by C. D. Gill
Avri gave a sympathetic hum as she chose one of the new Jumanjis.
“What’d I miss?” Linc stomped down the steps. He had never been the quiet one out of the four of them. Hockey suited his personality beautifully. Falling back onto the sofa, he plopped his socked feet on the coffee table with a loud “Ah.”
With his cup raised, he made eye contact with Xander. “To surviving another Christmas party…” His emphasis was not lost on Xander.
Avri lifted her cup higher. “To Xander’s presence saving us from forced, awkward conversation with people who have ‘heard all about’ us and seen so many pictures of us when we can’t reciprocate the nicety.”
Xander looked back and forth between them. “To your good health…”
They laughed and sipped their drinks.
“If it makes you feel any better, Xander, they never hid your pictures or took you off the Wall of Fame. But you’re right. I think Mom and Dad have been avoiding hard topics our entire lives, and we learned that from them,” Avri said, glancing at him and then back at the screen.
“I don’t think Mom and Dad told anyone I was a hockey player until I’d been featured in a big-name sports magazine for one of my sponsors.” Linc shook his head. “Like I was a kid messing around with my life instead of someone who had a legitimate career.”
Those family dinners had been so tense when Dad had expressed his concern every chance he had that Lincoln find a career that paid the bills instead of skating around bashing teeth in. Then, he tried to get everyone else to talk to him about it so Linc might start taking life seriously. Dad hadn’t ever picked on Xander, because he’d been proud that his son had followed in his coaching footsteps.
Proud, until Xander couldn’t be man enough to confess his misdeeds to the court. Who would have thought that pleading “not guilty” would be a reason for your parents to disown you?
“As the youngest, I was lucky enough to get the brunt of the life talks at dinner. ‘Avri, choose something you can be proud of.’” She cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Or ‘Choose a career in a respectable field. Don’t be like those other airheaded girls who choose the easiest major and then party away their schooling.’ Really, it was an honor to listen to all the inspirational speeches.”
They laughed, but Xander felt the pain stirring deep down. Pain he’d ignored for most of his life. Had any of them really ever been good enough for their parents? For anyone? Making it to the men’s national soccer team coaching staff was confirmation that he was on the right track with his career, his life.
Looking back, it was a crutch.
He was the oldest and supposed to have his life together. It was easy to pin his problems on his past, where the deep-seated doubt and insecurity had developed. It wasn’t so easy to root that out and replace his lifelong beliefs with the truth.
If he thought his siblings deserved every happiness in life, then he did, too. A happiness that involved claiming Gia, for richer or poorer.
If he knew she could love him at his lowest, then any high they hit would be a bonus.
Time to go after what he wanted most.
“So Avri,” he said. She looked alarmed. “What do you think about solitaire settings for engagement rings?”
A squeal accompanied her bouncing to his side, the movie forgotten. “I’ve dreamed of this day.”
She pulled up a well-known jeweler on her phone so fast it was as if she’d had it bookmarked for the occasion. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, Linc moved in a little closer, too.
Interesting. That’d have to be a topic of conversation soon.
By the time they’d surfaced from engagement rings, his earlier confidence was a mere flicker in his mind. He needed to do more research, sell more products, and overall have way more money in his account than he did right now.
“Let’s go see if there is any dessert. We should probably show our faces again so they don’t think we ate and bailed,” Xander said.
Together, they waded into the crowded upstairs.
“What are you doing about the thing you are supposed to have?” Linc murmured in his ear amongst the din of the party.
“I told the cops. Now I’m just waiting for a revelation.”
Linc shook his head. “Did they agree to protect you?”
“Not even a little bit,” Xander said. The subject sent his heart rate into overdrive and he did not need a panic attack in the middle of his parents’ party. “What were you and Dad disagreeing about earlier?”
“Money.”
Xander motioned for him to continue.
“He’s overextended his refinance on the house and wants a loan for some high-risk stocks to invest in that would help pad their retirement. He used a lot of their savings for Mom’s mental therapy appointments, but didn’t tell her. She’s planning on retiring from teaching next year without any knowledge that they are essentially broke. So he’s trying to make the money back with some high-risk moves that I don’t agree with.”
Broke.
Dad had been preaching the importance of saving for retirement since he could remember. He’d been diligent to the point of not helping any of his kids pay for university courses because that was money that would be taken from their retirement. The way he presented it was he could pay for college or retirement, and putting his money away for retirement was the only way he could see them not being a burden as they aged.
Xander didn’t argue with that. It was their money to do with as they pleased, and he’d earned scholarships to get him through the in-state fees.
Surely, Dad hadn’t spent all their money on therapy. He was too conscientious to do that. There had to be more going on.
“So what are you going to do?”
“I promised him I would talk to my investor guy about the best way to do this. I don’t want my parents filing for bankruptcy because of medical costs, but there has to be a better way for them to recoup the losses without such high risk.”
“Sounds like Dad might be keeping secrets again,” he murmured in Linc’s ear.
“My thoughts, exactly.”
