by S. E. Lund
I laughed, imagining the whole thing in my mind's eye.
"He was an honorary colonel in the Confederate Army?"
"It was a joke, of course. Something he got when he was in Louisiana or someplace on a cross country. He wasn’t really a supporter of the Confederacy or anything but it did save their asses."
I smiled and wondered what kind of man her father was and whether we'd get along. We came from very different backgrounds, but I thought I'd probably like the man regardless.
"What would your father think of me?"
She glanced at me quickly, and then looked away, chewing on a nail. She narrowed her eyes at me. "I don't know…" She smiled. "He'd probably tell you that he has a shotgun in the closet and knows how to use it."
I laughed at that. "He would?"
"Oh, yeah." She laughed. "You don't know how many times he pulled that one on my new boyfriends. Sometimes, he'd be cleaning his rifle when they came by, really slowly and methodically so they could watch him check the sight. It was so blatant. He was always so serious about it, but then he'd laugh his head off if he saw any fear in the guy's eyes and confess he was just kidding. One of my boyfriends actually bonded with him over his rifle, asking if he could help, that he was an expert marksman and wanted to join the Marines and become a Scout Sniper. My dad wanted me to marry him."
I could imagine it, smiling at the image in my mind's eye.
"But you didn't want to marry him?"
She glanced away. "I was almost going to. Things didn't work out."
"What happened?"
She looked back at me as if she was considering how much to tell me.
"You don't want to know, believe me," she said finally, her voice soft. She looked back out the side window, resting her hand on her chin. "He's the reason I'm here instead of Oregon or California. I also got accepted at Stanford and UCLA but I wanted to escape. Let's leave it at that, okay?"
Oh, so she left Oregon to escape a bad relationship? It was interesting to me, of course, but I knew enough not to pry. We both had bad experiences, but hers hadn't soured her completely against romance, while mine had. I put it out of my mind and turned my attention back to the road.
We drove the rest of the way, talking about everything under the sun except our bad relationships – high school, college, my business, the deal, my parent's deaths and how we ended up orphans. How neither of us could wait to get away from both our adoptive parents.
"I wish I could have stayed on the coast so I could be close to my parents," she said.
"You can still visit."
"No, I can't."
"The ex?"
She nodded. "Let's leave it at that."
So, it was more than just a bad breakup. "It must be some seriously bad stuff, if that's the case."
"It is," she replied and sighed heavily. "Like I said, you do not want to know and I don't want to talk about it. I'm not trying to be rude and I'm not trying to be mysterious or anything. There's a good reason I can't go back and there's a good reason I don't want to talk about it."
"Don't worry," I said, and smiled softly at her, wanting to ease the discomfort between us. "I'm just your fake boyfriend of convenience. You don't owe me anything except a pretend good time."
She smiled at that and I thought again how pretty she was, her lashes long over blue eyes. "Maybe a genuine good time? I could use one…"
'"I'll do my level best to make it a genuine good time, okay?"
She nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."
She flashed me a quick smile and then turned to watch as we drove up the private road to the beach house.
Her eyes practically bugged out when she saw it. Even I had to admit it was pretty impressive for a beach house.
Let's face it – anyone would be happy to live there.
A huge colonial, it had nine bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, a pool and tennis court, and a strip of green that my father used as a putting course for golf. Plus a boardwalk along the private beach front where Dana and I held our beach parties while we were growing up.
"This is your beach house?"
Her mouth was open as we drove up the circular driveway in front of the entrance. Double doors led to the interior and a huge porch wrapped around the entire twelve-thousand square foot building with three wings. One wing was for entertaining, one wing was for family, and the final wing was for guests.
Yeah, it was worth in the neighborhood of thirty million.
There was a six-car garage and a small cabana on the beach where we often hired bartenders to serve our guests. Plus a huge stone wood-fired barbecue that could double as a pizza oven.
"I was expecting something more… modest. You know, like a cottage."
"We're wealthy," I said, trying to be as honest and up front as I could be. "This property is pretty old. My adoptive father renovated it about a decade ago, upgrading everything, but I basically grew up here in the summers."
"Wow."
I parked in the driveway in one of the slots for visitors, and noted there were three other cars parked, indicating we had guests. I opened her door quickly, wanting to be a perfect gentleman. I then grabbed our bags and took her hand, walking her up the stairs to the porch and then opening the door for her.
She stopped and stared in the front entryway.
Yes, it was ostentatious. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the second story ceiling over the entry. Across from the entrance was a wide stairway that curved up to the second floor, splitting off into two wings.
"You'll be staying with me in the family wing," I said. "There are enough rooms that you could have one for yourself and one for your bag, but I want there to be no doubt that we're a couple, so you'll have to sleep in my bedroom."
"No funny business, remember?" she said, frowning slightly.
"No funny business," I replied. "Unless you want some. If you do, hey, I'm a generous guy. I'll donate to the cause. Considering you’ve been out of commission for over a year…" I raised my eyebrows playfully, but she didn’t seem to appreciate my sense of humor.
