Fall: a ROCK SOLID romance

by Karina Bliss

  “No, don’t argue. Let me show how much I appreciate all you do for me. I know you missed your mother’s wedding because of your workload.”

  As Dimity racked her brain for a good reason to refuse, Elizabeth walked through a side door wheeling one of the suitcases Dimity had left on the driveway. “Thank God you’re back.”

  Her relief would have been ego-boosting, except Elizabeth was always nagging her to take a break, and was bound to side with Zee.

  How the hell was she going to talk her way out of this with two people ganging up on her?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seth drove the long way home needing to simmer down before inflicting himself on the rest of his family.

  He couldn’t believe that a thirty-year business had gotten into trouble so quickly. He thumped the steering wheel. Shit, shit, shit.

  Legacy had always been an important motivator for his dad. With no one to build an empire with, to pass the baton to, had he lost interest, let things slide and misread key economic indicators?

  “Yeah, because it’s all about you, rock star.” He had to stop shouldering the guilt, assume this was his fault. It wouldn’t help him come up with a solution.

  Every business had customers who were slow payers. Maybe one of the company’s major clients had gone into receivership owing them a lot of money?

  These were questions he should have asked his father, but the news had come as such a shock, then Dad’s knee-jerk rejection of help— He slammed the brakes on when the car in front stopped for a red light that he hadn’t noticed.

  He pulled over into a side street and phoned his old office extension, feigning surprise when Jeff answered. “Sorry, Jeff, I thought I was phoning reception. It’s Seth. Yeah, old habits I guess. Before you put me through, how the hell are you? We haven’t managed much of a chat yet.”

  By the time he hung up he knew that the company wasn’t subject to a hostile takeover, Jeff thought the valuer was an auditor, and he had no access to financial accounts. Seth could talk to Yvonne about bad payers and whether a major client had gone bankrupt and was dragging the firm down, but his ignorance would also reveal his estrangement with Frank, and he wasn’t prepared to wash that dirty linen in public.

  Which led him back to Frank—I have no choice—Curran, who didn’t want to sell but was being forced to. The signs led to a financial disaster. So why not at least consider Seth as an investor?

  Does he hate me that much?

  He didn’t want to go there, so he nursed righteous anger, which at least kept the cold dread at bay. A couple of blocks from the house he saw Janey power-walking toward him, pushing what looked like the Mars Rover. As he drove past, he blasted the horn to get her attention, did a U-turn and pulled up alongside.

  The Mars Rover turned out to be a hi-tech stroller.

  Removing her iPod’s earbuds, she opened his driver’s door and smiled at him. “Hey, want to come walking with us?”

  Seth wasn’t in the mood for smiles.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Dad was getting ready to sell the business?” he demanded. That it was in financial distress?

  “Really? That’s fantastic.” Janey’s smile broadened. “Mum’s been trying to talk him into retiring since…for months. She hasn’t mentioned it lately. I wonder if she knows?” Tightening her ponytail, she glanced into the stroller where his niece lounged like a suburban princess, one fat leg slung over the rim and a bottle clutched to her chest.

  The teat popped as the baby broke the suction and gave Seth a milky smirk, which he was too distracted to return.

  “Yeah, I’ll walk with you.” Locking the car, he crouched by the stroller and greeted Em properly, then wiped her away her drool with a bib that read, ‘These fools put my cape on backwards.’

  “Has Dad mentioned how the business has been going lately?”

  “Are you kidding?” Janey set the pace with a long stride. “After you left, work was the last topic I brought up. It fell under ‘don’t mention the war’ category.”

  He was startled. “As bad as that?”

  “Dad would start venting about your ingratitude, I’d defend you and then get the ‘everything I’ve done, I’ve done for my kids’ speech.”

  He had no idea. “I’m sorry I left you with the fallout.”

  “Don’t be. It’s bullshit. Dad works obsessively because he loves it.”

