Clash (Gentry Generations)

by Cora Brent

  “I’m sure your dad loved you,” I said, although secretly I thought he was a selfish bastard who at the very least understood he’d be saddling his daughter with a legacy she’d never escape from.

  Taylor was thoughtful. “I know it sounds weird to say this, but he would have liked you. He would have liked you a lot. He could never stand Peter, even before Sierra married him.”

  A sense of uneasiness was quietly filling my chest. “I don’t want you to be alone,” I said. “I don’t trust him. Keep your phone in your hand whenever you’re out, even at work, and if you need to walk anywhere alone or late at night, call me. I will drop everything and get there.”

  “Aww.” She kissed me. “You’re so cute when you’re being overprotective.”

  Her arms went around my shoulders. I covered her mouth for a deeper kiss, full of desire and promises. That didn’t mean I was willing to let this go. Petri Dish and his affiliates would need to be dealt with.

  Then my hand traveled up Taylor’s dress and she moaned into my mouth so I set Petri Dish aside for now. Her thighs parted and my dick hardened. In a flash I set her on her feet, pushed her dress up and her panties down and braced her hips between my palms while she bent over the breakfast bar and giggled at my urgency as I fumbled with the zipper of my jeans.

  “What if your brother comes walking in?” she wanted to know, nonetheless rubbing her ass against my newly released and very excited dick.

  “To hell with him,” I muttered, positioning myself on the brink, ready to plunge in and go at it hard. “He’s gone for the day.”

  “Then you’d better hurry up and fuck me because I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes.”

  By the time she finished her last syllable I had a condom on and I was ready to go. I hesitated, though. I pushed her hair away from her right ear and leaned in close.

  “I love you,” I whispered. And then, before she had a chance to say it back, which she always did, I lifted her hips and entered her from behind. She excited the hell out of me like no one else ever had. I forced my thrusts to pace slow and deep, giving her the chance to push back and move her body in a way to reach the precise spot that made her cry out and shake. It didn’t take long.

  “I love you too,” she finally managed to gasp out and then I allowed myself to hit the pinnacle and take what I needed.

  After, I tugged my jeans back up and collapsed in a chair to watch Taylor smooth out her dress. There were times when I’d look at her and be unable to believe my luck that she belonged to me. Every guy in the world probably felt the exact same way about his girl but I was sure I had all of them beat in the good fortune department.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Taylor asked, finally noticing that I’d said I was leaving half an hour ago.

  “They’ll still have class without me,” I said. “Hey, give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you if you give it to me.”

  Taylor stretched and retrieved her phone from where it was charging on the counter. I swiftly started pressing buttons.

  She’d finished fixing her dress and was now watching me with her hands on her hips. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?”

  “Installing an app that will allow you see where I am at all times.”

  “That’s cool. Now I can stalk you.”

  “Stalk me anytime. I’m adding Thomas to your circle too.”

  “I don’t want to stalk Thomas.”

  I added my brother anyway. “Just in case I’m not reachable and you need something.”

  She leaned over and kissed my lips before taking her phone back. “You are too ridiculously adorable. But I have to go. And you should have left already.”

  I stood and zipped my fly. “I’ve got two more classes this afternoon and then I’m working tonight. But Thomas will be here. He might be down in the clubhouse gym admiring his muscles but he’ll be nearby.”

  Taylor raised an eyebrow. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

  “I know.” I kissed her one more time. “Just humor me for now, okay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay. I’ll humor you. But only because I enjoy playing with your cock so much.”

  I playfully swatted her on the ass. “Slut.”

  She cupped my balls in her hand and grinned. “Prick.”

  My smile was still all over my face as I walked out the door and hurried to the campus to catch the last fifteen minutes of Marketing in the Digital Age. I tracked Taylor just to make sure she was at work and then called Paige to ask if she could do me a favor and take my shift this evening at Esposito’s. She was agreeable but wanted to know if everything was all right.

  “Sure,” I assured her. “Everything is fine. I just have a few errands to do.”

  After the call with Paige I blew off one of my two remaining classes to catch a word with Thomas. He had a three hour break on Mondays and I knew he usually spent his spare time in the vicinity of the university’s baseball field. I found him recharging in the empty bleachers with his ear pods while eating an enormous bowl of rice. He was surprised to see me and removed his ear pods when I started explaining that I was uneasy about Taylor’s family. They weren’t going to let go of this false narrative that she was sitting on a pile of cash. They couldn’t be trusted.

  “Just be vigilant, okay?” I said to Thomas. “I don’t like the sound of any of this. Let’s try not to leave her alone until we find out what we’re dealing with.”

  Thomas nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Don’t worry. Nothing’s happening to Taylor while I’m around. I should have sent that guy a stronger message yesterday that he wasn’t welcome. I knew he was screwed up in the head the second I saw him.”

  “I bet he only took off because you showed up. We’ll figure this out but it was probably better you didn’t get too far up into his face.” I got to my feet. “All right, kid. I should let you get back to your rice bowl.”

  “It’s quinoa.”

  “Whatever.”

