. I’m fine with eating here, or I’m happy to take you out. I have a car out front if you’d like to go somewhere.”
She waves at me as if she always has enough dinner made in case I come by. “No,” she says. “I want to spend this time looking at my beautiful son. God, you’re more and more handsome each time I see you. What’s going on with you and all the girls?” She wiggles her eyebrows, and I roll my eyes.
“No girls in my life to speak of,” I assure her.
I can’t bring myself to tell my parents about Maggie.
My parents went through hell when Christopher essentially moved in with us during high school and his emancipation. Maggie’s mother made sure my parents were miserable. She had Child Protective Services accusing them of not taking good enough care of my sister. They tried to get my father fired from the bank and accused him of malfeasance in the press. She also did a real number on my mom with their friends.
My parents knew Christopher’s parents would be upset by his actions, but I think if they’d known everything that was coming, they would have done things differently. I can’t open that can of worms again. Maggie and I need to keep our parents out of this. They’d understand why I’m not telling them.
My dad chuckles. “You always were a ladies man.”
There’s no getting anything past my dad. I remember in ninth grade I snuck Jenny Malone into the basement, where we watched television and made out for hours. I didn’t hear my dad come home, but he walked down to tell me dinner was ready and stood there to walk Jenny out. He didn’t say anything to me or my mother about it.
“Even in preschool, you would complain that the girls wanted to kiss you all the time,” my mother brags.
“Yes, and I remember I got engaged to three girls when I was in kindergarten,” I reminisce.
“Oh gosh, yes. You explained you’d have to have three jobs to support them, and your dad and I both agreed, but we weren’t sure even three jobs would cover expenses for the girls you were planning to marry.”
We laugh together, and they tell me what’s going on with their friends and catch me up on all the local gossip.
Over a spaghetti dinner, Mom asks, “How is Christopher doing?”
“He’s busy. I think he and Bella are trying really hard to have a baby.”
“The practice part is fun,” my father muses and winks at my mom.
I’m a little grossed out, but I smile.
“They better not get too stressed about it, or it might get harder,” he adds.
“They’re busy with work in San Francisco,” I continue. “Though I got to see them for a poker tournament earlier this week. I wish I could talk them into coming to Las Vegas more often.”
“They’re newlyweds. I would hope they’re spending lots of time together,” my mother says.
“I think they make their relationship a priority, but Bella has her own company and is completing her dissertation this spring. Christopher is still investing, and he’s interested in my software. He wants to connect me with his partners.”
“Is that what you want?” my dad asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. But eventually, my focus will need to be on the software or the resort.”
My mom pats my hand. “You’ll know what you need to do when the time is right.”
I tell them all about the buy-in at the big poker tournament Christopher participated in and how he lost during the first round.
“I imagine you were quite the player, since you own the casino and all.” My dad winks.
I shake my head, chasing the last of my sauce with some bread. “That game was too rich for my blood. I know better than to gamble with a group that’s way smarter than me and spends their whole lives strategizing.”
“You could have knocked their socks off,” my father insists.
As we clean up the kitchen, I think again about Maggie and how lucky I am to have such a loving and supportive family.
I miss them so much, but I need to go.
I begin gathering my things. “I guess I should get going. I have the hotel’s plane, and they’re going to need it back.”
We say our goodbyes. “See you in a few weeks.” My mother gives me several hugs, and as I walk out the door, she whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, the right woman is out there for you. You’re too good of a catch for one not to find you.”
My mom must have figured out that I came because of a woman. She’s so smart. I smile. “Thanks, Mom. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
******
On the flight back, I start going through my email, though I struggle to pay attention. There’s so much going on back in Vegas. I have a very capable management team, but some things still seem to fall to me since I don’t have an assistant manager yet.
As soon as we hit the tarmac, and I turn my phone on, and it rings.
“Hello?”
“Welcome home, Mr. Best,” Kian greets me.
“Thank you. It’s late, so I’ll just be heading back to my apartment.”
“Yes, sir. When we arrive, I’ll let the night manager on duty know you’re back on property.”
“Thank you.”
The hotel limo is sitting at the base of the stairs as Caden and I exit the plane, and I’m back in the hotel less than twenty minutes after wheels down. Not bad. I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. I have a decent bottle of bourbon waiting for me in my apartment that I’m sure is calling my name.
As I walk through the hotel lobby, a woman approaches me. Her hair is a mess, and she looks like she’s been crying. “Excuse me, aren
’t you Mr. Best?”
My bodyguard, Caden, moves between us.
She steps back. “I’m sorry. I just need some help.”
I step around the bodyguard. “What can I do for you?”
“My room was ransacked, and my boyfriend is missing.” She begins to cry.
“Please call Travis in security,” I tell Caden.
He nods and steps away.
“I went to the Cirque show with my mother,” the woman explains. “My boyfriend wasn’t interested and wanted to play some blackjack. When I returned to my room after the show, it had been turned upside down, and my jewelry pouch on the nightstand was missing. I called his cellphone, but it rang in the room. I don’t know what to do.” Tears stream down her face.
Travis and another member of the security team arrive to take over the conversation. I’ll let them figure out if we need to call the police, so after a few more minutes, I extricate myself. It’s already midnight. I hear them tell her they’ll accompany her to her room to check out what’s going on and that the police are on their way.
Chances are, her boyfriend decided to go gambling and fell on what he saw as a hot streak—or cold streak that he’s sure is going to become a hot streak—and he’s been gambling all night. God forbid he took her jewelry pouch and sold the contents for cash. That does happen, though. It’s one of the ugly sides of gambling.
When I arrive at my apartment, I’m ready to crash. I’ve been up since five this morning. I left here thinking I might spend time with Maggie for a few days, and now I’m alone again. I kick myself for thinking it was going to be at all easy to change her mind. I need a new strategy.
I pour myself a drink and sit in the dark, looking out over the desert. The blackness is a backdrop to the city lights.
My mind jockeys, moving through each thing I did wrong—not telling her how I felt years ago, not telling her how I felt last fall when we were together, getting upset with her and not her situation, and leaving without resolving anything.
My phone chirps, breaking me out of the spinning in my head. It’s the head of my maintenance department. “Sorry to bother you, sir.”
House of Cards (Tech Billionaires) Page 10