Rebel Heart

by Penelope Ward

  Today I’d worn a dress shirt and slacks, in deference to Robert Harmon, the banker with whom we were meeting. He was a good friend of our grandfather’s and deserved the respect of putting on something decent. My asshole brother, on the other hand, deserved nothing.

  “Unlike you, I don’t have to drop a load of cash to like myself when I look in the mirror. A personality and tact is a fuck of a lot cheaper than four grand for a suit.”

  Elliott snickered. “I’d love to spend this quality time trading jabs with my bastard brother, but we actually have business we should discuss before we arrive upstairs.” I watched him wipe some lint off the front of his jacket in the reflection of the shiny metal doors before continuing. “This isn’t just the annual meeting with Robert. We need him to increase our business line of credit for this investment.”

  “For what?”

  He sighed. “A hotel in Costa Rica.”

  My forehead wrinkled. “A what?”

  “There’s a property that’s come available for sale in Costa Rica. It’s priced way below market value and it’s a great investment. Two of the owners who are selling it have come up to talk to us. They’ll give you and Robert the dog and pony show.”

  “Okay…so why do you need to involve me at all? You want to invest, invest.”

  “We need an increase to our business line of credit to help purchase the property. Which means our little family corporation needs a resolution vote for the increase in our credit line.”

  “Why do you need a line of credit business loan? Get a mortgage on the property like you would any other building.”

  “It needs to be an all cash deal. No mortgage.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s what the seller wants. He’s already got another offer. But he’ll take ours for the same price. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Costa Rica is a growing tourist market.”

  “What do you even know about running a hotel?”

  “There’s staff. But I’ll spend a lot of time down there making sure things are taken care of properly.”

  “Let me guess? Your wife will stay up here in New York. It’ll be like your own little vacation fuck paradise. No thanks.”

  The doors slid open, and my brother turned to face me. “Listen to the presentation today before you make any hasty decision. You’ll see. It’s almost too good to be true.”

  I shook my head and stepped off the elevator before my brother, stopping to look back at him. “You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true? They probably are.”

  Something didn’t add up. Two of the owners made an hour-and-a-half presentation, yet it seemed more like a timeshare sales pitch for a vacation resort than any business proposal. The hotel was nice. There was no denying that. But I couldn’t grasp two important things: why they would sell it if it were such a profitable business, and why the purchase couldn’t have a mortgage.

  “The place is beautiful. But I have a couple of questions.”

  My father and brother made a face.

  “Shoot,” said the owner, who’d done most of the talking. “We’re here to answer whatever questions you have.”

  “Alright. Edward and Elliott are interested in the property. I’m not interested in taking over something that I know nothing about.”

  My brother mumbled, “That never stopped you before.”

  I didn’t even turn my head to acknowledge Elliott. “Anyway. It’s my understanding that this deal has to be a cash deal, rather than a mortgage. Which means the financing would be a business line of credit—which, in turn, means my interest in Vanderhaus Holdings is on the hook for this venture, as well. So I’d like to understand why the property can’t be mortgaged.”

  The two men looked at each other and then to Elliott. It was my brother who answered my question. “There are a few investor-owners who prefer a discreet transaction. They’re not listed on the legal documents as owners. And then there’s a small issue with the IRS for one of the listed investors.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How small?”

  One of the two selling investors responded. “The transaction needs to be cash, or the funds are going to be confiscated by the government because of a tax judgment. Don’t worry…the Costa Rica property itself doesn’t have any liens. Just one of our investors.”

  Did my brother ever get involved in anything that wasn’t shady as shit?

  I kept quiet after that. My decision had been made. I’m all for stretching the truth on my business mileage and office expenses when it came to my taxes, but I wasn’t about to get involved with any major cash transactions that were structured to avoid someone paying taxes on their IRS lien, and God knows the reason the other investors needed a discreet transaction.

  Our meeting ended, and the two hotel owners said goodbye. Robert, our banker, stuck around to chat with Edward, leaving me with my jackass brother. Robert had put some forms in the middle of the table that we would all need to sign to increase our line of credit with the bank by millions of dollars.

  Elliott slipped a pen from inside his jacket pocket and flung it across the table at me. “Why don’t you sign now, so you can be on your merry way?”

  “I’m not signing this thing.” I slid the pen that had landed in front of me to the middle of the table. “I may not know too much about business, but I know a shady deal when I see one. This is exactly the type of thing that Grandfather wouldn’t go near with a ten-foot pole.”

  My brother’s face contorted. “Stop being so naïve, and just sign the fucking thing. It’s a good investment. You’ll never have to pay a dime out of pocket toward the loan payments. Profits will cover everything.”

  “I don’t think it’s a wise decision to put all of the other Vanderhaus businesses at risk for a single hotel in Costa Rica. First, you don’t know anything about running a hotel. And, second, there’s something shady about the deal. The owners just flat out told you that they need cash because they are trying to avoid paying a tax lien. Think they’re going to be any more honest with you than the government?”

  Elliott stood. His chair tumbled over from the way he whipped from the table so fast. He raised his voice. “It’s not bad enough we have to share profits with you, now you’re interfering with us making them. You should appreciate that you even get anything from us.”