"Just kidding," I said, not wanting to hurt her. "I just want you to know that if you felt a need, I'll be here. Ready and willing. I won't push, I won't even try to seduce you, but I can't promise you won’t eventually find me incredibly desirable and irresistible." I grinned and finally saw her smile as well, although she was trying hard not to.
"Don't get your hopes up."
"I never hope," I said. "I go after what I want and I usually get it. Usually."
"But not always," she said. "You've lost before."
"Oh, yeah," I said and peered around into the great room, expecting to see someone but the place was empty. "Everyone must be down at the beach."
Then, I walked her up to the bedroom on the second floor, down the long hallway of rooms for my parents, Dana, if she was going to be here, and then my room at the end. I opened the door and she walked in.
I could sense her amazement when she took it in.
A huge four poster king sized bed sat in one corner. Beside it stood a chest of drawers, a small plush sofa and chair. A set of double patio doors opened onto a personal balcony that overlooked the greens and ocean.
"This is fantastic," she said and opened the patio door. She stepped on the balcony and I heard her take in a deep breath of salt air. "It's heaven."
I went to her side and rested my hands on the rail. "Yeah, it's pretty great. At night, I like to hear the roar of the surf. We're close enough that you can hear it when the doors are open. You can see some pretty decent stars as well. There aren't too many houses around with any lighting."
She smiled and then turned to me. "So, Mr. Big Shot, what's first on the agenda?"
"Something to eat. If you look down at the beach, you can see my family is sitting around a table by the barbecue."
"Sounds good," she said and together we left the house and made our way down the path past the putting green and swimming pool, to the beach.
I wondere
d who was there. People usually arrived Friday night for one of our weekends, and stayed until Sunday afternoon, but people came and left all weekend for meals and meetings.
I took her hand and prepared to meet my family and their guests, wondering what kind of weekend it would be.
Chapter 13
Alexa
* * *
If I was impressed with Luke's lifestyle and fortune before I saw the beach house, I was even more impressed – and a little overwhelmed – after. Sure, I saw it on Google earth, but a blurry tape was no match for the real thing.
I tried not to gape, but it wasn’t easy.
"I feel like the country mouse coming to visit the city mouse," I said as we walked past a tennis court, an enclosed swimming pool, and a putting green to the beach where the barbecue was taking place.
"Don’t worry," Luke said. "These are all flesh and blood people. Most of them inherited their wealth, and most of them have just as many flaws as anyone from your neighborhood back in Oregon. In fact," he said and leaned in closer. "Some of them are even more fucked up that your average middle class person. I bet your father is far more together than any of the men here, despite their wealth and privilege."
I smiled at him. "You think so?"
"I know so," he said, nodding. "These men have worked hard in their businesses, but several had it passed on to them and they merely took over the reins of power. They didn’t build their businesses."
"They still run them," I replied, trying to dampen down my awe.
"Sure, but many of the wealthiest men I know only make decisions, and leave all the grunt work of running an organization to underlings. They spend a lot of time on the golf course, having business lunches, taking jaunts in their private jets to talk to other businessmen and have business lunches, play on different golf courses. It's an entirely different sort of thing from actually building a company from the ground up."
"Like you and John did with Chatter," I offered.
He squeezed my hand. "Exactly. I know what it’s like to start from scratch. Yes, I had seed money, but I earned half that money myself, investing. Every business has to either bootstrap or use money they've begged, borrowed or stolen. I started with a hundred thousand dollar investment account that I accrued from years of selling comics and investing my inheritance. I used that to fund the startup. John chipped in his own savings, and we were off. The rest was hard work, a brilliant idea and a lot of legwork getting it started."
I smiled, impressed with his accomplishments. He was a bit cocky about it, but then again, he was waiting on a two billion dollar deal to come through. I figured he could afford to be a bit cocky…
"So, who all’s here," I said when we approached the group of people sitting around a table under a huge gazebo.
He peered at the group and leaned closer. “My parents. The Blakes of course, just as I thought. Mr. and Mrs. B plus Felicia. I hope John shows up soon so Mrs. B doesn’t give me the stink eye. And there's Jim Thorpe and his wife Marie. Plus my father's golfing buddy who's the CEO of a Wall Street investment firm you won’t have heard of but which handles billions of dollars in investments of the rich and famous. Smile for the camera," he said and squeezed my hand.
He pulled me over to where his adoptive mother and adoptive father were sitting.
"Hello everyone," he said and bent down to kiss his adoptive mother's cheek. "Mother. Father," he said and smiled at the people sitting at the table. "Good to see everyone. For those of you who haven’t met her already, this is Alexandria."
I smiled my best smile and tried to make eye contact with everyone as Luke introduced them.
"Luke," Mrs. Thorpe said, eyeing me up and down. "We didn’t know you had a new girlfriend. How nice to meet you, Alexandria."
"Please, call me Alexa," I said and felt my cheeks heat.
