Mia Like Crazy

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Mia Like Crazy Page 2

by Cordoba, Nina


  So, he stood to inherit a fortune, but was too lazy to learn the first thing about his father’s lucrative business interests? I was disgusted by his lack of appreciation for the empire being handed to him on a silver platter. I was also sure that if my father had been Herbert Vaughn, even as a child, I would have been at his knee, pestering him with questions.

  I shuffled through the documents, noting that Larson stood a good distance away, staring out the window. “So your dad never taught you anything about his business interests?”

  “My ‘dad’? You mean Pops, my old man, Daddy Dearest?”

  “Uh-huh,” I murmured, pretending to be too distracted to notice the adamant tone in his voice. I continued to glance over the will. “You weren’t very close, then?”

  “Are you asking as a lawyer, or as a shrink? Because the last ambulance chaser I had started getting his job mixed up.”

  “Well, if you don’t think it’s pertinent—”

  “Oh, it’s pertinent all right. It’s also about four of those made-for-TV movies rolled into one.” As he spoke, he began pacing the length of the room. “My biological ‘dad,’ as you call him—the illustrious Herbert Vaughn—had an affair with a pathetic, lonely housewife with a real creep for a husband. She got knocked up, but Vaughn preferred to pretend it never happened, leaving his bastard kid in the care of his lover and her husband Jack Larson, who I like to call ‘Satan.’ She got more unstable after she found out the baby wasn’t going to make Vaughn save her from her husband and marry her.”

  Larson looked down, seemingly distracted by a tiny speck of something on his otherwise immaculate, black shoe. His voice dropped to a murmur. “She killed herself when I was seven.”

  Okay, so his blandness on the phone the day before had been misleading. He had plenty of emotions. Unfortunately, they were all negative.

  The attitude made a lot more sense now, but this was starting to seem more like a “session” than a meeting, and I felt immensely under-qualified. Besides, I wasn’t sure he still knew I was in the room.

  But he propped his foot on a chair, flicked off the offending piece of fuzz, and started talking again.

  “Satan knew I wasn’t his kid, but he didn’t want to risk the humiliation of the truth.” He projected his voice like he was in the middle of a stage performance. “Instead, he decided to make my life a living hell while pretending to be my father. So, I guess you know what that makes me?”

  He paused as though expecting an answer, but didn’t look at me. Instead, he straightened the painting that hung several yards away on the living room wall. I got the feeling this was his version of a pop quiz.

  “The son of Satan?” I answered skeptically.

  Was I on Candid Camera? This guy seemed to be taking his act from some gothic novel. In his black clothes, averting his eyes as he did most of the time, I was starting to feel like I’d stepped into a nouveau version of Phantom of the Opera.

  I’d always prided myself on my ability to read people and, although I believed the facts he’d given, something in his manner didn’t ring true. He wanted me to find him distant, rude…scary?

  I thought about the boys in my old neighborhood who managed to fake tough guy personas pretty well when they needed to. But that was self-preservation. Why would Drew Larson need the act here? He was tall, rich, and good looking.

  He stared out the window as if it were some portal into his past life. I suspected he was in danger of falling through it permanently. It disturbed me that I had an inkling of how he felt, and I had the urge to reach out and pull him back into the present.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I’m sorry about the whole father-Satan thing.” The statement sounded ridiculous to my own ears after I said it. “If you thought you were Jack Larson’s son, how did you end up an heir to the Herbert Vaughn fortune?”

  “I don’t know. The old creep didn’t give a rat’s ass about me all those years, but put me in his will. It was a surprise to my half-sister Meridith too. She took it well, though, considering she’s only inheriting about ninety million instead of a hundred-eighty.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, using “only” and “ninety million” in the same sentence, since he sounded sarcastic most of the time.

