More than Money (Found in Chicago Book 1)

by Allison Michaels

  The music switched mid-song right as I got to the first floor. Partygoers shouted, and the kitchen windows rattled as the deep bass of Flo Rida’s “Good Feeling” shook the house. I set Oscar down and grinned as he ran down the hallway to look for Neil, slowly counting to ten before following him.

  Peering over a bunch of heads, I gawked at Les spinning on his back in the middle of the empty dance floor. He pulled himself up into a one-armed handstand, waving at Collette and Deirdre with his free hand before dropping into a set of flares. His fluid breakdance moves were impressive as he switched from one to another.

  Neil brushed by on his way to the kitchen with Oscar already tucked under an arm. “What the hell is he doing?” I asked, falling into step beside him. “And what a hypocrite for making fun of you guys and then turning around to bust out his own old-school shit.”

  “It’s a guaranteed way for him to catch the ladies’ eyes.” After setting down the dog, he grabbed his jacket from the mudroom. “Panties go airborne when he shakes his ass and flexes some muscles. I’ve seen him get pelted with thongs at clubs when he puts on this show.”

  Les flaunted his talents anytime, anywhere, reveling in the spotlight as his conquest-of-the-moment watched him with starry eyes. The guy was the Pied Piper of Pussy. Women fell for his tune hook, line, and sinker every damn time, following him to dark corners and back alleys for the instant gratification of a hook-up. I had no idea what he did to let them down easy, but whatever it was worked well because his past flings never acted like scorned lovers whenever he bumped into them. For all his barbaric behavior and tactics, I had to hand it to him for employing some clever psychology to walk away unscathed.

  “I’ll take him out.” Snatching Oscar’s leash off its hook, I hurried toward the back door as Neil continued bundling up. He needed to stick around in case Deirdre decided to make a move, and I didn’t mind freezing for a few minutes to put him in her path.

  Collette entered the room with Deirdre right behind her. Neil dropped his hat on the floor, and the blonde’s eyes zeroed right in on his ass as he bent to pick it up. She nodded as Collette rambled on about how she wanted to see Coldplay in concert when the band next came to town, her gaze roaming up and down Neil’s body.

  Oscar trotted over to the newcomer and sniffed her shoes, his tail wagging a mile a minute. I stuffed my hands in my pockets to avoid a fist-pumping spree when he sat down and lifted a paw, letting out a series of pitiful-sounding whines when he went unnoticed for too long.

  “Hi, cutie.” She dropped to her knees and shook hands, then stroked his back. “My first dog was a beagle with almost identical markings. Lulu had black rings around her eyes, but her ears and the rest of her mask were the same. What’s his name?”

  “Oscar.” Neil smiled at her as she continued to lavish the pooch with attention. “I’m just going to take him for a quick walk.”

  What the hell? He couldn’t leave now, not when Deirdre had deliberately walked away from Les to get closer to him. Jesus, he needed to get a clue before she mistook his naivety for indifference. Clipping the leash to his collar, I scooped Oscar up and twisted the door handle. “I said I’d do it.”

  He frowned at me while putting on his gloves. “My coat is already on, and I could use some fresh air and a break from Magic Mike.”

  “Actually, I could use some fresh air, too.” Deirdre stood and took a step closer to him. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

  Collette’s eyes widened when she realized what was happening. Scooting behind Deirdre, she leaned over and nodded encouragingly at Neil, giving him two thumbs up.

  “No, not at all.” He grabbed one of Collette’s jackets and helped Deirdre put it on before taking Oscar’s leash and holding the door open in a gentlemanly fashion as she stepped outside.

  Collette waited until they cleared the back gate to let loose an excited squeal. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve seen in…forever!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Go Neil!”

  “I thought I was going to have to hit him over the head with a stool, but Deirdre saved me the trouble.”

  “You knew that she likes him?” She stopped bouncing around. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I had a feeling she would come looking for him at some point. All I had to do was make sure he stayed put.”

  She jumped on my back and peppered my cheek with kisses. “You are so sweet for being in his corner. Let’s just hope he doesn’t chicken out and push her away.”