  He offered up his spoon. “You want some? It’s got chicken, tomatoes, feta cheese. I got it from the Mediterranean Food Palace.”

  “No thanks. I’m in the mood for something deep fried. Then I’ve got a chore to take care of.”

  “Aren’t you working tonight?”

  “Paige is taking my hours. No, I’m going to do what I should have done weeks ago. I’m going to go ask some questions about the sleazier members of Taylor’s family.”

  Thomas had little faith in my investigative skills. “Who the hell do you know that can answer those kind of questions?”

  I was surprised he hadn’t figured it out automatically. “The man who always has all the answers.”

  Slowly, realization dawned on him. “Uncle Deck?”

  I nodded. “Uncle Deck.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taylor

  I was tagging a pile of gently used handbags by the front register when Cynda breezed past with a stack of floral skirts. The hangers were all hooked around one finger and thrown over her right shoulder so that it appeared she wore a polychromatic superhero cape.

  “Taylorbriggs,” she announced, continuing with the trend of mashing my first and last names together. “You’re so very much in love and the light is nearly blinding.”

  Cynda briefly covered her eyes with her free hand, presumably to shield her vision from the light of love that, unknown to me, emanated from my body.

  Still, I blushed. I blushed because it was true. I was so in love with Kellan Gentry that my feet hardly touched the earth. There wasn’t an inch of my skin that didn’t feel newly awakened. He was the complete package. He had intelligence and humor, layered together into the sarcastic brew of his absurdly charming personality. His looks didn’t hurt either. Sometimes when I caught other girls casting an interested eye in his direction I had to block the impulse to growl in response. Kellan drove me crazy and he got me hot. A nervous thrill still rolled through my belly ev
ery time I knew I was going to see him soon. I was wild about him. Completely infatuated. And I loved every second.

  “Guilty,” I said to Cynda because there was no point in denying what was written on my face or in my aura or whatever. Not to mention the fact that my walk might be broadcasting this morning’s acrobatic kitchen sex.

  My boss beamed at me. “He’s wonderful, that boyfriend of yours. The last time he stopped by I convinced him to allow me to read his fortune. Did he tell you?”

  “He mentioned it, yes,” I said, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice. Kellan’s version had Cynda seizing his wrist and dragging him to her meditation room where she lit incense candles, compelled him to sit on a handmade braided rug and then brewed a cup of tea, which she gravely presented, urging him to drink quickly. She squinted into his cup after he obligingly drained it and informed him that he’d already met the girl of his dreams and in the near future a very pivotal day would arrive in his life, a day that would shape his destiny.

  Kellan promised me that he thanked her for his efforts with a straight face. I believed him. If anyone could deadpan with success it was Kellan.

  “He’s also quite a hunk,” Cynda observed. “Along with that brother of his. What was his name?”

  “Thomas.”

  “Yes, Thomas.” Her eyes widened as her head bobbed. “That is a perfect name for him. Very strong. Does he prefer older women?”

  Thomas was just shy of his twentieth birthday. Cynda had to be in her late fifties. I could not be sure if she was serious.

  “I really couldn’t say,” I told her.

  Cynda appeared to forget about Thomas and went elsewhere to deal with her skirt collection. I finished tagging the handbags and indulged in some filthy daydreams starring Kellan’s naked body. I thought of the sound that he always made when he came and I needed to grip the edge of the counter briefly as a wave of lust struck low and began to throb.

  Those pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a customer. Specifically, the arrival of an impossibly tiny waist I once envied, tanned and toned legs acquired through many seasons of competitive swimming and a Marc Jacobs bag that had been an eighteenth birthday present from her adoring parents. She walked with a deliberate strut, swinging her hair that under natural conditions was ashy blonde and pin straight. Now it was nearly platinum and had been painstakingly curled to give the impression of casual waves.

  I may have muttered a curse or two through gritted teeth as I watched her saunter down an aisle, touch a purple blouse, and mouth the word, “Trash,” to her apparent companion; a moon-faced, excessively freckled redhead with clearly fake boobs.

  “What do you expect, Laney?” The redhead complained in a voice that sounded like she was holding her nose. “It’s a thrift store for crying out loud. Garbage people who press buttons behind fast food counters shop for their wardrobes here.”

  Laney, my former fair weather best friend, tittered over the supreme wisdom of her bosom buddy.

  I tagged another handbag to avoid screaming.

  They hadn’t noticed me yet, didn’t understand that I was standing ten feet away and judging them severely because I knew exactly what they were like. These girls had never earned an honest cent themselves. All of their lives their wishes had been granted without question and since they’d never done a thing to deserve their good fortune they felt contempt for people who were required to work hard just to eat and pay rent. They’d never struggled, they’d never known the insecurity of wondering where they would sleep at night. They were arrogant and they were thoughtless.

  They were like I used to be.

  I dropped the handbags into a bin and stowed them beneath the counter for the moment. Laney and her friend had wandered into the next aisle where they’d discovered a woman holding up a very short butterfly patterned dress to her reflection in the mirror, twisting this way and that with a hopeful expression.

  “That’s totally you,” Laney said while Boobs tittered.