  “She turned out better than I did, even though Herbert Vaughn could’ve easily been elected Satan himself, if my ‘dad’ hadn’t been able to fulfill his term in office. I guess it didn’t really matter. I was out of the frying pan into the fire. Mom had great taste in men.”

  More than ready for that conversation to be over, I went back to skimming through the documents, until something caught my eye.

  “Wait. This says, to collect the money, you have to be legitimately ‘married to and cohabitating with a woman for at least six months.’”

  “Yeah, that’s the catch. I get a monthly allowance, now—more than he gave me when I was a kid for sure—but I can’t collect the mega-bucks without a wife. From what I hear, that’s how he liked to operate. The carrot’s dangled in front of you, but then there’s the obstacle, preferably an insurmountable one—except for Meridith, but she paid up front for hers.”

  I chose to ignore the last remark because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it meant. “Surely, getting a temporary wife can’t be difficult for a multi-millionaire.” I knew the marriage clause could be contested, but the path of least resistance was usually the quickest.

  “No one wants to marry Satan.” He’d gone back to staring out the window again.

  “I thought you were the son of Satan.”

  “Not to everyone else around here. They don’t even know about him, but they all know about me.”

  I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t the lucky break I’d thought it was. I swallowed hard and asked the question, “What’s so terrible about you?”

  “So, when you agreed to be my lawyer, you didn’t know?” I thought I saw disappointment register briefly on his features, then, disappear behind a mask of indifference. But he was still several yards away, so I could have been wrong. “Did you have an enemy at Harper and Barnes?”

  “Well, no.” I started to wonder. “I mean, I only knew Josh Samuels from court... He’s the one you spoke to. He gave me the referral.”

  “Did you beat him in a court case or turn him down for a date?” He paused as he stared right through me. Was the Son of Satan psychic too?

  “Both.”

  He chuckled—well, it was really more of a snort.

  “I guess the joke’s on you. Look, bill me for today and some extra for your trouble. This was a mistake. Let yourself out.”

  Look at me.

  I wanted to see if I could read the expression in his eyes, but most of his face was in shadows, with only one stream of light from the window angled across his chin and jaw. Then, he turned and began inspecting the leaves of a potted plant next to the stairs, so I was looking at his back.

  I felt abandoned. Strange, considering I’d just met him an hour ago, and he hadn’t exactly been a warm, snuggly guy.

  But I didn’t want to leave. In fact, I couldn’t afford to leave. The truth was that the day after I gave notice at the firm, I regretted it and considered begging for my job back. I still had a mountain of college and law school loans to pay off.

  It had been so out of character—and downright scary—that I’d given up an ostrich in the hand on a whim. But then Josh called with this referral and I’d been so desperate I hadn’t even questioned his motives. What kind of lawyer was I anyway?

  A damn good one for the past three years.

  I’d worked so hard. This was my big chance. How bad could it be?

  Still staring at his back, I summoned up my courage and said in my most assertive attorney voice, “Mr. Larson—”

  “Don’t call me that,” he said without turning around.

  “Isn’t that your name?”

  He walked back over to the wall and readjusted the same painting he’d corrected previously. “It
was my dad’s name. I’m just Drew.”

  Drew…

  I couldn’t get my lips to form the word. Without the last name to guard it, it felt softer, and definitely too intimate.

  “Regardless, I’m not leaving. You led me to believe you would need a great deal of my time. I passed up other opportunities to be here for you.”

  “For you” sounded too personal to me, but I kept talking, hoping something persuasive would come to me. “You can’t promise me a lucrative retainer and renege on the offer for no reason...I’ll...sue you.” My finish was silly, but I figured, since he wasn’t any great legal scholar, maybe he’d buy it.

  “‘I’ll sue you,’” he repeated. “I like that.”

  He turned toward me and smiled. Even from across the room it was dazzling—not only because it was beautiful, but because I was sure he didn’t do it often.

  But his expression quickly darkened, as though he remembered he wasn’t allowed to enjoy himself.

