"No, I don't. You're not his mother. You're not even his father. You're busy doing other things. You're busy holding this family's source of income together."
"And why didn't he come to me if he needed money?” Gray continued. She didn't think he'd actually heard her. “I'll tell you why. Because I would have yelled at him. I would have berated him. I would have called him irresponsible and ... I would have belittled him. Yes. I would have. That's why he didn't come to me."
"Gray. You would have been justified in yelling at him, for running through as much money as he's run through with nothing to show for it."
Gray sighed. She thought again that he had not heard her. “What am I going to do?” he mumbled, as if he were asking it only of himself. “What am I doing to do?"
"We probably need to talk to Mark,” she suggested.
"I have to think about this."
"Okay,” she agreed slowly. She didn't think delay was a good idea at that particular point in time. The FBI was already as close as she wanted them to be to the situation. If they were going to keep control, she felt they had to act as quickly as possible.
Then again, she had not just discovered that her own brother was behind a scheme that was jeopardizing her entire way of life. She supposed Gray needed a little bit of a break here.
"I have to ... I have to think about this.” He walked over to the elevator, called for it, walked onto it, left her standing all alone in his foyer.
Which showed how dazed he really was. Because he hadn't insisted she go back to the safe suite.
* * * *
"You're not thinking of jumping, right?"
That was why Danny had called her, a trifle frantic. Gray's on the roof. Just sitting on the roof. Been there for hours. It had suddenly become her job to talk Gray off ledges.
Gray, leaning on the railing that kept him from getting any closer to the edge of the roof, glanced at her briefly. “I was right. The view of the Bellagio fountains from here is fantastic."
Aubrey leaned next to him. She could see the fountains, translucent columns of shimmering water undulating in an alluring rhythmic pattern. She had no reply, and she didn't really want to start any conversation because it would inevitably be an awkward mess, so she was silent.
"I came up here to think. After you introduced me to this place ... it seemed the only place I could go to think and keep a clear mind."
"And how's your thinking going?"
"I've made a decision,” he said.
"Good. Decision is good. We don't have a lot of time here, Gray, and—"
"I'm going to turn myself in."
She blinked, momentarily thrown for a loop. “Turn yourself in?” she repeated.
He nodded. “Yes."
"How can you turn yourself in? What would you be turning yourself in for? You haven't done anything wrong."
"The Feds don't know that."
"What?"
"I said the Feds don't know that. They're convinced that I'm some sort of casino godfather. So I'll just go tell them they're right."
"But ... what would that accomplish?” she asked in total bewilderment.
"What do you mean, what would it accomplish?” He sounded as if he didn't even understand the question.
Maybe he didn't. Realization began to dawn on Aubrey. “Wait. This is for Doug?"
"What?"
"You're going to turn yourself in, pretend you're the one behind all this, to save Doug, aren't you?"
"One of us is going to prison, Aubrey."
"Better you than him, is that it?"
"Yes."
"No. Have you lost your mind? Gray—"
"Look, chances are it's going to be me they cart off to prison anyhow. They're only going to see what they want to see, and they want to see me dangling at the end of a noose. So I would save the taxpayers a lot of money and the casino a lot of inconvenience and Doug a lot of stress."
"But what about you?” she demanded.
He looked at her blankly. “What do you mean?"
"Sure, this scenario helps the taxpayers and the casino and Doug. What does it do for you?"
"Aubrey, that doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. You cannot just throw the rest of your life away with both hands because of some misguided, misplaced sense of guilt—"
"They're not going to lock me away forever. It wouldn't be the rest of my life."
"This is not your fault, this situation. I won't let you take the punishment for it."
"It is my fault. He's young. He made a mistake. I'm older. I should have stopped him."
"Gray, what good is this going to do? You turn yourself in, Dennis Halcourt is still going to launder money. You really think he's just going to let Doug off scot-free?"
"Of course not. That's why I have to make a deal with Dennis Halcourt."
"You're going to make a deal with Dennis Halcourt?"
"Yes."
"What sort of deal?"
"He can launder money through the Bienvenue. He can keep doing it if he leaves Doug alone and if he backs off for a while after I turn myself in."
"But how will you let him keep doing it?"
"I'll let Doug keep helping him."
"And won't whoever runs the casino after you leave discover the discrepancy? Just as you and Danny did?"
"It takes a while. And if Doug's clever enough, he can probably dupe them. If I were actually implementing this money-laundering scheme, I wouldn't have been caught. Granted, Doug might not be clever enough, but Dennis Halcourt is."
"You think Dennis Halcourt will take this deal?"
"Wouldn't you?"
Frankly, yes. It seemed like the best Halcourt could hope for the situation. So she switched tactics. “How are you going to get in touch with Dennis Halcourt?"
"Doug must know how to get in touch with him, wouldn't you think?"
She supposed that must be true. Feeling helpless, she protested, “Gray, this is a bad idea."
"Aubrey, it is the only option that saves Doug—"
"At the expense of you."
