by Piper Rayne
“They don’t know it’s you. It was too dark. You’re described as a sandy-blonde with a resting bitch face.” Morgan laughs.
I take the phone back, more interested in the article now. “The puck bunnies took this?”
They all nod, even Bennie in his Hawaiian shirt. The man is always wearing Hawaiian shirts and complains all the time about how he’s never been to Hawaii but how he’s prepared in case anyone wants to have sympathy and take him. You’d think the Jacobs would at this point.
I shake my head. “People are the worst.” I give the phone back after seeing the women said I was a bitch the entire time and wouldn’t let them look at the baby.
“You took what they want,” Imogen says with a smugness to her voice.
I scoff. “I don’t want your brother.”
Silence. No one says a word.
“What? I don’t.”
“Where did you stay last night?” Morgan asks with a shit-eating grin.
“There was a Merfest going on, so there weren’t any hotel rooms available.” My tone already sounds like I’m making excuses.
“Merfest?” Bennie asks. “There cannot be that many people who think they’re mermaids.”
Bennie might have a point. Especially since I didn’t call every hotel before Ford offered up his place.
“I slept in my own room.”
“Did you bring extra clothes?” Morgan asks.
“I borrowed a shirt and shorts to sleep in.” I shrug, feigning nonchalance.
Morgan elbows Imogen. “Right out of a movie.”
They both laugh. Bennie shakes his head and pulls a cake out of the oven. It’s chocolate and it looks delicious. I knew I smelled something good when I came in here.
“It’s not out of a movie. The plane needed a repair. I needed a place to stay, so I stayed at your brother’s. You’ve seen us. We don’t exactly see eye to eye on everything. On anything really.”
“That’s the point, darling,” Bennie says. “All that animosity boils up until you can’t control your hunger for one another.”
I tilt my chin down and look at him from under my brows. “Okay, Bennie, put down the romance novels for a night. This was nothing of the sort.”
A door slams from elsewhere in the penthouse and we all quiet for a moment to see what might follow, but don’t hear anything else.
“I take offense to the romance novel comment.” Bennie turns his head away from me as if he’s mad.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“What?” Morgan asks.
“I don’t like your brother!”
“Well, that’s clear, but those pictures are incriminating,” Mrs. Jacobs comes into the kitchen. “Oh, are you doing the practice cakes for the party in a couple of weeks?”
“Sure am,” Bennie says with a smile.
“This is the chocolate, right?” she asks.
Bennie nods. “Mr. Jacobs doesn’t eat chocolate though?”
Mrs. Jacobs waves him off. “He won’t even eat the cake. The majority of people like chocolate, so that’s what we’re having.”
Morgan walks over to her mom and lays her head on her shoulder. “Are you and Daddy getting a divorce?” Morgan has a personality much like her brother—not much is ever taken seriously.
“He’s trying to go back on his word. He told me that at sixty, he’d retire. We’re still young enough to travel and see the parts of the world that don’t have anything to do with Jacobs Enterprises.” She takes a sandwich from the tray and bites off a piece of it.
“He’s retiring?” I ask. If he retires, the family might not need a full-time PR person, which means I would be out of a job. The familiar anxiety about how I might shelter and feed myself makes my chest tighten and my breath come out shallow.
Mrs. Jacobs blows out a breath. “The man will probably never retire. I told him I’m going to start going away without him. Said I’d go to Africa on one of those safaris where there’s hardly any signal. He told me that if I didn’t have such an ungrateful son, he could’ve retired three years ago.”
“Once again, he has one child who’s involved in the company.” Imogen shakes her head.
Imogen works part time at Jacobs Enterprises, but her position isn’t high up on the food chain. She has to finish graduate school this year first.
I don’t say anything about how Imogen has confessed to me that she too wants nothing to do with the family legacy. I think she’s just hurt that her dad doesn’t see her as an option.
“Anyway, on to more important things, the plane, okay?” Mrs. Jacobs asks me.
I nod, swallowing my second small triangle sandwich. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
“I’m glad Ford took you in.” She runs her hand down my arm.
Then Mr. Jacobs comes into the kitchen with a severe look on his face. “Fine, you can have your way, but I want six months to make the transition.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
This is the odd thing about my position with the family. I’m treated like one of their own. I’ve witnessed the girls’ breakups, the fights between Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, Bennie’s breakdowns. They don’t hold back with me. It’s nice to be a part of a family after living life alone all these years.
I don’t even really have a close girlfriend. Imogen is probably my closest friend. We go out for drinks and scope out guys, but we’re not “telling each other all our deepest secrets” kind of friends. When you’re responsible for making sure your dad gets to work after your mom dies at the age of seven you don’t have a lot of time for kid stuff like making a BFF for life. I took on the role of caregiver for over fifteen years—until I couldn’t do it anymore.
“I can do six months,” Mrs. Jacobs says, smiling at her husband.
He shakes his head and looks around. When he finds me standing there, he studies me for a moment as though he has to find the words. “Lena, glad you’re home safely.” He nods and leaves before I can say anything.