  “As I said, I’ll pay for your trouble, but you’re in way over your head, and you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Go back to the city.” He turned abruptly toward the staircase and took the steps two at a time.

  I wanted to chase him up there and ask what he meant by “in way over your head,” but that was too undignified. I spent a few minutes reorganizing his papers, hoping he would reappear, but the apartment had gone as still as if he’d left it completely.

  Feeling defeated, I picked up my briefcase and walked toward the door. I recognized the tightness crawling up the back of my neck. Suddenly, all I wanted was to escape Drew Larson’s penthouse underworld, have some pizza delivered, and climb into my uncomfortable bed at the hotel.

  I opened the door and gasped when I came face to face with a blonde woman who was about to knock.

  “Oh! I’m sorry I startled you,” the woman said.

  “No, that’s okay, I was lost in my own thoughts. You took me by surprise.” I noticed the high quality—yet understated—clothing and short, perfectly maintained hair.

  Her friendly blue eyes were wide, her brows arched with obvious interest. “I’m Drew’s sister Meridith. Are you a friend of Drew’s?”

  That was wishful thinking if I’d ever heard it. “No, I’m his lawyer—well, I was going to be his lawyer, but he’s, sort of throwing me out on my ear.” I was surprised at my own bluntness.

  “Do you have to leave right away?” Meridith asked.

  “He didn’t say, exactly.”

  “No, I mean, do you have to be somewhere else right now?”

  “Well, actually, I’d set aside the whole day for your brother. I thought he needed a great deal of legal assistance, but—”

  “Oh, he needs a lot more than that, I assure you.” In spite of the nature of the comment, Drew’s sister never lost the well-meaning look on her features. Her speech and mannerisms were so cultured I could almost smell the money on her.

  I tried to detect a resemblance between the two half-siblings but hadn’t gotten a close enough look at Larson to make a detailed comparison.

  “Can I take you out for coffee?” Meridith asked hopefully.

  “Sure, um, I don’t know the area very well...” but I’ll go wherever you want because you’ve got the other ninety million.

  “Why don’t you ride with me,” she said. “I need to come back here anyway.”

  I don’t, but—“That sounds great,” I replied.

  Chapter Three

  I thought the diner was a surprisingly quaint—a.k.a. tacky—place for a multi-millionaire to have coffee or anything else. Not to mention the fact that Meridith raved about the peach cobbler like it was a delicacy. Why was money always wasted on the wrong people?

  Tired of pie talk, I complimented her on the décor in Drew’s apartment.

  Meridith took in a deep breath and sighed. “Anything would have been an improvement over what he had in there. Don’t get me wrong. It was good furniture, but everything was black and white and so square and symmetrical—like walking into some weird painting.”

  She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the image. “It’s hard to describe, but if you get a peek at Drew’s bedroom, you’ll know what I mean. He wouldn’t let me touch it.”

  I tried to imagine the circumstances under which I would get a “peek” at Drew’s bedroom, and they didn’t seem likely.

  Meridith pushed her plate away and, finally, got to the point. “Mia,” she said. “I want you to give Drew another chance. I’m sure his past was very shocking to you, and he probably got angry at your reaction…”

  I shook my head at her. “Meridith, I have no idea what your brother is so notorious for. He seemed to think I knew before I came, and he got upset when he realized I didn’t have a clue. He wouldn’t tell me anything, and he practically threw me out.”

  “That’s strange—not that he threw you out, he used to do that to me all the time—but he’s usually too forthcoming with that information. I’ve told him to stop advertising it and give people a chance to forget.”

  She appeared lost in thought for a moment. “He must have taken a liking to you and couldn’t stand to tell you himself. I was there the day he talked to Josh Samuels on the phone. Mr. Samuels told Drew he wouldn’t take his case, but he thought he knew a woman attorney who might. Drew said if Samuels was going to refer a woman, he’d better tell her the whole story before Drew had any contact with her, but I guess Mr. Samuels didn’t follow his instructions.”