"Who's to say that isn't a fair trade?"
"The fact that you're not the one stupid enough to launder money, Gray!” she shouted at him, feeling suddenly furious. “You've lost your mind, you know that? Absolutely lost your mind. If you think that somehow, underneath all this twisted logic, that all this lying and subterfuge is a better alternative than just telling the truth—"
"Yes, I think it's better,” he cut in, and she could tell she had sparked anger in him, too. “I think it's better. And it's my life. My casino. My family. This is best for everyone concerned."
"And what about me?” She shouted the question over the roof at him, threw up her hands and walked in a tight circle, turned back to him. He looked openly astonished.
"What about me?” she asked again. “What happens to me, Gray? In this grand scheme for the rest of your life that you've come up with here, what happens to me? Huh? Did you even give a thought to me? Then again, maybe that in itself is very telling."
She blinked at the astonishment on his face and realized she was making a fool of herself. He hadn't spared a thought for her. He had planned all this out, and he had just assumed she would go back to wherever she had come from, with a few brilliant memories of him and quite the story to share with others.
Of course he thought this. Because she had forgotten that they were just having fun sex. She had forgotten that she wasn't supposed to be behaving like a woman who loved him.
"Oh,” she said stupidly, and took a step away from him. He continued just to stare at her, looking foolishly out of his depth. “Oh. Of course. Right. You're right, Gray."
"Aubrey—” he began then.
"No, Gray. You're right. Isn't that what you wanted to hear? So follow your stupid suicidal tendencies and do whatever the hell you want for the people and things you care about. Go fall on your sword like some noble tragic hero. I'll finish your portrait for you. I'll send you a snaps
hot in prison so you know what it looks like."
"Aubrey,” he said again. But he did not follow her off the roof.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Of course it is possible that some year will yet see a Boston team losing a world's championship.
—Boston Herald September 13, 1918
Gray found her in her own suite. He had thought she would be packing, prepared to flee, but instead, when she answered the door, she was dressed in jeans and a soft pale cream shirt and was holding a magazine, one finger keeping her place in it. “Yes?” she asked politely.
The formality amused him as much as anything could have at that moment. “May I come in?” he asked, matching it.
"Why?” she countered. “Is this going to take a while?"
"It could,” he allowed.
"I don't think it will."
"If I had brought flowers, would the reception have been any warmer?"
"No, it would have been much, much worse. I wouldn't even have opened the door."
"I figured. Aubrey, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making a decision here that you don't agree with."
"That's what you're sorry for?"
"Yes."
She just shook her head.
"What do you want from me?"
"For starters, dropping this idiotic plan of yours would be good."
"Aubrey, I have considered this situation from every angle and—"
"And you don't think there's any way you can use your influence and your money to get Doug off easy? Gray, you cannot keep bailing him out like this. That's the problem with him. And Sophie. They do whatever they want—frequently things I suspect they don't even want to do—just to test you, just to make sure that you actually will pick up all the pieces for them. And you play right into their hands. And I get that you think that this is your responsibility. But it's not, Gray. Believe me when I tell you it's not. Not this. You're going overboard with this. Gray, please believe me. Please understand me."
"I understand what you're saying, Aubrey. I understand it objectively. But subjectively ... Aubrey, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
"That's a flaw in you. A little therapy would cure it.” She was trying for humor. She was failing miserably. He smiled a little just for her benefit. “So you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. And because of that, no one else is allowed to live with you."
"I didn't think of you. You're right. I've been thinking of nothing but you, when I should have been figuring this whole mess out. I thought for once I shouldn't think about you. Do you know what I think the best solution to this problem would be?"
"What?” she asked miserably.
"I would take you away,” he answered, his voice low. “I would take you somewhere where our cell phones didn't have service and the Red Sox played and won every day, just for us. I would take you to this place and I would never come home. The problem is ... can you tell me where this place is?"
"No. And, Gray, we live in this place. Why can't you live with me here in this place? I don't want you forever, Gray. I wouldn't force you into forever. But couldn't you do with a little while longer?"
"Strangely enough,” he commented, tipping her a rueful smile, “I feel like for the first time I maybe could do with forever. But I can't, Aubrey. I understand you. I understand what you want. I want it, too. But couldn't you just, for a little while, maybe, say, the rest of the night, understand what I want."
She gazed up at him unblinkingly. He looked bad, in a way that made her want to cuddle him to her. But she knew he wouldn't let her. He would leave in the morning and go through with this nonsensical plan, no matter what she tried to tell him.
And she wasn't about to tell him that that was okay. She wasn't about to encourage all this foolishness. No way.
"I can't do that, Gray. I'm sorry."
She had surprised him, she saw, but only by a little. He had maybe been expecting that all along. “Right,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh. “Right.” He leaned down and tenderly brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I am sorry,” he whispered right into her ear and then stepped back. “Um, I don't think you're going to be unsafe tonight, but just in case, I'm going to have Mark post someone in front of your door."
She wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, but it felt too comforting to just throw away with both hands, so she nodded. “Okay. I'd like that."
"Okay.” Gray stood for a second looking down at her, this little red-headed pixie who'd slid into the seat next to him at Cask ‘n’ Flagon and had had a very good chance of changing the course of his life. At that moment, he could have killed his brother quite happily for ruining all of this.
Oh, damn, he thought, closing his eyes momentarily. Damn it all to hell. He felt like there was much he had to tell her, but the words were so jumbled together he couldn't even figure them out. A selfish part of him would have liked to ask her to help convince his mother that this was the right idea. But, since he could tell that Aubrey was still livid over how not-right she thought the idea was, Gray decided he should handle that problem himself.
So he just said again, “Okay,” before he walked away.
* * * *
February 27, 2004
This was silly. Aubrey, watching the one a.m. hour climb its way to two, punched at her pillow and decided that she was just going to sleep now. Just sleep.
But she couldn't sleep. She'd tried everything. Her mind was racing around with worry over Gray. Gray, all alone in his penthouse, contemplating this stupid decision he'd made. She knew him better than to think that maybe he'd come to his senses and not do this stupid thing at all. But wasn't it silly to leave him all alone, tonight of all nights?
Fighting it, she got up out of bed and walked out to the couch and turned the television on. There was nothing on. It was too late at night—or too early in the morning—for anything to be on television. She flipped through all the stations twice before she sighed heavily and shut the television off. Maybe she would try sleeping again. Surely she would be tired now.
She wasn't tired. Or, more properly, she was exhausted beyond belief but just couldn't sleep. She just couldn't sleep.
"Dammit,” she bit out, and climbed back out of bed and hastily pulled on a pair of jeans under the T-shirt she'd been trying to sleep in. Then she opened her door. The security guard Mark had placed outside looked at her questioningly. “I, uh, have to talk to Gray about something,” she said, and he silently escorted her to the service elevator, where she stepped on and slid the card and punched the code.
The elevator opened onto darkness—total, complete darkness. If Gray wasn't sleeping, he was pretending he was. She walked in carefully, feeling her way, growing gradually used to the dim lighting afforded by the windows. She moved softly through the living room, over to his bedroom, and slid into his bed.
He started in surprise.
"I didn't mean to wake you,” she said, nuzzling closer to him, squirming under the covers to be nearer to him.
"I wasn't sleeping. I just didn't hear you come in. You startled me."
She pressed her nose against him. He was hot, and she hadn't realized she was cold. “I told the guard I had something to tell you."
"Yeah?” He placed one of his hands on the small of her back and held her closer. “What?"
She wasn't sure she had anything to say. Except that she loved him. Which she wasn't going to say. It was bad enough she was there in the first place.
"You're shaking,” he said in surprise, turning more fully toward her.
"You've upset me,” she told him angrily. “You are upsetting me. Still."
"I said I was sorry."
She said nothing. She was shaking and she wished she would stop.
"Do you know how much you tremble? It seems virtually every time I have my hands on you you're trembling over something. Sometimes I don't even know what. But my favorite is when you get angry, and you tremble visibly. I can see you trembling when you're
furious with me and won't let me touch you."
"What happens when I'm furious with you and still let you touch me?"
"Ah, that's when I'm very, very lucky.” He brushed a nibbling, lingering kiss into the hollow behind her ear.
"I'm not going to change your mind,” she said. “And you're not going to change mine."
"No,” he allowed, nuzzling now under her jawbone. He was turning her slowly, stretching over her slowly, gradually settling his weight onto her.
"So let's not talk anymore."
"What a marvelous idea,” he said.
* * * *
"I probably won't go to prison,” he said. “I have good lawyers."
Settled comfortably against him, she did not reply. She looked out his window.
"We'll bargain,” he stated confidently when she did not say anything.
"And then what will happen?” she drawled sarcastically.
He hesitated. She felt it, a sudden hitch in his breathing, as if he hadn't thought that far. Which, naturally, he hadn't, or he would never be doing this insane thing.
"You won't be Chairman of the Board anymore,” she said into his silence.
"No,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I wouldn't be. I suppose I could be anything I wanted."
"Yes, there's generally lots of opportunities for convicted felons."
"For convicted felons with lots of money."
"You don't think the government's going to take as much of your money as they can?"
"Well,” Gray remarked after a moment of silence, “you're a bundle of sunshine."
"I'm realistic. I'm the only one in this bed who is."
Gray said nothing to that. “Do you think you would date a convicted felon?"
"Do you think we're dating now?” she countered.
"You don't?"
No. She was fairly sure they weren't dating in any definition she had of the word. If she had truly been his girlfriend, he would not be so blithely ignoring her wishes. He would have thought of her in the first place.
Rather than getting into all that, she turned to face him in the bed. “When are you meeting with Dennis Halcourt? Do you know?"
Gray sighed and rubbed at his temples. “I talked to Doug, you know."
"When did you do that?"
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