  “I think you’re forgetting that I don’t get anything from you. Our grandfather left me the shares in his company. If you weren’t so spoiled and entitled, you’d see there is a difference.”

  “You’re just being vindictive. Isn’t it about time that you accept that your family will always take sloppy seconds from the Vanderhaus men?”

  I stood. “Fuck you.”

  Elliott fiddled with his expensive watch. “Your little trashy girlfriend wasn’t even that good of a lay anyway.”

  My blood started to pump. I had to have misheard him. “What the hell did you just say?”

  “I didn’t even remember that I’d tapped that until she reminded me at my party.” He shook his head. “Forgettable.”

  I slammed both fists on the table and leaned across it toward my brother. “What the fuck are you talking about, asshole?”

  Elliott looked back and forth between my rage-filled eyes. An evil sneer that gave me chills spread across his face. He tilted his head. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

  “Tell me what?”

  It was one thing for him to insult my business acumen and me personally, but I’d be damned if this asshole was going to say shit about Gia. I was barely able to contain myself.

  He tsked. “It must be a Rushmore genetic trait. First your mother tried to take what my mother already had. And now you’re banging one of my leftovers.”

  I jumped onto and over the table faster than Elliott could even move. The smirk still didn’t fall from his face when I pushed him up against the wall and pressed my forearm to his throat. Edward and Robert tried to rip me off of him, but I didn’t budge.

&nb
sp; “Don’t you even say Gia’s name. She wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  The asshole started to turn red, yet somehow he managed to speak. “She gave me the time of day alright. Twice that night, if I remember correctly. I really liked the cute little heart-shaped mole on her ass when I had her on all fours.”

  I suddenly felt like I was the one being choked. My grip loosened a little, not because I wanted to let him breathe, but because I couldn’t breathe now. Elliott was able to take advantage of my shock and pushed my arm from his throat.

  He coughed while I stood there frozen. There was no fucking way Gia had slept with my brother. She’d never do that to me. There had to be another way he knew about the heart-shaped mole.

  Edward put his arm around his son and scowled at me. “You’re really an animal.” He looked to Elliott. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse from almost having his windpipe crushed. He looked at me and gave one last vicious smile. “Tell your girlfriend that Harlan said hello.”

  No fucking answer. Again.

  I tossed my cell onto the wooden bar and waved down the bartender.

  “Another Vodka and 7.”

  “Bad day at work?” he asked while making me a third drink.

  “You could say that.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I have some businesses with my estranged family.”

  The guy chuckled and slid my drink across the bar. “This one’s on the house. Couldn’t pay me to work with my family.”

  I should’ve driven home after leaving the office. But instead, I found the nearest dive bar and parked myself on a stool. Now it was four o’clock in the afternoon, and I was halfway loaded and more than a hundred-plus miles from Gia, who wasn’t picking up the fucking phone.

  I downed half my drink in one gulp. Cheap vodka. Tomorrow I’d pay for it.

  A million fucking scenarios had played through my head over the last hour. Maybe he was full of shit—somehow he’d found out that information about Gia and used it to piss me off. Gia could have chatted with Lauren at the party for a little while, and I hadn’t noticed. Maybe she’d mentioned she was pregnant with some guy named Harlan’s baby. And Lauren had told her husband.

  It could happen.

  Although I had a more difficult time explaining how the fuck he knew about the heart-shaped mole on her ass.

  I squeezed the glass in my hand so tight, I thought it might crack. The thought of Elliott knowing firsthand about Gia’s mole made me want to explode.

  There were a dozen other scenarios that I came up with. None of them pretty.

  Gia must’ve known who I was from the start. She’d slept with my brother and then set her sights on me to get even with Elliott for screwing her over and leaving her pregnant. That just isn’t possible. This was Gia, for Christ’s sake.

  Gia and Elliott are still sleeping together.

  Gia was a plant by Elliott and Edward to try and distract me.

  My mind seemed to be running rampant, and the more I sipped my drink, the wilder the scenarios that I imagined.

  The entire thing just needed to be wrong somehow. There was a logical explanation for this. I needed to just calm the fuck down. Once I finally got through to Gia, she’d make sense of it all.

  Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from going over and over how Gia had described Harlan over the last two months.

  Well-dressed—looked like the typical Hampton crowd.

  Elliott was the typical Hampton-looking douche.

  Articulate and put together.

  My brother may be a dick, but he was well-educated and put on a good front.

  She’d met him at The Heights.

  Elliott had come around a few times when I wasn’t there earlier in the summer. My staff had told me about it the next day.

  Not to mention, now that I think about it, Harlan was my father’s dog’s name growing up. That fact had completely slipped my mind even though the afternoon I first saw that dog was clear as day in my mind right now.