"Alexa’s doing her Master's Degree in International Relations at Columbia," Luke said, a note of fake pride in his voice. "We met there last year."
"How nice," Mrs. Thorpe said and I was surprised at how these adults looked on the children of their friends almost as possessions to be mated off to each other's children. On their part, the Blakes gave me acid smiles, Mr. Blake narrowing his eyes like he was assessing why I got Luke instead of his daughter. I thought the time of the aristocracy pairing off children to each other had gone, but I found it operating in full force in the wealthy business types in Manhattan. Who would have thought?
Luke and I went over to the barbecue where a chef wearing a white chef's hat was moving pieces of meat around on the grill.
"Take a plate and tell Jean what you want. Looks like there's beef ribs, roast beef, steak and burgers."
I examined everything on the grill and opted for a small tenderloin steak. Luke took some ribs and then we served ourselves salad and bread, snagged a beer each and went back to the table. Luke pulled out a seat and I sat down, nervous about being with all these strangers, but at least Luke would be there to look after me. While I thought I could carry on a conversation about international affairs as well as the best of them, I had no idea what rich people talked about when they sat around a supper table.
I ate my meal and listened as they talked about the stock market, about the golf courses they were visiting during the season, about the election, and about mundane things like the weather and the price of oil. I kept my mouth shut and ate without contributing, and Luke was silent as well, seemingly hungry and focused on his food.
"Is your steak to your liking?" Mrs. Marshall asked, looking at me over top of her glass of wine.
"Yes, thanks," I replied, smiling. "Delicious."
"So, Luke, tell us about this deal we've all been hearing about," Mr. Thorpe said, focusing on Luke.
Luke recounted the upcoming meeting and how there were several buyers interested in acquiring Chatter, including Harrison, the Blake’s son. I recounted how they were vetting each one to ensure they shared the company's vision for the business. Luke was smart and articulate and the others listened as he spoke. They were all rich as crap but they were also impressed with someone who could build a business worth two billion in such a short time.
"To what do you attribute your success, young man?" Mr. Thorpe asked. He'd pulled out a cigar and was smoking, blowing the smoke off to the side of the group. Beside him, Mrs. Thorpe waved the smoke away, making a face of disgust. She turned to Luke.
"Yes, Luke. Tell us what you think made your business so successful."
Luke put down his rib and wiped his hand, then took a drink of beer.
"It was timing and a lot of legwork plus the smarts of my co-founder. I'm the deal maker, John is the tech wizard. We work together really well, we're both equally ambitious and we had a product that people actually wanted to use. It filled a niche and there were enough people using it to make it very desirable to investment types."
People nodded and congratulated Luke on his success and I smiled as I watched him enjoy it, basking in being able to talk about his business.
"What will you do now?"
"I'm going to take a year off and sail around the world," Luke replied, then filled them all in on his plans, talking about building a custom-made catamaran from the ground up and then take it around the world with a crew.
"What about you, dear?" Mrs. Blake asked, her face a bit gloating. "Will you be going with Luke?"
"Oh, no," I said and felt incredibly nervous, coming up with a story on the fly. "I couldn't take the time off. I'll be starting my PhD and I don’t want to delay it any longer than I have to."
"Alexa will fly and meet us at various locations while we're in port," Luke said and took my hand, squeezing it and then kissing my knuckles in a gallant gesture that was pure performance. "It'll be hard to be apart for that long, but we'll find ways to see each other during her vacations and on long weekends. I'll fly her anywhere she wants to go when we get into port."
I smiled, wishing that were the truth and not just a story he told to make sure Mrs. Blak
e gave up on her dreams of marrying Felicia off with him. I turned to see what Felicia was doing but she was looking down at her plate, pushing food around. I felt truly bad for her because it was obvious Mrs. B was a domineering type who tried to control her daughter’s life.
I couldn’t stand it if my mother was that much of a busybody, trying to marry me off to her best friend's son. Felicia herself was quiet and I hoped John showed up soon so she could enjoy the night. John seemed to be interested in her when we were at the family dinner at Cipriani's. Felicia was pretty and she was sweet in a quiet sort of way. I felt no ill will from her and when she met my eyes, she wasn't shooting daggers at me the way her mother was.
For the next hour, we sat with the group and ate our meals, and once we were done and the bottles of wine were empty, Luke's parents, Mrs. Thorpe, Felicia and the Blakes went up to the house. Mr. Thorpe stayed behind with us and Luke and Mr. Thorpe talked business.
"I'll stay here for a while if you two lovebirds don’t mind," he said and pointed to his cigar. "I'm persona non grata nowadays due to my filthy habit."
I smiled at him. He seemed like a good-natured man who listened intently as Luke talked a bit more about the deal and what his plans were after he returned from his trip around the world.
"Well, I better leave you two alone for a while," Mr. Thorpe said and stood, throwing his cigar into the fire pit. "Mrs. Thorpe will want me there so we can socialize before we hit the sack. We're driving back to the city to do some shopping before the fundraiser tomorrow night but we wanted to come out here for a few days before the real work starts."