If Mr. Jacobs retires, that could mean I’m out of a job. And if I’m out of a job, how will I pay for everything? I make really good money right now, and it’s allowed me to live a lifestyle that I never could’ve imagined as a teenager—one with financial security. I don’t have to wonder how I’ll eat or whether I’ll be kicked out of yet another shitty apartment. This job allows me to pay the facility that cares for my dad. And without that paycheck, I’m screwed.
“See, girls, don’t let boys break promises. Your father promised me ages ago. I understand things haven’t gone how he wanted, but that was our arrangement, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with turning his back on it.” Mrs. Jacobs takes another bite of her sandwich. “These are perfect, Bennie.”
Bennie smiles wide, happy with himself. What does he have to worry about? The Jacobs will still need a cook. Maybe I can be his sous chef.
I’m beckoned up to New York City by my father a week after the photo shoot. I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with the fact that every woman on the planet now thinks Lena’s my girlfriend, thanks to that picture and the accompanying article. There went my idea of picking up a woman to get Lena Boyd out of my fucking head. Not that I have time with Annabelle. Or that most of the bunnies would mind. But I can’t have some money hungry woman threatening to tell her story to the press because I’m “engaged” and slept with her.
Everyone thinks I have this whole single dad thing under control, but truth is, I’m tired as fuck and I’m going to have to break down and hire a nanny soon. The only good thing is that Annabelle’s become an awesome sleeper over the past week, sleeping at least six hours a night, plus naps through the day. But I’m gonna need permanent help soon. Live-in help, rather than just a babysitter here and there.
The only good thing about my father demanding my presence is that I’ll get to experience New York City in the fall. I made sure to bring Annabelle’s stroller so I can give my little girl her first experience of walking through Central Park.
The
elevator stops on the floor of my childhood penthouse, and I step through toward the round table adorning the foyer. Giant flowers fill a vase, as always. A new fondness for the place I’ve both loved and hated over the years drapes over me because Annabelle will be a part of this now. I take a moment to envision a year from now when she’ll be walking into the penthouse on her own, searching for them.
“Ford.” My mom comes around the corner, a smile on her lips. “Your father told me to stick around the house today. Where’s my baby?”
She walks toward me, and I put down the carrier behind me and open my arms for her. Although she hugs me, she’s laughing because we both know she meant Annabelle and not me.
“What’s it like not to be the favorite anymore?” Imogen joins us, biting an apple and leaning on the wall.
“Nice to see you.”
“Your girlfriend’s in the kitchen.” She tilts her head in that direction.
“We both know she’s not my girlfriend.”
My mom already has Annabelle out of the carrier.
I place Annabelle’s bag on the foyer table. “What am I being summoned home for? His party isn’t until next week. Oh, and don’t forget, Mom, it’s in and out for me since I have a game in Nashville the next day.”
“We know.” My mom rocks Annabelle.
Imogen walks over and kisses Annabelle’s forehead. I love the way my daughter’s getting doted on.
It’s amazing how only months ago, I thought my life was over when I found out I was going to be a parent. Now, I can’t imagine not having a daughter, even if I do sense myself losing who I was. That guy was kind of a prick anyway, so maybe it’s for the best.
We all walk into the kitchen, because it’s the place we seem to congregate when we’re all home. Bennie’s busy cooking, and Lena’s on a stool with her legs crossed, a grape between her fingers as though she’s ready to pop it into her mouth. She pauses when she sees me in the doorway, then her hand lowers.
“Ford.” She nods.
“Now, is that anyway to greet your boyfriend?” my sister says.
“Cut it, Imogen,” I say, but Lena’s blush says these jokes have probably been going on nonstop in my absence. “Sorry about that. Puck bunnies can be kind of brutal.”
“I’m a big girl,” she says and finally places the grape in her mouth. She’s in another pants-and-blouse set, hiding that rockin’ body I saw a week ago.
“It seems to have died down.”
“That’s only because you haven’t been seen together,” Imogen chirps.
What do I have to do to get her to stop talking?
“Well, as long as I keep up my good guy act, we should be good.” I wink, and Lena smiles.
My mom looks between us. “You guys are amicable?”
“They’re screwing, so…”
My mom smacks Imogen on the back of the head. “The baby is here.” She looks at Annabelle with a smile.
“She can’t understand me.” Imogen holds the back of her head and walks to the other side of the large island between Bennie and Lena. “And I liked it better when that move was only reserved for Ford.”
“Bennie’s making homemade baby food,” my mom says.
“I thought you didn’t know I was coming?”
She laughs. “Who runs this household?”
I nod, knowing it’s her. “Where’s Dad? I want to get this over with so I can take Annabelle through Central Park.”
“He’s at the office,” Lena says. “We’re to go over there.” She stands and straightens the paperwork she was going through, slipping into her flats that were resting next to her chair. Stealing one more grape, she packs up her bag.
“Why are you going?” I ask.
Her smile fades, and she inhales and exhales as though I’m trying her patience. “I was asked to go as well.”