  “And I guess Drew hates it when his instructions aren’t followed.” I took another bite of my cobbler and had to admit to myself she was right about this place, even if it did have the ambience of a hospital cafeteria.

  “Oh, it’s much more than that.” Meridith paused, as if trying to find the right words. “Mia, Drew and I didn’t grow up together, but what I know about his childhood is horrifying, somewhat like my own. He was abused, mentally and physically, by a man who had no love for him. That kind of upbringing fills a person with rage. From a young age, I learned to cover up my own abuse and act as though everything was normal—when I wasn’t trying to overdose on prescription pills.”

  There it was. The same feeling I’d had that day when Lauren asked for my advice. This felt like too much information considering I’d only met this woman an hour ago.

  Yet, I found I wanted to know more. I laid my fork down on my plate and gave her my full attention.

  “I turned the anger I felt in on myself,” she continued. “But Drew’s anger turned outward. I like to think things would have been better if we’d met sooner. You know, kindred spirits and all—I’ve really only known he was my brother for less than a year. Before that, he was just ‘the infamous Drew Larson.’”

  “So, he was infamous before you knew him?” I prodded, although I suspected I didn’t want any part of what was coming.

  “Yes. There was...an...incident, a really horrible incident. I guess there’s no good way to say it. He won’t go into any detail about it. In fact, he only mentions it, in general, when he’s trying to scare people off. Anyway, this is what I’ve gleaned from the newspaper articles and gossip.” She cleared her throat. “When Drew was eighteen, and a senior in high school, he was rejected by a girl he was interested in, and she was very harsh when she turned him down. In fact, she publicly humiliated him at school.” Meridith’s face held a sad, far-away look, as though she was picturing what she was describing.

  “A few weeks later, Drew and the girl both ended up at the same party. She’d had a lot to drink, and she led him to believe she’d changed her mind about him. They went off by themselves, and perhaps she sobered up or maybe she wanted to taunt him again. I don’t know.”

  Meridith paused, making it clear the most distressful information was still to come. “In the police report, she said that she told him to stop, and he didn’t. At least that’s what the court decided. He went to prison for two years.”

  “He’s a convicted rapist?” I asked incredulously.


  “And everyone around here believes it, but it’s never rung true to me,” Meridith said. “It takes a while to get to know Drew at all, but the more I do, the less I can believe he would hurt anyone—I don’t want to mislead you, though. He’s never denied it.”

  I took a sip of my tea so I wouldn’t have to say anything for a moment. I had no idea what the appropriate reply was to information like this.

  Despite his rudeness, and the odd behavior I’d witnessed, I was having a difficult time thinking of Drew Larson as a rapist. All my life, I’d relied on my built-in “creep radar.” It had always served me well, even in my days as an unsupervised child in the housing projects. Why didn’t I feel it when I was with him?

  There was still cobbler on my plate, but I pushed it aside. I was queasy. Was I more sickened by the abuse Drew and Meridith had suffered or the fact that the man I’d met an hour ago had been convicted of sexual assault?

  After a few moments of silence, I asked, “And what does he do now?”

  “He spends most of his time alone in his apartment as though he doesn’t want to interact with anyone. I talked him into going to counseling, and he acts as if it’s a big joke, but I think it’s helping.”

  “Oh, yeah, I can tell,” I said sarcastically, then instantly regretted my words. Meridith had been nothing but nice to me, and Drew was her brother.

  But she kept talking as though she hadn’t noticed. “He’s never gotten a break of any kind until inheriting this money. Unfortunately, the biological father we share had a cruel sense of humor. He was aware of Drew’s situation all along, even though he never came forward to claim him or help him. I learned from my father’s lawyer that after Drew was convicted, my father added the ‘marriage clause,’ knowing it would be the hardest condition to fulfill as an inmate or convicted rapist.”

 

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