Chapter 15
Before Cara confirmed it, Gia saw the truth in her eyes, shame and defiance in the same look. The fear slammed into her, knocking the hurtful words from her forefront of her thoughts. Cara was high. There was no other explanation for who this monster inhabiting her mind was.
“Absolutely none of your business.” With a hiss, Cara yanked her arm away. “If I were, I’d be justified with the way this past year has been a life from hell.”
“Okay. You’re right.” The ground Gia tread was a thin sheet of ice. If anyone understood the consequences on the body and wouldn’t judge, it was her. And Cara knew it. Gia nodded. “It has been one of the worst years.”
The pieces fell into place—why Cara had been disappearing, not showing up when she promised to, continuing to lose weight, not having much of an appetite. It wasn’t grief alone, as she’d suspected.
Antia recovered admirably. “Let’s go get that dessert and go somewhere we can dance. I’m itching to go deaf while I inhale alcohol-tainted body odor and sweat.”
As they walked from the restaurant into the cold night air, her mind reeled with one question—how could she be there for Cara best?
When she’d been dating Bronc, under his thumb, she’d dabbled with smoking weed socially and experimented with some pills that scared her so badly she never tried them again. It had given her momentary relief from her harsh reality, made her feel happy before dropping her into the hazy abyss.
The memories couldn’t be clearer of stealing away to enjoy it, the anticipation of feeling numb, and the consequences of it all. When she left New Orleans, her new start included going cold turkey on the drugs. Seeing the life drain out of Uncle Angelo in her arms put her whole world and what she wanted into perspective. Cara would have to have that moment, too, or she’d never stop.
The driver took them up and over a few blocks to the sundae sh
op. No Andy and friend this time, but the shop was small with a few patrons at the tables. They didn’t have much to say as they shoveled the ice cream into their mouths. When she finished, she excused herself to the bathroom to text Xander about their night.
At Cara’s request, they capped off their girls’ night at a jazz club, a fraction classier than the dance club Antia had mentioned. Someone must have texted him the plan, because—like magic—Andy and his friend showed up at the table right next to theirs. They had jackets on over the collared shirts they’d been wearing most of the evening. Fit right in to the atmosphere.
Except for exchanging the occasional comment, they had their heads on swivel, nodding to the music. Whenever one of the girls ordered something, one or the other accompanied the waitress to and from the bar with the drinks as if they had a conversation they were desperate to continue.
The music seemed to lift Cara out of the funk she’d been in. Gia watched her hands for shakes or withdrawals of any kind. So far nothing. Her belligerence now gone, the drop would come soon.
How hard would she fall? Would Gia be able to help pick up the pieces?
The music shifted to a slower, more melodic set, propelling Antia and Sara onto the dance floor. Across the table, Cara sat with her eyes closed swaying to the music. Gia moved her chair next to Andy’s in the shuffle. His cologne was light but an enticing scent.
“Did you know about the drugs?” she said into his ear.
Andy tilted his head so he looked her straight in the eye. “It’s our business to know as much as we can.”
The anger swelled in her chest. She hated him a little bit. “So what? You were going to keep it a secret until when? She ended up in a dangerous situation or worse—dead?”
“It isn’t a secret we are keeping, Gia. The people who need to know do.”
Oh, she loathed his words and everything they implied. Once again, Daddy knew and said nothing. Biting her tongue, Gia stood and weaved her way to the dance floor where she could keep an eye on Cara. The change of location gave her a second of perspective. Maybe they were helping Cara somehow. Maybe they didn’t want Gia to be overly stressed on top of the project she’d agreed to.
It wasn’t her place to know everything, never had been, but it stuck in her craw that she was exactly what Cara had called her—a naive princess in need of sheltering by everyone from everything. She’d worked so hard at making a way for herself in life protecting herself, becoming independent and self-sufficient, trying to live up to everything she wanted to be as a woman.
The next morning, the wound was still raw as she pulled on black jeans and ruffled red blouse to join Ma and Daddy at the charity function they sponsored and served at every year. The door to Cara’s guest room was still closed. Would it be too much to hope they’d see her later? Her family had served every year at this event.
Instead of an awkward Christmas party everyone dreaded each year, they served breakfast out of one of their warehouses to the city’s homeless and underfed as well as their families, and anyone else they wanted to bring along. At the end, everyone left with a Christmas dinner basket and a bag of necessities. Her parents worked with a half-dozen charities in the city to set this up every year. The charity directors came and enjoyed the meal as well without lifting a finger—something they were not accustomed to.
The cost was astronomical and came mostly out of Ma and Daddy’s pocket except for what others pitched in. In addition to food, they gave out grants, scholarships, and paid off medical debt.
Because they’d struggled to make ends meet and having been on the receiving end of a generous hand up had been a game changer for them.
Both of them.
And that wasn’t something they ever wanted to lose sight of.
This year, all of Ma’s visiting family wanted in on the event, so a part of them went back to help set up the trays and the others prepped the serving area. Gia nibbled at her lip as she glanced at the door. Cara hadn’t showed yet. Her family had done this with them every year since they started, no exceptions. The idea that none of Cara’s family would be here this year took some of the wind from her sails.