  “Or she doesn’t freak out and back off if she sees his arms.” Twisting around to get at her lips, I hoped I hadn’t just set my friend up for failure. He really was a good guy, and I wanted to see him with someone who wasn’t repulsed when one of his sleeves rode up and exposed a swath of disfigured skin. That’s if he didn’t shoot himself in the foot first by letting his insecurity and crappy past experiences cloud his judgment.

  Lorde’s voice blared from the next room and a panting, sweaty Les poked his head around the archway. “Where’s Deirdre?” he demanded, retrieving a beer from the fridge as Collette slid off of me. “I turned around, and she was gone.”

  “She left,” Collette’s dark eyes shifted over to mine for a beat before moving back to him, “with Neil to take Oscar for a walk.”

  “What?” he sputtered, staring at her in open-mouthed disbelief. “Why the fuck would she take off with that cheesedick when she could be here with me?”

  “You bastard!” Collette’s hands slammed into his chest, shoving him hard enough to make him spill beer on his shirt as he stumbled backward. “Deirdre isn’t interested in your stupid, conceited ass. She sees you for what you really are and can’t be bothered. You’ve got some nerve coming into my house and making a play for one of my friends.” She marched over to the back door and swung it open so forcefully the doorknob left an indentation on the wall. “Get out. Go find one of your dippy skanks and fuck her to make yourself feel better about the pathetic shithead you’ve become.”

  He turned crimson but did as she asked, leaving without another word.

  “Can you believe him?” she fumed, her slim shoulders vibrating with anger. “What a sore loser.”

  “Yeah, the sorest.” Damn it, I admired her so much for calling Les out and defending Neil. But I didn’t want her to seethe for the rest of the night. I had to find an activity for her to channel her frustration into without making her feel worse. An idea popped into my head, and I ran with it.

  Literally.

  Grabbing her hand, I hauled her to the den and pushed through the crowd to get to Neil’s laptop, which was hooked up to the stereo. Typing furiously, I called up a song and clicked on the button to make it play. “This has always made me think of you,” I said as the opening notes of “Brown Eyed Girl” came through the speakers. “My beautiful brown-eyed girl.”

  Her expression softened as I pulled her flush against my body. “I know what you’re doing,” she said in my ear, “and I love you for trying to cheer me up.”

  And I loved her for letting me.

  28

  Collette

  Eleven months earlier

  Start the new year off right! Pick your ten favorite numbers and play Ten on Ten, the State Lottery’s newest game! bold black letters proclaimed over an overflowing bag of money.

  “A hundred million bucks would solve a lot of my problems,” one of the construction workers in line in front of me remarked to the guy standing next to him. “Mortgage? Gone. Car loans? Never again. The kids’ college funds? Not a problem.”

  “Yeah, but it could create a whole set of new ones.” The second man removed his hard hat and tucked it under his arm, inspecting the bags of jerky on a display stand.

  “How so?”

  “People are greedy. Everyone you know will come out of the woodwork to ask for a handout. And what if Jeanie got a taste of the high life and turned into an uppity snob?”

  “My wife will never be a hoity-toity princess. She’ll always clip
coupons and look for the best sale price no matter how much or little money we have. And she’d nail your balls to the wall if she heard what you just said about her turning into some prima donna.” He turned around and gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, miss. Didn’t mean to be so crude in front of a lady.”

  “I live with two guys. It takes a heck of a lot more than what you spouted off to offend me.” Shrugging, I took a sip of my coffee as they cracked up laughing.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard it all.” The hatless man grinned and pointed at the thick textbooks sticking up over the top of my tote bag. “I bet the first thing you’d do if you won the lottery is pay off your student loans.”

  He had no way of knowing that I didn’t have any student loans. The trust my parents had set up before their deaths funded my college tuition and gave me a small living expense stipend at the beginning of each semester. Since I’d lived at home during undergrad, I had enough left to pay for grad school. I’d cashed the check from the attorney yesterday. My coffee and the pre-packaged salad I planned to eat for lunch would be paid for by my parents in an indirect way. “You know it,” I told him for the sake of ease.