  I was probably eleven or twelve, and my mother had taken me to visit my grandfather. It was the week before Christmas, and he had the biggest damn tree I’d ever seen set up next to the fireplace in his living room. Trains were set up around the thing. Grandfather had told me there was a remote for the trains up on the mantel and that I could play with them while he and my mom talked in the other room. When I went to grab it, I’d found a framed family portrait on display next to the remote. A portrait of my father’s family. It was like some shit out of The Waltons—everyone had plastic smiles. The mom was sitting in a fancy chair, the dad stood behind her with one hand on her shoulder, and the boy was down on one knee next to a golden retriever. I remember thinking they could sell this shit as the picture that comes inside the frames at the store. As much as I hated it, I also couldn’t stop staring at it. I never did wind up playing with the trains, but when Grandfather came back—I still had the framed photo in my hand, and I asked what the dog’s name was.

  Harlan.

  That’s what he’d said.

  How the fuck had I forgotten that until now?

  I guess I had no reason to suspect anything. Or maybe I was just too blinded by a set of great tits and a gorgeous ass to see anything that was staring me straight in the face.

  Dumb fuck I am.

  I sucked back the rest of my drink and started to feel numb. That’s exactly what I needed. To get the thoughts in my head drunk enough to stop them for a little while.

  “Is this seat taken?” A woman sidled up next to me.

  I waved toward a dozen empty chairs alongside the one she had in her hand. “Looks like you have your choice of seats.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Good. I choose this one.”

  My new neighbor waved down the bartender and decided we were going to be friends. “I’m Amanda.”

  “Rush.” I nodded, keeping my head forward.

  “Are you from around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”

  “Nope.”

  The bartender walked over, and she pointed to my drink. “I’ll have one of whatever he’s having.”

  “You sure?” he asked. “That’s pretty much a glass of vodka with a splash of 7 Up.”

  “I’m sure. I had a bad day. And give my new friend Rush a refill, too.” She slid a fifty-dollar bill onto the bar. “On me.”

  I put my hand out. “Thanks, but I’ll cover my own drink.”

  I caught her pout out of the corner of my eye.

  “I wasn’t asking you to marry me,” she said. “It was just a drink. You look like you’ve had a bad day, too. Figured we could commiserate together.”

  Now I felt like a dick. I looked at the bartender. “Put hers on my tab, please.”

  Amanda smiled. “Thank you.”

  I nodded.

  Neither of us spoke again until after the bartender delivered our drinks. She took one sip and crinkled up her nose. “This is strong.”

  “Yep.”

  “Wanna play a game?”

  My eyes flashed to hers and back. “Nope.”

  More pouting. “Come on. I can tell we both had a shitty day. Let’s compare shitty days, and the one who had a worse shitty day has to pay for the drinks today.”

  “No thanks,” I said.

  “Alright then…I’ll start…”

  I shook my head, but it didn’t stop her flapping her mouth.

  “Well…I work at Forever 21…you know…the clothes store. I was up for a promotion to be assistant manager, and my boss gave it to Tatia—some new girl who’s only worked there for two months. I’ve been working there for two years and only called in sick twice. She’s been there for a couple of months and already took as many days off. So I got upset and went to McDonald’s at lunch—where I proceed to eat a Big Mac and a cheeseburger, along with a large fries and a Coke—not even a Diet Coke. When I went back to work, I decided I was going to talk to the manager and find out why
I didn’t get the promotion I was supposed to get. But when I went into the back office, I found out the reason without him saying a word. Tatia was on his lap riding him on the chair. The bitch smiled at me when I caught them and went right back to playing cowgirl.”

  For the first time, I looked over at Amanda. My first assessment was—if she eats when she’s stressed, she must not get upset too often. Amanda was damn cute—the kind of woman I was normally attracted to. Lots of makeup and dark hair, a low-cut shirt that showed off big tits and a short skirt that gave a lot of leg.

  “That sucks,” I said.

  A smile spread across her face and she clapped. “Free drinks for me!”

  I shook my head, lifted my fourth vodka to my lips, and sucked back a heaping gulp. “My girlfriend is pregnant with my brother’s baby.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Are you kidding me?”

  I rattled around the ice in my glass. “Nope.”

  She opened her purse and dug out a credit card. Putting it on the bar, she said, “Drinks on me.”

  We were shitfaced.

  Amanda turned out to be pretty cool, and it felt good to unload all of the crazy shit in my head to a stranger. I’d always been the type of guy to think people who went to shrinks were pussies—couldn’t suck it up and handle their own problems. But I was definitely starting to see that purging, instead of bottling up all that shit, could have its advantages.

  “My high school boyfriend fucked my best friend.”

  “That’s pretty bad,” I said.

  She deadpanned. “My best friend was Darren.”

  We both cracked up. Over the last hour, we had ruminated over crappy things that happened in our lives, telling each other random stories of screwed-up things we’d experienced. I was pretty sure that we were both slurring our words, maybe even talking in our own drunken language that no one else could understand. But it was my turn for a shitty story, so I sucked back a healthy gulp.

  “When I was thirteen, I got head for the first time—from my best friend’s sixteen-year-old sister. I was too young to control myself and finished off in her mouth. She wasn’t happy about it, so she told my best friend that I’d hit on her and grabbed her ass, even though she’d been the one to come onto me. He decided we had to fist fight about it. I was in the wrong, so I let the skinny little shit give me a black eye and bloody nose thinking that would make him feel like he evened the score and we could go back to being buddies. Didn’t work. I lost my best friend because of a blow job.”