They had plenty of help, though. The C-level executives of Ma and Daddy’s companies, their families, and some of the lower management paraded in to prepare the dinner baskets to give out. A hired company had come in the last night to set up the chairs, tables, and Christmas decorations.
A security team was at the door, and every door, this year, checking people in and looking at IDs. Bright and cheery, Andy appeared at her side after she’d finished shaking hands and wishing everyone a merry Christmas, next to Ma and Daddy. No trace of fatigue from yesterday’s late night out showed in his face or general carriage. In his three-quarters zip green sweater and gray slacks, he fit in perfectly.
“You’re going to be serving bacon this morning at the table closest to the kitchen. I’ll be serving the sausage on your right side. If people ask, I’m part of your cousin squad. Silva and Breno are the muscle bringing the trays of food to our serving table. You don’t go anywhere alone. Okay?” Andy asked, his tone happy.
Fatigue clawed at her chest. She narrowed her eyes. Six a.m. was far too early to be this happy. “You got it, Cousin Andy.”
He motioned to the back. “Let’s eat before the event starts. I don’t want to have to worry about your food or drink being messed with when the crowd arrives.”
Typically, once everyone was served, those who were serving plated food for themselves from what was left and had their breakfast scattered amongst everyone. The breakfasters mingled with the executives, talked about the problems they were facing, and sometimes even left with a scheduled interview.
Gia grabbed a plate from the end of the serving table. The serving trays filled fast. Eggs, potatoes, sausage, bacon, grits, pancakes, fruit salad, and cornbread. The whole breakfast lineup made an appearance.
A little something for everyone.
She dished up a small plateful of eggs, bacon, and fruit, enough to jumpstart her energy. Andy took every food she did but in larger portions and a second plate with a couple of the carbs thrown on.
No one would know the kitchen was makeshift, brought in the night before and set up. They sat on a couple of stools pulled up to a prep table near the stoves. A few aproned chefs laughed and traded stories as they prepared the variety of foods. Eating in public had never made her nervous, but eating next to Andy was another stark reminder of the danger awaiting her. Frankly, she was over it. Maybe she didn’t want to eat, after all.
She watched as he took the first bite. When he noticed her stare, he stopped chewing with a grin. Then, he stabbed his fork into her eggs and shoved them in his mouth.
“Waiting for me to die?” he said around the food.
What was it with this guy? Such an enigma. He fascinated her. Without blinking, she nodded slowly. “Absolutely, yes.”
“We’ve been watching the whole time.” His head tilt had her looking over at a tall, alert man standing off to the side of the stoves. Supervising. “Don’t forget to look for the cameras. We beefed up the coverage for today from what is usually in here. We have guys monitoring every angle. People at the door. These guys are hound dogs. We’re close to finding the person responsible for this. Then you can go back to the life you want, instead of worrying about watching your back endlessly,” Andy said.
She didn’t want to talk about it again, not really. No use in letting her breakfast get cold. She dug in. “Did you run into any trouble last night as you popped in and out of the back doors of places like celebrities?”
“No, everyone cooperated nicely. We had a tiny bit of resistance at the jazz club since we hadn’t given any advance notice,” he shrugged, but didn’t seem annoyed, “but with a little explanation they understood the severity of the need. And they also know how word travels quickly about accommodating security needs. If they want to attract a certain clientele, they need to be flexible with private security being on
site.”
Gia raised an eyebrow. “You flexed on them by reminding them you could tell other security teams about their compliance or lack of?”
“Professional security is a relatively small world around here. Three, maybe four organizations are actually reputable enough to be used by higher end clients. Most of us run into each other quite a bit around town.” Andy smirked. “Would you rather have me slipping dollar bills in their hands, throwing money around like Hollywood half-brain?” He snorted and shook his head. “Now, there’s a way to get targeted quick.”
“Honestly, I’d never considered it before.” She held her hands up to hold back his incredulity. “My parents have kept me out of the limelight. People know who my parents are, but not me and that’s how everyone wanted it. It had worked really well for us until recently. In my years living in Golden, I protected myself knowing that my ex-boyfriend might come after me. The danger I feared most wasn’t from strangers.”
Andy nodded. “It’s a new mindset to adjust to, people you don’t know wanting you harmed or dead. The stakes are high.”
The military had given him a strong dose of that poison to swallow over and over. Not something to dwell on today. She pointed her forked grape in his direction. “So what are you doing for Christmas Day? Hopefully not working. We’ll be at home all day.”
Andy didn’t look up from his plate. “I’ll see family at some point.”
“Good. Because if we have to see you at our place on Christmas Day, you can guarantee you’ll be getting beaten in every video game you play with Silva, and Antia is pretty lethal at card games.”
“Noted. What about you? What Christmas festivity are you good at?”
She paused. “Skeet shooting.” His military training required he be excellent with a gun, but she tossed the challenge out anyway. His type didn’t take a day off or prioritize holidays. In her sharpshooting training days as a kid, she’d grown familiar with the way of life. The military guys there joked and talked like she couldn’t understand because she was young, but she heard everything, absorbed their thought processes.