“But I haven’t done shit. Hell, I’m asleep every night at eight unless I have a game.” Anger simmers under the surface. I’ve been behaving myself and he’s still got Lena up my ass?
“Whine much?” Imogen asks.
“Don’t you have a job?” I snap.
“Well, I wasn’t born with a dick, so…” She looks at the ceiling. “No.”
“You do so, Imogen. Your father made a very nice position for you.” My mom shakes her head at my sister while simultaneously making funny faces for Annabelle.
“A position that means shit, Mom. I literally have nothing to do. He makes me go to meetings to pretend that I’m ‘important,’ but we both know I’m not. I’ve decided to say screw it and go to Europe. Find myself.”
My mom blows out a breath. “You already did that, it didn’t take. We should all be happy you didn’t come home with one of these.” My mom nods to Annabelle.
“It wouldn’t have mattered. Only the male heir means anything around here.”
“That’s not true.” My mom shakes her head, but it was ingrained in us all when I was young that I’d be the one to take over. The firstborn male of the family has always taken the reins from the generation before. You’d think we’re fucking royalty or something.
“Well, have fun in Europe,” I say. “Don’t get in too much trouble, otherwise Lena shows up at your door.”
Lena scowls at me. “You act like I’m a bounty hunter or something.”
“You’re a fun-sucker.” I cross my arms.
“Now, now, happy couple. No fighting.” Imogen tries to pretend to make peace.
“Let’s go.” I tilt my head toward the door. We need to get this over with.
“I’m going to keep her,” my mom says, nuzzling Annabelle.
“Okay, but don’t take her to Central Park. That’s my thing.”
Everyone in the room laughs, but I’ll be pissed if anyone takes that away from me.
Then Lena and I exit my parents’ penthouse. Instead of driving my car, I hail a taxi, wanting to cut this as short as possible. I can’t imagine what my dad has to say to me. It better not have anything to do with me taking over the company.
We arrive at Jacobs Enterprises, and I’m about to pass by security without telling them who I am until Lena stops walking and clears her throat.
“Hi, Rick, can I have a pass and one for Ford as well please?”
I groan and walk over to her.
“Ford Jacobs?” Rick asks.
I glare at Lena, annoyed.
“This is procedure. You don’t want to be part of your dad’s company, you get cleared by security.” She gives me a saccharine grin.
I arch an eyebrow. “You’re feisty today.”
“Do you think I want to be summoned to the office?”
“Aren’t you always here?”
She balks. “You have no idea what I do, do you?”
“Here you go, Lena.” Rick slides over an ID badge. “I’m going to need your driver’s license,” he says to me.
Again, my head twists toward Lena, who’s biting her lip to stop from laughing. I look around as I pull out my wallet. “You honestly don’t recognize me?”
Lena outright laughs. “You’re mighty full of yourself today.”
“I’m the son of the owner.”
“The son of the owner who never comes here,” she singsongs as I hand my ID to Rick.
“I never stop at the security desk when I’m here and no one ever says anything.” But in all honesty, I haven’t been to my dad’s office in many years.
“Well, precautions. Never know what kinda crazy might pop in one day.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m the crazy one?” I accept my ID back from Rick and stuff it back in my wallet.
“You do have some anger issues toward your dad.”
I put up my hand and shake my head, looking at Rick. “How’s it coming?”
“Just checking that he has you on his list of visitors today.”
I grow irritated by the slowness with which Rick is working while Lena seems like she’s enjoying it.
“Here you go,” Rick says a minute
later. “Stop back and return it on your way out so we know you’ve left the building.”
“Sure, buddy,” I say and stuff the guest pass in my pocket before heading toward the elevators.
“You’re supposed to wear it. And maybe be nice to Rick. Your father’s safety is in his hands.”
I dramatically look back at Rick who, from a glance, I’d guess is probably in his early sixties and not at all in shape. This guy isn’t chasing anyone down regardless of the threat they might pose. “Sure thing.”
The elevator dings and I press the button to go up to the top floor. Lena rolls her head back, circling it as she stands in the opposite corner of the elevator. The urge to cage her in comes over me before I shake that thought out of my head pronto.
“Do you know what this is about?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Really?”
“Yes really. Do you think I’d let you be ambushed?”
I shrug one shoulder. “You do work for him, not me.”
She blows out a breath. “You really need to get that chip off your shoulder. Your family is not out to get you.”
“It’s not my family I’m meeting, it’s my father, and he wants me traveling up this elevator every damn day until I die of a heart attack at my desk. That’s not the life I want.”
Her plump lips say nothing, but her eyes speak volumes.
“What?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. It’s none of my business.”
“There are a lot of things that aren’t your business that you make your business. Let’s hear it.”
“I’m just saying, a lot of people would love to be in your position. Take over a successful, established company? A corporation the size of this one, just handed to you? I can’t even imagine.”
Annoyance brims inside me. “So I’m the douchebag because I don’t want it? Another spoiled brat move by Richie Rich for telling his dad to fuck himself?”
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying understand where your dad is coming from. Understand that it’s hard for him.”
“You’re unbelievable.” I shake my head and look away from her.