  That’s what Seth had always believed, but now he wondered if his father worked so hard because he had to. Except…he’d seen the balance sheets when he’d worked in the business, and they were healthy. Which meant the business had gone downhill after he’d left. He felt sick. And it would be just like Frank with his pride to hide a fall in fortunes from his family.

  “I’ve been thinking about our childhood a lot since I’ve had Em.” They reached the park and turned into the entrance, taking the perimeter track. “Not once did Dad come to a single netball game of mine, or make a ‘meet the teachers’ evening. Mum did all the school camps, all the ferrying around to after-school activities. Did he ever go to any of your football games?”

  “No,” he said, only half listening. Should he tell his sister what he’d learned?

  “Let’s face it, the only reason you two got so close was because you took the same interest in his work that he did.”

  Seth stuck out a hand and slowed the stroller. Janey was feeding her anger into her stride. “Don’t get bitter,” he said, talking her down. I am not letting this family implode more than it has. “Dad has that old-school mentality—the father provides and the mother nurtures. But he loves you.” Me, I’m no longer sure about.

  No wonder Frank was so sour and unforgiving. Yeah, he was responsible for what was happening with the business, but Seth had left him in the lurch by resigning so abruptly. And he had let his father believe he’d take over the family firm, until the Rage opportunity arose. Guilt started riding him hard again. “He helped you and Tom out with the deposit on the house when you moved back to New Zealand, and the first thing he did when Em was born was set up a bank account for her.”

  More reasons why he needed to persuade Frank to accept his offer of a bailout.

  “And that’s supposed to compensate for ignoring us?”

  “Dad might not tell you how he feels, but he sure as hell tells everyone else. All his business associates used to ask after you.” They’d told him, too, how proud Frank was of him. He remembered his response to Dimity in The Comfort Zone when she’d suggested he spill his guts to her therapist.

  I’m a Kiwi bloke. We suffer stoically, and die of heart disease brought on by repressed feelings.

  It summed up his father to a tee. But not me, he thought. I am my mother’s son. He would fix this, not out of guilt, but because he loved the old bastard.

  They reached the lake at the center of the park. “Let’s walk around so Em can see the ducks,” Janey said. “I brought bread.” They changed direction. “I really want Dad more involved in his granddaughter’s life,” she said. “If he sells the business and retires, then maybe he will be.”

  As long as they have enough money to enjoy that retirement.

  “Seth, why are you frowning?”

  “Just wondering if having him around full-time will drive Ma crazy. And you know what they say about workaholics quitting the daily grind. Their adrenaline levels drop, and they keel over.”

  Janey stopped walking. “Don’t even joke about that stuff.”

  “Sorry.” Em squawked a protest from the stroller and Seth took over pushing to get them moving again. Janey was still looking anxious. She’d always had a vivid imagination. As kids, he’d used to scare the spit out of her with bogeyman stories.

  Putting his gnawing anxiety aside, he worked to coax a smile out of her. He wouldn’t tell Janey anything yet, she’d only worry herself sick about how to repay the house deposit. “They’ll find plenty to do in retirement. Mum can take Dad to yoga and meditation, sign him up for salsa dancing.”

>   Janey grinned. “They can follow Rage on the tour circuit, and stay at your bachelor pad in LA.”

  “Yeah, I can see Dad partying with Moss. They can get stoned together and get a piercing.”

  She was laughing now and an answering chuckle from the stroller only made her laugh harder. He made himself join in.

  “Silly Uncle Seth,” Janey said to her daughter.

  “You can’t choose your family, kid.”

  “I think I lucked out with my brother.” Janey butted his shoulder with her head. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” He had to convince his father to take money, for all their sakes. “Is that a coffee stand? Let’s get one.”

  “Sure.”

  As they waited for their order he said casually, “Don’t tell Mum that Dad’s getting a valuer in. Let’s not get her hopes up in case he changes his mind about selling.”

  “Okay.” She was crouched in front of the stroller, keeping Em entertained. “I was sorry to miss Dimity this morning. When will we see her again?”