  “You gonna buy a ticket?” No Hat asked me.

  “Oh, um, no. I don’t gamble.” Especially not with my parents’ money.

  Both men gave me incredulous looks. “It’s just a dollar, honey. You aren’t betting the farm at a craps table. Hell, I’ll treat you to one if you’re that dead-set against using your own money.” Shifting his hat to the crook of his other arm, he dug his wallet out of his coveralls.

  This was stupid. There were no stipulations on how I used the stipend. Dad had always bought a ticket at the gas station when he filled up his car. He wouldn’t care if I bought one. “I’ll do it if you guys do it.”

  Their scruffy faces split into smiles. “Atta girl!” No Hat grabbed three slips from the stack on the checkout counter and passed one to me. “If you win, I’d like a new pair of steel-toed boots,” he joked while darkening bubbles for his picks. “I’m a size twelve.”

  “Same here. New boots and two breaded steak sandwiches from Ricobene’s for lunch. Just send them to Kurt and Robby at the site across the street. What can we get you if we win?”

  I paused while filling in the numbered circles. “Send lunch to the nursing staff in the oncology unit at Chicago Grace in my foster mom’s honor.”

  No Hat touched my elbow. “I’m sorry for your loss, sweetie. You have my word that those nurses will feast if Robby or I win. And I never go back on my word. Tell her, Rob.”

  Robby handed his money to the clerk and gave me a solemn nod. “It’s true. Kurt takes promises seriously. I do, too.”

  After Kurt had paid, I handed over a raggedy bill and slid the ticket into my purse. The men followed me out of the convenience store and veered to the left to head back to work while I turned right to head back to school. “Hey, we need a name to give the nurses,” Kurt yelled over the noise from a train rumbling over our heads.

  I stopped and turned to face him. “Henri’s daughter. They’ll know who you’re referring to. Good luck, guys.” Giving them a wave, I darted around a woman pushing a double-wide baby stroller and crossed the street.

  ***

  Neil padded into the kitchen as I turned on the little television mounted under a cabinet. “Does channel seven still show the lottery drawing during the nine o’clock broadcast?” I asked, dipping an Oreo cookie into a mug of milk.

  “Have you been living under a rock for the past year? It’s done online with a random number generator. You just go to the website and check your ticket against the results.” He plopped down next to me and snagged a cookie from the open bag, pulling it apart to eat the icing first. “Did you go in on tickets with your friends at school?”

  “No.” Sliding the mug between us, I reached into my purse and withdrew the printed piece of paper. “I bought one on my own. Two guys talked me into it during my lunch break.”

  “You’re playing our birthdays? That’s cute, Coco. If you win, I get a fifth of the prize money, right?”

  “If I win, I’ll buy you some new pajamas. Seriously, these are on their last leg. You need to pitch them. We’ll give them a proper send-off with “Taps” on a finger harmonica and a twenty-one cap-gun salute on garbage day.”

  He pulled his legs up and hugged them against his chest, fisting his hands in the bottoms of his beloved Pac-Man flannel pants. They were his equivalent of Linus’s security blanket in Peanuts comic strips. Nothing I said could convince him to part with the threadbare rag. They occasionally fell apart in the washing machine, and he took drastic measures by embarking on a rescue mission with a needle and thread to piece them back together. “Fine. I’ll do it if you get rid of your PMS pants.”

  Ohhh, what a low blow. The smirk on Neil’s face confirmed that he knew he had my lady balls in a vise. My faded gray sweatpants were the only thing that made me feel remotely comfortable when bloated during a particular time of the month. I gave him a dirty look and reached for another cookie. “The first time you forget to wear boxers, and I see your junk through the Grand Canyon in the crotch, they’re toast. I’ll take them to the dump myself.”

  “You’d have to find them first. Just know that if my pants go missing, your sweats will meet their demise with a pair of scissors. Then I’ll hang parts all over Chicago like the English did to William Wallace after he was executed in Braveheart. One leg tied around the neck of a lion outside The Art Institute, the other around the bottom of a seat at Wrigley Field, and the waistband around a tree at Lincoln Park Zoo.”