  The woman didn’t realize they were having a laugh at her expense. Her small eyes blinked at her reflection. “You think so? I have my coworker’s wedding next Saturday.” She laughed. “It’s not easy finding something within the budget.”

  The dress was definitely a few sizes too small and not at all suited to her. It was the kind of dress a fourteen-year-old girl might wear to a barbecue, not something a forty-year-old woman would choose for a friend’s wedding.

  “Look no further,” Laney assured her. “You’ve found a winner.”

  She was bullshitting. I knew that tone well. It was the same voice she’d used on Halla, the au pair who’d been hired to help out after the birth of Laney’s baby sister. Halla was from a poor village in Romania and she was eager to make her mark while temporarily in the country so Laney thought it would be a riot to convince the girl to spend five hundred dollars she didn’t have on unicorn hair and a blowout at one of Scottsdale’s pricy salons. While Laney counseled Halla about how the key to all American success was the perfect hair, I listened from the next room, laughing the whole time. If I could apologize to Halla then I would but she’d returned to Romania three months later, more penniless than when she’d arrived and with nothing to show for her stay in the states except hair the color of a swirled lollipop.

  Laney took a step back and smiled at the woman who was still posing with the yellow dress while Boobs discreetly snapped a photo, probably intending to post it on some social media platform with a cruel caption. The two of them snickered and then became bored, drifting to the next aisle.

  Setting aside my anger, I took the opportunity to step in and approach the woman who was still fretting over her dress selection. I gently pointed out the rack of more elegantly styled evening gowns. I was relieved to see the yellow mini dress reclaim its position on the rack and the woman proceeded to the dressing room with an armful of better possibilities.

  Meanwhile, Delaney had moved on to irritably ransack a different row while Boobs stood at the head of the aisle, furiously attacking her phone with both thumbs while a smug smile played on her face.

  My old best friend was so busy expressing her disgust over the inventory that she took no notice as I sidled up to her.

  “May I help you find something in particular?” I asked.

  Like a conscience. A soul.

  She kept noisily moving dresses aside on the rack before abruptly stopping with a very loud sigh. “It’s been a bitch finding a Halloween costume.”

  “Those aren’t Halloween costumes,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I thought I’d find some inspiration among this weird collection of…”

  Laney broke off in midsentence and finally noticed who she was talking to. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and she swallowed hard.

  “I didn’t know you worked here,” she finally said.

  Her voice was acid. Being confronted by a ghost of friendships past was not a welcome development today.

  I shrugged. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don’t know.”

  Delaney Marino’s eyes met mine and I was flooded with a thousand memories of girlhood sleepovers, hilarious texting marathons and calendar countdowns to the day she’d be arriving home from school for a holiday or summer break. When we moved into neighboring condos our freshman year I hung out at her place more than I did at my own. Delaney was the only soul I confided in the morning after I rocked the night away with a notorious flirt named Kellan Gentry. Two days later my father was arrested and Delaney allowed me to cry on her shoulder as my family’s disgrace became public. But she’d already begun to pull away. By the following month when Richard Briggs shot himself in the head she was no longer answering my calls.

  “Well, it’s been a treat running into you but I’ve got to get going,” Delaney said and I saw the distance in her eyes. She didn’t want to remember. She didn’t want to know me. “We’ll have to catch up some other time.”

  I didn’t have to peer into Cynda’s tea l
eaves to understand that the chances of that happening were slim to none.

  Delaney grabbed Boobs and hurried out of Closet Exchange like she was being chased. I was ashamed of the sudden impulse to run after her. But I didn’t have any illusions that somehow we’d hug and cry and reclaim the bond we’d once shared. I was different now. She’d remained the same. We no longer had anything in common.

  Still, there was a part of me that would have loved to see the look on her face when I told her that Kellan Gentry, yes that Kellan Gentry, was now my boyfriend. I would have liked to tell her that he treated me like a queen, and that I, Taylor Briggs, the ice princess who had a habit of never getting too attached to any guy, had been knocked off my feet. I would have liked to tell her that I was so completely in love with Kellan that everyday items in the world looked prettier. She might have laughed. Laney was never a believer in love. But I would have liked to tell her all of that anyway.

  I didn’t run after her. I exhaled, straightened out the clothing racks Delaney had messed up and returned to the counter in time to check out the woman who’d abandoned the yellow dress eyesore and thankfully located an attractive floor length navy blue gown.

  “This will look perfect on you,” I said, holding the dress up. I meant it. The color would flatter her complexion while the modest neckline and loose skirt would complement her figure. The woman’s eyes lit up over the small praise and as I processed her card I thought how funny it was that a few kind words from a stranger were powerful enough to improve someone’s day. That seemed like something I should remember more often.

  The afternoon saw a lull in customer traffic. Cynda retreated to her meditation room after asking me to inventory the men’s section. It was a tedious process that not only involved counting each article of clothing but also making sure that sizes were properly sorted. Not that I minded doing it. I didn’t mind at all. I hummed old show tunes that my mother used to love and suffered a pang as an echo of my mother’s infectious laughter rang in my ears. She would have loved to meet Kellan. She would have loved to see how happy he made me.