  “Not sure. She’s in work mode now.” He paid for the coffees and they resumed their trek to the ducks. The lovely lightness of this morning had disappeared as though it had never been.

  “I like her,” Janey said.

  “Yeah, me, too.” It occurred to him that Dimity was the only person who knew his two worlds and could move comfortably between them. They reached the area where a dozen mallard ducks congregated, in and out of the pond, and picked a course around the duck poo to the water’s edge.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” his sister confided, “but she’s such a character and totally in love with you. So yeah. I approve.”

  He couldn’t help but be amused by her blessing. “We’re just having fun, sis.” He unbuckled Em from the Mars Rover, hoping Dimity’s day was going better than his. What would she do in his place?

  She’d fix it. So I’ll fix it.

  “Totally in love with you.” Janey stressed, unpacking the bread.

  “Uh-huh… So when does this baby brain thing wear off?”

  His sister threw a crust at him.

  * * *

  “Why is your PA looking in need of strong liquor?” Elizabeth said accusingly. She’d taken one look at Dimity’s face and turned to Zander.

  “Because I embraced my caring side and offered her a week’s holiday. What you’re seeing on her face, my love, is joy.”

  If Dimity wasn’t so winded, she would have rolled her eyes. But she needed all her mental energy to dig herself out of this unexpected hole.

  “Now?” Elizabeth suddenly looked as sick as Dimity felt. Elizabeth’s fingers tightened convulsively on the handle of the suitcase. Then she smiled. “That’s really thoughtful.”

  “Isn’t it?” Zander looked as proud as if he’d just ridden a bike without training wheels for the first time.

  “How about I show you where you’re sleeping?” Before Dimity could argue, Elizabeth had caught her arm and was marching her outside, moving so fast that Dimity’s pink suitcase bounced from deck to ramp to the shell path leading to the sleep-out.

  Elizabeth stopped the moment they were clear of the main building.

  “Please say no,” she pleaded. “Zander might be able to do without you for a week, I can’t.”

  And there is a God. “I don’t know…”

  “I swear I’ll make it up to you, but I need your help. The publisher wants to reshoot the cover after feedback from the big accounts. Apparently it’s too—”

  “Esoteric?” She’d tried to tell Max that when she’d first seen the concept. An unmade bed, Zander’s famous Stetson on the bedpost and a pair of reading glasses on the pillow to denote the nerdy academic. Elizabeth didn’t even wear glasses. “Intriguingly significative,” the art department called it.

  “Tame and boring,” Elizabeth said darkly. She, of course, had loved it. “Max wants to reshoot the cover with me lying under rumpled sheets. He’s even suggesting ‘No Rest for the Wicked’ as a subtitle.”

  Dimity shook her head. “How crass.” She wished she’d thought of it.

  Elizabeth might have thought she’d given up her privacy by writing this memoir, but she hadn’t yet comprehended that there were degrees of exposure. Exactly what Dimity been trying to explain to Seth when she’d turned down an affair. There was a big difference between first- and third-degree burns. But Elizabeth clearly didn’t need to hear that analogy right now.

  “I haven’t even shipped the manuscript yet and the publisher wants a naked cover shoot?” Elizabeth raked a hand through her red curls. “I know it’s a big ask to defer your break, but I need you to stall Max, at least for another couple of weeks until I finish the damn book.”

  “Of course,” Dimity said magnanimously. “Though it’s odd that Zander didn’t factor that in when he offered me a holiday.” And why was it suddenly a damn book? Wasn’t it a labor of love?

  “Zander doesn’t know,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “I don’t know what?”

  Zee strolled into the back garden carrying the cooler and a sharp knife.

  “Oh, God,” Dimity said. “Really? In addition to watching you kill my lunch, I now have to watch you remove its guts? This is taking your wild man reputation to ridiculous levels.”

  He wouldn’t be diverted. “What don’t I know, Doc?”

  Elizabeth looked hunted.

  “She’s running behind schedule.” Dimity gave him the truth—just not all of it. “She wants me to defer my holiday and handle Max while she gets it done.”