  “Everyone thinks you’re so nice. ‘That Neil is such a sweet boy. A kind, gentle soul,’” I cooed, imitating the old lady who lived next door. “Thank goodness it’s winter and the windows are closed because Gladys would have a coronary if she overheard your diabolical plot.”

  “Leave my pants alone and nothing bad will happen.” He pried another cookie apart and submerged half in the milk, tossing the soggy disc in his mouth. “Check your numbers already. You could be Miss Moneybags for all we know.”

  I hit the space bar to wake up my laptop, opened a browser window, and typed the web address on the ticket into the search field. “Ugh, why does our internet connection always take a nosedive when I need it the most? I can’t get to the site.”

  “The router must be acting up again.” He took the machine from me, his brow furrowed in concentration as he went into the settings menu. “There we go. Want me to do it?”

  “Sure, knock yourself out.” I tossed the ticket at him and got up to pour him his own mug of milk so mine wouldn’t get used up.

  “Fucking unbelievable” Neil yelled, knocking his chair over as he jumped to his feet. “Holy shit, Collette, you’re rich! Like, filthy, stinking rich.”

  “Hahaha, you’re such a comedian.” Rolling my eyes, I set his drink in front of him and reached for another Oreo.

  “No, I’m serious! Look!” He turned the computer around and slid the game piece across the table. “You won.”

  My eyes flicked back and forth over the five birthdates I had used as my numbers. His birthday. Les’s and Henri’s. Mine. And the birth month and day my parents had shared. “Oh my God,” I whispered in a shaky voice, “they’re all here.”

  He picked me up and swung me around, laughing like a madman before setting me back on my chair. “You have the craziest luck I’ve ever seen!” His sock-clad feet slipped on the linoleum floor as he rushed over to grab his cell out of its charger on the counter. He swiped and tapped the screen, then burst into a new round of laughter. “My hands are shaking too much to text. I have to actually call Les.”

  As he hit a speed-dial button and cursed up a storm with each unanswered ring, I stared at the ticket and willed my heart to stop thundering in my chest. My vision went fuzzy around the edges as Neil shouted into the phone, telling Les to call him back immediately because something big had happened.

  “Coco? Oh crap, d
on’t pass out.” He squatted in front of me and took my hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You’re hyperventilating. I need you to take some deep breaths and calm down. I’ll do it with you. In through your nose, hold it for five seconds, and out your mouth, okay?”

  I nodded and sucked in a lungful of air, watching his nostrils flare as he did the same. His hazel eyes darted around my face, the corners creased with worry lines as he counted backward to one. “And out,” he whispered, puckering his lips as he exhaled. “Again. In…”

  Once I stopped gulping and wheezing, Neil got a bottle of water from the fridge. He sat next to me and had me take small sips. His phone vibrated on the table, and Les’s name popped up on the screen. “Hello, Leslie! Tuck your dick into your shorts and come home.” A barrage of curses exited the earpiece and Neil held the phone away from his head. “She’s fine. No, get your ass home if you want details. Now.”

  I giggled at how he’d deliberately hung up on Les.

  “She’s baaa-aaack.” Neil grinned at me and flipped the ticket over. “According to the fine print–and man is it tiny–we’re supposed to report the win by calling this number. Want me to take care of it or have you recovered enough from your freak-out to handle it yourself?”

  “Smartass.” I plucked the paper from his hand and dug my phone out of my purse.

  Les burst through the door leading to the garage fifteen minutes later, wild-eyed and frantic, as Neil poured vodka into shot glasses. I finished jotting down the address the lady at the lottery office gave me and thanked her before ending the call.

  “Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on? I ran four red lights to get here as fast as possible and walked in expecting blood and guts, only to find one of you on the phone and the other dispensing booze.”

  Neil pulled a chair out with his foot and set a glass on the table. “Sit. Drink. Listen.”

  “You opened my magnum of Belvedere? The one I was specifically saving for when Coco graduates?” His arm shot across the table, his fingers hooking into the sleeve of Neil’s thermal shirt. “You’re a dead man.” He yanked on the fabric, pulling Neil closer as the fingers on his other hand formed a fist.