  “Tell him you need the deadline extended,” he suggested with the unconscious entitlement of the very famous.

  His lover rallied. “No, I always meet my deadlines. And they’re rushing the book to print so there’s no wriggle room. Having Dimity around to handle extraneous stuff would really help.”

  Zee looked torn. “Just when I was getting the hang of empathy,” he muttered. “So who do I worry about now? You or Dimity? I can only manage one at a time.”

  “Neither,” they said together, caught each other’s eye and smiled. And in that moment, Dimity realized she’d been using her arguments on the wrong person. Zee listened to Elizabeth, she could change his mind.

  But first Dimity had to change hers.

  * * *

  When he returned from feeding the ducks Seth phoned his accountant and re-familiarized himself with his investments. Being brought up alongside the business had made him savvy with money and he’d invested most of what he’d earned.

  As he’d suspected, he’d be penalized on a couple of fixed term investments by pulling cash out early, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

  And if Curran Consulting needed more?

  Calculating the time in LA—It was ten-thirty p.m.—he texted Moss. Five minutes later, he was looking at Rage’s axe-man via Skype.

  “You’re lucky you caught me, I’m just about to head out for the night.” Wearing black jeans, an unbuttoned red shirt and towel-drying his wet hair, he was clearly just out of the shower.

  “Best time for vampires.”

  “With this tan?”

  Mongrel, Moss called himself—black-haired, olive-skinned, green-eyed. A product of invader/invadee genetics, he’d told Seth once when they’d got drunk together. The lore from the show was that he’d been living in his car at the time of auditions—it was actually a converted Volkswagon Combi. But as Zander said at the time, “Why ruin a good story?”

  “I was talking about your nocturnal habits.”

  “It’s nice to have the choice,” Moss countered. “Between Jared’s kids training him to be up at six a.m. and your inability to break nine-to-five habits, I’m making the most of this downtime while I can.” He picked up the tumbler beside him and the ice rattled. Rum and coke was his poison.

  “Is this a social call, or…?” His voice was perfectly level, but Seth sensed him bracing himself.

  Before he could reassure him, a wo
man came into shot behind him, naked. Reaching over Moss’s shoulder, she took his glass from his hand and sipped from it, bending to bite his neck, as she returned it to him. With a little wave for Seth, she walked away, curvy ass swaying.

  “I hate to ruin the mood, but any chance you and I can have some alone time?”

  “Sure. Hang on.”

  Moss picked up the laptop and carried Seth into the living room. In the dark, the ceiling was dappled with the reflection of the lap-pool’s lights shining through the water on the other side of the glass wall. The two of them shared the lease on this living-the-dream, Santa Monica mansion. Moss switched on some lamps. “You’ve got news on Zander’s voice, haven’t you?”

  “All I know is there’s been some kind of setback in his recovery.”

  Their captain had provisioned their life raft as best he could with food and water should he fail to return—but the music industry was akin to the Bermuda Triangle. They were well aware a new band could disappear without a trace.

  “Fuck.” Moss ran his fingers through his damp hair. “This is worse than waiting for a pregnancy test.”

  Seth was momentarily distracted. “Have you been doing that?”

  “Not for a while.”

  Sometimes it was impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

  Born Aiden, his nickname had nothing to do with the color of his eyes, despite what his female fans believed. He’d become a rolling stone at sixteen to escape foster care after the death of his father.

  He’d pawned his dad’s guitar many times, Seth knew that much. Stolen it back at least once, when he couldn’t find the money.

  “Don’t panic. Dimity insists all hope is not lost.”

  “Well, she’d know. How are you doing?”

  Neither of them saw any point in wasting emotional energy on conjecture. Expect the best, prepare for the worst. They’d already discussed finding cheaper digs if the worst happened with Zander’s vocals.

  Seth told him what he’d discovered about his father. “If I clear out my savings—which looks likely—I wanted to give you a heads-up in case you want to find another roommate. I could end up sliding further down the property ladder than you need to go.”